Welcome to Night Vale - 137 - The Mudstone Abyss Part 3
Episode Date: November 1, 2018The mayor has a message for Desert Bluffs. The voice of Kevin was Kevin R. Free. The voice of Lauren was Lauren Sharpe. Weather: “Hymn #101” by Joe Pug http://joepugmusic.com Need a gift f...or the Night Vale fan in your life? We have a limited edition knit sweater and a brand new scout-themed blanket up on our store today, perfect for your wintertime gift exchange. https://topatoco.com/collections/wtnv Alice Isn’t Dead, the latest novel from Welcome to Night Vale creator Joseph Fink, is out now. Find it today at your local bookstore or online. http://aliceisntdead.com Music: Joseph Fink https://josephfink.bandcamp.com Logo: Rob Wilson http://robwilsonwork.com Written by Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor. http://welcometonightvale.com Follow us on Twitter @NightValeRadio or Facebook. Produced by Night Vale Presents. http://nightvalepresents.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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Hey, Nightville, it is Jeffrey Craneer speaking to you from April of 2026 with a couple of cool things coming up.
First off, we're going to be in Europe touring our newest Nightville live show, Murder Night in Blood Forest.
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And hey, thanks.
It's something else here now.
Something new.
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If this had been an actual emergency, this signal would be followed by screaming and chaos.
Welcome to Desert Bluffs.
Hello, Desert Bluffs.
It's been exactly one week since language resumed functioning.
We are all, of course, relieved to finally be able to greet neighbors once again with a friendly,
you should smile more.
But sometimes with good news comes bad news.
It's also been exactly one week since all construction on the mudstone abyss was halted.
There are still several creeping shadows roaming about the dig site,
causing everyone who goes near there to become so overwhelmed with joy that they run away screaming.
It's unclear why the shadows are still there.
We don't know what they want.
Some have said they want us to dig no further,
and that these shadows are responsible for our loss of language.
I think they came out to see the beautiful craftsmanship on our mudstone abyss.
Mayor Lauren Mallard called for a halt to construction despite adamant protests from the media.
The media spent the past week constantly texting and calling the mayor,
telling her that construction must continue because it has been the media's dream since childhood
to build a grand physical testament to the smiling God's endless happiness and love.
but the mayor has been slow to respond.
She's probably busy scheduling contractors to restart work on the monument.
Maybe the media should try texting the mayor again.
Why is construction still halted?
Lauren.
Oh, that sounds a bit aggressive.
Let's brighten that tone a bit with bleeding gumsy mojou.
Spider with human eyes emoji.
Cry laughing emoji.
There we go.
The mayor and I have been close for a long time.
We've had our ups and downs,
but I think our more difficult times
were back when we used to run a company together.
We had some typical disagreements over who was in charge.
She thought because she was the president of the company,
she should have final say on all decisions.
Whereas I knew that I was one of the smiling
God's chosen prophets, and our all-loving devourer would not choose a prophet who made mistakes.
I believe ceasing construction was a mistake. Certainly our mayor thinks digging the mudstone abyss
is somehow connected to our loss of language, and I appreciate her concern, but there is only
anecdotal evidence to support this. More on this story as it develops.
But first, I wanted to tell you that Charles and I went out again.
Originally, Charles and I were going to go to the opening of the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit at the Desert Bluffs Museum of Art.
This exhibit features many of O'Keeffe's famous flower paintings,
but reimagined as if O'Keefe were a joyous worshiper of the smiling god.
Artists at the museum have painted large smiles and centipedes over O'Keefe's originals,
and the result is apparently quite powerful and moving.
Then Charles and I plan to have another luxurious dinner at Vermillion,
but at the last minute, Grandma Josephine and her demons told him
they weren't available to babysit Charles' five-year-old Donovan,
and we couldn't find a babysitter.
So instead, Charles, Donovan, and I spent the day
at the Desert Bluffs Spinning Smiles Amusement Park.
We rode the spine compressor, the esophagus remover, and a brand new roller coaster called Intentional Sepsis.
Donovan was really delighted by all the struggling actors dressed in stuffy, unvented animal costumes.
Donnie got his picture taken with one person dressed as a smiling tortoise.
We could hear the man in the costume panting heavily and begging for water.
Donnie turned to the tortoise and said,
the sun calls for sacrifice because the sun loves all that it sees.
