And now for corrections.
In a previous report, we at Night Vale Community Radio were talking about the commonly held belief that there is such a thing as "mountains." We scoffed at this belief, and bellowed repeatedly, "It is flat all the way 'round. It is flat all the way 'round."
We wrote lists of friends we knew to believe in mountains, and sent the lists to the City Council, recommending that all of them be put into indefinite detention. We got physically violent with an effigy labeled "Mountain Believer," punching it repeatedly before burning it in our station's bloodstone circle. In fact, we devoted a full day of our programming to getting together the entire station staff and screaming in unison, "Mountains? More like nothings!" into the microphone.
Recently, one of our previously mentioned friends – who thankfully had not yet been apprehended by the Council – took us for a drive out to a mountain…
"No radio today?"
Carlos looked up from all the science he was doing to see Trish, one of his colleagues, standing in the door of the lab.
"Um," Carlos glanced at the radio across the room, its speaker emitting nothing apart from a faint buzz. He frowned. "No. I guess not."
Normally, Carlos kept the radio on all day, half-listening as he worked. It had definitely been on earlier, but maybe it was on the fritz. Or maybe he'd turned it down without thinking and forgotten, but that seemed unlikely.
"You might want to check it out," Trish told him. "Your stalker sounds like he's trying to start a riot."
"He's not – " Carlos started, and then decided to try a different tack as he got up and headed for the radio. "Just because Cecil is… open about his feelings doesn't make him a stalker." He turned the volume up, and the speaker instantly crackled with what sounded like dozens of voices, Cecil's among them, all chanting in unison.
"Mountains? More like nothings!" the radio bellowed, so loud that the voices broke over the tiny speaker's limit and morphed into angry static. Carlos's hand shot out and turned the radio back down.
Trish raised an eyebrow. "See?"
"Where they… Howling?" Carlos asked.
"Whatever it is, that's been going on all day. It's making the rest of the team a little nervous."
"Can't say I blame them," Carlos said. It was often difficult to work as a scientist in Night Vale, what with a belief in objective truth usually clashing with the local culture.
"Yeah," Trish nodded, "So we were hoping you might go… Diffuse the situation."
"What?" Carlos asked. "Why me?"
Trish raised her other eyebrow.
"What, just because…? Come on, that doesn't mean Cecil will listen to me," Carlos tried to reason. "I mean, I can't tell you how many times I've tried to tell him to evacuate that death trap of a radio station, but it's not like that's ever gonna happen."
Trish raised a hitherto undiscovered third eyebrow.
"And even if he did listen, he's just one person," Carlos continued to babble. "We'd still have to convince everyone in Night Vale to calm down, and I don't think that's a possibility."
"Would you please just talk to him?"
Carlos sighed. "I'll go over to the radio station once I've finished up my experiment."
Trish raised yet another eyebrow, making it one too many for Carlos's comfort.
"Okay, fine, I'll go now," Carlos threw up his arms. "Just stop doing… that."
Nerves bubbled up in Carlos's stomach as he pulled into Night Vale Community Radio's parking lot. Ever since the first day he'd arrived in Night Vale, when Cecil had announced on the air, apropos of nothing and apparently completely seriously, that he was in love, Carlos had never known how to feel. In most places, that kind of public adoration would be sweet, if a little awkward. In Night Vale though, with its blood-stone circles and old gods and occasional human sacrifice, it made Carlos… concerned.
It didn't help that every time Carlos started to relax, something like this happened.
A massive roaring bonfire towered over the parking lot, flames leaping up to the radio station's second storey windows from the center of the station's blood-stone circle. Thick black smoke gushed from a burlap dummy labeled "mountain believer", crucified high above the heads of a baying crowd. At the front of the crowd, still holding a mic in his hand, Cecil was working the mob into a lather.
"That can't be good," Carlos said to himself, sliding his hybrid into a parking spot well away from the action and ducking down below the steering wheel.
Diffuse the situation. Right.
No way Carlos was even getting out of the car at this point. This was not the time to profess a belief in mountains, or science, or anything really. He'd have to wait until the crowd died down, and – his stomach flip-flopped again – talk to Cecil alone.
The effigy was long gone and the pyre had burnt itself to a smoldering pile of ash by the time the familiar words filled Carlos's Prius. "Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight."
Not that that's scientifically accurate, Carlos thought. There was still almost an hour until sunset. Assuming the sun set at the correct time, which it probably wouldn't.
Carlos stepped out of the car and crossed the parking lot to stand at the massive black doors of the station's entrance, the white tails of his labcoat stirring in the dry desert breeze. His toes tapped the sidewalk, and he was torn between shoving his hands deep into his pockets or keeping them by his sides, and he second-, third- and fourth-guessed himself before clasping them behind his back.
There's no reason to be nervous, he told himself. This was just two professionals, talking about a professional issue. Carlos didn't even have time for personal issues since coming to Night Vale. Not when there was so much science to do.
There was a squeal of ancient metal as the obsidian doors swung out, opening by themselves to reveal a surprisingly normal looking lobby. Stepping out into the orange glow of the evening, Cecil took a deep breath of the fresh air, displaying none of the fervour with which he had recently been riling the people of Night Vale. It took him a moment to notice the scientist standing nearby, but when he did, a flush rose to his face.
"Carlos?" he froze in place like a startled deer. "Um… What brings you to the station?"
