"What happens after we die?" is a question often asked about life. "When am I even going to use this?" is a question often asked about math. It turns out, both questions have the exact same answer…
I am your host, Q.
Welcome to Night Vale.
Hello, dear listeners. I'm back.
You may have been wondering where I was for the last two-and-a-half weeks, and why Intern Eve took my place in reporting the daily happenings of Night Vale. Well, you can stop worrying because I have finally returned! As has, so far, happened with nearly sixty percent of Night Vale residents over the last month, the timestream in which I live in got disrupted. As a result, I was living an entire seven hours out of sync with the rest of the town, and so, couldn't continue working until my time fixed itself again.
There was one upside to this, however, and as much as I missed my job and being involved in the day-to-day running of our friendly little town, I have to say, the trade-off was admirable.
James, too, was thrown into my muddled-up time stream.
What a glorious two-and-a-half-weeks it was, listeners.
He took me out for tea, as promised, that last faithful day when time was time and spies were spies -not that any of us are to let James know that we know who he really is, of course. The Sheriff's Secret Police were quite clear about that. But anyway, James the Spy came in and walked me to his car, a beautiful silver Aston Martin DB5 with a purring engine that my hands just ached to get a hold of, and even held open the door for me! What a gentleman! I, of course, was wearing my usual off-beige double zipped cardigan and gingham check trousers, while James had opted for a more laid-back look with jeans and a blue sweater that brought out his eyes just so. Oh listeners, I could ramble on and on about those eyes forever and ever and ever and-
*Ahem*
Intern Eve has just informed me that I am making "gooey eyes" and she is quite concerned.
The point is, we were both beautiful in the late afternoon sunlight, each other's dreams met in a real world moment. So, we went for tea and talked and laughed and I found myself falling in love. And even after the tea was done, and the bill was paid by screaming into the void, as usual, even after I thought that the date was finished… it wasn't. James took my hand, dear listeners, his fingers gliding down my arm and over my wrist where my pulse was undoubtedly betraying me, and then laced his hand in mine and said, "Come with me".
And, of course, I did.
He led me back to his car, but kept hold of my hand even as he turned the key and started driving, past City Hall, past Night Vale General Hospital, past, even, the Car Lot and Petting Zoo where the carnival once came to town that one faithful day so long ago. James the Spy took me to the very edge of Night Vale, listeners, and only when we came upon an abandoned old building did we stop.
"I want to show you something" He said.
"Lead the way" said I.
He opened the car door for me once more, took my hand, and led me towards this strange mansion.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"You'll see" He said.
James opened the door with ease, and guided me through the building like he'd been here before. We reached a long, pale turquoise room with a glass roof and- and art on the walls.
Art, listeners, art.
The glorious past time that has been outlawed by the City Council for well over two hundred years now, dear listeners, and James trusted me with its precious location. He took off his coat and laid it down over a bench to cover the worst of the dust, and we sat.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked.
He shrugged, "I found it a while back and realised it was abandoned. Seemed like a waste… And besides, you said you enjoy the Museum of Forbidden Technologies, despite how all of the exhibits are covered in thick burlap at all times. At least here, you can see the museum pieces".
I cannot even begin to describe how my heart thudded at those words, dear listeners. I didn't think such a perfect being could exist.
James and I – oh, the magic of that phrase, oh, the ecstasy that a simple conjunction can imply – sat there for quite some time, staring at the painting of "a bloody big ship", as he called it. Personally, it made me feel a bit melancholy. Grand old war ship, being ignominiously hauled away for scrap... The inevitability of time, don't you think, listeners? And, also, the inevitability of City Council censorship. I dread the day when they find this abandoned art gallery, and I hope that James and I will return before then.
On a related note, here's a word from our sponsors:
Every time we press on our eyelids, we see the messages written for us by beings we've long forgotten in a language we never knew… Should've gone to Specsavers.
Back to the date!
Since James had borne such a secret part of his soul to me, and since he had brought up the Museum of Forbidden Technologies, I felt it compulsory to show him something close to my own heart in return.
And I didn't think he'd appreciate my ribs.