The man inside rasped,
Air, please. I don't know where I am. Please.
And passed out.
Donnie giggled right as Charles took the photo.
It was actually really adorable.
What a great memory to capture.
We went back to Charles' house and made sandwiches and watched cartoons.
but Donnie wasn't interested in the television.
He just played with his toy planes,
zgging and zagging them over his head,
turning and swirling them in reckless fits.
I hope he does not grow up to be a pilot.
I sat next to Charles on the couch,
mesmerized by the motion of Donnie's planes
until Charles and I fell asleep.
Around 2 a.m., I woke up.
Donovan had put himself to bed,
and Charles was snoring softly against my shirt.
shoulder. I carefully stood up and pulled Charles's legs onto the sofa.
The whole day had made me happy, but not in the way I wanted to be happy about it.
Happiness should be something you have, not something you take. I placed a blanket over him
and drove home. I'm getting an update that Mayor Lauren Mallard is holding a press conference
at City Hall. Let's hear her speech live. People of Desert Bluffs,
After discussions with city council, as well as some prominent and very knowledgeable members of the media,
I have decided to reopen construction of the mudstone abyss.
I know many people are frightened by the shadow beings drifting around the dig site,
as well as the ones lurking in and around your homes, but there is nothing to fear.
These shadows are merely the impure souls of those devoured and then later disgorged by the smiling god.
They're not worthy of your fear.
These shadows don't even have faces.
We cannot discern their intentions or feelings.
They move around and quick jerks and starts flickering in and out of our vision,
sometimes standing just behind us while slowly tilting their heads.
And unless you're looking in a mirror, there's no way you can even see that.
So I'm not sure why you're all freaking out.
Plus they're completely intangible.
Watch!
There's one right now passing in front of me.
I'm whipping my hand back and forth right through.
It can't do anything. It's just a shadow. It can't even smile.
Construction resumes at 7 a.m. sharp on Monday.
We've assigned every citizen a daily eight-hour time slot with two 10-minute breaks.
We've also hired some clowns to come by to keep everyone smiling.
As a former corporate president, I know firsthand how important laughter is for maintaining
a healthy work environment.
Skeleton Silverfish.
What?
Silverfish.
press carbuncle. I can't pillowcase slapstick. Uh, plenty of hybiscis. Yeah. Ah, Mayor Mallard.
Such a way with words. Well, you heard her. It's a joyous day. In fact, probably a future holiday.
I cannot wait to start digging again next week, Desert Bluffs. Let's look now at the community calendar.
These are probably the last non-construction events we'll have for a couple of weeks.
On Wednesday afternoon at Morning Bird Records,
the Society for Painless Living will be holding a protest march
against the construction of the mudstone abyss.
Well, I don't usually read press releases for such tiny events,
but I guess there might be one or two people
who want to exercise their right to assembly.
So if this sounds like something you're interested in,
I guess you should go to the march and then think about all the joy the smiling God has given you
and question your motives for refusing to appreciate it.
Thursday morning, the citizens for free will host a sit-in at the sunlight all-day diner
to demonstrate their opposition to the mayor's order for mandatory labor on the mudstone abyss.
This looks better.
Thursday afternoon, the Natural Smiles Theater Company.
I love that name, is opening their new play, The Pit of Ruin.
Playwright Danica Lopez says her work is an adjut-proc parable
about the arrogance of religion, government, and media.
Lopez's play, according to their press materials,
tells the story of obloviating radio host,
who overreaches his position,
enslaving an entire town in order to feed his hunger for religious power.
I like the sound of this theater company less and less.
There has to be some community event that's actually fun in here.
Friday morning, the people for clean, sharp teeth will be burning Kevin, the radio host, an effigy.
I don't understand.
I'd like to spend more time on this, explaining to you, dear listeners, that my
happiness is not yours to take. I'd like to have all afternoon to teach you about how you must
receive your own joy by making joy rather than destroying others' joy. But I cannot spend any time
on this because I'm getting word that Mayor Mallard has been forcibly removed from her podium at
City Hall. A large crowd of unsmiling people overtook the mayor and city council. The crowd
used a tattoo gun to draw a permanent frown on the mayor's face, which effectively exiles her from
this community. The crowd is chanting Pete Moss handlebars, Pete Moss handlebars!
