Welcome to Night Vale - 25 - One Year Later

Episode Date: June 15, 2013

It has been one year since the first episode. One year since strange things began underneath lane five of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. One year since the arrival of Night Vale's most beautiful person: Carlos. Weather: "Sunday Morning Stasis" by Joseph Fink Music: Disparition, disparition.info Logo: Rob Wilson, silastom.com Produced by Night Vale Presents. Written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor. Narrated by Cecil Baldwin. More Info: welcometonightvale.com, and follow @NightValeRadio on Twitter or Facebook. 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 Dysperition 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? things. We have three other really great chat shows. First of all, there's Good Morning Nightvale

for all of your Nightvale needs. You can hear Hal, Meg, and Symphony talk about every single episode in order of Welcome to Nightvale. 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 IMDB, the worst rated on IMDB, and if you're a Patreon member, they will review the middleest rated on IMDB. So check out all of those at nightfallpresents.com or just wherever you get your podcast. And hey, thanks.

It's something else here now. Something new. From exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series Stephen King calls Scarious Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch

Saving those children is how we all go home From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus A friendly desert community Where the sun is still hot The Moon still beautiful And mysterious lights still pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.

Welcome to Night Vale. Word is in about a disturbance at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. There has been the sound of chanting and machinery from under the pin retrieval area of Lane 5. And Teddy Williams has changed all the bowl

bowler's names on the electronic scorecards to, They are here. This is causing some confusion and has completely ruined Jeremy Godfrey's 50th birthday party, which had rented out a few lanes for the afternoon. Jeremy was last seen drinking a light beer out of a plastic cup, shaking his head sadly as he swished the liquid around and looking out the window at the sky, mostly void, partially stars. Teddy Williams was last seen howling,

commanding his militia to surround the pen retrieval area and prepare for an attack. And Carlos, sweet Carlos, brave Carlos, was last seen approaching the entrance to the underground city, saying he was going to get to the bottom of this, that someone had to, and that Teddy Williams was deranged. Teddy Williams was then last scene saying, Oh yeah, oh yeah, say that to my face, big shot.

But Carlos, my poor Carlos, was already gone. I fear, Night Vale, I fear for what we know. I fear for what we don't know. I fear for what we don't yet know that we don't know. The Apache tracker stood outside of the bowling alley, glowering at the entrance and shaking his head. I remind you that this is the white guy who likes to dress in a cartoonish approximation of a Native American and claims to have mystical powers. He's a real racist jerk. and no one likes him.

And the fact that he recently disappeared and reappeared as an actual Native American changes nothing. And neither does the fact that he can now only speak Russian. He is still the same embarrassment to our town he always was. Anyway, he's glowering at the entrance, arms crossed, wearing one of his stupid plastic. feather headdresses. But back to Carlos. Carlos the scientist. Perfect of stature and bearing.

Perfect of tone and taut. And time having fixed what the barbarous barber telly so treacherously snipped away, Perfect of hair. One year. One year later. Listeners.

Listeners. One single year since two major events in our town's history. First, the opening of our lovely state-of-the-art dog park, which is forbidden. and which I will not mention again. Second and most important, it is one year since the arrival in night veil of our most beloved and singular citizen. He came to us to investigate our town

because he said it was scientifically extraordinary and downright bizarre. We had no idea what he was talking about, but with his golden voice ringing out from the bell of his mouth, who among us could argue with the content of such perfect speech? Just one short year ago. I had arranged a small ceremony to mark this occasion, and invited Carlos to attend. However, it looks like he will be delayed. But I am not worried.

I am not upset. I know that Carlos will be here for the ceremony. I have the trophy here in my hand. I am holding the trophy and I am not upset. Carlos will be here. He will. I am holding the trophy. In other news, a commercial airliner appeared today inside the home of surprised Night Vale citizen Becky Canterbury,

who said she was about to get in the shower when it roared down her hallway and then disappeared, as suddenly as it had arrived. There is no conclusive evidence that this is the same airliner last seen in the Nightvale Elementary Gym one year ago. But we have jumped to that conclusion and will defend it against all naysayers, violently and without mercy. Our truths may or may not be true, but they are ours, and we stand by them. Even as the experts and skeptics hold aloft clipboards and in tone to us about snow and mountains. Becky added that she would like to take that shower now, and that she has no idea how we managed to arrive for an interview mere seconds after the incident occurred.

My doors are locked, she said. My windows too. I've had my eyes shut for years. How did you get in here? The local chapter of the NRA has begun market testing some possible new slogans. These include guns don't kill people, blood loss and organ damage does. Guns don't kill people, people kill guns. A list of things that kill people.

One, conceivably anything. Two, not guns. Guns don't kill people. We are all immortal souls living temporarily in shelters of earth and meat. And, if you say guns kill people one more time, I will shoot you with a gun, and you will, coincidentally, die. To vote on the news, slogan, simply fire a gun at the object or person that best represents your choice. Parents, let's talk about safety when taking your children to play out in the scrublands and the sandwastes.

