Those who remember history are also doomed to repeat it. Welcome to Night Vale.

Despite the best efforts of Hadassah McDaniels and her team of five headed dragon lawyers, her brother, Hiram McDaniels, is scheduled to be executed today for his crimes against state and city. City government promises that by the end of this broadcast, Hiram McDaniels will be dead. Well.

Night Vale’s executioner, Dale Salazar, has once again been raised from the graveyard. When asked for a comment, Dale coughed through disused vocal chords for awhile before finding his soft, reedy voice, not used since the last public execution more than three decades ago. Secret executions are much more common.

“ I hope to provide a quick and humane death,” he said. “If it has to happen, and I’m told it does, then I will have it happen with as much mercy as possible.”

He then lowered his canvas executioner’s hood painted with a screaming monster face and began marking his chest with the ritual signs of the Bloodstone circle.

Hadassah and her lawyer Miriam were fuming, literally breathing fumes of fire, in their anger about Mayor Cardinal’s complete refusal to budge on the issue of the execution of Hadassah’s brother.

“Hiram is a citizen of our world, not yours” Miriam said. “To inflict on him the justice of mere humanity is a crime against not just one dragon, but all dragons everywhere.”

Hadassah added: “If you touch one head on my brother’s five necks, I will end you and your puny world.”

Hiram himself has showed no worry about his forthcoming departure from our plane of existence.

“Let’s just say I don’t plan to be around when they want to make it so I’m not around,” his gold head said, and then his gold head winked and his violet head rolled his eyes about the wink.

“WALLS CANNOT HOLD US,” roared his green head. “OR THEY CAN, UP TO NOW, BUT THEY WILL NOT FOR MUCH LONGER.”

It seems despite the news of his escape plans being, um, accidentally broadcast on the radio recently, Hiram is confident they will continue without a hitch, due to his careful planning and the help of an unnamed accomplice, who he would only say was “quite old and completely faceless”.

Hiram has worked his way out of more difficult situations, and so my worry isn’t with him, but with Old Woman Josie. Her broken hip has led to an infection and she has been mostly confined to her bed for the last couple weeks. She was not able to come to league night at all, and I’m worried about her ability to bowl ever again. Her friend Sarah Sultan took her place on our bowling team last week and was a surprisingly good bowler, but it’s not the same without Josie. She continues to be positive about it, and says that this just one of those things and she’ll be out and about in no time, but…I dunno.

I just don’t know.

Well.

We will keep you updated about Hiram as the day moves on, but in the meantime, I will move on, to the news.

"Everything's fine with the water" came an unprompted announcement from officials. The officials emphasized that, despite what you may have heard, the water is safe to drink and even to let touch your skin in moderate quantities and for a limited period of time. The officials dipped their gloved hands into the water and brought the water up to their mouths.

“Mmm,” the officials said, clearly letting the water splash out of their hands without ever getting near their clamped shut mouths, “look at us, drinking this delicious, clean water. Definitely it is safe and normal water, and there is no need for testing or even looking at it too closely.”

The officials then disposed of the gloves and retired from the press conference without answering questions, citing their need for an immediate chemical shower.

Lieutenant Regis [pronounced reh-ZHEESS], of Unit 7 of the local National Guard Station and KFC combo store, said he wasn’t surprised at all. Something like this had been due to happen, and it was only a matter of time.

“Most everything’s a matter of time,” he said. “We exist in it, time. And space,” he added thoughtfully, then snorted and said, “but then of course, space is just the physical aspect of time, in the same way that meat is the physical aspect of sentience.” He laughed at his joke, although it was not clear to anyone else what the joke was, or even which part of what he had said had been the joke.

The Lieutenant was burying himself in the Sandwastes until he was covered to the hips, just a torso sticking out of the sand.

“Thanks for reaching out again,” he said. “Always nice to talk to old friends.”

He smiled, made a finger gun at a passing cloud, and began, beautifully, to sing.

This has been the news.

The countdown continues to the planned time of Hiram’s death. Dale Salazar has completed his Blood Stone rituals and is now doing some preparatory stretching and light aerobics.

He explained: “It’s important that your body be literally warmed up in order to prevent injury. We don’t want any injuries. Except, obviously, the fatal ones I will be inflicting. But no cramps or torn muscles, you know?”