The police have tried using their bullhorns to call for order, but instead of words,
they're emitting bird chirps. Language seems to be failing us again. Desert Bluffs,
I need you to remain calm. I need you to take
a deep breath and think positive thoughts. Think about the smiling God. It's mammoth wriggling form and
thousands of legs emerging from the earth and devouring your body. Invision your whole self nestled in the
moist, loving belly of the divine beast. Smile while you do it, desert bluffs. Keep smiling. I'm getting a
phone call. Ooh, it's from Charles.
Maybe he found a babysitter.
Hey, Charles, I was just thinking about you.
You know, there's a nightclub that opened last month.
It's called No Exit.
I thought maybe we could drop off Donnie with Josephine this evening and then...
Uh-huh.
So you called to see if I wanted to go to the zoo with you and Donnie this afternoon instead?
Uh...
Well, I was just looking at the weather, and I'm not sure if today's...
the day to...
It's not.
Charles, I have the weather report right here.
Listen.
I've come to know the wish list of my father.
I've come to know the shipwrecks where he wished.
I've come to wish aloud on the overdressed crowd
come to witness now the sink into the ship.
Throwing pennies from the seetop next to it.
And I've come to roam the forest past the village
With a dozen lazy horses in my cart
I've come here to get hide
To do more than just get by
I've come to test the timber of my heart
Oh, I've come to test the timber of my heart
And I've con troubled in my seeking
And I've come
See that nothing is for naught
I've come to reach out blind
To reach forward and behind
For the more I seek
The more I'm sought
Yeah, the more I seek
The more I'm sought
And I've come to meet the sheriff
And his piousie
To offer him the broad side of my jaw
I've come here to get broke
Then maybe bummer smoke
We'll go drinking two towns over after all
I'll go drinking two towns over after all
And I've come to meet the legendary takers
I've only come to ask them for a lot
Or they say I come with less
Then I should rightfully possess
I say the more I buy, the more I'm bought
The more I'm bought the less I cost
And I've come
Take their servants and their surplus
And I've come
Take their raincoats and their speed.
I've come to get my fill to ransack and spill.
I've come to take the harvest for the scene.
I've come to take the harvest for the sea.
I've come to know the manger that you sleep in.
I've come to be the stranger that you keep.
I've come from down the road, and my footsteps never slowed.
Before we met I knew we'd.
Before we met I knew we'd.
And I've come here to ignore your cries and heartaches.
I've come to closely listen to you sing.
I've come here to insist that I'll leave here with a kiss.
I've come to say exactly what I mean.
And I mean so many things.
And you've come stubborn as a butcher.
And you've come.
Incless as a guest.
But will you recognize my face when God,
God's awful grace strips me of my jacket in my vest
and reveals all the treasure in my chest.
I figured it out, Desert Bluffs.
The mob outside City Hall has dispersed.
They returned Lauren Mallard with her tattooed frown
to her position as mayor,
but city bylaws prohibit anyone incapable of smiling
from serving in that position,
so for now, we have no mayor.
The drifting shadows around the mudstone abyss have dissipated,
returning to whatever other other world they came from,
and construction has begun again at the monument dig site,
several days ahead of schedule.
I figured it out.
During our phone call, Charles was getting flustered.
I asked what was wrong, and he said Donovan was distracting him
by swinging his toy planes around again.
I told Charles to focus on us
and not worry about what Donovan was doing.
We can't talk about us, Kevin, without worrying about what Donovan is doing,
he snapped at me.
Donovan is us. That's the deal, okay?
And I was hurt.
I wasn't smiling.
I don't like criticism.
It makes me sad.
And then mad.
And then confused.
Listeners, I don't often use strong language, so if your ears are sensitive to vulgarity,
turn the volume down for a few seconds.
I hate not being happy.
I hate it.
I'm sorry.
I thought about what Charles said.
I thought about his teeth, his chest, his hair, his snoring, his smile.
I thought about Donovan.
I thought about Donovan.
toy planes all around above his head. Like the birds in that dream every one of us has every
single night. You know where the birds zig and zag across a blood-red sky, recklessly turning
and swirling and panicked fits. Donovan's planes were, in fact, moving in the exact same
pattern as those birds. I figured it out. Each movement, each turn, each turn, each
path of each plane was identical to those birds' paths.
