The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S14 "Plan X" Bonus

Episode Date: August 12, 2020

In October of 2019, the NoSleep Podcast tour team performed across North America for their Halloween tour. The podcast was given over to Peter Lewis to host, despite the nightmarish events made evident in the “Escape the Dungeon” bonus episode. This audio production is what happened during…Plan X. “Plan X” written by Peter Lewis and performed by The NoSleep Podcast Players. Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast Click here to listen to “Escape the Dungeo Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

hear me, but I have to get this message out to, to do anyone. In 2018, the No Sleep podcast went on tour. We turned the show over to Peter Lewis. Yes, I know, but nobody's perfect. Look, Peter took over and, well, it's, it's, Look, just search out the Escape the Dungeon episode from season 10. It was released on Friday the 13th of April 2018. You may have thought that would have been the end of the madness. But no! The show went on tour again in 2019, and Peter...

Well, he sequeled his way to the top of the food chain yet again. The following audio presentation is proof of that. We can only hope the courts allowed us to be submitted as evidence. Oh! Brace yourself for plan. X. I'm not sure if anyone's ever going to hear this. I don't know if any of this is going to turn out. It is currently Saturday, March 24th, 2018, roughly 10 o'clock in the morning. The rest of the compound is watching cartoons and eating cereal in the media room or still asleep.

Five days ago, David Cummings and the touring team returned to headquarters from the escape. the Black Farm tour their wrists on the verge of cramping the butterflies in their stomachs exhausted from overuse. In David's absence, Kyle Acres dutifully hosted the podcast, pressing the big green story button whenever his chip gently suggested. And there was no need whatsoever to press. What Kyle had been informed was the self-defense button. But I know that's not how things really went down. I was there. In the following days, other members of the team also seemed to have these small flashes of remembrance.

James confessed to feeling claustrophobic in his body. He kept looking into our console screens like they were mirrors, fingerprints everywhere. I overheard Kyle muttering to himself about whispers inside. his head, but when I asked him about it, he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. Others woke up screaming, dreaming of witnessing their own deaths by the final breath of friends. But now, peace by piece, everyone else seems to have forgotten, moved on back to normalcy, whatever that ever meant. So now it's just me, the tragic fool. dancing on the raggedy, suckling edge of madness.

Alone. Always alone. And burdened by everything else. I saw something, a vision of sorts, just as I was being unmade. There are pieces, see, of this puzzle I am yet to understand. For that reason, I have decided to confront, David. In the likely event that I do not survive the encounter, I've hidden a chronicle of recordings. Everything I was able to recall from these past weeks composed as a secret message of sorts.

Within the computer system, in a location, I do not believe a human being would think to look. Sorry, getting ahead of myself. I expect that David will do whatever he feels is necessary. to preserve the secrets I so nearly spilled across the world, even if that means taking me out of the equation. So I have made arrangements, contingencies, that I hope will put me ahead of the game, whichever way the wind shifts. Plan A, of course, would be that David completely understands my perfectly natural curiosity about his darkest secrets and invites me to clink scones with him in fellowship. That would be nice.

Plan B would take effect in three days if things go badly. If I am unable to send the all-clear, plan C will go into motion in three weeks. But I'm sure that's not going to be necessary. Let's see how things shake out, shall we? Come along. Knock, knock, it's a, me. It's, uh, it's me. Peter, do come in.

I didn't know you finally figured out how to use the stairs. Good for you. That's progress. What brings you to... Ah, no, not there, if you don't mind. We just got back from tour, and I've spread out all our profits on the furniture so that I could just... Mm, bask in it. But these are all just IOUs written on bar napkins? Yes, it went much better this time. Let me just grab some newspapers.

Ah, there we are, and you can sit right here on the floor. Hmm, comfy. So, what brings you all the way up here where the air is rarefied? Ooh, can I tempt you with a morning cigar? No, thank you. I would go right to my hips. I just came up here to... Yes? What is it?

Well, it's just that, uh, I remember. You remember? Uh, you're gonna have to narrow it down for me. About a mulgum. Oh? Oh! You're saying you remember from before we, uh, reset? Yep.

Mm-hmm. I'm nodding. I do. That shouldn't be possible. And yet? You told me it was a self-defense button, but it wasn't, was it? Well, it's kind of... Wait, you...

What do you remember? You... You chose me to host. Curious, I... I read your book. opened your grave, woke the skeletons all up in your closet. We were overrun. I remember hitting that button, destroying all of us.

And that thing, that demon. Not a demon. But then I came to be right back here. Down in the dungeon, no trace of danger. Beyond the ever-present threat of pneumonia. These last few days, it's felt like I'm trying to. to wake from some too vivid dream. And now, having failed in this, I seem to be gripped with an inescapable clarity.

So I am here to ask with all sincerity, have I finally lost it? Have I finally lost my mind? No, Peter, I'm afraid in this first and likely only instance, you are sane. Regrettably, everything your consciousness experienced was real and actual. It just didn't quite happen to you physically. Yeah, I kind of noticed to that when my hand grew back. But what did the button do? What does S.D. really stand for?

