Welcome to Night Vale - 225 - Renegotiations

Episode Date: April 1, 2023

It's contract renegotiation time at the station. Weather: “Peculiar Little Town“ by Echoes of Aphelion Original episode art by Jessica Hayworth Read episode transcripts Our new podcast, UNLICENSED, available now! 2023 US TOUR DATES for “The Haunting of Night Vale” Patreon is how we exist! If you can, please help us keep making this show. Music: Disparition Logo: Rob Wilson Written by Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor Narrated by Cecil Baldwin Follow us on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Check out our books, live shows, store, membership program, and official recap show at welcometonightvale.com A production of Night Vale Presents. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Howdy y'all. It is Jeffrey Craneer. I'm not sure which episode of Welcome to Nightville you're listening to, but I am speaking to you from April of 2026. And I'm here to tell you we're going to be in Europe. If you want to see Nightville live and you're going to be in Europe, come check us out at the end of May. We're going to be in Edinburgh on May the 27th. We will be in Manchester on the 28th, London on the 29th, and Amsterdam on May the 30th. Just go to Welcome to Nightville.com slash live to see the show dates and to get your tickets. This is. our newest Nightville live show Murder Night in Blood Forest. It is so much fun. Please come check it out. Also, coming up this month here in April, it is the return of Alice Isn't Dead, brand new episodes of our other crazy hit podcast. This is written by Joseph Fink, produced and with music by disparition, and starring Jacique and Nicole. So make sure you are still subscribed to Alice Isn't Dead, and go get those on April the 13th as new episodes come out. Finally, speaking of other shows, Do you want to hear us talk about other things? We have three other really great chat shows.

First of all, there's Good Morning Nightvale for all of your Nightville needs. You can hear Hal, Meg, and Symphony talk about every single episode in order of Welcome to Nightvail. Also, we have Random Horror Number Nine. That is me and Nightville star Cecil Baldwin talking about horror movies one at a time in a random order. And then Joseph and Meg do best worst, which is a really fun podcast where they look at hit TV shows and they review the best rated on a IMDB, the worst rated on IMDB, and if you're a Patreon member, they will review the middlest rated on IMDB. So check out all of those at Nightvillepresents.com or just wherever you get your podcast. And hey, thanks.

500,000, 600 minutes in this economy? Welcome to Nightvale. It's contract renegotiation time again, listeners. Yeah, it's been five years since my last round with station management, and I think it's time for a raise. Ratings have been good for my show, and while some of that has to do with City Council's recent ordinance requiring all radios to be tuned to this station at all hours, I'd like to think some of our success has to do with my top-notch broadcast abilities. By the way, City Council and Station Management are still dating. It's been an an on-again, off-again affair, but they're living together now. They bought a new house and adopted several cats.

These lovebirds are seen going to antique malls nearly every weekend. We're all still waiting to hear when station management is going to pop the question. But marriage or no, these two multi-headed, single-bodied monstrosities seem quite happy together. Cute, even. And I'm hoping this loving relationship has station management in a good mood today. Still, after what happened five years ago, I came prepared. I hired an agent, Alana McTavish. I know agents take a large cut, but it's worth it knowing that all the eyes are dotted and T's are crossed. I'm not planning on asking for anything outlandish, salary-wise. I really like

it here. Besides, I don't know where else I would go. This is the only radio station in town, as mandated by the city council in loving lockstep with their romantic partner. Oh, okay, I'm getting a text from Alana. She tells me not to give away too much of my leverage by blabbing about my intentions. Okay, well, listeners, all that, that's just between us. So don't tell anyone. And now, traffic. All roads, sidewalks, and bike paths that lead to the sandwastes are closed.

As is the secret bunker for the U.S. President in case of a catastrophe like global thermonuclear warfare, bird attacks, or heavy rain. I didn't know the president's top secret bunker was located in Night Vale. How neat! I'm on the website right now. Oh, you can do tours! There's even a children's wing and a gift shop? Well, that sounds like a fun family day out. Sadly, though, the bunker is closed to the... public, including the president, along with all roads leading to the sand wastes until further notice. The sheriff's secret police issued this order as they are still looking for the body of Dana Cardinal or her double. The secret police paused their search in the sandwastes this past week because they found a few dozen bodies, which are all linked to several unsolved murders over the past 60 years.

