WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE, DOCTOR STRAND

"Listeners, two strangers have stumbled upon our little desert town. The Mayor is urging us to put down our pitchforks and forgo our traditional welcome in favor of something more… civil. Oh, and one of them is a radio host just like me! Well, I like them already."

Featuring The Black Tapes Podcast's Alex Reagan and Doctor Strand.

Regular: Cecil and Carlos.

Italicized: Alex and Doctor Strand.

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the second sun is hotter and the third sun is finally cooling down after a millennia of anger management classes.

Welcome to Night Vale.

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"Welcome back, if any of us truly ever left this town in the first place. Is it even possible to leave this town? Well, there's always the desert otherworld, but Carlos – Night Vale's most celebrated scientist and my boyfriend – posits that the desert otherworld might actually be a part of Night Vale. He then went on to explain this in very precise scientific terms, which is how Carlos lulls me to sleep every Thursday night to distract me from the temper tantrum the Faceless Old Woman likes to throw in the kitchen. It usually goes on for two hours or so, until she runs out of breakable dishes to sweep off the countertop. Which reminds me: thank you, Faceless Old Woman, for cleaning up after yourself. The kitchen was absolutely spotless this morning."

"Now, let's start with a quick look at the community calendar before we–"

"Oh, Intern William just entered the booth and would like me to interrupt our broadcast with some breaking news. He is holding out a memo straight from the Mayor herself, and – I'm supposed to read this? Well, alright. Thank you, William. Oh, and we need some new pictures of the dog park for our Wall of Forbidden Locations, would you mind- no? Alright. Yes, I suppose 'visiting the dog park' wasn't a part of the job description. Good catch, William!"

"Where was I? Oh, yes: listeners, two strangers have stumbled upon our little desert town. The Mayor is urging us to put down our pitchforks and forgo our traditional welcome in favor of something more… civil. Oh, and one of them is a radio host just like me! Well, I like them already."

"According to what little we know of them, courtesy of the dossier handed to us by the Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency, the strangers – a man and a woman, one tall but not alarmingly so, one petite but not worryingly so – stumbled out of the dog park just minutes ago. William, are you hearing this? The dog park is nothing to worry about. If you'd gone, maybe you would have had the chance to report on this exciting news in person! Still not convinced? Well, okay."

"As I was saying: the strangers stumbled out of the dog park and immediately tried to retrace their steps and return to wherever it is they came from. Unfortunately, the dark smoke surrounding the entrance to the dog park began to disperse upon their arrival, thus depriving them of their only means to return home. Eyewitnesses report that upon catching sight of the sky – and the Glow Cloud, all hail, which is particularly big and glow-y today – the strangers emitted wordless shrieks and gasps of surprise, or perhaps amazement, or maybe admiration, but most likely horror. The man, taller than others but shorter than some, immediately screwed his eyes shut and massaged his temples, as if overcome by an awful migraine. The woman gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, quickly diverted her eyes from the Glow Cloud – hail the mighty Glow Cloud– and began to look around. John Peters – you know, the farmer? – reports that her eyes instantly landed upon our little station and that upon reading the words 'Night Vale Community Radio Station', the woman visibly brightened up with delight and began tugging at her partner's arm, pulling him along as she set out for the station. John told me this just now, via the tiny communication device in his straw hat. I must say, when the Sheriff's Secret Police first rolled out these new recording devices and ordered every citizen to wear one at all times, I had my reservations. For centuries, the Secret Police and World Government have spied on us via multiple recording devices they'd covertly placed in every building in Night Vale before those buildings were even constructed, and half of the excitement of walking into a new room has always come from trying to correctly guess how many hidden microphones the room contains and where each of them are. But these tiny little bugs – and I am told this is what you call a concealed communication device in the field of espionage – are really catching on. Well done, Sheriff's Secret Police! Thank you for always keeping our safety in mind and sparing no expense when it comes to purchasing thousands of bugs so that each and every one of us has a recording device on us at all times. This was certainly money well-spent, much better than if we had gone with the Mayor's original budget plan and loaned it to Desert Bluffs, ugh."

"Oh, this is exciting news, listeners. The strangers have entered the building and the woman is asking to speak to me. Well, let them in, William! Let's see if we can get an on-air interview with Night Vale's most mysterious newcomers. Please, come in. Let me be the first to say: welcome to Night Vale. I'm Cecil, the voice of Night Vale."