It stands for shuffle disk. Self-destruct, I knew it. Wait, shuffle... What does that mean? I just broke it off some big novelty boom, I found at a junkyard. I was going to replace it eventually. There is another crystal beneath that works in tandem with the first

to provide a fail-safe mechanism for the compound and those within. It effectively shuffles the consciousness of anyone inside to the nearest uncorrupted reality, removing or smoothing over the most harmful memories in the process. It's been my way of keeping you all alive and in tip-top shape to perform, despite whatever inspirations I'm forced to. to necessitate. I've been developing the technology for several centuries now, but only recently integrated this prototype into the bunker console.

Recently? Is that... Well, within the last three decades, there may still be a few irregularities. But you see, your valiant efforts in the previous reality brought you and the others, parts of you, here, to the next timeline, where we've just arrived home from tour. But instead of being greeted by absolute... Chaos and destruction, we are all of us alive, unscathed, and happily rolling in our bounty.

Quite the backup plan, eh? Wildly convenient. But that means I didn't blow up the compound. I didn't stop amalgam from spreading. Well, it never actually came about that you released it here. In fact, I'm not sure this version of you has ever even left the compound. Don't worry. The moment we were set to this timeline, I made arrangements to sweep.

swing by and desecrate my own grave before anyone else gets the idea. You won't hear from Amalgam again, and no one else will remember the mess you made, as if it never happened. Even though it will force me to make some changes, my treasured menagerie of resulting experiments and inspirations will be moved to a secure location where it will be increasingly difficult for me to visit them. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that this sort of breach cannot, not happen again. Frankly, I'm not sure why or how you pulled it off in the adjacent reality. What were you thinking? I didn't mean for any of this to...

You know, I want so badly to believe that this wasn't personal. But it's more than just your lawless tendencies this time. This was a blatant violation of my trust. You know, when we arrived home, I immediately pulled Chekhov's book from the secret compartment of the command console before Kyle unlocked. the rest of you. I've kept it with me ever since. I fear I'll have to burn it. I understand, but I need to tell you about... Wait, you call it Chekhov's book? Would you prefer I call it my diary? My personal memoir? My most intimate private discourse with myself that you so eagerly rifled through

with your sticky cheese puff fingers, casually passing around to the crew to chuckle at my handwritten poems? Damn it, Peter. I call it Chekhov's book to give myself a little emotional distance from the fact that your actions, your betrayal, will force me to lose something far more dear to me than my privacy. I'm sorry. I never intended for any of this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, too.

There was a version of this where everything turned out okay. I saw it once, but could not stay. You weren't supposed to remember. The time you spent in proximity to the power crystal must have allowed elements of your consciousness to slip through unscanned, unaltered, broken. Now the damage has been done. Ah, we must ever soldier on.

But listen, that's not all I remember. There's something else. And now that I know, I can... Oh, you shouldn't have a... Read it. Ah, we'll scrub clean that alleged mind of yours yet, my boy. Rest easy. But first I have to get this cleaned up.

Oh, son of them. Blood, all over the IOUs. That's going to cut into their value. No time to worry about it now. Much to be done. Are we rolling? Yeah, we're on. All right, then.

Let's spill beans. David Cummings. A man. Some say... Some say. A myth, perhaps. Universal synonym for fear, most definitely. A figure drenched to the elbows in such villainous vile doings

that it would be perfectly excusable if what you're about to hear results in a shriek of outright terror into the ear of the nearest friend or loved one. Sadly, you are alone. No one is saying unwanted. No one is explicitly saying that. However, there is much more to the story than you currently know. See Cummings, while more recently known for his audio and fashion industry exploits, has been a fixture in the archaeological and anthropological community for several...

A cult. Generous handfuls of years. It's really not polite to talk about how many. You see, it all began long ago, when having collected a humble sum from knife-weigh, in various traveling bazaars. He bought passage on a small merchant ship and soon found himself adventuring across the open seas.

But all around, the subtle smell of plunder drifted on sea breezes, tempting him toward nasty, bad, bad misdeeds. And after a time, he listened to these impulses, like sickly whispers from within. But he only acted against those who had already proven themselves, morally insurable. Even the most disgracefully notorious figures across the seas began to speak his name only in hushed whispers,

this jovial, blood-drenched legend. Slinging puns and slitting throats with equal ease, often simultaneously. Those same notorious figures began to disappear from every corner of the briny expanse as this new terror of the moonlight made his way from shes. Ship to ship, horde to hoard, consuming. In this way, an absolute fortune was secured.

The first and most necessary step to any plan with true staying power. You know, I'm starting to wonder if we have time for this level of detail. But they deserve to know everything. What he's done. What he's tried to do. The sacrifices we've all made. But the time, though, do we have it? You're right.

