Tales from the Break Room

They say if you listen really carefully, you can hear the moon pacing around under the horizon. I'm Pippin, the land-dwelling half of Night Vale Community Radio's intern.

[nightvalequotes]

Oh! I almost forgot to mention: I got another email from our former intern, Dana. She’s doing her best to keep away from the Mountain and the Blinking Light Up On it. Of course, she keeps finding herself coming back to it anyway. But, like anyone who grew up in Night Vale, Dana has been told over and over again what to do if you find yourself in a geographical loop, continually returning to the same place, no matter which direction you run screaming. The first step is to stop running, and stop screaming. Doing that rarely helps.

Welcome to Night Vale

Episode 42 - Numbers

(via nightvalequotes)

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chapter 1

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.

Welcome to Night Vale.

  Picket fences line the shimmering sidewalk.  Assorted winged insects buzz lazily, hovering over my neighbors’ lawns (which are crunchy at best) as I amble past on a skateboard, paying no heed to the fact that I was, regrettably, late.  Instead of booking it to the local radio station, where I was supposed to be, I was searching for someone.  Someone who currently had both my I.D. tag and keys.  And, you know, my entire bookbag.  Which I kind of needed.  Unfortunately for me, she had a head start.  I began to seriously consider committing homicide in the name of punctuality when my phone rang and- shit, it was the station.

“Cecil, I would definitely be at the station right now except my I.D. card was stolen-“ I began hurriedly, only to be cut off by a brash snort on the other end of the line.  My eyes narrowed.  “You’re still looking for me?  Oh, Lord, that is gold.  Jesus, Pip, I’m at the station.”  Lulu’s voice, at a perpetual slight raggedness that made it impossible to take her completely seriously, bubbled through the phone as I struggled to maintain my irritation.  “I’ve literally been rolling around the neighborhood looking for you for like fifteen minutes.   What the fuck, man?”  She laughed again. 

“Just get here.  I cleared your name with Cecil.  And yes, I have your stuff.”   I huffed angrily, but before I’d even peeled the phone away from my face, she’d hung up.  I cursed and started in the direction of the studio.

                    Night Vale Community Radio’s building was decidedly dodgy.  To be honest, it resembled a meth lab a lot more than a radio station.  But that was just the outside.  I stuck my head in the intern break room, looking for Lulu- and, admittedly, to chew her out- to no avail.  I toss my skateboard onto the lone, dilapidated couch and stalk off to continue hunting for my possessions. 

“Pippin?  Is that you?” Cecil Baldwin, the Voice of Night Vale/Radio Host and Entertainer and, well, my boss, called from the recording studio off to my left.  I find him just outside of it wrestling with the coffee machine, a cracked ceramic mug resting precariously near the edge of the wobbly table.  “Hey, do you know where Lulu is?”  I ask, moving the mug to a safer surface.  He grunted and continued to struggle, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “Carlsburg” and extracting a large wire from the back part of the machine, discarding it immediately.  Knowing better than to intervene, I sidled past him in the narrow hallway and was intercepted by none other than Lulu herself, right in the face with my bag. 

“Pippin!  You’re here!”  She dropped my bag in favor of giving a hug, which I stubbornly did not return.  “Come on, we’ve got work to do.  Koshekh moved again.  And the microphone stand’s loose, but Cecil and I can’t reach it.”  I roll my eyes as she releases me from her hug and pick up my bag, replacing a few miscellaneous items that had fallen out during the encounter with my face.  “I’m still mad at you, by the way.  We’re fighting.  Just so you know.”  She scoffed. 

“But I love you.”

“You hit me in the face.  With my own bag.  Which you stole.  And made me late.”

“You’re always late.”

“Yeah, but you made me late-er.  You increased my lateness.” 

“But I talked to Cecil, so you’re not in trouble.”

“You still made me late.  And took my stuff.  And hit me with it!”

“That was on accident, though.”

“YOU ABUSED ME WITH MY STOLEN POSSESSIONS.”

“But I love you!”

“Ugh! Whatever.  Just, whatever.  How did the microphone break again?  And I think we might be out a coffee machine soon.”  Warily, I glanced back at Cecil, who continued his struggle to conquer the appliance.  

“Come on.  We’re recording in thirty.”  Lulu tugged me along.

~

“I think we should play this one,” Lulu whispered, thrusting a tape into my hands.  Something was scrawled on the front in a language that I did not recognize, and I shook my head.  “Where did you even get that?  We’re supposed to pick from this box.”  I gestured to a USPS Medium Standard packing box, full of assorted tapes for the Weather.  “Oh,” she mumbled, absently replacing the mystery tape and diving into the box.  “Wait, was there blood on that?”  I queried, leaning in towards the mysterious tape. 

“Meh, I dunno.  Doesn’t really matter.”  She emerged triumphantly, clutching a tape (entitled “Out On The Sheild”) and scuttling over to the recording chair, where Cecil was finishing up.  He gave a nod as he took the tape from her, pulling a pen from behind his ear to rewind it.  Noticing his empty coffee cup, I grabbed it and started for the door.

“And now, the weather.”  Cecil pushed the tape in with a click.  “Pippin, I can get that.  I need more anyway.”  He took the cup from me and strode out of the studio and down the hall.  Shrugging, I turned back into the studio, where Lulu was sitting in the chair shuffling through Cecil’s various reports.  “Are you keeping those in order?  You don’t want to have an incident like last time when they got mixed up…” I said warily.  She rolled her eyes.  “It’s fine.”  I turn around and amble towards the door of the studio, hoping to find some useful job to redeem myself.  “Whatever, man.  I’m not gonna take responsibility for when Cecil reads the finance news a second time.”  Suddenly, something smacked my right shoulder blade with a sharp clack and bounced off to the side.  “You didn’t just.”  I turn around, glaring, as another cassette clattered to the ground after ricocheting off of my body parts.  Lulu grinned.  “Oh, I totally did.”  My eyes narrowed. 