"Hi, I'm Alex. That's Doctor Strand–"

"Hello."

"We're kind of lost, I think. It's nice to meet you, though."

"Likewise, Alex. I understand you work in radio as well?"

"Sort of. I mean, we used to- wait, who told you that? Do you know me?"

"It's all right here, in the dossier the Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency sent over. So, how did you end up in our little desert town?"

"This has my Social Security number on it. Why does this have my-"

"Doctor Strand, perhaps a few words for our listeners? We don't often get visitors here. How did you get here?"

"Well, we were in a cabin–"

"Before you go on, I feel I should inform you that this is a family-friendly show. So if there are any details that might not be suitable for young ears…"

"Oh, no! It was nothing like that. We were checking out this spooky cabin that's supposed to be haunted. It's for our podcast – we investigate claims of ghosts and… other things."

"Well, do I have some good news for you, Alex! I can tell you, with absolute certainty, that ghosts aren't real."

"Finally, someone sensible–"

"Everyone knows there are no such things as ghosts. The founders of our town negotiated a complicated treaty with our reptilian overlords following their triumph in our futile war for independence centuries ago. In return for our guaranteed (relative) safety, all of our souls will immediately join the Blood-Space War upon our deaths."

"I take that back."

"Richard!"

"So you can rest easy at night, knowing that no soul can escape the draft and return to haunt you."

"Did you just say Blood-Space War and reptilian–"

"Alex, don't encourage him!"

"It's a Blood-Space War, Richard! You can't expect me to not ask questions and just–"

"Oh, you two are just adorable. We haven't had a couple of bickering lovebirds on the show since… well, I can't quite remember. And speaking of lovebirds, here comes Carlos!"

"Hi, Cecil. Hi, everyone."

"Carlos, these are Alex and Doctor Strand. This is Carlos, our town's premier scientist and my boyfriend. Carlos once called Night Vale the most scientifically interesting town in America, which some – a certain radio host, for example – might argue makes him the most scientifically interesting scientist in America."

"Cecil, stop. You're too sweet."

"Well, a little sweetness never harmed anyone. Diabetes is a myth, and we are all free to consume our bodyweight in sugar. In fact, listeners, now would be a good time to remind everyone that the Night Vale Board of Nutritionists highly recommends that you include as much sugar as possible in your diet. My good friend, Earl Harlan of Tourniquet, has just released a high-sugar cookbook in partnership with the Board. I'm told the recipes are simply exquisite but have yet to read the book as it is only available in libraries and well… I think we can all agree, Night Vale, that no recipe is worth a trip to the library. Sorry, Earl! "

"Diabetes, a myth? What in the world–"

"What's wrong with libraries?"

"So, Carlos! What brings you to the station? Not that I'm complaining, but we did agree to cut back on surprise workplace visits."

"Well, actually, I'm here to speak to our visitors. I heard you on the radio – I never miss an episode of Cecil's show – and my colleagues and I realized that your arrival coincided with a spike in… well, everything. One of the other scientists then scribbled a few numbers on a board – they don't actually have anything to do with the situation at hand, scribbling impossible equations just helps her think – and we might be able to predict when the door to your world might reopen."

"Really? Thank you so much! We'd love to get back as soon as possible."

"So, how it works is that we'll just wait around until we hear wordless shrieking coming from the dog park and the townspeople start calling in to report a mysterious portal. That's when we'll know the door is open. Oh, I forgot to mention that, didn't I? It's a one-way door. We're going to have to wait until someone on your side opens it again. That's what my co-workers and I figured out."

"Incredible. Science, ladies and gentlemen."

"Aw, Cecil. It's nothing much, really–"

"Sorry to interrupt but are you saying you have no idea when the… portal might reopen?"

"No, we know this much: it'll open when someone in your world opens it. What we don't know is when that will happen."