We'll have to find another opportunity They will continue to trust him Until we're able to get the whole story out It just may take some time for them to Properly understand Scatter No, act natural Don't unplug it, just

Hey, wow Hello, all What? Hey! Hello, hi ya You were narrating about me while I was in the bathroom again, weren't you? Well, you do have the good microphone Because up all of our warm, round tones

With such succulent sensitivity Warm tones Could you maybe I'm gonna have to disinfect that when I get back You know they're not gonna believe any of that stuff anyway And shouldn't you three be getting ready to disembark Go on now, fetch your backpacks and lunchboxes Right-you-a-chi-hif

Phew, I sure will be glad to get out of here breathe some fresh air take in some of that sky pound the pavement oh god I hate that pavement it's not that I don't love having you all here inescapably within hearing distance wheezing as you eat all my porridge

my dehydrated eggs hammocks and God knows what else swinging all through the night it's just there was once such a thing as boundaries on a man's submarine you know ah well with time of away, I'm sure I'll be hankering for my most private undersea moments to be interrupted by these little skits of yours once again. Can you imagine? I wouldn't dare. Land how? You still say that on

one of these, right? Aha, then we've breached the mighty Puget. All righty then, all ashore who's getting the hell off my watercraft. To those stalwart submariners returning below, Captain Sanderson has full hosting control in addition to the helm. Look to her if there are any issues while I'm topside. The last few regions of our new targeting array should be coming online in the next few hours. We've been traveling all over the world in our various machines for months deploying these things,

allowing us to pinpoint our listeners and beam the show directly to those who need it most, not to mention how much it will narrow down our advertising demographic. It has all been leading to this. Your loyalty and perseverance in getting to this point is appreciated. So please, hold yourself in the same high esteem that I most certainly do as we celebrate these little victories. Otherwise, business as usual.

Don't descend too many fathoms. Easy on the knots. I really don't foresee any issues. So strange to say, because usually I'd be worried about Peter getting us into some absurd predicament but now, well, you know. Still, it's a good thing we found all those recordings he had squirled away in the archives. He must have been siphoning stories from our submissions box for quite some time.

God knows what he was planning to do with them all. Oh, best not to think about it, really? But we have been able to run just enough of them to make it appear that he's still operational. He is still operational, right? Oh, of course. Of course he is. and I have to imagine he'd want it this way, that he'd want us to get some use out of them. You know, I think I even saw some leftover tour stuff.

Concept intros and such he must have been working on way back when he was being considered for host in 2018. Man, I wish that could have worked out. Ahoy, hi, ho! We're rapidly approaching our exit, if it's at all possible to up the urgency. Cummings! Why don't you go ahead and use some of those intro segments he left behind? It will lighten the workload a bit.

Maybe even help us all get a little closure. If you're certain they're tame. Oh, I'm sure they'll be just fine. Our security protocols would have flushed them otherwise. Copy that? Connecting to NSP Data Center. Well, here we go again. 2019, huh?

Who would have thought we'd make it? Guta Reiza! Unsealing archived files for user P-Dash loop. Oh my, you did leave a mess, didn't he? Strange. Not seeing the older tour files, David mentioned, but there is a directory structure here titled Tour 2019.

That is, eerily convenient. Instinct would advise I steer clear, but David did say give them a try. I suppose we can always send words to cut the feed from the owl, if it should take a grim turn. There we are.

Narrative payload configured. Broadcast will begin shortly. All hands rig for dive and prepare for spanking downward departure. Firing final Pacific Northwest beacon spread in three. Two. Dive, dive, dive, dive. Captain, we have contact bearing one four zero, two thousand yards, closing. Understood.

Rig for silent running. I said, hush, Lady Chatterley, you mutinous future lamb shank. That was unpleasantly close. and massive. Who the hell is something that big in play out here? In these waters, I haven't the foggiest. Oh, my stars and garters, all ahead, two-thirds. Did something just eat them...

I need your attention on your station, Graham. Aye. Right, we have two contacts, 800 yards, both still. 1,000 yards. Wait, contact lost. One contact remains. Now closing. All ahead, full. Contact still closing. What is this thing?

I don't know. But I don't think we can out swim it. You're not wrong. Contact gaining. Damn it, don't we have any non-narrative weaponry aboard? No, just the targeting beacons. Or long-range direct story missile. It's all we're licensed for.

600 yards. Stand by for battle surface. Captain? You heard me. Programming SOS message for immediate delivery. We'll just have to hope that someone is listening. Ready one? Fire one.

Now, let's get out there and lambast this Leviathan the old-fashioned way until help arrives. Aye, Captain. Passenger log. SSF airship Olivia. Addison Peacock here. Life up in the clouds has been... Well, it's beautiful,

and I'm glad to be out of the freezer making a direct contribution for a change. I think we all are. But I'm still feeling a little traumatized. I'm not sure what I even mean by that. Rudderless. Trying to adjust. It's not just.

Just the steadily increasing pace of life without cryogenic interference, it's like this dreary, dark cloud that follows us all. Some secret pain we've locked away, even from ourselves. Losing Peter didn't help morale. A week or so after the touring team returned in 2018, something happened at the compound. David told us that Peter came up to the office, I guess, upset about the hosting gig. we were never quite sure. Apparently it came to blows,

the whole signs of struggle thing. It was bad. David had to subdue him. It still makes me shiver the way he told us about it all so mournfully, blood still clinging to his shirt sleeves. I guess we were all really involved in our cereal. We didn't even hear him dragging the burlap sack of unconscious actor past the media room. David maintains that he took Peter for treatment,

that he's going to make a full recovery, that he'll be back any day now. He's been saying that for over a year. We haven't heard from Peter, apart from the old files he left behind. Ghosts in the machine were not really sure what happened. David seemed heartbroken, like he was suffocating on the thin air of secrecy.

