Summary: A Heat Wave hits Night Vale and Nightvale citizens are in a frenzy. Cecil believes the phrase is ridiculous, but Carlos insists it's a thing that exists. Plus, an update from Larry Leroy, out on the edge of town, a strange statement from the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home, and a look at traffic. {Radio Show Format One-Shot Fic}.


There are constellations. There are constellations and celestial bodies and frigid, sinister meteors hurtling through the glistening twilight of your soul. There are black holes too. And space junk. The galaxy is inside your soul.

Welcome... To Night Vale.

(theme music plays)

Greetings listeners. Have you noticed how hot the air surrounding our serene little town is today? Of course, if you haven't noticed - which is not sarcasm, I know it's possible due to the 1996 ban on all functioning sensory or the governmentally mandated blinding rituals - but we do live in the midst of a vast, boiling desert. The heat is something that has never bothered me, or most of us considering we're used to temperatures being impossibly high and unbearable, yet we persevere because we are strong, determined individuals with exceptional metabolisms. Or you know, we're all just tiny bacteria thriving inside a gigantic, pumping, hot heart of a living creature we cannot understand.

I'm not the only one whose had that dream, right?

Anyway, today, the heat did seem to be significantly worse. Citizens spread all across town are complaining about this strange rise in temperature, witnesses claim that they watched with gaping maws and terrified eyes as their friends and loved ones who stepped out into the brave new world literally burnt to a crisp and even mentioned that some of them had their skin turn the hue of bright red beet root before they exploded into chunks of sizzling flesh and smoking bone.

When local reporters approached The City Council for comment, they simply slithered back into the safety of high rise roofs with their eyes darting from one side to another while shadows of overwhelming terror blanketed their faces and they spent the next three minutes moaning loudly, thrashing and convulsing on the ground; their heaving bodies dripping with sweat and blood and plasma. The Sheriff's Secret Police did however, through a system of incessant screeching and earsplitting wailing, convey to us that citizens are recommended to stay inside their homes until the heat wave passes.

What is a heat wave, you ask? Well... I didn't have a clue, either listeners. It sounds weird - but Carlos - lovely, gorgeous, chiseled Carlos, just sent me a text claiming that Nightvale seems to be experiencing what is scientifically termed as a Heat Wave. He also added, "Up till now, it seems like a regular heat wave, but it's Nightvale, so we're kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then again, regular heat waves don't cause the following phenomena - uh, Cecil. Please let your listeners know the following side effects of stepping out into today's heat wave -" and now he has provided me with a list that I must read out to you.

The Side-Effects include: melting, splitting headaches, splitting heads, sprouting heads, fainting, exploding, burning until there is nothing left of you but tendrils of ashes, smoldering, catching on fire and being teleported into the void. More on this heat wave thingamajig, as it continues to boil us alive.

In other news, The Faceless Old Woman who Secretly Lives in Your Home made an official statement that you need to change your pipes. She wasn't very specific on which pipes she was referring to, or to who she was speaking to. When questioned, she sighed profusely and rubbed her non-existent temples, only murmuring almost inaudibly to herself, "Oh, Chad. Chad... What have you done?" after which she looked up at city officials, and they could feel her looking at them directly in the eye even though they were pretty sure she hasn't got any eyes - at least not on her face, and then proceeded to chant, "Change. Your. Pipes. Change. Yourrrrr. Pipesss!"

There was just a lot of static and yelling after that. So we're uh... not really sure what that was about, but I guess you should change your pipes - whoever you are.

Larry Leroy, out on the edge of town, is reporting a pest problem. He claims that there are tarantulas the size of fully grown adult chimpanzees strutting about his area and that they're watching him every single night when he goes to bed, he describes that he feels their unbidden presence like a cold sweat, something you are quite sure you saw out of the corner of your eye in the darkness of night but then forgot about, or a forbidden dream you are trying desperately to suppress. He explained that these tarantula-like beings give him ominous vibes and that they are possibly invaders from a distant netherworld, but that's preposterous! We aren't scheduled for any perilous extraterrestrial invasions for another month at least. He also claims there are rabid crows with beady, glowing red eyes flying into his windows every night. "If they have to commit suicide, can't they do it somewhere else? I'm getting tired of shoveling away the remains of dead birds. Not to mention, I prefer the natural aroma of old, rotting blood, and the stench of fresh blood that they are emanating is confusing my air fresheners and nauseating me." States Leroy, while simultaneously squinting into the distance beyond the reporter's field of vision before scampering off in fear.

