Spring cleaning. Summer messying. Fall lethargy. Winter hoarding. Welcome to Night Vale

I am quite nervous listeners. Dr. Blake Jones, the assistant to Dr. Lubelle of the University of What It Is, has demanded a confidential talk with me. Don’t tell anyone, he said. If you blab it around, it could ruin everything, he said. So I kept his secret. This one is between me and my microphone, listeners, and no one else needs to know.

But what could Dr. Jones want from me? The University of What It Is has been explaining away Night Vale bit by bit. Everything that their cold, unethical idea of science touches becomes inert, losing the spark that made it a vital part of our community. These losses have been painful, and I believe they are permanent. I do not think there is a way to undo the damage that has been done by Dr. Lubelle and her vile team, including one Dr. Blake Jones.

I am not anti-science, I hasten to say. My own husband, and here I divulge information I have kept to myself all these years, is in fact a scientist himself. I love my husband, and I love the science that he does.

Science is not inherently good or bad. It is not inherently anything. It is a tool, like a hammer. A hammer may be used to build cozy homes for those who need them, or it may be used to break bones. Science too may be used to cure disease or to spread it, to find new ways of interacting with the world for those who have trouble doing so, or to find new weapons to maim and kill more efficiently. Science is not good or bad, as language is not good or bad, as religion is not good or bad, because humans are not inherently good or bad.

Still, this Dr. Jones seems like a real so and so, and I’m not looking forward to chatting with him.

But first, the news.

A body has been found in the sandwastes that is considered a likely candidate in the case of Dana Cardinal’s murder of herself over 10 years ago.

On the day of the sandstorm, and the doppelgangers, Dana killed her double with a stapler, or perhaps she is the double, and she killed the original. In any case, they have found a body, partially preserved in the dry sand, that resembles Dana Cardinal from 10 years ago. The searchers only had a yearbook photo to go by, and the yearbook photo had been xeroxed so many times that it was merely a smudge with eyes, but they say this body is also a smudge with eyes, so the resemblance is uncanny. The Sheriff ordered that the body be brought to the coroner immediately for examination, but Dr. Lubelle announced that no, instead it’s going to the University of What It Is, and she will personally get to the bottom of this.

All I can say is if Dana truly did commit the crimes that are described, then she must face justice. But also Dana, if you need a place to lay low, Carlos and I have a guest room. They’ll never find you there.

And now traffic.

A car bounces down a dirt track. The driver of the car had come here, once when she was younger, but has not returned for many years. It seems that nothing has changed. Even the trees by the road are the same height as they were when the driver was a child. The sky is the same sky, frozen as in memory. The sun is warm in the exact same way. The driver opens her window, rests one arm on the door. A spray of dust here and there, tire kicking up grit. At the end of this dirt track is a house. The driver cannot yet see the house, but she knows it is there. She had come to the house, once when she was younger, but has not returned for many years.

In the house is a woman. Again, the driver cannot see the woman, has refused to see her for thirty years in fact, but she knows she is there. The woman will not have stayed the same. The woman will be old now. The driver feels old now, but the woman will be older. And the woman will be better. This time, she promises, she will be better. The driver is not so sure, but apparently she is willing to give it a shot, because didn’t she fly all this way, didn’t she rent this car, didn’t she drive a lonely highway to a desolate road to this dirt track to nowhere?

The driver cannot see the future, but she knows that it is there. She only wishes she could know what was in it, but she supposes it will just be more moments, like this one or a little different. She drives and she allows herself to feel optimistic. How she feels won’t change the future, but it makes this last five minutes of driving a little easier.

This has been traffic.

Ok, I’ve agreed to talk to Dr. Blake Jones, and he is coming over to the station right now. He says he has concerns about Dr. Lubelle’s behavior, and the entire research approach of the University of What It Is. Well, I also have concerns about those things. Concerns that almost led me to punch Dr. Jones a couple months ago. So I don’t know if he’s the right person to help me with those concerns. However, if there is any chance at all at having a “man on the inside,” so to speak, by which I mean a man, this Dr. Jones, who is on the inside of the University organization, then I should take it.

It will take all my willpower to treat this man politely, I’ll tell you that.

I will keep you updated as our meeting approaches. He has asked me to tell no one, so again, please don’t share this news.

An update on the civic murals that were put up all over town and then molted into a kind of flesh wall encasing the buildings. I mean, I think that’s a fair summary of the story up to this point. Well, today, someone walked out of one of the flesh walls. I say “someone” only because it had the general shape and anatomy of a person. But this someone was completely skinless, a flesh creature made of the same upsetting pulsating red matter as the flesh walls. The only parts of the creature that were not pink flesh were its eyes, made terribly wide and round by the complete lack of socket and eye lid, and its teeth, which were perfectly white and as even as a sharpshooter’s heartbeat.

This flesh creature strolled through downtown, causing a great deal of commotion, before disappearing into the Big Five Sporting Goods. The employees there said they had not noticed a flesh creature or anything else unusual, but they had been distracted by the store’s newest promotion, a 200% sale where the employees paid customers to leave with the shoes. This promotion was a huge hit and the store is going out of business. Always nice to hear a success story in our community. Anyway, if you see a flesh creature, please alert the authorities. Please do not approach the creature yourself unless you really want to. In which case, I dunno man, follow your bliss.