Listeners, it's not a dream. It's a message.
The shadows do not speak in our mouthy languages, but in shapes and patterns.
I interrupted Charles to tell him this.
I told him to take Donnie to the Mudstone Abyss.
I told him to bring Donnie's planes.
Charles and Donnie approached the shadowy figures.
The gathered crowd called to them to stop,
To move no closer to the shadows, but all the crowd could yell was cabbage coat hangers.
Charles then presented Donnie to the shadows, and they flickered as he zigged and zagged his planes above his head.
And then a miracle happened.
Glowing dotted lines appeared in the paths of the toy planes.
A radiant geometry, triangles and stars and hexagons.
The shapes began to connect to each other, circles forming spheres, triangles forming pyramids.
The shadows raised their arms and disappeared.
Donnie stopped flying his planes around, but the dotted lines hung in mid-air,
an unreadable but completely comprehensible message to the now silent crowd.
They figured it out.
One by one, the people returned to the dig site and began car.
carving the shapes they had just seen into the mudstone.
As people grew tired and stepped away for rest breaks,
they found that their words had returned to them,
and when they went back to dig more, they fell silent again,
but only because they felt more comfort in their new spatial language of shapes and motion.
The anger over the construction was no more.
Citizens came together, not just out of a common communication,
nor for the good of a great monument,
but because happiness finally showed itself to them,
and they discovered their own paths to peace,
through the pride of choosing hard work for the benefit of all.
Charles called to tell me how excited he was for me.
You figured it out, he said.
Kevin, you figured it out.
I told him, Donnie figured it out.
He didn't spout a solution in word.
but in deeds.
You should be proud of your son, Charles, I said.
I am proud of him.
I didn't say anything else.
I need more time to know what else to say.
Soon we'll go visit the zoo.
Hopefully soon we'll have a night to ourselves.
To drink, to dine, to dance,
and late at night in a quiet home,
to dream a dream of diving birds,
of love and language.
and we will wake up the same people in a different place.
The earth will have moved, the clocks will have moved,
the sun will not have moved.
But we will wake, and we will smile,
and we will do our best to understand ourselves and others.
Desert Bluffs, I didn't figure out the language of the abyss.
Donnie did.
I didn't figure out what the language.
intended. You did. What I figured out was that I sometimes push too hard. I will do my best to not do that.
We are building this monument because you want to. I want to too, but I'm glad you found your own way here.
Lauren, tattooed frown, scrawled, crooked on her face, is standing over the pit and staring at the
shapes the dream has shown us, as though reading messages only she.
could understand. She is muttering strange syllables to herself and staring with obvious malice at the
workers in the pit. So even she has found a hobby in this post-maural life. Thank you, Desert Bluffs.
I love this town. I'm happy you do too. Stay tuned next for the sound a child makes upon seeing a
in real life.
And as always,
until next time, Desert Bluffs.
Until next time.
Welcome to Desert Bluffs
is a production of Nightvale Presents.
It is written by Joseph Fink
and Jeffrey Kraner and produced by disparition.
The voice of Desert Bluffs is Kevin R.frey.
The voice of Lauren Mallard was Lauren Sharp.
Original music by Joseph Fink.
All of it can be found at josephink.
bandcamp.com. This episode's weather was
hymn number 101 by Joe Pug. Find out more
at joe pugmusec.com. Comments, questions, email us at
info at welcome to nightfail.com. Or follow us on Twitter at
Nightville Radio. Or trip the light fantastic and watch laughing as it falls.
Check out Welcome to Nightvail.com for more information on this show
and the new Alice Isn't Dead novel by Joseph Fink, out now.
Today's proverb, kangaroos, our dear, abbreviated.
Hi, we're Meg Bashwinter and Joseph Fink.
Of welcome to Nightvail, and on our new show, The Best Worst,
we explore the Golden Age of Television.
To do that, we're watching the IMDB viewer-rated best and worst episodes of classic TV shows.
The episode of Star Trek, where Beverly Crusher has sex with a ghost,
the episode of The X-Files, where Skelly gets attacked by a vision.
housecat. And also the really good episodes too. What can we learn from the best and worst of
great television? Like for example, is it really a bad episode or do people just hate women?
The best worst. Available wherever you get your podcasts.