"Run! It is the rise of the giant tarantulas!"

Honestly, listeners, Larry seems to be the only Nightvale citizen complaining about these unearthly sightings, so it's probably just a hallucination or a premonition from the Glow Cloud - who did mention the other day that it was in search of a prophet. Oh well. Just to be safe than sorry, if you do see any large tarantulas approximately the size of baby elephants - do report to the Sheriff's Secret Police immediately.

An update on the Heat Wave situation - which, by the way, still sounds completely bizarre but Carlos claims it's a thing that exists and Carlos is hardly ever wrong so... The City Council is still refraining from the reporters, but concerned citizens have made their way across town, marching towards city hall with their flaming torches and tinfoil weaponry in an angry mob like fashion while screaming in unison in a language that does not exist and is simply born out of mass imagination. Look, I'm no expert on Heat Waves, that's my boyfriend, but I'm pretty sure you guys aren't supposed to be out and about, especially with fiery torches whilst in the clutches of a pretty terrible Heat Wave. Of course, the Secret Police are already at the site, holding down the residents of the mob who manage to survive the electric, raging heat of the pulsating sun rays.

In related news, I asked Intern Morgan to conduct a Google search on the ridiculous phrase 'Heat Wave' and he claims that the first three drop-down options when he typed in "can a heat wave -" were the following, "Can a heat wave make you insane?" "Can a heat wave cause diarrhea?" "Can a heat wave bring on labor?" Obviously, I spoke to Carlos and the answers to each of these questions is yes, yes and definitely, you should get to the hospital NOW if you're pregnant. This makes me very curious, listeners. I might have to send Morgan to go investigate, you know - just to be sure.

Also, a warm thanks to everyone who has been calling in with their theories about The Heat Wave. They have all been book marked in case the problem persists for much longer. Except for yours, Steve Carlsberg! Yeah. I know that was you vehemently tweeting at me from Janice's account! Janice would never use so much punctuation, so the jokes on you, Steve. The joke's on. You. Oh, listeners. Can you believe this guy? He claims that somebody has switched our sun with a foreign one, which leads me to believe he's the one who probably did it in the first place. I mean, he is always in trouble with the authorities. He's probably sitting there right now on his uncomfortable hundred percent authentic leather computer chair, with his eyes wide and glued to the illuminated screen before him that dominates his every move, as his blood pressure skyrockets and he begins frothing at the mouth, his nail beds bitten so terribly they look like massacres, stressing about all there is and all there isn't until he begins stressing so much that he is no more sentient and begins to chew on the furniture and begins to hug his knees while he shivers and trembles and lives the lackluster life of a mortal who is constantly afraid of the outside world.

I mean... we're all perpetually afraid, but at least we're not so darn open about it. Jeez, Carlsberg. Oh. Oh. Listeners... Station Management seems to be growing intolerant of me. I can hear them howling and screeching and flipping desks from behind their office door - you know, louder than usual? I think I'm seeing purple mist as well, filling the air. I'm sorry - I'm eating up air time. Uh... Let's just go to a word from our sponsor.

(prerecorded message from Cecil plays)

Do you hear the shuffling of a hundred thousand feet? Do you see the people whizzing past you everytime you step out of your home? Are they even people or ghostly apparitions? If they are ghostly apparitions, then what are you? Apparitions are not real, riight? Are you even real? Is anything real? Do you believe in the stars? Or the immortal sea that tosses and turns and consumes? Or the smell of the dry, musky desert air? Do you even believe in yourself? Do you believe in revenants of your loved ones clawing at your bedroom window, fresh from the grave and itching to lay their dead eyes on you again? Do you believe in death, even? If nothing is real, then congratulations! Death probably isn't real. Oh. You should run. Get as far away from here as possible. Let's see just how quick this fragile pack of meat and bone can run before it staggers. Hey, hey. Don't blame us. We did say probably -

The White Sand Ice Cream Shop - come, grab a frosty bite on your way to your inevitable doom!