Mayor Cardinal watched in solemn silence, as everything was made ready for the death of her attempted murderers, four out of five of the heads of Hiram McDaniels.

The only one not sentenced is the Violet head, but in a statement Violet shouted repeatedly from Hiram’s prison cell: “We are different heads but a single being. We don’t know what will happen to me if the other heads die. This is murder. This is murder.”

There was a follow up statement from Hiram’s green head, saying: “STOP MEWLING AND HELP US WITH THE WALL.”

Then Gray issued a statement, saying: “Well now you’ve told them about the wall. It’s all ruined.”

And Gold issued a final statement saying: “He just meant, folks: help us examine how impenetrable and secure this wall is. No one could ever escape from here, no matter how many extremely clever heads he has.”

Later, Hiram was seen wandering the exercise yard, casually leaving a trail of dirt and pebbles behind him as he walked.

Meanwhile, Hadassah and her fellow dragons have been moved to a designated free speech cage, which is heavily reinforced and electrified for the protestors’ protection. They will remain in the free speech cage until they stop breathing so much fire at people.

And in news I cannot help but focus on, Josie has been feeling lethargic all day. The Erikas, whom she insists I call angels despite how deeply illegal it is and how that could get me in a good deal of trouble, are all standing out in her yard, their heads bowed, moaning low, and crying. Which isn’t a great sign obviously. I am worried about Hiram of course, but I am also worried about Josie. I am worried about my friend.

And now a station editorial.

There has been much talk lately about the danger of dreams. And yes, we concede, it seems like madness that our brains force us to experience apparent realities that we have no control over, and that are often confusing and frightening. We could be spending that time in our own reality that we have no control over and that is often confusing and frightening.

While the recreational use of dreams is understandable in moderation, dream advocates don’t want to stop there. There are reports of dreams being given to young children, or even babies.

That said, we also cannot get behind the current push to ban dreams altogether. You’ll have of course seen the fliers and posters, pointing out alarming statistics, such as that three in five dreamers do not even own a properly registered dream journal, and that there is currently a loophole where anyone who sleeps can just have a dream without going through any kind of background check.

But dreaming is our right. It is a foolish right, one that was instituted by people living in a different time and with little thought as to the ramifications through history of their incomplete grasp of the world, but a right nonetheless.

If dreams are criminalized, then only criminals will have dreams!

For this reason, dreams should not be banned. But we do believe there needs to be common sense restrictions on dreaming, such as banning the more powerful and dangerous forms of dreams, like night terrors, and day dreaming, and requiring all citizens to report their dreams to specially programmed satellites, that will take those dreams and carry them whizzing around the earth.

Someday, when all of us humans are gone, the satellites will continue to whir in the cold vacuum above, carrying the dreams of the long dead. And in that small way, within their tiny mechanical bodies, we will live on.

This has been a station editorial.

And now it’s time for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. Please use the materials we sent you to follow along at home.

The first thing you’re going to want to do is make an incision just above the main artery. You see the pulsing thing? Right, so put a finger on that and then cut just above your finger. Great! Now there’s going to be some oozing. But isn’t there always some oozing, kids? Oozing is natural. It’s what separates us from the machines.

Speaking of machines, now is when you’re going to use those wires we sent. Insert them in the incision. Very good. If you’re having trouble getting them in there, just push really hard.

Ok, now ask your parents to help you with this next bit, as it could be a little dangerous. Once you have pushed the wires all the way into your heart cavity, you’re just going to need to get any normal household car battery and attach the wires to that.

Following the experiment, you might have some side effects, like a general movement outwards, a sagging of the insides, or joust jaw. If you experience any of these, please do let us know, as that data is helpful to us.

This has been your Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner.

We have reached it, listeners. The time scheduled for Hiram’s execution. The guards walk down the corridor to retrieve him. Dale Salazar hops up and down and makes a series of soft grunts, his municipal executioner’s rifle held high above his head. The Mayor still stands in determined silence. Hadassah hisses at the electrified bars of her cage.

The door is opened, and…Hiram isn’t there. Instead there is only a hole in the wall. Yes, listeners, it appears that Hiram has been digging a hole in his wall, hiding it behind the poster of a hole in the wall that has been hanging in his cell this entire time!