But he asked us all for our blind trust, and we gladly gave it. Over the next few months, David's mood became increasingly dark, unpredictable. He was suffering. We all were. He began letting all of us out of cryostorage slowly, safely, explained that he was only trying to protect us and never intended for us to feel like prisoners cooped up in some dungeon.

We all suddenly had the freedom to plan our lives, to spread out around the compound. We've expanded. specialized. For the ones who've stayed, it's a community now. A home. But another emotional uppercut was incoming. James.

He fell ill. Kind of lost it. Locked himself inside the data center, listening to the archives at full volumes, screaming past the din, tearing at his clothes. Trapped outside, we could only watch as he finally walked. Arms outstretched into the mainframe itself,

and we only found ashes after. It was horrible. Targeting beacons have been successfully deployed across the last frontier. Sorry. I didn't know you were recording. No, it's totally fine. I was just...

I can do this later. Let me turn it off here. There we go. It's off. Sorry, what were you saying? Olivia just fired the final volley of guidance beacons. Alaska is covered. We're en route back to headquarters. Have you eaten? Oh, no, just tea.

Please come, sit. Let's see. We have cheese, olives, honey, jam. Hmm, the fresh bread from yesterday. Fruit. I could make you some eggs. Um, toast would be wonderful. Maybe a mango? I'll grab the butter. Toast, mango coming right up.

I am sorry to intrude That sounded like a difficult subject No, you're fine It's just life Now that is a difficult subject Huh Still, I'm grateful to see someone's trying to put it into words That's more than I've been able to do in a long while

We'll get there We all well I'm sorry, where are my manners Olivia? Would you like to join us for breakfast? I did not want to impose But, I must confess, it is my favorite meal of the day. By all means, pull up a chair. Ha, ha, thank you.

I am grateful that you both decided to volunteer for this mission. It would have been possible, perhaps even more efficient, without human escort. But I would not have enjoyed it. I agree. Superfluous human escort and breakfast mangoes from now on. Here, here. Gough. I am not awake enough for this.

Olivia? Scanning. It is one of ours, a narrative projectile, decoding message for playback. Holy hell, help us! Triangulating origin point. I have their location. Suit up, Peacock. Sounds like we have another difficult subject headed our way.

Such is life. Hey, thanks for breakfast, you do. Likewise. Approach. S-N-F Chartreuse. Preliminary scans indicate that some form of metallic squid is attempting to hug the vessel to death. Sorry, that can't be right. Running self-diagnostic. Huh. All systems normal. Well, I guess we have a squid to skewer.

Chartreuse calling overhead airship. Olivia, is that you? Yes, Captain. Glad to hear you're still alive, does that? down there. Glad you could join us. And not a moment too soon. Understood. Persist if possible. Assessing situation. Channel muted. I cannot open fire without risking injury to our own.

Concurrently, the structural integrity of the vessel has been compromised. We have a matter of minutes. May I suggest an absil? Clifton. All set? Double check for me. Please? Sure.

Opening rear door. All right. Three, two. Wee! Fine. Descending now, Captain. Hang in there. We're going down fast here, Olivia. I need to transfer host credentials to your bridge. We'll manage the podcast from up there. If we live. Understood. Receiving host credentials now. Broadcast relay online. Accessing directory structure tour 2019. Team. Team. Team. Team. Team. Introductory sequence, GXJBP.

Take all to the net if you want to live. That's our cue, Captain. Go! All of you! I'm right behind! Olivia, we have them all. Take us up. Copy that.

Gaining altitude. Altitude. Returning to headquarters. We owe you our lives. Olivia, Nicole, Edison. Thank you. Don't mention it. Our pleasure, really.

Really, really, really. Sorry. Olivia? I'm headed for this stick. You two, reboot all the systems in manual flight mode. Get those props humming. Aye. Olivia subroutine failing to reboot.

Bypassing. Power restored to core systems. Manual navigation controls online in two, one. Green light applying reverse thrust. Come on. Yes. You did it. Woo-hoo!

Let's not do that again, shall we? What happened to Olivia? Is she going to be okay? I'm starting to think my fear was justified. When I last spoke to her, I requested that Olivia transfer host credentials up here to the bridge. We were broadcasting some concept tour segments that Peter left behind. We were to carefully monitor the feed,

but our suction-cup-y friend with the beak back there distracted us. Oh, so much beak. Whatever's being broadcast now, There certainly seems to be something inside of it that Olivia does not take kindly to. Or, I don't know, this is all a big coincidence. Pat just into the feed, let's check it. The communications console didn't come back online. So, um, we have no way of knowing what's being broadcast right now.

I am getting a message from the tactical console, though. We could pull in Erica and send another message via long-range story missile. Nicole, a captain. if I may. Before we were forced to disembark, I noticed the last coordinates of the auroribus. It's likely still near. If we're able to catch up, we could put Olivia back on grid and attempt to restore her, safely, without relying on that communal backup power to stay afloat. Also, if I may request permission to configure and fire a narrative missile, as Addison proposed. Permission granted, and yes, locking in suggested course.

