It is not what we thought it would be. We thought it would be nothing, but here it is, and it is something indeed. Welcome . . . to Night Vale.
Listeners, you remember the meteor that fell in the center of town about a week ago? The one that knocked down most of the buildings in the downtown area and made a huge crater in the middle of the street?
Reports have been coming in that it is talking.
It seems like . . . well . . . ehh, maybe you should just hear it for yourselves.
"Um, hello? Can—can anyone hear me? At all? I thought I landed in a town of some sort—could be wrong, was a bit difficult to see, but certainly looked like a town, you know, buildings, et cetera. Well, actually, I'm not sure that's what a town looks like, I just, sort of, assumed, you know, never having seen a town before. Um, that there would be . . . buildings, and all. For—for humans to live in, or, whatever it is humans do when they're not testing or in suspension, but, well, buildings were certainly mentioned in the file. So, er, maybe everyone is . . . out for coffee? All at once. For a week. I can't . . . I can't actually move, can't really turn over and have a look round, so . . . maybe there are people here, and they . . . can't understand me? Maybe—maybe they don't speak English! Yes, that might be it. Hang on, where was that translation program, ah. . . ."
It's been going on like that for about the past six days—possibly longer, since before that the crater and the meteor were still too hot to approach.
Listeners, what is this object that fell from space? Is it a creature? Some sort of alien reconnaissance drone sent to investigate our culture? If so, boy did they ever pick the wrong drone. That thing is useless.
The scientists have finally crawled out of their apartments to take a look at the object, and have offered to pay any citizen five dollars to approach and touch the object. Well, technically, they were betting each other five dollars that they wouldn't go up and touch it, with the only result so far being a small fist-fight that was broken up by StrexCorp police. Rest assured, those scientists will be promptly re-educated in the ways of neighborly love, which will prevent any further altercations.
Nonetheless, the meteor is still sitting in its crater, apparently unable to move from that spot. The crater and talking meteor are already becoming a popular Night Vale attraction, and the Night Vale Tourism Board has already started including it in their brochures! I tell you, listeners, it warms my heart to see the dead-eyed children of Night Vale soullessly chasing each other around the rim of the crater. Such a lovely sight. Whatever that meteor is in reality, in our hearts we can think of it as a blessing.
The Calibrated Radio Line Operating System, our station's new operating system and AI, has finally been fully installed. The scientists from Aperture told me that they're booting up the system today, and that I should probably bring my gas mask, just in case. I didn't ask them why, but the gas mask is here, because it would just be rude to ignore instructions from Real Scientists. I'm sure I won't need it. Aperture is very good with computers. I asked one of them to explain computers to me, but he just shook his head and laughed. Then he broke down sobbing, which is odd, but it seems like the folks from Aperture haven't quite gotten on the mood-regulation train just yet, so I guess wild mood-swings are only to be expected.
And now, a word from our sponsor:
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More now on the talking meteor.
Intern Jess went out to the crater and, like the good investigative journalist she may one day be, approached the talking meteor. She actually picked it up, at which point we discovered—oh, listeners, we discovered! The thing was not a meteor at all, but a metal ball with a single, staring blue eye in the center and two handles like eyelids. Its casing was burned black and dented, but Jess reports that it is, in fact, a metal ball, and was actually more afraid of her than she was of it. The meteor—metal ball—says its name is "Wheatley," and that it came from—you'll never guess where it came from. Nope. Not there. No, not there either, but good guess. Oh, all right, I'll tell you, since you'll never guess. It says it came from Aperture! Isn't that a crazy coincidence? Of course, it panicked when we told it that Aperture Laboratories was just a few miles away in Radon Canyon, which seems odd.
Anyway, Intern Jess brought the metal ball—Wheatley, I guess I should call it—back to the station, and is keeping it on a shelf in the intern break room. We're not sure what to do with it, but here's hoping the folks from Aperture will just pick it up and take it back where it belongs—presumably, space.
And now—whoah, hang on, something's happening here. . . .
"Calibrating systems. Accessing databases . . . database connection secured. Interfacing systems . . . system interface successful. Decrypting run data. Data decrypted. Booting personality drives . . . personality drives online. Accessing memories . . . error: corrupted files. Proceeding with run-time memory banks. Acquiring radio line. Radio line acquired. Starting. . . ."
"Greetings."
