His voice will come later; for now, enjoy the rythmic tapping of his texts that you cannot hear.

[listenersgoodnight]

The past is nothing but an illusion. The present is nothing but a lie. The future is only a billboard, which reads “he who eats at Goodburger sins against the tax system.”

Welcome to Night Vale.

...This just in, listeners ---or readers, as it would seem, seeing as I am not in a recording studio, but rather sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, typing on the inconveniently tiny yet aesthetically pleasing buttons of a cellular device. The bed very clean for a hospital bed and quite comfortable at that. This is a five-star hospital bed. Someone should give the interior designers and custodians here a raise.

It seems I am no longer in Night Vale, but rather a place called "New Moore". Strange; I don't recall anything leading to such a drastic change of scenery. I shall take this as a sign from the hooded figures -who are oddly missing, but no doubt involved in my appearance here- and consider myself on an extended vacation of sorts, until I am spontaneously and possibly painfully returned to the safety and necessary position within Night Vale's community radio station.

A doctor, of approximately six foot, two inches, reeking of formaldehyde and grinning like a bobcat -you know, the kind that just feasted upon the intestines of a small, adorable creature, only to be hit by a speeding semi-truck shortly thereafter- just explained to me that I am nothing but a fictional being made real. Readers, this moment is not shocking, as I have long since held the false nature of my existence to be a very real possibility; however, it does mean more than I ever thought to realize. He's now saying that there was never any city in the desert called Night Vale, and that I would look quite dashing should I ever chose to dye my hair a deep shade of purple. But I cannot think of beautification at this moment, Readers.

Please, excuse me while I take a moment to let everything sink in.

Let me get this straight. There is no Night Vale; there are no black vans scouring the streets at night, watching every last citizen 24/7 to ensure our safety; there is no dog park which neither dogs nor citizens are allowed into, as it doesn't exist and public property is not there for civilian use; there is no Glow Cloud running the school board, no hooded figures, no portals, no interns ready to meet their untimely but necessary demises, and no civilizations which may or may not exist and live beneath lane five in the bowling alley but which are definitely plotting to wage a long and costly war against those who live in the sun-soaked surface world.

I just dared to ask if Carlos, the handsome scientist who, no doubt, would come running and save me from this horrid reality, was here. There is no Carlos here. I repeat, there is no Carlos here.

There is no Carlos here. In New Moore. He remains in Night Vale without me, in a place that is nothing more than a book of perfectly reasonable logic and sensibilities in some cruel person's imagination.

So I leave you with a question, readers: how do you survive in this horrible, unlawful, nonsensical place that lacks a single shred of redemption?!

Comments

[myfries]

I dunno. Just kinda survive, I guess.

If it makes you feel any better, my friend is pretty sure this is just part of some.. multiverse thing or something. I don't really get it, but basically it means that where we come from is real and we just slipped through the crack somehow.

[listenersgoodnight]

That is all very good advice and input, even if it is vague and nonspecific.

I shall hold onto the hope that Carlos, beautiful Carlos, is alive in some manner beyond that of someone's imagination. Thank you for the multiverse suggestion. Your intuitive and possibly ulterior motivated kindness will not go unnoticed.

[myfries]

Carlos... is that your boyfriend? Man, kinda sucks that he's not here, then.

Nah, I don't really have an ulterior motive. Not unless you have something I want, and, because you just showed up, that's not very likely, is it?

[listenersgoodnight]

That's classified information, and things are complicated.

Some beings don't need to know anything about a person to take something from them. It's a scientific and nonscientific fact that most do not and do so with unrelenting ambition, depending on which school of thought you're registered to.

[oftpartitioned]

whos Carlos? He sounds hot.

[listenersgoodnight]

Carlos is now none of your business. His so-called "hotness" is classified information.

As of five seconds ago.

[oftpartitioned]

omg mystery! That only makes us wanna know more.

[listenersgoodnight]

You will never know.

You will never know anything.

You have never known anything.

Eat at Subways.

[laheyoneonme]

Wait, so you'd rather be in "Night Vale"?

[listenersgoodnight]

I believe the question you were trying to ask is, "Who wouldn't want to live out their days in Night Vale?"

[laheyoneonme]

No, that's not what I meant. At all. It sounds like something out of a dystopia novel.

[listenersgoodnight]

Would this so-called dystopia novel be run by a fully competent mayor who was caring enough to inform the public that the wild dog attacks were nothing more than a collective hallucination painted over plastic bags floating in the breeze? Would the novel say mountains are real or semi-real? Would this novel forget that all citizens have the basic human right of being monitored every waking and sleeping moment of their lives?

Something tells me that isn't so. Night Vale is a much better place to live than any old silly, banned novel dealing with topics that bear no meaning. Nothing has any meaning.

[captainkink]

So, how hot is Carlos?

[listenersgoodnight]

Oh my god would you people stop asking about Carlos?

For the last time -and everyone read this: Carlos is now classified information.

Thank you.

[captainkink]

Sorry, I tuned out the rest. Too much tl;dr.

[oftpartitioned]

right? its like blah blah blah supa hot dude. Hotties like us need to know if theres gonna be competition

[listenersgoodnight]

See folks, look at this man. He is a prime example of why both the hooded figures and the Sheriff's secret police existed in Night Vale.

Do not be like this man.

Do not approach this man.

It is assumed he is armed and dangerous. It is also assumed he has no fashion sense.

[Text]

[tookthename]

You ignore everything the doctors at the hospital tell you and go about your life as best you can. If you're lucky this Carlos guy will turn up eventually.

[Text]

[listenersgoodnight]

Is there a reason to ignore what perfectly acceptable and trustworthy authority figures have to say?

[Text]

[tookthename]

Because we aren't fictional.

[Text]

[listenersgoodnight]

Perhaps in some world, in some place, you are fictional. Like my first responder suggested, there could be multiple universes converging in a violet yet lovely manner, not unlike a hurricane. So maybe you were not fictional in your home but you are /somewhere/.

Doesn't that give you some peace of mind?

[ceded]

... I can make portals. But I guess that's maybe not what you mean?

[listenersgoodnight]

That is quite an incredible talent! Very impressive.

It's close enough to what I meant. However, I sincerely hope the other side of the portal doesn't let out into a blood-soaked mirror world.

[ceded]

Oh! Um. Thanks, I guess!

No!!! Why would it?! That's really creepy. I used to be able to make portals to other worlds, but I haven't been able to since I got here. And none of the worlds I visited were blood-soaked mirror versions. :( Just... other places.

There was Halloween Town, but it wasn't very scary. Or bloody.

[listenersgoodnight]

Then know that I am relieved to hear that; it is not a world I would wish on anyone. Consider yourself lucky...

But your time will come.

All our times will come.