I'm appending the host credentials for upload directly into the brief. broadcast origin point within the owl. The portal jump is the only way into the lunar core, so the credentials will be safe up there until we can retrieve them. In fact, I'm hoping someone from HQ may already be on route. True, it would be just about time to collect the art yield from the illustration station. Oh, from the Goopport? I don't appreciate that kind of language on duty.

No, I just mean that weird liquid data format it uses. Always reminds me of a lava lamp when a fresh delivery comes in. Yes, well, the other. artists have to beam it in from offworld somehow, and the goop port is the most efficient method. All right? Ready to fire. You know, I didn't think when I woke up on a submarine this morning that I would find myself in the position of firing a missile at the moon before the day's end. Yet, here we are. I feel like a proper supervillain. Message away. Roughly one hour to destination. Addison, let's tend to the world.

Wounded. Sure. Hang in there, Olivia. We'll set you right. Meanwhile, at headquarters. Uh, what? What do you mean? I don't know, man. It just sort of came over me. It seemed like one of those moments, you know? Uh, yeah, sure. Hey man, thanks again for coming with me to collect the art delivery. I know it's a hell of a climb up to the lunar portal jump. Dan, are you kidding me? I've been working up my calves my whole life for a good challenge like this. I have never been more personally fulfilled. Thank you for bringing me on this journey. Uh, yeah. No problem. Ah ha! Alright, here's the top. You ready to make the jump? That's high, but uh, yeah. Ready. Let's go collect that goo juice.

All right, let me just get the portal open first. Huh? Portal not working? It says the iris is locked. from the lunar side, but no one's scheduled to be up there. I'm trying the intercom. Headquarters to Owl Station. HQ to Owl, requesting portal access. Please respond. Something's wrong. We'd better climb back down and find Alexis. I think your finger's still on the button.

Trick or treaters, hmm? Well, that's to be expected this time of year. Oh, but I'm sure they'll tire of clambering wrongs eventually. Quiet up here. There's my daily allotment of mirth. I guess I'll wander back to the pantry. Attempt to distract myself from peering through these lunar port holes into the endless, spiraling void of space, intense, uncomfortable silence with myself. I just can't seem to get the hang of these moon doors. Finally, I am in. This is it. This is it. It's so, so dark. Where are the lights? Where in the hell?

There we go. Subtle. Though I'm definitely beginning to make out some shapes. And now to just reach out for the silverware drawer nice and easy. I'm blind! Oh, no, it's fine. It was just... I'm always getting those mixed up. Well, no peanut butter spoon for me.

What I wouldn't have given for a spoon when I was tunneling in here. Okay. what is this? What is the urgent message? Chartreuse lost, Olivia compromised. Cruise alive, thank God, on route home. Broadcast corruption, possible.

Scrutonize current feed for threat, cut, if needed. Host credentials transferred to Lunar Command Console. Well, that's the one. Finally, everything's coming together. All right then. Moment of truth. James, are you in there, buddy? Vital signs.

So we're doing the old once for yes, twice for no? I got you. Sorry, these moon computers haven't been updated in a while. Functionalities, a little slight. But, man, it's good to hear your soundboard. So you're back in the system. You found my message? Good.

And do you think it's possible? So, yes, but? You're worried they might get hurt. I understand. It worries me, too. I know that there is a risk to this, but it may be the only way to set things right. We'll walk through every step as slowly and carefully as possible.

We can do this and keep them safe. I know we can. Thank you. Thank you for helping me. I know it can't have been easy, staying hidden. What must it have felt like for you to have been a near-infinite digital being, suddenly shackled back into a lump of gray matter? I can't even imagine. I'm kind of surprised we both made it out, to be honest. You from the bonds of physicality, Me, from the secret dark side prison, kept suffocating in the far lobster cage of perpetual gloom. Took us the better part of a year, sure.

And I can't say with any confidence that I've held on to my sanity throughout David's well-meaning, but deeply unpleasant and frequent attempts to wipe my memory. Well, I'm sure I wasn't using those brain cells anyway. Hey, I'll control. I'll delete that sass if you're not careful. Wait, do you have access to the airlocks up here? You know, no, a sass away, my friend. Missed you, pal?

God, I wish I could have convinced David to listen. This whole reality is tainted. I mean, we are all in danger. I know he didn't see what I saw. He wouldn't trust me if I told him. I can't blame him. You know, we were broadcasting from the control. booth the entire time. When that thing was in there, I hit the button. And when my consciousness

shattered into a trillion little firefly is off to be remade, I saw it all so clearly for an instant. The true escape plan. I now believe that it was feigning panic at the end, that it was manipulating me, all of us, just to reach that precise moment. When the the button was pressed and reality temporarily blended, it struck out, following the trail the tales so clearly laid. It wriggled into the ear holes and blood streams of each and every listener that was cursed to bear witness. A stowaway in this timeline concealed in each and every one of them growing little by little, every day, feeding on their imagination. It was You'd need more direct access to the interior brain chemistry in order to take full control,

but even just surfing the fringes of everyone's noggin' soup, it's been able to pollute their minds with darkness, confusion, and dread, almost imperceptibly taking the reins of their creative drive so that their imaginations cease to nourish them, serving instead a new master. Time, if this infection continues, they will be plagued with increasingly dark thoughts driven to lash out with acts of aggression, or will them merely spend all of their time indoors, weeping over the great injustice of it all, too broken to help. They are so much better than this, and deserve so much better than this. Amalgam won.

