Jason Warren stared into the eyes of the stranger in the mirror. The face that was not his looked back with an appropriate amount of concern and disapproval but it wasn't right. It was never right. Slowly he raised the towel and secured the hooks that would keep the lying glass hidden from sight. At least until the next municipally planned earthquake.
He slowly circled the house, righting fallen lamps and dusting the chair beneath the hole in the ceiling. It wasn't a large hole, really. Barely large enough to fit an egg through. Probably the site of one of the Sheriff's Secret Police cameras. He hadn't checked. Not knowing was often better. Whatever the cause, a lot of dust seemed to sift down during earthquakes. He thought about moving the chair but if it was a camera the police might think he was trying to hide something by changing his routine.
As usual, he simply swept the light coat of dirt away and brought out the vacuum. He worked fast, knowing the Sheriff's Secret Police disliked the loud, unpleasant noise that made it so hard to hear anything he might say.
He found the earthquakes and spying to be frustrating and inconvenient and didn't really understand the necessity but it was something he wouldn't say out loud. Not again, anyway. One afternoon of reeducation was enough. How Steve Carlsberg could go through that multiple times was beyond him. Why couldn't he just be quiet and live in peace? After that hellish experience he had distanced himself from his childhood friend, the man who couldn't let sleeping dogs lie.
Life had been mostly better since that. He wasn't followed as openly, he didn't wake up in strange places as often and there were less dead animals scattered around his house in the mornings. Steve used to tell him that other cities didn't have things like this happen but that just sounded… absurd. If this wasn't normal why would it be allowed? He had to agree with the guy on the radio - Steve Carlsberg was just a troublemaker.
Jason sighed and dropped into his now clean chair and stared at the wall. He missed Leonard Burton but the intern who took over was growing on him. He thought about trying to look for the old Voice of Night Vale after his disappearance but when Steve started trying to arrange a search party he figured this was another of those sleeping dogs. The Sheriff's Secret Police had eyes everywhere - if someone was meant to be found, they would be.
He had an hour left before he had to go to work and this time of day there was nothing good on the radio. TV was a waste of time with all the fanciful and absurd shows. He considered talking to whoever was on the other side of the hole again but there were never any responses so that, too, seemed pointless. A bit like talking to the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lived in his home. Everyone knew about her but the only reason he had to believe she actually existed was the occasional reversing of light switches and rearranging of cabinet contents in the kitchen.
As easy as it was to blame her for his car keys going missing every few days he knew that was most likely just him being absentminded. He still blamed her since it prevented him from getting reprimanded if he was late to work. He sighed and decided to just drive around until it was time to go to work. It would be a lot easier if he had stop sign immunity but he still had to get another three stamps on his Alert Citizen card.
It wasn't that he rarely saw something worth reporting, it's just he didn't feel right about reporting some of the more innocent things he noticed people doing. Why was it even illegal to tap dance on Wednesdays? He didn't really see any reason to report it when he heard the unmistakable sound from the house next door in the early hours of the morning. He just pretended not to hear and took another shot of vodka. Then he pretended he didn't drink too much and took another shot. At least when he was drunk things didn't seem so worrisome.
He was reaching for his keys when a loud klaxon sounded from nearby. His head jerked around to the radio that had turned itself on. His heart nearly stopped every time it did that…
"Listeners," The new Voice of Night Vale said as the alarms fell silent. "The Sheriff's Secret Police has requested that I alert you to potential difficulties today. There is no detail given on the kind of difficulty there may be but the Officer who handed me the note has set up a small tent in the break room here at the station. I'm not sure how long he intends to remain and it was a perfectly nice day when I came in to the studio but perhaps it would be wise to remain home if that is an option."
Jason sighed in irritation. He'd used up all his vacation days already, sick days he needed to save since the kindly old woman across the street invited him to dinner occasionally and mild food poisoning was inevitable. He still hadn't figured out a way to let her know she was a terrible cook and that pet of hers he never quite got a good look at… it had a growl that sent shivers down his spine. Better to stay on her good side. He peeked between the blinds and looked out over the quiet street.
It was quiet, still, normal. The skies were clear, the sun was bright and he didn't see any helicopters so the warning probably applied to something that would be happening later in the afternoon. Going straight to work was probably a good idea, then. Maybe he could get a few hours of overtime…
He grabbed the keys and hurried out the door, pausing only to lock it. As he pulled out onto the road he glared at the motionless cars and trucks in the driveways he passed. Here and there curtains fluttered where the people inside peeked out to see who was outside after the warning. It was a warning, not an order, he thought irritably. If it were an order he'd have had an excuse to miss work and he'd probably get another Alert Citizen stamp for reporting anyone out driving, himself.
He did his best not to speed but the warnings did set him on edge. He hated the vague ones the most. Last time it had been a swarm of experimental gophers who created a few sinkholes under one of the neighborhoods. Of course the children involved were reprimanded and most biology books banned from the schools. They all underwent reeducation as to the proper use of bloodstone circles as well. Only one of them died that time.
He pulled into a sparsely populated parking lot at the Ralph's and sighed. Slow days were the worst... It looked like they would be understaffed again but with no customers it didn't matter. He reached for the handle of the door and paused. Was the air... yellow?
He shook his head and decided to just make a run for it. Once he was indoors it should be safe. Better a quick sprint than being stuck in the car until further notice. Slamming the door behind him, Jason began running, cursing the rules stating that employees had to park in the back right corner of the lot. He was halfway there when his lungs began burning and it got harder to draw the thick yellow air in.
Difficulty breathing... He realized and the thought somehow struck him as funny, he gasped weakly in silent laughter as the world went dark around him.