All children in Night Vale are missing this week, so there's no current safety issues. Hope we find them. Oh, happy day. I have just received word that Carlos returned from the entrance to the city, gesturing to everyone around and asking them to follow him. He led them into the pin retrieval area, which is not an easy place. for a crowd. So there was a lot of crouching and saying, excuse me, excuse me. But soon enough, they were all arrayed on the cliff top overlooking that dreaded subterranean metropolis. Teddy Williams and his militia, and the folks who had come for Jeremy's birthday party, and Jeremy himself, still holding his plastic cup of beer and leaning morosely against the wall,

pointedly refusing to look where everyone else was. This was the first time most of them had seen the city. It seemed so distant below them. its strange spires small and far away. The windows in the buildings, alight with the fire of hostile life, were tiny dots from where they stood. They could hear the footsteps of the approaching army,

the chanting. Many of them quaked with fear, but not Carlos. My brave Carlos stepped out into the pit, climbing down the slope. At first, onlookers were horrified at his lunatic descent. Then they were confused, as he got to the city much faster than they expected. And then there was panic, as their eyes told them a story they could. not understand, let alone believe.

Behold, said Carlos, standing in the center of the underground city. This is not an enormous city miles below the earth. It is a very small city about ten feet below the earth, populated by tiny people who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the ten feet to our world. He gestured at the spires, which came up approximately to his knees. We have nothing to fear. Well, if Carlos says it, I will happily repeat it. We have nothing to fear and never did. The city council would like to remind you about the teared heavens and the hierarchy of angels.

The reminder is that you still should not know anything about this. The structure of heaven and the angelic organizational chart are still privileged information. Also, angels aren't real. I really get tired of having to say this, a city council representative said to a group of disgruntled angels. angels aren't real. They just aren't! The angels became unruly and were dispersed by a thunder clap from heaven.

Oh, a truly fearful thing has happened, listeners. Carlos, standing triumphantly in the toy-scaled city was attacked by tiny people using projectiles and explosives, He fell back to the side of the small hole in the pin retrieval area of Lane 5. Blood welled through his shirt, and here I am. Stuck in my booth. Useless, only able to narrate and not to help. He staggered, fell to his knees,

so much blood He collapsed completely Curse this town That saw Carlos die Curse me Curse it all Let us take a moment too Let us take this moment

Ladies and gentlemen Let us mourn the past I can't I am still holding this trophy I... We go now to this pre-recorded public service announcement. Scientists and science in general would like to remind you that some things exist and some things do not. Usually you can apply the simple test of seeing if it is there.

If it is there, it exists. If not, it probably doesn't. But it might just be currently existing somewhere. else. Existence is tricky, these scientists say. Research shows this. For instance, there is that house in the housing development of Desert Creek out back of the elementary school. The house that doesn't exist. It seems like it exists. Like it's just right there when you look at it, and it's between two other identical houses so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it does not exist. They have proved this with science. The scientists

still haven't gotten up the nerve to ring the doorbell and find out what happens. Do you want to do it? They'll pay you five dollars if you do. Just ring it once, okay? We'll be watching from back here. You'll probably be fine. Ladies, gentlemen, how? wonderful Carlos is not dead at all it seems that the Apache tracker ran in crouching awkwardly through the

pin retrieval area and shouting Nakonets myo Vremya put ashlo he leapt into the pit trailing his offensive feather headdress and heaved Carlos up in a mighty bear hug

carrying him out of the pit while being attacked viciously by the miniature citizens of the miniature city. Even Jeremy, upset still about his ruined birthday party, couldn't help but cheer as the formerly false, now real, Native American laid Carlos safely on the linoleum floor. Teddy Williams, who, of course, is also a licensed doctor, as all bowling alley owners are required to be, checked his wounds and indicated through a series of rhythmic hoots that Carlos will be, in fact, okay. He's okay. Never before in my career as a broadcaster have I gone through such a roller-greens.

coaster of emotion and fear, to think that I had lost that most precious thing to me, the presence of Carlos in my life, and then to have it brought back so that I could appreciate it all the more. Oh, Carlos, all the words I would never have said to you. And the news that the city is in fact only a miniature city, ten feet down, well, that was startling as well. But it appears that all is well. And so I say to you, with a heart singing its way from heavy to light, good night, night veil, good...

Oh no, I have just been handed a note. Oh, this is not good news. Ladies and gentlemen, in his valiant rescue of our beloved Carlos, the Apache tracker was mortally wounded. He is bleeding profusely, and it is getting all over his fake feather headdress, and he says that even his ancient Indian magics will not help him,

which of course they won't, because they're not real. Listeners, how could I have been so wrong about this man? A racist embarrassment to our town? Maybe. A real jerk? Yes. But he also was a man with Knight Vale's best interests at heart.