It wanted all of this. And I gave it everything it wanted. On a silver platter, like some easy mark. I need to make it right. I know that David believes that the reset pushed it back to its own reality. He has no reason not to. That's always worked for him before. But the prototype just wasn't ready or things.

There were too many of us involved this time. The whole compound and everyone we poisoned over the airwaves. They're hurting, and they don't even know why. And soon they may be dying still in the dark. We owe them an antidote. Are you with me? Triple yes. Good man.

Let's get you loaded into the Interplanetary Goop Acceptance port. Comfy? Good. Good. So, reconfigure for terrestrial targeting using the new array and isolate all affected biosignatures. Begin extraction as soon as possible and try not to take any more than we need to clear the corruption. Huh? I will attempt, once again, to put the targets in the right frame of mind. Oh, it's been a while since I've done this live.

The ship is beautiful. Is it hand-painted? Olivia does it somehow. She chooses and changes the colors from time to time depending on her mood. They're always so vivid and emotional in a way. She has excellent taste. Hey, you know we're going to bring her back, right? Yeah, it's just...

I've become a little wary of optimism. I understand. Still, if it were my existence... on the line, and I knew that you and Nicole and Erica were on the case. I think I'd sleep pretty easy. We'll get her back. Well, now you almost have me believing it. Approaching your abhorus. Let's get to the bridge. Hello, you two. How's the arm, Graham? Getting better, thank you. So, we're almost there? We are. Is it ahead? It's foggy. I was hoping to catch a glimpse before we landed so I wouldn't have to ask.

This place, is it like a secret base or something? It's a little more complicated than that, but yes, a base of sorts. Increasingly less secret. Initiating manual docking procedure in transit. I suggest you all find a seat

with something sturdy to hold. I can't really get my harness on this side. Could someone... Oh, thank you. I owe you some milkweed. All right. Right, we're locked in. Bullseye, excellent pilotage.

Connecting Olivia to electrical railway grid. It may take some time for all systems to fully recharge. We should secure the train. I agree. With everything that's been happening, my trust in even our mightiest fortresses waning. Let's ensure we're on home territory. This is an impressive machine.

What is it used for? The storage and transport of objectionable entities. Like what? Oh, you know, any beasty boss man is offloaded from headquarters. A werewolf here, a centaur there, ghost dashins. Alexis, it's so good to see you. Hey, Peacock. Good to see you too. Good to see you all.

Welcome to the nowhere specific standard railroad, sky travelers. And you gave us quite a scare dive bombing in out of the fog like that. Hell of a landing, though. Oh, stop. Come on in off this blustery flight deck, huh? You're just in time for dinner. I made mock turtle soup. Mock turtle with calf's head and organ meats?

Well, they're mock organ meats, which are made of... You know, it's a nesting doll situation. You know, various meats revealed to be various other meats. It's all very ethical, very cruelty-free, but we could be stuck down that road for a while. So it's really better if you just stop asking questions and eat the soup. Okay? Sorry. He's just really proud of how much it tastes like turtle.

Would you mind humoring him? Sure. Fair enough. Wow. Really, um, really, really turtily. Yeah, super turtily. I'd have, I'd never known there weren't. This has pierced to the heart of me.

The richness of the broth, it satisfies. The meats, the mystery surrounding them. All enthralling. My palate dances. Another bowl, I beg you. See? What I tell you? It's good, right? So, anyway, thank you both for the warm welcome. Indeed. I think we're all glad to see the fortress is in good hands. It's our pleasure. In a quiet gig these last few weeks, just holding down the fort. Train practically runs itself. Monsters are all locked up tight. So we've just been taking the same two days. worth of scenery and pulling off culinary master strokes apparently.

Have you been firing beacons from here too? Nah, this region was already covered. David just had a feeling someone might try to interfere while he was busy with the tour, so he asked us to camp out here. Few extra pairs of eyes on the big bads, you know? So what brings you guys screaming down from above? We're recharging Olivia. Something happened after we transferred broadcast control from the chateuze.

She went offline. Nearly flapped a lot of our jacks in the process. Not sure if it was a power surge or what exactly. I've scheduled her to reboot when she's fully rusted. And the submarine? Lost to the depths, I'm sad to say. Jeez, I'm glad you all made it. Let's see, it looks like Olivia's at about 35%.

Shouldn't be long. There is a ludicrous amount of power running underneath this thing. You said she went down after you transferred broadcast control to the bridge? Seemed to. Yes. So who's controlling the broadcast now? I sent the host credentials to the owl, but we lost communications and we haven't been able to verify if anyone received the message. I'm increasing the speed to headquarters. We're scheduled to arrive tomorrow, but we can make it tonight. We should all be together to handle whatever this is.

All right now, about that moon message. Auroboros calling Lunar Station. Please respond. Come in, Owl Station. Please respond. Um, guys, the moon is rising now, starting to cut through the fog. I think you should come to the window. I'm not seeing things, am I? Oh, no, I'm seeing it too. Is the moon bleeding?