(end of recording)

Back to our regularly scheduled programming. See. No problems here, Station Management. None at all. *clears throat*

In other news, Michelle Nguyen, the owner of Dark Owl Records, enlightened our already beaming, sunny day, with news that the following editions of all of the purchasable and un-purchasable music albums will now be available in the following languages: Morse Code, Unknowable Latin, Secret Spanish, Ancient Spanish, Yugogloop, Martian, Hieroglyphics and Unmodified Croatian.

And now, a public service announcement.

The Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency would like to remind citizens that blinking will be illegal for the next 48 hours starting now. Please avoid blinking for the given period of time as they promise it is for good causes like The Octopus with Diabetes and The Demonic Children Who Appear At Mission Grove Park Only On Wednesday Nights For Seventy-Seven Hours. Considering this is mandatory, donating your blinks to the charity is a necessity - but doesn't it feel good, listeners - to give back to the community that has given so much to us? The community that keeps us safe and grounded and periodically alive. Please keep in mind any transgressions to this rule and you will be swallowed by the Glow Cloud or tortured by your own mind - who has really been itching to get its hands on you, so please, try and abide. Thank you.

And now, traffic.

It seems that Route 800 is completely submerged underwater. All other roads are clear and devoid of water, but that singular stretch of road does seem to be absolutely inundated. Citizens report that there are dark, languid, snake-ish creatures lurking inside the waters, including several Eyeless Mermaids and a gigantic kraken who has taken to devouring any and all vehicles that happen to come upon the road.

We did get a statement from one of the police representatives at the site. "We don't know how an 180 ton monster managed to even fit on that narrow road but we have sent road workers to fix the issue. They haven't come back so we're just going to hope the situation sorts itself out. I mean... With the heat levels rising the waters will probably just evaporate away. And honestly... It just makes a really cool selfie background and we're getting so many views on YouTube. Uh. But we know it's a matter of concern for the entire community! We're doing something about it. We are. We're not lazy. We swear! We're not! I... I have to go. We have to feed the kraken every two hours to keep it from stampeding across town and destroying everything in its path."

So... yeah. Try to avoid Route 800 today unless absolutely necessary, folks. All other roads seem clear.

Listeners. It seems that the Heat Wave is growing larger and hotter as the day persists. The angry mob has already been reduced to ashes and viscera and smoldering debris. Diligent Carlos and his scientists are still working tirelessly to investigate and hopefully fix this problem. "Heat Waves usually pass, but this one isn't moving on. It's not even coming from anywhere. It seems to have just appeared in Nightvale and now it seems to have settled into a fixed position. We're doing the best we can. I can't believe I'm saying this but... Turn up those air conditioners and call your friends over to practice some bloodstone rituals. Science may not be able to save the day this time," explains Carlos, dejectedly. Oh, Carlos. My lovely, beautiful, wondrous Carlos. Don't give up. Giving up can often be so much worse than not trying at all.

Now The Children's Fun Fact Science Corner.

There's a gigantic, sweltering sun strapped to our vast, nonchalant sky and it is determined on turning us into kebabs. Drop your books and pens and periodic tables. Go investigate that. Is that sciency enough for you? Huh? HUH?

This has been, The Children's Fun Fact Science Corner.

Oh. Oh my god. Listeners. The heat... The heat is getting so, very bad... The air conditioners in the studio... They've suddenly stopped working. I can hear Station Management screaming and blubbering behind their office window... And... And Intern Morgan has not come back yet... I shouldn't have sent him out into mortal peril... Why do I always send all of my interns out into mortal peril?

*incessant gurgling, hissing sounds*

*sharp intake of breath* Listeners. I... I don't know what's happening. I'm perspiring through my clothes. I can feel the rivulets of saltwater streaming down my back and pouring down my eyelids. It is so, so very hot. Station Management has stopped their chimed shrieking and sniveling. I think they've exited the building.

I will not exit the building. I will not abandon my post as your radio host. I will remain steadfast even in the face of the sun's singing breath because this is my job and my job is everything. If I don't survive this... Carlos, I want you to know...