“You think this is a fucking game?”  I say sharply.  I try to repress a grin, subtly migrate towards the back corner of the room, where I know there is another box of Weather tapes.  “You think you can just attack me-“ I reach behind,  closing my fingers around a tape- “-without any retaliation?” I flung the cassette at her, which found its mark.  “THIS MEANS WAR!” she cried, firing another tape straight at my head.  Overwhelming survival instincts command me to get out of the way, and I hit the carpet.  Instead of hearing the tape whack the wall behind me, however, there’s the very distinctive sound of plastic hitting something fleshy and a noise of pain.  And then, a terrible, horrible thought dawns.  A terrifying, stomach-dropping-awful thought that I see reflected in Lulu’s stricken face.   

Oh no. 

This can’t be.

Horrified, I turn slowly.  I first see the offending tape, having clattered to the floor.   Next I see a pair of worn but relatively clean beige Converse, attached to a pair of legs in dull brown slacks.  I lift my eyes to see the fraying and lightly stained hem of a white lab coat.

“I think it is highly possible that you bent my glasses,” Carlos the Scientist mumbled, rubbing the upper corner of his right brow.  His wire frames dangled from his other hand, along with a clipboard, a coffee cup, a Slovakian-English dictionary, and a pen.  Hoovaloo attempted a stammered apology, but Carlos waved it off with an absent mumble.  “D’you happen to know where Cecil is?  I’ve got something very urgent to speak with him about.” He waved vaguely with his laden hand. 

“Um…I think he might be by the coffee machine.”  I volunteer, after a pause.

“Ah yes, certainly.”  Carlos nodded thoughtfully and drifted out of the door.  Softly from the hallway, I hear him murmur, “But why cassettes?” to himself.  Deciding not to question it, I turn back to Hoovaloo.  She’s still frozen in terror, one hand in the box of tapes, half crouched behind Carlos’ rolly chair.  It’s dead silent for a solid minute before she says, “Holy shit.” I burst out laughing, and she turns a little pink and threatens to bean me with another tape. 

“How about we clean up?  Cecil’s gonna be back any minute.” We’ve just put the last tape in it’s respective box when Cecil strolls in, looking more than a little frazzled but with a fresh cup of coffee.  “Ah, Pippin, Hoovaloo, thank you for organizing my things!” He flopped down into his chair and sighed.  “Hey, would either of you guys happen to know what happened to Carlos?  He kept rubbing his head and muttering something about effective weapons.”  Wide-eyed, I exchanged a glance with Lulu before stammering, “Oh, no, we don’t know anything about that.  I don’t know.  What?” Lulu shot a glare at me and mouthed, so convincing.  Cecil didn’t appear to be paying much attention to either of us, however, and was busy readying himself for the next section of the report.  Readying his finger on the eject button of the tape player, he smiled over his shoulder and said, “You guys can head home for today.  I’ll clean up when we’re done.”  We nod, and whisper “See you tomorrow, Cecil!”  almost in unison.  He smiles again, nods, and turns to the microphone. “Listeners, it is with much excitement that I inform you of a new installment to Night Vale’s Public Library…”

~

Back in the intern break room, Hoovaloo and I gathered our things to head home.  She fills me in on band gossip on the way, and we discuss the probability of our Unconventional Instruments section ever returning from their field trip.  Arriving at the tree between our houses, I pick up my skateboard and hand Hoovaloo her stuff, grinning.  She returns the smile and leans in conspiratorially.  “Weather’s looking pretty nice today.  Radon at 2?” I glance up.  Puffy clouds drift across the late evening sky, and an arrangement of ducks flaps across my vision. 

“I’ll see you then.”  

[macabremorgue]

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[cid:1d733d85-fe5c-48f5-9e97-ed434cc472bb] TUMBLR JUST SENT THIS TO ME I AM SO PROUD 5 POSTS CLUB 4 LIFE

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The night calls. I'm crouched in the shadows on the side of my house, gently searching the ground around my feet. My fingers land on a round pebble, about the size of a dime, and pick it up. Hoovaloo's bedroom window is above me and a little to the left, a cactus sitting on the windowsill. I cross my fingers and throw the pebble, striking the bottom corner of her window. It clicks clearly, and falls into a bush below. Almost immediately, the window slides open and Hoovaloo sticks her head out, grinning. "I'll meet you at the car," she whispered, vanishing back inside her house and shutting the window. I comply, walking silently to my car and sliding in the front seat. Soon Hoovaloo joins me. I shift the car into neutral and we roll down the gentle slope of my driveway, coming to a stop in front of the house on the opposite side of Hoovaloo's. The car starts with a sound like a dinosaur's victory roar, and Hoovaloo and I grimace simultaneously. The street seems undisturbed, however, as we drive off. Destination: Radon Canyon. TO BE CONTINUED.

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the night is calling me.

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Carlos told me that some places get white, fluffy sandstorms like these for months at a time.  Isn't that wild?

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WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

The cassettes.  Hoovaloo says I'm their second-favorite animate object- second, of course, only too Hoovaloo herself.

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aaaayyyyyyye