But Dr. Janet Lubel, from the University of What It Is, reminded Sheriff Sam that the university is funding this search, not the city of Nightvale, and Dr. Lubel wants to keep digging for Dana's double. According to Dr. Lubel, the University of What It Is is not interested in solving murders. Solving murders is scientifically boring, she said. Explaining doppelgangers, on the other hand, is scientifically. very interesting, she said. And that's what they're in the sand wastes to do.

Find the woman Dana Cardinal killed on March 15, 2013. So take Galloway Road or marked alternate routes instead. This has been traffic. Okay, listeners, my agent, Alana, is here. She's gone down the back hall to speak to station management. I warned her that they're very dangerous. She told me she's dealt with plenty of high-powered people. She understands every intimidation technique in the book.

But I saw the terror on her face when she looked down the dark corridor, lit only by a pulsating orange glow around a solid wood door. We could hear sounds of snarling, then whimpering, and then chewing. The gnashing of teeth was ravenous and wet. Ugh, that must have been one of the shawns in sales asking for a raise. Poor guy. Alana steled herself and headed down the hall.

I wished her luck and gave her a double thumbs up. She immediately vomited, collected herself, and reciprocated my confident gesture. When I last asked for a new contract, I didn't even get to see station management. I had an appointment that morning before my show, and I was nervous, but prepared to talk to them about my value to this radio station and community. But before I could even make it down the hall, the floor tore open. There was a burst of flame and a crow about the size of a skateboard, flew up and handed me a piece of paper. It was a contract. I had apparently already signed it.

Then arms, many arms, grabbed me from behind. Someone put a hood over my head and someone else injected me with something. And when I woke up, I was lying in the middle of the scrublands. My phone was dead and my shoes were missing. I walked across hot, sharp stones for 20 miles until I reached my home. And when I walked in the door, Carlos and all my friends were throwing me a surprise party to celebrate my contract renewal? It was one of the happiest days of my life. But I never wanted to go through negotiations with station management again.

That's why I hired Alana this year. Speaking of whom, it's been quiet. Too quiet. She's been in station management's office a long time, and I haven't heard... Oh, God, was that a scream? I think that's a scream. It sounds like Alana. Listeners, I...

Oh. No, it stopped. She stopped. The noises died away, or, oh dear, or Alana has. And now a public service announcement. My fellow Americans, today's political climate is rife with government and corporate confluence and corruption. And who is truly looking out for the people that make this country what it is? Who's looking out for you and me, the citizens,

of this nation. That's right. The Council for Food is. The Council for Food is an independent, private, shadow enterprise based in an unmapped Caribbean island whose only interest is spreading the word of food. Yes, you heard that right. Food. The ingestion of food is vital for survival.

Studies show that those who do not eat food are all dead. Which studies also show is directly correlated to them not eating food. Well, the Council for Food promotes the eating of food, things like cereal or blackened catfish. The Council for Food discourages people from eating non-food, things like styrofoam and guns. Wait, stop right now, Harrison Kipp. Were you about to eat that silica gel packet you got in your pampered chef delivery? Don't do it, Mr. Kip. Silica gel is not food.

Eat some mustard instead. Mustard is shown to be at least 64.8% food. Good work. You, concerned listener, must have many questions. Let's answer them all. Are drinks food? Yes and no. Can I give my children food?

Yes. All people can and should eat food. Where is the food? Food is everywhere that food can be found. I receive all my nutrients intravenously. Is that considered eating food? Yes, as long as those nutrients have been approved and delivered by a doctor. Is gum food?

Huh. We'll get back to you on that one. So, start eating food today, Night Vale. Food. It's the best thing you can eat. This message has been brought to you by the Council for Food. Okay, I'm texting Alana. I'm trying to call her too, but there's no response, listeners.