You know me, dear listeners, always tinkering around with this and that, inventing new gizmos and coming up with new ways of doing things, all of which are governmentally regulated, of course. I need to keep my hands busy while on air, for all our sakes, or need I remind you of the vortex manipulator incident of '09?
Anyway, once we were done strolling and talking and smiling at forbidden art, I asked him to drive me home. Once there, I invited him in. A bit forward, I know, but necessary for my plan! You see, when James came into the station the other day, he saw a few of my inventions and got curious. After our date, I decided to show him even more.
And listeners, he loved them!
He didn't understand everything about how they worked or what they did, but he still paid close attention when I explained things to him, and even had a few ideas of his own! One of which, was an exploding pen. Can you imagine? A pen that not only writes, but explodes?! I told him, of course, that such a thing would be impossible given that the Sheriff's Secret Police outlawed all pen and paper many years ago, but I will say this:
The project I'm currently working on, could be summed up as… shall we say… an explosive stylus.
But I'm straying from the story again. I showed James my inventions, he loved them, gave me new ideas, and then, then, listeners, Khoshekh and his second litter of Edison, Tesla, Einstein, and Colonel Attenborough the Third, or C.A.T., for short, floated around the corner. The kittens have since grown their spine ridges, but remain cute and fluffy and smol. I was worried that James wouldn't like them, or cats in general, but my fears were unfounded.
Have you ever seen a tough macho super-secret agent being reduced to a puddle of goo at the sight of a furry animal, listeners?
Because I have.
James the Spy loves them, like he loves my inventions and loves the art gallery and loves, dare I say it, me?
~He knows when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he lives inside your mirror, and his human face is fake~
That was the traffic… or… like… at least a message from the City Council? Or- Or the Sheriff's Secret Police? Being perfectly honest, listeners, I can't quite remember who gave me that information…
Where was I? Oh yes, the end of the date!
After James finished gushing over the kittens and Khoshekh and we talking some more about my inventions and future ideas, James said he had to go. I walked him back to his car, unwilling to lose any possible time I have with this not-scientist. James opened the driver's door, and paused, turning back to me.
"Well" he said, pointing to his car, "This is me".
"Uh-huh" I said.
"I should probably do something about concealing that art gallery," he said. "We don't want the City Council finding it".
"Agreed" I said, "Do you need any help with that?"
"No" he said. "A scientist is self-reliant. It's the first thing a scientist is".
He sounded like he was trying to remind himself of his cover.
"Oh" I said again, but softer, sadder – which is when he leaned forward and kissed me.
Just once.
Just… gently.
Just before slipping into the car and driving away.
I'll tell you, listeners, I almost slipped into yet another time stream alteration and I hardly even noticed. I was so happy! I guess James managed to find a way to conceal the abandoned old art gallery, because that was two weeks ago now and I haven't heard anything since.
And now, the weather.
My Sister told me be careful when falling in love,
but just like a child I went and bit off a little too much!
No I don't remember us falling in love,
but I'm sure that it happened!
My father said be careful take only your need,
but just like a man I went and dredged into waters too deep!
No I don't remember us falling in love
That sort of thing is old fashion!
I know this, I know, I don't know
No I don't know this, I know
No I don't remember us falling in love
Speaking of the ongoing time stream issue, someone should really do something about that… I mean, it's a pretty big deal, and everyone's talking about it or- well- not talking about it if they're currently sleeping while the rest of us are awake thanks to the previously mentioned ongoing time stream issue but either way, somebody should really get on top of that…
I'm not sure what'll happen next, dear listeners, neither with life in general nor James the Spy. We had several more dates during the two-and-a-half-weeks we were in the same stream, all of which were just as beautiful and wonderful and fantastic as the first. They also all ended the same, with a gentle kiss and a closed car door, but I can't complain. James says he has a surprise in the works, a surprise for me, something he's been working on since our first date. I can't wait to see what it is. I can't wait for him to finally tell me the truth about why he's here.
I wonder if he ever will.
You should be careful what you wish for, after all, because it probably won't come true, and life is about expectations management.
Goodnight, Night Vale, Goodnight.