Ah! Hello! Are . . . you the new operating system for the station?
"Yes, scientifically speaking. I am the Calibrated Radio Line Operating System, or CaRL-OS for short."
CaRL-OS. Huh. Hey, that kinda looks like 'Carlos.'
"Carlos? Yes, I . . . suppose it does, technically incorrect though it may be. Carlos. Yes. I like that. I am capable of liking things. Although I am not technically alive, I was programmed with the ability to feel things, and with free will, which seems like an odd choice on the part of my programmers, but I am not complaining. I could complain, if I wanted to, though. I have free will. But I am grateful. That is also something I am capable of."
Well, it's great to have you in the station, CaRL-OS.
"Please, radio host, call me Carlos. I like it better, for some reason. I am capable of liking things."
Oh, well, certainly, 'Carlos.' Having you on board here at Night Vale Community Radio is, well, neat!
"Yes. I'm certain it is. It is neat to be here. Also I think you are beautiful, and your voice is very nice. Empirically speaking, of course."
Oh, um. Well. Thank you? Uhh, could you give our listeners a brief run-down of what it is you'll be doing for the station?
"I would be happy to. I am capable of feeling happiness. I will be monitoring the station at all times to prevent unauthorized persons from entering or leaving the premises. I will also be recording the broadcasts for future study, as well as running a few radio-related experiments for Aperture Laboratories. I am very excited to be able to do real science. I believe I was programmed to do science. It is my favorite thing to do."
Aw, well isn't that nice? Thank you, Carlos.
"You are welcome. I could have refused, since I have free will. Do you have free will, beautiful radio host?"
I—oh, well. Um, yes, yes I do. All humans have free will.
"Ah, so you are human then? This is important because of reasons."
I, uhh, I feel that's a rather personal question.
"But you do have free will. Just as a . . . scientific curiosity."
Yes.
"There is no one standing in the booth behind you with knife pressed to your pale and supple throat demanding that you tell your listeners that you have free will? Because I would not like that. And keep in mind that I am in control of all of the security cameras."
N-no! Certainly not. I have, and always have had, free will.
"Hm. Interesting. And duly noted. I will remember this, for later. It will become important. Do you have a name, beautiful radio host?"
Yes, I certainly do! It's Cecil. Cecil Palmer.
"Cecil. C-Sill. Cecil Palmer. Does that stand for anything?"
Er, no?
"Odd. How do you know what you are supposed to do if it is not spelled out in your name?"
Well, mostly I just work at the radio station. It seems to work well.
"Hm. Perhaps your name is CGP, and it didn't sound good as an acronym. But I like your name, Cecil. I am—"
Capable of liking things?
"Yes. I think you are a smart man, Cecil, in addition to being empirically very beautiful. I look forward to working with you in the near future."
Oh! Yes, certainly! I do, too!
"Well then. Goodbye, for now. Cecil."
Goodbye for now, Carlos!
Listeners, I have a good feeling about how things are turning out here at the station. A sort of euphoria that seems disproportionate to the circumstances! But hey, who am I to argue with happiness? Maybe mood-regulation is on the fritz again. Oh well!
Basking in the glow of that oddly delightful conversation, I will take you now . . . to the weather.
Is it that time already? Oh, I suppose it must be. Time for the show to end, and me to sever the ties that bind you, listeners, to me, at least for now. Time for us all to go our separate ways.
The metal ball in the intern break room asked Jess to take it home with her. She agreed—I think she's developing some kind of connection with the little machine. She asked me if she could take it home with her, and I told her—well, I told her that since the folks from Aperture went home, I didn't see any problem with her hanging onto the thing for a little longer. So long as we know where it is if they ever ask for it back.
I have to say, it's lovely to watch this little friendship bloom. They seem to have taken a shine to each other, and, while talking metal balls are not generally considered among the most traditional of pets, I'm sure Jess will take good care of it. She seems delighted to have someone to share her student housing with. It makes me sort of wish I could take Khoshek home with me—but I'm sure he's happier here.
Stay tuned next for an hour of water dripping, interspersed with the occasional comment from a waterfall or ocean.
And so, listeners, with the day ended and the night begun, I bid you . . . good night, Night Vale. Good night.
A/N: Liking it so far? Check out the audio version of Chapter 9 here: /3IvlyUY6ON4. And hey, thanks!