Oh. God. Oh, no. *coughing and gagging sounds*

I'll see you on the other side, listeners. If there even... even is one. I... I take you now, while I lie with my back against the stinging floor, in a pool of my own sweat... to the weather.

("Up in Flames" by Ruelle plays)

Nightvale, Nightvale, Nightvale, looks like we persevered once again. The Heat Wave seems to have receded. It turns out, Carlos and his scientists did save the day after all. "It was most absurd, but it seems that our sun had been replaced with a new, hotter one. It really wasn't an actual Heat Wave at all. I managed to track down and contact the intergalactic species that was responsible, and they claimed that they'd accidently dropped their sun into our little town. It turns out, their species needs like, over 150 degree temperatures to thrive, anyway... they apologized for the inconvenience and swapped the suns back so we have our original one now. Cecil, I think you owe someone an apology. I mean, he was right after -" uh, nevermind that last sentence, listeners. Point is, we have been released from extreme hell fire conditions to our customary, only slightly hell fire conditions and everything is back to normal.

Or as normal as it ever gets in our quaint little township. And what is normal - but a relative term? To the goldfish, the depths of the ocean are normal, to the shark, consuming the tiny goldfish for supper is normal, to the skies, that great big fiery ball of mass salvation and destruction alike is normal, to the grass - the green is normal, and to Nightvale Community Radio - losing yet another intern is normal.

Intern Morgan did return from when I'd sent him out during the last segment, but he had smoldering blisters all over his skin and they were all seemingly furious, spewing venom at the polished studio floors. Intern Morgan frowned at me, his eyes pleading, grasping at any notions of hope that may remain, but Station Management had returned to the building, and there was absolutely nothing I could do, listeners, as they did with him whatever they must. I had to plug my ears to avoid listening to his screams of anguish and unbearable pain.

To the family of Intern Morgan... he was a wonderful, hard working chap. He remained brave till the very end. He could have worked a little harder on the coffee he made... but hey, nobody's perfect. I am truly sorry about what happened to him. He will be missed... yada, yada, yada. I really need to start prerecording these segments. Uh...

So, I guess... That's it, folks. I know today was a difficult day to get through for all of us, I know the world doesn't always have the best intentions when it comes to our fates, I know that sometimes it seems like all the universe and its counterpart universes and their counterpart universes are conspiring against you. It seems like we're always held hostage by a metaphorical heat wave that keeps us from functioning as the World Government intended for us to function, but hey, we made it! There were trials and tribulations, there were catastrophes and casualties, but if there weren't, would we be feeling as alive as we do right now? We made it, Nightvale! We truly did. Once again. I don't say this enough, but I'm proud of you. Of each and every one of you.

Boy. Girl. Both. None. Squid. Hooded Figures. And the likes.

I am proud of you for waking up and facing the world everyday even though the world terrifies you. I am proud of Intern Morgan for taking the risk and industriously following my orders despite of the conspiring sun outside. I am proud of my Carlos for believing in himself and his abilities and making it through all the apparent strangeness our town seems to throw his way. Most of all, I am proud of you - that's correct, you - for managing to stay alive through everything that is hurled at you. And isn't that what makes our existence so magnificent, listeners? How we push on. Through every Heat Wave, every Valentine's day, every Sandstorm.

Remember, you are never alone. This universe is filled to the brim with humans and creatures and mutants and bacteria and decaying matter and flowers and clouds. And it is truly... magnificent.

Up next - Britney Spears And Other Celebrity Impressions with Hiram McDaniels, the literal Five-Headed Dragon.

and as always - Goodnight, Night Vale,

Goodnight.


Welcome To Night Vale is a production of Commonplace Books. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor and produced by Joseph Fink. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin. This was written by an addicted fan on a bored, inspiration-filled afternoon. I am in no way affiliated with Commonplace Books even though that would be super cool.

Today's weather was Up in Flames, by Ruelle.

Check out Night Vale's website for more information on the actual show, as well as all sorts of cool Night Vale stuff you can own. And while you're there, consider clicking on the Donate link. That'd be cool of you.

Today's proverb: Above all, be careful what you think because if you think about Angels or the Dog Park or mountains then Sheriff's Secret Police will sacrifice you to the Glow Cloud.

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