And now a public service announcement. My fellow Americans, today’s political climate is rife with false claims from US governmental and non-governmental organizations claiming to serve you, claiming to look out for the common citizen. But are they? Are they, really?

No. No, they are not.

But we are. Who are we? That’s right. We are the Council for Air. We’re a global corporate entity whose only interest is spreading the word of Air.

Yes, you heard that right: Air. Some Councils are promoting Food. Others are promoting Water. “Food is the best thing you can eat,” they say. “Water is imperative to live,” the say. “Horsedoodle,” we say.

Ask yourself, fellow freedom lover, how could food and water be vital to survival, when you aren’t able to live without air? You can’t need all three, right?

No. No, you cannot.

The intake of air is the basic premise of life. Studies show that those who do not breathe air are all dead, probably because they don’t have enough air in them. Now ask yourself, if you can die due to lack of air, then what does water and food have to do with it? Nothing. They are just trying to sell you junk for their own profit. The Food and Water Industrial Complex. Do your own research, people. Google and pick the results that seems most similar to what you already believed.

The Council for Air promotes the breathing of air, whether it is from a tank, a big balloon, or even wild-caught air from the atmosphere. We discourage people from breathing non-air, things like clouds and grass clippings.

Wait, stop right now, Harrison Kip! Were you about to breathe the new sweater you bought from the Gap? Don’t do it, Mister Kip! Even though the label says that the fabric is “breathable”, that actually means something completely different, and you should not breathe it. We are currently suing the Gap over this issue, and look forward to justice being served.

You must have many questions for the Council For Air. Let’s answer them all:

- Can I freeze air and breathe it later? Yes! A good tip is to put individual servings of air in an ice cube tray, so that later, if you only need a little air, you can pop one out and defrost it.

- Can I give my children air? Yes. Children are people too, only smaller than many other people, and so do need air.

- You said not to breathe clouds but aren’t clouds mostly air and if we breathe them, we’ll in fact be fine? Hey, who’s the expert here. You or us? Because if it’s you, then you should have paid for this ad and it would have saved us some money.

So start breathing air today, Night Vale. Do not listen to those paid hacks trying to get you to take in food and water.

Air: Without it, you literally die.

This message has been brought to you by The Council for Air.

Dr. Blake Jones has arrived. We have briefly spoken. He says that he believes Dr. Lubelle is going too far. That she is using the tool of explanation as a form of execution, destroying those who oppose her. Dr. Jones does not want to use science as a tool of domination anymore. He is interested in science as a tool of cooperation. A tool used by people, instead of against people.

Science is value neutral. Its morality depends on the hand that wields. And it seems that Dr. Jones is beginning to understand that Dr. Lubelle is wielding science in increasingly evil and destructive ways, like a bull in a china shop who is attempting to shoplift a china set that the bull cannot afford.

Dr. Jones says that he has more to tell me, but that he cannot tell me here. I must go with him, to a secret meeting place that is not the Moonlite All-Nite Diner, but a…different place that is not that. And there we will discuss Dr. Janet Lubelle, and what can be done to save Night Vale. I am heartened that Dr. Jones is willing to break with his employer on this. So, although I am loath to abandon my broadcast, I must. I’m sorry that I didn’t even get to the weather, but I will talk to you again next time. Ok, Dr. Jones is waving. I have to go.

[ten seconds of radio station ambience. Footsteps approaching.]

JANET: Sounds like Blake succeeded in tricking that fool away from his mic. It’s Dr. Janet Lubelle, and I think it’s time, Night Vale, that you and I had a little chat, without the meddling input of a certain radio host. So let’s talk. But first, according to the schedule, it’s time for the weather. Weather forecasting is an important science, and so we should absolutely have a listen to that.

[WEATHER]

JANET: That wasn’t the weather. That was a song. It was “When a Heart Breaks Slowly” by Natasha Remi. I don’t know why you would call a song the weather. Music is artsy fartsy frivolity. People should only call things what they are. It is unclear and inexact speech to do otherwise.

This radio broadcast is full of things that are called other things. Words from sponsors that are incoherent nonsense. Traffic reports that are merely flash fiction about sad family dynamics. Horoscopes that are a series of jokes instead of accurately reporting what the stars’ positions means for your day. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to listen to a work that has so few accurate statements about the world you live in. Don’t you want to only hear completely accurate information about the state of the world at all times, without pause? I do. And I can’t imagine that anyone thinks differently than myself about anything.

I guess this is where Cecil usually gives you some kind of lesson right? Tells you what the day's events meant? Or reflects on them in some way? Well, here’s what today means. It means I am in control. Radio waves are science, that’s my domain. Radio station management is economics, guess what, also mine. Town leadership? That’s political science. Hell, that one’s right in the name.

So here’s my message for you: don’t worry, Night Vale. I’ve got everything covered. Things are well under control, and we will proceed only by the objective judgment of science. Because everything I feel about the world, and everything I wish for it to be, is the objective correct thing.

And if you feel differently? That’s fine. I would only be too happy to provide you with an…explanation.

Stay tuned next for the relentless march of progress, whether you like it or not. And you better learn to like it.

I don’t know what time of day to call this right now. Not quite night time, not quite evening or afternoon. So in the interest of factual accuracy, I’ll just say…

Show over, Night Vale. Show over.

Proverb: A bird in hand is worth anywhere between no and ten thousand dollars depending on the bird. You can’t just go around grabbing birds without knowing their value.