"Um…" Carlos wasn't sure where to begin. On top of that, he felt heat rising to his face, mirroring Cecil's blush. "This is not a personal visit," he blurted.
"Oh."
It was true, but Carlos hated the way Cecil deflated. "I wanted to talk to you about your show today."
"Really?" Immediately Cecil perked back up. "You were listening to my show?"
"Yeah, um, I was." Keep it professional, Carlos reminded himself. Just one professional, talking to another professional who just so happens to be attractive, and immaculately dressed, and exactly your type. Absolutely nothing to be nervous about. "So, uh, you were saying some things about mountains. And people who believe in mountains. And a lot of my team – all of it actually – and that includes me… Well, we know for a fact that mountains are real."
Cecil blinked, and then gave a small, surprised chuckle. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't mean to be rude, but… It's a little strange for a scientist to believe in such a silly superstition."
"It's not a superstition. Science tells us that mountains are real."
"And you're saying the rest of your team also believes this?"
Crap. Now he'd outed every scientist in Night Vale as a mountain believer. Cecil wouldn't report Carlos to the Sheriff's Secret Police – would he? He needed to fix this somehow. And then, an idea came.
"Would you mind coming with me somewhere?" Carlos asked. "It's a bit of a drive, but…"
The flush raced back to Cecil's face.
The silence in the car was unusual for both occupants.
For Cecil, whose job involved filling hours of airtime with nothing but his voice, the silence on its own was strange. For Carlos, though, it was the nature of the silence that bothered him. He was used to spending long hours by himself in the lab, never uttering a single word. In grad school, he once went for days without speaking to anyone. He was comfortable with silence.
But not now.
Carlos wasn't sure what he wanted to say. Just that he wanted something to pass between him and Cecil. Something totally professional, he reminded himself.
He wondered what Cecil was thinking. Was he, like Carlos, desperately searching for the words he needed? Or maybe he just didn't talk much once he was off the air. Maybe all that time spent talking at work meant that he liked to rest his voice during off-hours. Maybe, after days spent thinking about nothing but sound, he liked to come home to a quiet house so he could reflect in peace.
The image of Cecil at home – and the sudden desire to know what that was like – threatened to send blood rushing back to Carlos's face.
"How can you not believe in mountains?" Carlos blurted. He felt a bit rude, but at least it broke the silence.
"Carlos, it's a superstition," Cecil chided. "It's like believing that black cats are bad luck, or that evolution wasn't guided by aliens."
"Okay, but what about those ridges on the horizon?" Carlos gestured ahead of them, past where Route 800 disappeared into the distance, where the points of a mountain chain were visible against the orange and red streaks of the sky. They hadn't been driving long, but they had already begun to rise, looming over Carlos's hybrid car. "You can see those from Night Vale."
"That's a mirage."
"A mirage?" Carlos repeated with disbelief.
"Of course," Cecil nodded. "They're very common in the desert."
Denial level: Night Vale.
Carlos simply shook his head as the mountains grew ever taller and closer.
"Okay, this is it," Carlos pulled the car to the side of the road, halfway up the slope of the narrow mountain pass, manoeuvering the vehicle to point out over the vast desert. "One mountain."
Cecil shot Carlos a frown before stepping out of the car, a look Carlos would have interpreted as I'll believe it when I see it, if it weren't for the fact that he was already seeing it. Ignoring the look, Carlos walked to the front of the car, rocks crunching beneath his feet until he leaned back onto the hood. He gazed out over the sand, his eyes tracing the straight black line of Route 800 until they landed on Night Vale, its lights still dim against the fading sun. Beyond that, the sun itself was sinking below the horizon, just – Carlos checked his watch – three and a half minutes early today.
Behind him, the passenger side door slammed, and Cecil's footsteps echoed Carlos's until the radio announcer stood beside him.
Shadows stretched across the desert, every rock thrown into sharp relief by the darkness they projected across the sand. The first stars began to appear as the sun dropped another few degrees, quickly and quietly slipping away, the reds and oranges in the sky giving way to violets and blacks.
"It's a beautiful view," Cecil said.
"Yeah," Carlos agreed. "From this high up, you can see everything."
Cecil nodded. "Night Vale looks so small from here. Everything does."
Carlos suppressed a laugh. Even with the evidence right in front of him – right beneath him – Cecil refused to admit defeat. It wasn't the first time Carlos had argued about science, trying to convince someone of a point that had long been proven, but that was normally a frustrating pursuit. Cecil's stubbornness, on the other hand, was actually… Kind of endearing.
Yup, Carlos thought, resisting the urge to sidle closer to Cecil, to feel his warmth. This sure is just two professionals. Nothing that could possibly distract me from my job going on here.
"Thank you for showing me this," Cecil finally said as the sun disappeared. Night Vale's street lights twinkled like the stars. They were just as distant, as far as Carlos was concerned.
Carlos smiled. "I'm glad I did." He leaned back an inch, his eyes flicking from the view to Cecil, trying to memorize every inch of his silhouette. It was the perfect moment, and he didn't want it to end. But he had come here for a reason.
"So," Carlos started. "Mountains?"
He could hear the amusement in Cecil's voice, even if he couldn't see his smile. "Well," Cecil replied, "I suppose I have to admit that at least this mountain exists."
It's always been head-canon for me that the "friend" Cecil mentions in the correction about mountains was Carlos. Hope you enjoyed!