Who worked closely with the angels and the mysterious man in the tan jacket to protect us from the miniature city under the bowling alley. and he, at the cost of his own life, saved Carlos. Carlos breathes, and soon the Apache tracker will not. Tell me nothing else, and still I will tell you, here is a good man. Here is a good man dying. Here it is.

The end of a good man's life. The Apache tracker spoke, not in a hoarse whisper, but with a clear, ringing voice, addressing the sky hidden behind the styrofoam panels of the ceiling. Lardno, ladno, I know, it's all lutsia. Timosej is viat, my machinu. He said this. and then he died. The Apache Tracker is dead.

Teddy Williams confirmed. Jeremy is slumped into a folding chair, kicking his feet and saying, this is the worst birthday party anyone has ever had. Good night, brave tracker. Good night. I thought you were one thing and you were. another.

It is likely I will learn nothing from this. And oh, a message on my phone. Carlos wants to see me. He says to meet him at the Arby's parking lot. I am not sure what scientific exploration now needs the services of my radio audience, but I will dutifully go, dutifully meet him. And as I go, let us all go. Go now to the weather.

And this coffee that is outside, kids are breaking on rocks of their own making. Breathe it. And see, I guess if I wanted to move. Yes, I know the leaves are changing, but I don't find that image. It's even as time different clothes. than he and see it I guess if I wanted to move

And if this blanket moves at all We'll be back at times free fall Loolew So hold on tight to last night And now wrapped and moaning light we choose With arms and hearts and leftovers And barely watch TV shows We sue

I guess get dressed rejoined the mess But I think about that less and less with you Yes I feel the future Illuming and the tide of time subsuming because the warmth from your body makes this a Sunday morning stasis Breathing and seeing you I guess if I wanted to move RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got.

Sign up for free at rbc training ground.ca. I arrived at the parking lot to find Carlos, perched on the trunk of his car in flannel and jeans, his perfect hair must, his perfect teeth hidden. What is it? I said, what danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored? He shook his head. Nothing, he said. After everything that happened, I just wanted to see you.

My heart leapt. My heart soared. My heart metaphorically performed a number of aerial activities, and literally it began to beat hard. Oh, I said, my voice more tremble than word, Carlos looked at the setting sun. I used to think it was setting at the wrong time, he said. But then I realized that time doesn't work in Night Vale, and that none of the clocks are real. Sometimes things seem so strange or malevolent, and then you find that underneath it was something else altogether, something pure and innocent.

I know what you mean, I replied. Somewhere the tiny people of the city below have arrived in Night Vale and are beginning their war against us, having already shown themselves capable of murder. Somewhere, a man in a tan jacket is whispering into the ears of our mayor, and we do not know what agenda they pursue. Somewhere, the body of the Apache tracker lies cold and still,

never to speak of ancient Indian magics again. This all happens somewhere else. But here, Carlos and... sat on the trunk of that car, his car, looking together at the lights up in the sky above the Arby's. They were beautiful in the hushed twilight, shimmering in a night sky, already coming alive with bits of the universe. One year later, one year since he arrived.

He put his hand on my knee and said nothing. And I knew what he meant. I felt the same. I leaned my head on his shoulder. We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby's. We understand so much. But the sky.

behind those lights, mostly void, partially stars, that sky reminds us, we don't understand even more. Good night, Night Vale. Good night. Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Commonplace Books. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Craneer and produced by Joseph Fink. The voice of Nightvale is Cecil Baldwin. Original music by Disparition. All of it can be downloaded for free at Disparition. info. This episode's weather was Sunday morning

Stasis by Joseph Fink. Want to have your music featured in the weather section? Want to contribute your talents to the show? Just want to say hi? Email us at Nightfail at commonplacebooks.com or follow us on Twitter at Nightvale Radio. Check out commonplacebooks.com

for more information on this show, as well as our books on the unused story ideas of H.P. Lovecraft and what it means to be a grownup. And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link. That would be cool of you. Today's proverb, fun game. Say, toy boat over and over. Do it for the rest of your life. Retreat from society and live on alms. Whisper, toy boat as you die. Hey, it's Jeffrey Craneer speaking to you from spring of 2026 and did you know we are on tour in Europe? Welcome to Nightville. We'll be live on stage in Edinburgh on May 27th, Manchester on May 28th, London on May 29th, and Amsterdam on May 30th. This brand new live show is called Murder Night in Blood Forest, starring Cecil Baldwin, Symphony

Sanders, me, and live original music by disparition. These tours are so much fun, and they're for the diehard fan and the Nightvale new kid alike. So bring your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever. They don't got to know what Nightville is to like the show. Tickets to these shows are on sale now at welcome to nightvail.com slash live. Don't let time slip away. Get your tickets. Don't miss us when we're in your town because otherwise we'll all be sad. Get your tickets to our Europe Live tour right now at welcome to nightvail.com slash live. And hey, thanks.