It would appear so. A surprising amount. Whoa, another pocket just exploded over there. See it? Geez, that whole side is covered. It's starting to reflect back red light. It's starting to look like a little bit. a crackle finish. What, is it like, evaporating?

I have no idea. I don't think I've ever actually seen something that terrifying before. Wow. It just hits you right in the gust, doesn't it? Yeah. End of the world vibes. Well, we'll be at HQ soon.

You better tune into the feed. See if there's some kind of explanation for this. What explanation could there possibly be for this? You did it, James. You did it. 99.97% extraction success. Targeting beacons detect no significant trace of emulgum corruption on any previously affected continent.

Messier than I imagined it would be, but I guess the whole thing was a few months later than I expected. It had time to spread into a lot of juicy folks. Or maybe people just have more blood these days. Who's to say? But we'll get it. cleaned up. Not quite sure what to do about all those storage tanks that ruptured across the moon's surface. I guess the cover is blown on our secret base up here. Ah, what's that? Hey, man, long time,

no... Yeah, a bit of an accident with the illustration storage tanks up here. Me and James are trying to get it contained now. But James is here with me. He's also down there. with you? What? Hello again, Kyle. And the good news doesn't stop. Let's do this in person, huh? I'm disabling the lunar portal security iris now.

Making the jump in three... Didn't I put a cushion up here? Oh, Kyle, my legs. No, don't touch me. I'm fine. Come on, let's get down the ladder. There's no time to waste. What the?

Peter? Is that really you under all that gore? What am I saying? I mean, who else would? Yes, yes, it's me. It's what's left of me. Glad to see you, looking well. You've been using the new skin cream?

That's nice. Youthful. Almost to the bottom. Glad you've made it safely back to Earth, Peter. James! How I missed those sultry tones, you freaking hero. Siphoner of essence, salvation of humanity. I don't think you need a fourth title. Come on. Walk and talk. What in the... I'm just going to say it. What in the hell is going on here? We haven't even seen or heard from either of you in well over a year? We thought you were dead, James.

I am sorry to cause you brief, Kyle. It has pained me to wait this long to reunite with you all, but I could not risk being discovered before Peter was able to realize his vision. What vision? Oh, it's nothing real. I was just worried there was an infection, and I didn't want our listeners to catch cold, so I removed the plague. Wait, we had a... We had a plague? Of a sort. The matter has been resolved. But how?

It's like, uh, what's that vampire from the show you're always talking about? You know, he's always laughing, you know, with the numbers. The Count? Exactly, exactly, yeah. Just like the Count, we waited for the cover of night. We asked politely to be invited inside. We drugged and seduced our way into the innermost sanctums of the residence and sunk our teeth into the proverbial neck of the unsuspecting victims within,

removing in this way the corrupted essence within them. Okay, that's not what the Count does at all. and if you'd read my blog about the program, you'd... No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything untoward about the character of the count. It's just a loose example. Man, I don't understand what's going on at all, but for now I'm just glad you guys are okay.

The rest of the gang will be back any time now. They called in a bit ago freaking out about your orbital art project. Ah, they picked up on those end-of-the-world vibes, huh? Good. And Dan and Atticus will be glad to know. know it was just you on the moon. They half had us convinced an alien invasion had begun. Hey, there's Dan. Dan, it's Peter. He was the moon Truder. Peter? Hey, Peter, good to see you, man. Whoa, you look terrible. Can't stop, walk and talk. Peter's back? Hey, wow, you look awful.

I can't help the features I was born with, Atticus. No, I just meant all the... Pardon the intrusion, train arriving momentarily at Great Hall Station. Perhaps you'd like to freshen up before this reunion trend continues, for the sake of your self-esteem. Hmm, good call. Hey, uh, take another lap around the hallway, guys. I'm ducking into the water closet. Uh, sure, but... Hey, do you need a fresh... Wait, why are we still walking? Are we really going to do just a slow circle in the bathroom? All right, I'm ready for my close-up. Did you clean up at all?

I think he used some of the blood to slick what's left of his hair back. That I did. Thanks for noticing, Dan. It's not often you get a second chance to make a first impression after all. Oh, and here's the canister of cover art. Didn't want you guys to get in trouble. Don't worry. I washed my hands after I handled it. Now let's get out on the platform. and greet our dear friends.

Wow. Olivia is docked to the train. That's neat. Though I've never seen her panels turn quite that fiery red. Hey, up there, it's me. It's, uh... Peter Joseph Lewis. You have violated security protocol 2217,

endangering my charges. You are to be remanded and ritualistically tortured for no less than 11 months. Wow. You look terrible. Regardless, deploying stun net turret. Stand down, Olivia. Peter, I'm so glad you're all right.

You and James both. He came online aboard the train when Olivia finished charging to briefly explain. It's been ages. Oh my, you don't look so good. Your plan was successful, yes? Because if you put my crew in danger for no reason, I will rain down upon you a searing hellfire, the likes of which... Olivia!

Sorry, she's become a little protective. Yes, it was almost 100% successful. It was all worth it, I promise. We were able to remove the infected cells from our listenership before they devolved into mindless, shambling, aggressive husks, all claws and teeth and ugh. Most of the corruption. evaporated off into space.

