The watch on Cecil's wrist told him the light should have been the dim gray of early dawn, though the false midday still beat down when he and Carlos lifted the magazines they had used to cover their eyes, and rose, somewhat stiffly, from the heap of magazines upon which they had slept (the watchman had a very extensive magazine collection). "The tower moved again during the night," he yawned. "Erm. Where to?"

"The trailer park. Maybe someone knows about Old Woman Josie."

You gave up trying to sleep hours ago; and now you are washing down a handful of Advil with a mug of coffee, hoping to dull the headache and sharpen your brain enough to be ready to leave for your job once the clock tells you it's seven a.m. Right now it's six, so you feel surprise when someone knocks at the door of your trailer.

Two men stand outside. One is the scientist - you recognize him by his rumbled lab coat and perfect hair. Despite this, you don't guess who the second man is - not until he opens his mouth and you hear the calming voice of the radio announcer who narrated your life, one memorable night several months ago. As before, you feel oddly pleased to hear him acknowledge you, even as you wonder how he knows so much. The scientist is glancing about, nervously, and the announcer asks if they may come in. You let them in, and pour them each a cup of coffee as they stand awkwardly outside the door of your trailer's tiny kitchen, which has room for you alone. They take the coffee gratefully and the three of you cram into your breakfast nook, you on one side, them facing you across the table.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" you ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"We're trying to find out if Old Woman Josie is alright," the scientist asks. His voice is crisp, anxious, not as soothing as his boyfriend's but pleasant. "She's not at home, and we don't think she has been since yesterday noon when the yellow helicopters came. You've got a good view of her house; did you see anything?"

You remember the darkness gathering, then clearing. You remember the men in yellow t-shirts who lowered themselves on ropes from the helicopters, each with what looked like a dart gun strapped across his back. You recall how they surrounded the old woman's house and, though you heard no audible signal, how they broke in simultaneously through every window. The angels that lived with her must have been away, for the men in yellow t-shirts reappeared almost immediately, exiting through her back door with her tranquilized body. You wanted to do something, but there were so many of them. You wonder how it is that the radio announcer needs to ask you any of this, when you own experience suggests he is omniscient.

"I'm not, actually. You just think out loud. So Old Woman Josie appeared unharmed, only tranquilized?"

"As - as far as I could tell." You are stunned at this revelation about yourself. The announcer's face relaxes in relief. Then it tenses with hope.

"Did you see which way they took her?"

You reply that they put her in a stretcher lowered from one of the helicopters - a slightly bigger one - and she was pulled up into it. Then the helicopter flew away in a northwesterly direction, while the rest flew back towards the downtown core. The men thank you, and the announcer asks whether your punishment for taking one of the non-ticking crates was severe. you tell him that it was, but that it's all water under the bridge now. A thought strikes the scientist. He asks you for more details about the trucks that you loaded and unloaded the crates from in your first job in Night Vale: which way they came from, which way they went. did they change, like the men who stood guard, or were they always the same two trucks. Then he asks whether they had any logos or insignia. You draw some markings from memory. He frowns at the sheet of paper as if he's seen it before, pulls a notebook from his pocket and opens it. His brown eyes widen in surprise and he shows a page to the announcer. They shake your hand hurriedly and dash off.