I fear the worst. Okay. I'm going to be a brave Cecil and go rescue her from the deadly grip of station management's claws or jaws or whatever those things are that they have on their neck. Okay, I've got the wireless mic, and I'm coming down the hall. The orange glow around their office door is mild. Maybe everybody's in a good mood. Maybe they're just working out the finer details of the contract, like vacation time, religious holidays, more cat treats in the station restrooms. I'm sure it's all fine.

I'm... Oh, my God! Listeners, there's something oozing from underneath the door. It's glistening and dark red. It's flowing now. not oozing, it's gushing, it's splashing. Nope, nope, nope, absolutely not. I'm going back to my desk right now where I belong.

God rest your soul, Alana McTavish, or maybe good luck, depending on your current plane of existence, but I cannot, will not be going back there again. Under any circumstances, contractor no. And now, financial news. The stock market is wild today. A real roller coaster of emotions, a real seesaw of feelings, a real elevator of sensations. Up and down the market goes and sometimes left and right, front and back.

The market is in three dimensions. Four even. The Dow Jones Industrial Average gained two more commas, but not in the number. The commas appeared suddenly in the middle of the word Jones. J, comma, O-N-E, comma, S. Investors are dead quiet, as the Fed announced that they were raising interest rates on the English language. Who does that? One banker shouted before being tackled, shushed, and ultimately gagged by several other panicked traders.

The New York Stock Exchange, in Lower Manhattan, is throbbing with activity. Literally. The building itself is expanding and. collapsing like the throat of a bullfrog in mating season. The CEO of Wells Fargo, who was a weasel, and here I mean that metaphorically, just a lying, jerk that CEO, they're not actually a weasel, of course. The CEO of Wells Fargo is, in fact, a rat, literally a rodent in a woodchip-strewn aquarium in a Chico State dorm room.

Anyway, the CEO of Wells Fargo said that they will pivot from personal and private banking to jet ski rentals beginning in quarter two. So if you've got any money saved at Wells Fargo, you're in luck, because you can now redeem it for a two-for-one ride at their new Charleston location, down by Pier 83, next to the Tamale truck. This has been Finance. Well, this is a surprise.

Dr. Janet Lubel and all of her terrible university of what it is cronies have arrived here at the radio station. Dr. Lubel's henchman, Blake Jones, demanded the archived audio from March 15th, 2013. That was the day Dana Cardinal killed her double right here in the studio while I was on the air. I told Dr. Jones and Dr. Lubel that all of our archives are held in station management's office, which is the truth. Dr. Jones sneered and said, where is this office? Oh, um, let me show you, I offered with a smile. But Dr. Lubel said with faux kindness,

No, you have a radio show to do, Mr. Gershwin Palmer. We can find it if you just point the way. And so I did. And now the entire staff of the University of What It Is is in the Office of Station Management, the most savage beasts this side of librarians. Oh, I wish I could see what Station Management is going to do to them. This is the moment we've been waiting for, Nightvale.

I could get a pay cut, and I'd still be thrilled with station management for finally taking care of Dr. LaBelle once and for all. Though I'm not looking forward to cleaning up the mess when they're done. Still, glorious news, Nightvail, glorious news. And now, the weather. To try a stranger in a strange land. Close down. And sharpened, small need to leave, yes, why not stay?

It's peculiar little town. Terrible news, Nightvale. Terrible news. Dr. Lou Bell and her fellow scientists emerged unscathed from station management's offices. They were holding an audio reel marked March 15th, 2013. They were astonished at how easy it was to find the archived record. of that show, but they were even more astonished at the condition of station management's office. It was like finding ruins, but almost perfectly preserved, Blake Jones said.

And then he asked me, how long has this station been running without management? I didn't understand. I explained to them about the horrifying noises, the glowing light under the door, and how no human is allowed to look directly at station management, that they've already eaten one of the shans from sales and possibly even my agent. There was a long pause, and then Dr. Lubel laughed. After a beat, all the other university sycophants laughed along with her. Dr. Lubel said,

Oh, Cecil, your station management is just an orange lava lamp that's been plugged in for God knows how long. And the noises were a Halloween sound effects cassette running on a loop. There's no one in that office. And there hasn't been for decades. I stammered. Something about contract renewal? About the fire and the floor opening up and the crow?