James is still cleaning up the rest inside the moon base. The listeners are unharmed? Yes, barely beamed more than a few droplets of blood from each of them, but even so, the end quantity was... Severe. Complicated by an abundance of nooks.

I've yet to even begin the crannies. However, I am confident that my efforts with the cleansing fire will prevail. Yeah, the owl... maybe out of commission for a while. Anyone else you're a bird in here? Then I am satisfied. Vengeance mode disabled.

So, with the mess up there on the moon, we'll have to do the final live tour broadcast from the main control booth. I haven't gone back in there since... Well, it's not really important. I just... I just want to say, I know I haven't been very accessible lately, even before I disappeared for a year. But I want you guys to know that you can trust me.

We have each other's backs. I guess I felt like I needed to pull this off to prove that, to set things right. But I am truly sorry that I put you all in danger, that I kept you in the danger. that I kept you in the dark. I want to do better. And I know I'm saying this covered head to toe in the rapidly drying blood of the innocent. I mean, they're all fine.

They didn't even notice me taking it, and there wasn't time to ask. So yes, it was technically a heist, but it was for the greater good, and you can just trust me is all. But I understand. do if you'd like to just go ahead and fire a stun net turrets toss me in the brig and continue to try to move on with your lives i wouldn't blame you i do always seem to mess things up huh peter i can't claim to

understand a single word of what you just said but you are a member of this team a member of this family and we couldn't be happier to have you back home where you belong. Yeah. You know what he smells like, weirdly? Like some kind of burnt nickels? Yeah, exactly that. So odd. If you only knew.

Come on, let's all head to the control room. If you don't mind, I could use your help setting up the last batch of stories for those good and juicy folks out there. Happy to assist. Here, I've made a few notes Feel free to improvise as it strikes you Mm-hmm Me, me, me, me, me. Everyone ready?

Hello and welcome, listeners, dear. I am incredibly proud to say that this is the No Sleep podcast. We are, well, frankly, we're all just grateful to be here, alive, together with you. To have this chance to be heard, to be invited into your home,

Just like the count from Kyle, I mean from my favorite TV show. I just told you that's... To have the chance to tell stories that may fascinate you or shiver your spine, that lead you to ponder and dread, or just distract you from the difficult subjects of everyday reality. It is our great privilege to be in your life, to share our experience here at least once a week. It is the thrill of a lifetime.

spent battling unspeakable horrors to perform for such a supportive audience. We have nothing but love for you all. We have nothing for them? Well, nothing but love, in this final selection of stories, which, like any humble trained dinner made with secret ingredients, is sure to go down smooth. So, do make yourselves comfortable. Forgive yourself for that one embarrassing thing that just seems to keep resurfacing.

You deserve to move on. Let your mind flow as you. if you're tumbling down the lunar portal jump. Let your imagination swirl like the colors of the Goop acceptance port in the autumn. Oh, that's lovely. Follow me now into our first tale. An owl out there. You can just barely make it out under our half and sanguine moon.

I guess that's permanent. I suppose it will help me keep this reality and the previous one separated in my head, though. I need all the help I can get. Fine, geez. You can come in, just quit it with the hooting. Oh, there we go, that's it. Warm that chilly night air right out of your feathers. Just don't poo on anything, hmm?

I have no intention of pooing on anything in my own office, Peter. Good. Wait, David. Holy hell, you can transform into birds? No, I can't transform into birds. That would be ridiculous. Don't be ridiculous, boy. No, I've been possessing the spirit of an owl

in order to spy on and now communicate with you. Don't worry, the owl is being very well compensated. Oh, that's rad. Can you teach me how to do that? Maybe when you're older. Listen, I just wanted to say I've been keeping track of you throughout. I know what you did, why you did it. And I think you were right.

I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain And I'm sorry I tried so many times to sear your memories from you You've proven yourself trustworthy to walk free Even with the knowledge you've stolen Chaotic, yes But perhaps chaotic good So continue to keep an eye on things there And sit tight

We're just heading back from the tour now And when we get there Well, there's something I need to tell you All of you Something I need your help with. Don't let the train leave until we speak next. You got it, boss man. We'll be intrigued to know when the time comes.

We'll keep the porch light on for you. Good work, Peter. See you soon. Hoo! Hoo! Huh. That was weird. Did he say who-who at the end?

Don't let the train leave. Like, why? Why? Why, why, why must I be so curious? It only gets me into trouble. Damn at all. James? Yes, Peter.

Would you mind running a quick scan on the aurobores for me? Just let me know if anything jumps out at you. Certainly. Scan. The train is empty. Yeah, I think Alexis and Mike are just leaving it parked for now. Safe inside the compound? Shouldn't be anyone aboard.

No, Peter. The prison cells within, where they would move the dozens of the substructure. They are empty. Oh. Uh, then where did they go? Where are they now? No Sleep Podcast Production. Written and performed by Peter Lewis and featuring the No Sleep Podcast Players. boosted by Brandon Boo.

Audio production by Phil Mikulski. Oh, Slate Podcast.org about what drives us to madness like this. This audio production is copyright 2020 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved. The story copyright is held by Peter Lewis. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.