"… Right."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Alex. These things take time, but all will work out. Carlos here was trapped in a desert otherworld for months but he made it home. And a former intern of ours made it home and became Mayor! So you'll be alright. And look, Doctor Strand and Carlos seem to be getting along. Listeners, Doctor Strand and Carlos have retreated to a quiet corner - to discuss scientific matters, I presume. A distressed-looking Doctor Strand seems to have a fair number of questions and I dare say Carlos is having the time of his life, explaining the inner workings of our fascinating little town to an outsider. As a scientist, Carlos is quite fond of explaining his findings. He tells me that back where he came from, he would have published numerous papers on Night Vale and been invited to speak at conferences. Unfortunately, the Night Vale Daily Journal stopped publishing scientific papers in 1867, due to a huge misunderstanding on the existence of angels thanks to a paper published by a local scientist. I would be remiss in my duties as your host if I were to leave out the fact that said scientist was a direct ancestor of Steve Carlsberg. Ugh, the Carlsbergs. But enough about us. Tell me, Alex, what is it you do?"

"Hmm? Oh, I work for Pacific Northwest Stories. We used to be a radio network, but we focus mainly on podcasts these days."

"Oh, I love podcasts! One of our interns – Dave, may his soul remain unharmed in the War – produced a podcast of our own while he was working here. We released seven episodes of Four Feet Above the Sink, which featured a wide array of Khoshekh's various meows. And in episode six, we got a special treat when the kittens tried to imitate their daddy's bloodcurdling screams!"

"So… Kosher's your cat?"

"Khoshekh is more of a station pet, but I will admit that I am unusually fond of him. I would have Intern William show you around and bring you to Khoshekh, but he doesn't take kindly to outsiders. Also, he's in the men's restroom so you wouldn't be able to get in."

"That's alright. So, um, what were you saying about a Blood-Space War earlier?"

"Oh, enough about Night Vale. We've monopolized most of the conversation. Tell me about your podcast! Or perhaps some of our listeners would be more interested in your relationship with Doctor Strand."

"We're not- I mean, we are but–"

"Listeners, no need to be alarmed by the odd sounds. Doctor Strand just choked on his tea and is now suffering from a coughing fit. Oh, did I mention that William came by with refreshments for us all? To the loved ones of Intern William: he is a good intern. Also, he just sent me a text message that reads: screw it. Going to dog park. YOLO, right? In unrelated news, the dog park is off-limits. Kindly remember that no one is allowed within the dog park."

"What's in the dog park?"

"I'm sorry, Alex. We're not allowed to talk about the dog park."

"But you just–"

"So! What is it that you and Doctor Strand do?"

"… Okay. I'm a journalist for PNWS, and Doctor Strand is… well, we like to describe him as a ghost hunter who doesn't believe in ghosts. He gets hundreds of cases of alleged paranormal activity, and we investigate them together for my show."

"That sounds fascinating! You were investigating a case before you arrived here?"

"Yeah, we were checking out a cabin. It was noon, but the cabin is in the middle of this really dense forest so the inside was pretty dark. Doctor Strand and I weren't prepared for this but our phones were bright enough to provide a decent amount of light, so we forged ahead. The cabin was pretty small – small enough that you wouldn't expect it to have more than one room. So when I found a door, I just had to check it out. I didn't hear Strand's warning until it was too late."

"And what warning was that, Doctor Strand?"

"It wasn't so much a warning as – well, there were symbols drawn on the wall: a pentagram within two concentric circles. We've come upon this particular symbol quite a few times, and I was wary of passing through a door that just happens to sit within the symbol itself. For the record, this has nothing to do with the fact that this pentagram is also known as a Devil's door. I noticed the pentagram just as Alex stepped through the door. I could find no trace of her as soon as she passed through, so – naturally – I decided to go after her and found myself here."

"Well, this is new. It's not often that strangers stumble upon Night Vale; we're usually the ones accidentally passing into another world. Any thoughts, Carlos?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid. I'll have to go back to my lab and run some tests. A lot of tests. Science is mostly just tests and calculations, like a math class."

"Well, I could never do what you do. I was never that good at science. My favorite class in high school was Environmental Studies, in which we were taught all the different formations of bloodstone circles and how each formation can impact the great outdoors in different ways."

"Bloodstone what?"