And Blake Jones said, well, you definitely have a crow infestation. We also see signs of foundation damage here, too. I said, wait, did you find my agent, Alana McTavish in there? They said they saw no one else in the office. Then Blake Jones began typing on his phone. He turned the screen to me and said, Cecil, I just looked that name up. Alana McTavish died 20 years ago.

Here's her obituary. There she was. Just as they said. Alana McTavish, dead at age 97, April 1st, 2003. Dr. Lubel looked at me with real pity. Mr. Gershwin Palmer, You seem disturbed. Your perceived reality has been shattered, hasn't it?

I was waiting for a ceasefire from these people, or at least an apology. I mean, they'd already killed Sarah Sultan. They killed the glow cloud. And now station management? I feared station management, yes, but I didn't like them, but they were my station management. Dr. Lubel did not back off, nor did she apologize. She said, we'd love to study this confused brain of yours. Come down to the university tomorrow morning for some tests.

At this, one of the scientists snickered. How dare you, I shouted, get out! And they did. Without incident. But before they got out the door, Dr. Jones turned back and said, Oh, we found this, and he handed me a document. It was my contract, renewed for another five years, with a 20% raise. Dr. Jones said, that's your handwriting, isn't it, Cecil? Couldn't be station management's handwriting.

They don't even exist. They've been, well, they've been explained. After they left, I stood at the open door of station management's office. I had never been there before with open eyes. It was covered in mounds of dust and cobwebs. There were no footprints or any indication that anyone had been in there for at least 40 years. Who was station management? How do I even begin to mourn them?

How will city council mourn them? I dread even thinking about the depths of their solace. Why, with all the pain station management has put me through, should I grieve their death? Maybe I'm scared thinking of running this radio station on my own. Maybe I loved them. Like a really difficult family member. Or maybe I'm frightened. Who's next to be explained away?

Sheriff Sam, Dana, Big Rico, Teddy Williams? Carlos? No. I can't think of these things. I must do what I do best, and that is broadcast. Nightvale, this is your newly re-signed radio host. In fact, this is your brand-new station manager. And I am calling on each and every one of you to close your doors to the university of what it is.

Do not rent them a lab. Do not give them a hotel room. Do not even offer them a glass of water. They must learn that they are not welcome here. Stay tuned next for the sound of tears barely audible over the roar of a vacuum cleaner. And as always, good night, Nightvale. Good night. Welcome to Nightvale is a production of Nightvale Presents.

It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Craneer and produced by Disparition. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin. Original music by Dysperition. All of it can be found at Disparition.bancamp.com. This episode's weather was Peculiar Little Town by Echoes of Aphelian. Find out more at echoesofophelian.

com. Check the show notes for the spelling. Comments, questions, email us at info at welcome to nightbale.com or follow us on Twitter at Nightvale Radio and Instagram at Nightvale Official. We now have a TikTok at Nightveal. Vail official as well. If you like short videos by a fictional radio station. And also check out welcome to nightvale.com, where we have a twice monthly mailing list and info about our upcoming

live shows, where we act out Nightvale right in front of your real life faces. Today's proverb, call me old-fashioned, but I believe the universe was better when it was a dense single point. Hey, Jeffrey Kraner here to tell you about another show from me and my Nightvale co-creator Joseph think. It's called unlicensed, and it's an LA noir-style mystery set in the outskirts of present-day Los Angeles. Unlicensed follows two unlicensed private investigators who small jobs looking into insurance claims and missing property are only the tip of a conspiracy iceberg. There are already two seasons of unlicensed for you to listen to now, with season three dropping on May 15th. Unlicensed is available exclusively through Audible, free if you already have that

subscription. And if you don't, Audible has a trial membership. And if I know you, and I do, you can binge all that mystery goodness in a short window. And if you like it, if you liked Unlicensed, please, please rate and review each season. Our ability to keep making this show is predicated on audience engagement. So go check out Unlicensed, available now only at audible.com.