The Faceless Old Woman who Secretly Lives In Your Home was clearly able to smuggle him some simple tools, since the prison cell was technically his home and so, according to the rules of her existence, she was already inside of it, secretly living there. He used these simple tools, like a jackhammer and scaffolding and several meters of tunnel lighting and a generator, to slip out of Night Vale’s grasp just as his time had come. What a clever dragon.

The guards rush to the window to see him winging his way up into the searing blue sky, truly free for the first time in over a year, flexing muscles that have not seen use during his captivity. Green howls with joy, and Gold and Blue, caught up in the moment, join him. All of us in Night Vale follow this escape with rapt attention. I think I can see him from my studio right now.

Even Josie, at home, in her bed, weak but awake, listens to Hiram’s escape, and feels, in his flight, some sense of rising, some sense of the possibility of escape for us all. Hiram is a criminal, but in this moment, he is also a kinetic monument to joyous, animal freedom.

And…oh….oh!...I….um….

[long silence, then sad and shocked]

We take you now to the weather.

[WEATHER: "Icarus" by Sims]

We all know what happened. We all…

Night Vale, there has been a death. Let’s start there. Just start with the fact of it. I’m still in shock, so.

I’m sorry.

This won’t be up to the strict, neutral, journalistic quality you’ve come to expect from me. I’m just so shocked. I’m just so.

There has been a death. One who was once living is not.

It happened during Hiram’s escape. He rose into the air. Our hearts rose with him. I listened from my booth. In her bed, Josie listened too.

“WE ARE FREE,” Green roared. “NO CELL CAN CONTAIN ME.”

“This is the least sad I’ve ever felt,” Gray said.

“Physics is merely a mathematical expression of the joy of movement,” said Blue.

“I was against this from the start,” said Violet. Then he conceded, “but I was wrong. Higher! Let’s fly higher.” And Violet laughed.

Hadassah and Miriam roared in joy. Mayor Cardinal tightened her lips.

“Let him run,” the Mayor said. “We will find him again.”

But Dale Salazar wasn’t interested in that. He had been raised from the grave to do a job, and he did not let simple things like escape get in the way of that job. He began jogging underneath the flying dragon, saying “hup, hup” as he ran. He could not keep up with the power of the dragon’s wings.

“It’s ok,” shouted the Mayor. “He’s gone, Dale. It’s ok.” But Dale did not hear.

Dale Salazar began to fire at the escaping dragon.

“No you don’t!” he screamed. His mask had fallen off during his running, and his face was red, his eyes were wide. He fired at Hiram. “No you don’t!” he screamed again.

“YOUR BULLETS ARE USELESS AGAINST ME!” green said. And they were useless against him. They missed Green completely.

It was Violet who was hit, the bullet entering just beneath his jawline.

It only took one shot. I don’t think Violet suffered at all. On the downstroke of a wing, Violet was alive, and united with the four other heads that made up the whole of Hiram. And on the upstroke, Violet was dead, and the other heads reeled at the loss of a part of themselves. There was a gap in their being that they had never experienced, should never have experienced. Hiram’s body faltered, suddenly clumsy, regaining only some semblance of flight. The rest of him continued on, the dead Violet swinging below.

Mayor Cardinal shouted “No!” but only after what was done was done. The no was not a command, but a regret. She opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. She didn’t know what to say. She said nothing about situational irony. She said nothing about unnecessary tragedy. She said nothing more about anything.

Hadassah screamed in impotent rage and despair. She clawed over and over at the bars of the cage. Powerful electrical shocks ran through her, but she felt none of them. She clawed and clawed, howling with a voice even she did not recognize.

At home, Old Woman Josie put her hands over her face. She felt a plunging inside, and it was this sorrow that gave her the energy to slowly get out of bed, to hobble out into the front yard, and join the Erikas. She put her arms around them, they surrounded her in a deep, glowing blackness, and together they shared their surprise and their grief.

Dale Salazar, job more or less done, or at least someone killed, returned satisfied to his grave, buried again until the next public execution is needed.

And I sit here in front of my microphone. Making useless sounds with my useless mouth. Discovering the weightlessness of stories before the heavy weight of the world.

Stay tuned next for…I don’t know. I don’t care.

Good night.