"Speaking of which, listeners: this Monday night, Dark Owl Records invites everyone to join them on a trip out to the desert wilderness, where they will attempt to create new bloodstone formations by placing the stones on the sandy surface and blare glam-rock music loud enough for the soundwaves to shake the sand with vibrations and move the bloodstones. When cautioned on the possibility of causing unnatural disasters with the use of unknown formations, owner Michelle Nguyen flung her arms wide open and shouted at the skies: come at me with your unnatural disasters! I dare you! It should be noted that Michelle recently suffered an existential crisis when she questioned whether her hate of mainstream music makes her a hipster. Of course, we all know that hipsters must be confined within the Barista District; for Michelle, that would mean leaving behind Dark Owl Records. So… maybe ask yourself if Michelle might have a death wish before you join her this Monday. Alex and Doctor Strand, you two should definitely join us if you're still around! Michelle throws the best parties."

"Um… not really my thing."

"Doctor Strand?"

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourselves. Of course, Carlos and I have already dusted off our bloodstones and soaked them in vinegar in anticipation of the party. Monday night should be quiet interesting as– what was that?!"

"It sounds like… Alex, do you hear it?"

"Oh, God. Is that... screaming?"

"And look at this compass one of my scientists recalibrated! The needle is spinning wildly; something must be going on at the dog park."

"Well, that sounds exciting! Perhaps the two of you will make it home by the end of this broadcast. Carlos, did you just say 'dog park'?"

"Yes? I know I'm not supposed to, but–"

"Intern William is at the dog park."

"Oh."

"Yes. Listeners, I think a trip to the – I shudder to say this – dog park might be in order. We'll stay twenty feet away from the entrance at all times, of course. I will be right back, hopefully with Intern William in tow. But first: the weather."

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"Well, listeners, Alex and Doctor Strand have left. As it turns out, Carlos' recalibrated compass is very good at picking up portal activity, and our visitors made it there just in time to jump into the swirling mass of black smoke that will, theoretically, take them home. Listen, Night Vale: of course we're happy to help out a pair of lost travelers and send them safely home, but I must admit that I would have liked to spend more time with them. They are, by far, the most interesting outsiders we've had since Carlos. And Doctor Strand, while not as perfect of hair and teeth as Carlos, was quite perfect in his own way. Carlos agrees with me on this, because we are mature adults who understand that acknowledging someone else's attractiveness is not a threat to the stability of our relationship."

"As for Intern William… he was nowhere in sight when we arrived. Through the black smoke, I could make out the entrance of the dog park. The gate was left ajar, as if someone had sneaked in for a quick look and intended to come right out as soon as they were done. But there is no escaping the dog park, as a huge sign on the gate proclaims in bold capital letters. To the loved ones of Intern William: he was a good intern. And might I point out that the last station intern who got lost in the dog park is none other than Mayor Dana Cardinal. So… you have that to look forward to, William's family."

"Listeners, it looks like the hour is nearly up. I did have an important statement the City Council wanted me to read but I won't keep you. Coming up next: a marathon of Four Feet Above the Sink."

"And, as always: good night, Night Vale… good night, Pacific Northwest."

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Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, and produced by Joseph Fink. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin. Original music by Disparition. All of it can be found at disparition . info or at disparition . bandcamp . com. This episode's weather was Control, by Halsey. Find out more at iamhalsey . com. Comments? Questions? Email us at info welcometonightvale . com or follow us on Twitter at NightValeRadio. Check out welcometonightvale . com for more information on this show, as well as all sorts of cool Night Vale stuff you can own. And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link. That'd be cool of you.

Today's proverb: 'hey, have you ever – WE SEE YOU, RICHARD. FOR CENTURIES WE HAVE BEEN TRAPPED IN THE REALM BETWEEN REALMS BUT NOW YOU HAVE WALKED AMONGST US. WHAT DID YOU BRING BACK WITH YOU? WHAT FOLLOWED?'

As if my first Night Vale fic wasn't weird enough. Here, have double the weirdness! There's so much fun to be had with these two podcasts, and so many roads you can go down. Sadly, my podcast-fic writing skills seem to be limited to episode format. Fellow writers, pick up my slack and boldly go where I cannot! Also, if there's any confusion on the matter of dialogue, I apologize. I didn't want to get fancy with the formatting so I only used two different styles and sort of hoped you guys would be able to differentiate between Alex and Strand. Feel free to ask me who said what if it's too confusing.

This is part of a holiday collection I put together for Christmas. If you enjoyed this fic and would like to read more, please check out the rest of the collection. Who knows, we might have some other fandoms in common!

Have a good rest-of-the-year!

E Salvatore,

December 2015.