219 - The Traveling Tarot Reader

Howdy, Jeffrey Kraner here.

You probably know that Welcome to Night Vale does live tours.

We've done seven of those tours, in fact.

If you never got to see these tours, or even if you did and you want to relive them, we have live recordings available to you right now over at nightvale.bandcamp.com.

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We've also got some one-off events like our Thrilling Adventure Hour crossover show, our first-ever live show, Condos, as well as The Debate.

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Guests include Emma Myers, Joy Sunday, Hunter Doohan, Steve Buscemi, Fred Armison, Catherine Zeta Jones, the Joanna Lumley, also show creators Al Goh and Miles Miller, and of course, Wednesday herself, Jenna Ortega, plus many, many more.

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Not today, Satan.

Not today.

Next Tuesday is wide open, though.

Or Wednesday after 2:30?

Welcome to Night Vale.

You all know the traveling tarot reader.

He's the short man in the long coat who pushes his wheeled cart full of tarot cards through town.

He rings his little bell as he ambles through neighborhood after neighborhood.

Three dollars, says the sign on the side.

Three dollars, says the sign on the other side.

Three dollars, the man would say, if he ever talked.

It is unclear if he is incapable or unwilling to speak, but we all understand his business.

We know what he wants.

He wants to travel and read the tarot.

Today, the man rang his little bell in front of our radio station, and I waved to him.

He entered my studio and sat opposite me.

He is looking at me right now.

In his hands is a thick deck of cards.

He is barely moving his fingers, yet the cards flutter and twist in his palms like a school of fish swiftly shifting directions.

On the backs of the cards, a lattice work of thorny stems, a dull gold layered atop a dull rust base.

The pattern is hardly noticeable, except in the card's movement.

I have not given the man his $3,

but he has already begun.

The deck is on my desk.

With only the nod of his head and a wave of his hand, he asked me to cut it.

thrice.

And from there, I shall choose three cards.

He does not ask me to ask the deck a question, yet I state one anyway.

Rather, I pose three.

What do I not know that I should know?

What do I know that I should not know?

What is not knowable at all?

I lift the first card.

It is the 12 of birds.

I have never drawn nor seen this card before, let alone this number or suit.

I turn over the second card, the shadow of the leopard.

I also know nothing of this arcana.

And the third tarot card,

the five of rakes.

I am perplexed, and across from my desk, the man sits silently.

staring at my selections.

While he thinks, let's go to the community calendar.

Tomorrow afternoon, the newly formed Citizens Against Rock Murdering Academics, or CARMA, will gather at the Rec Center to discuss how to remove the treacherous Dr.

Lubell and her colleagues at the University of What It Is from Nightvale.

They have already killed our friend and fist-sized River Rock Sarah Sultan by explaining away her existence.

Karma is asking anyone who thinks interlopers killing our neighbors is bad to please join them at 4 p.m.

They'll be brainstorming the best ways to get rid of terrible people.

Sunday night, the Night Vale Community Theater will host auditions for their newest show, The Doctor Must Go, a world premiere play about a town that rises up against a professor who is spreading lies and murdering rocks.

Tuesday night, around 2 a.m., the people who huddle behind the Ralphs have invited everyone who is upset with the university of what it is to huddle together behind the Ralphs.

Come huddle with us, their press release reads, and that's it.

Yeah, it's just a piece of paper with that phrase scrawled on it, so

I guess do that.

Finally, next Wednesday is Woodchuck Day.

If Prickly Pear Peter, the woodchuck, sees his shadow, we'll have six more weeks of sunshine.

If he doesn't, then the center of our solar system shall hold together for another year.

I like Prickly Pear Peter because he has that little vest and hat.

What a cutie.

The tarot reader, right now, adjusts his overly large glasses.

He points at the 12 of birds.

His fist is so small and his index finger so long that for a moment I think he has no other fingers on that hand.

The Twelve of Birds features a scarecrow made of what looks to be yarn rather than straw, though the longer I stare at it, the more it appears to be sausage links.

The bird's claws clutch the figure's innards, which are strung high into the sky.

The scarecrow's shape remains intact, but only because this is a still picture.

Perhaps only 30 seconds later later and all that would be left is a wooden stake in an empty cornfield.

I look at the birds, which are not crows.

In fact, they all seem to be different species.

One looks like a blue jay, another a falcon, another a common pigeon.

There are 12 of them, of course, each a different size, color, and shape.

The scarecrow's face is...

indifferent.

It is simply a burlap sack with two circles for eyes and a straight line for a mouth.

The sack is torn near the temple, exposing something dark orange.

Likely, this is a pumpkin, but it evokes an open wound.

The tarot card reader moves his hand back to his lap and looks at me.

He says nothing, but I know what he is thinking.

I see it in the corners of his wrinkled smile.

I feel pulled in too many directions.

I am the scarecrow.

The birds are my responsibilities.

Control is just an illusion.

Once people see through me, they know I am not a threat.

The birds, no longer fearing the guardian of the field, tear him apart.

Carry him away.

There is no food to be had here, the birds seem to say, so let us devour what remains of this empty effigy.

The man is nodding at me.

I don't know, listeners.

I mean, tarot is fun and all, but I don't believe in any of this.

Plus, I'm not sure this guy is working with a full deck, if you catch my meaning, which is entirely literal.

I don't think he has a full tarot deck, like, on him.

All right, um, let's get to some listener questions.

I've gotten lots of letters and calls the past couple of weeks, and they all seem to be about the same thing.

Um, like this one from Robin H.

Dear Cecil, I love your show.

Oh, I listen every day.

Have you not heard about the university of what it is?

They're very, very bad.

I never hear you mention them.

You should educate yourself in this matter.

I,

uh, okay, I've done several episodes about this, Robin.

You clearly aren't listening.

Every day.

Okay, here's one from Jerome C.

Hey, Cecil, why are you taking Dr.

Lubelle's side?

All you ever do is talk about how smart she is.

This is your town too, man.

You need to open your eyes to what's really going on.

Okay, Jerome, I'm not on Dr.

Lubelle's side.

I'm not sure what else I can do to make you believe me.

Nightvale, I'm not the enemy here.

Dr.

Lubell must be held accountable for what happened to Sarah Sultan.

I've reported what I can about this issue.

I mentioned the protests in the community calendar today.

I called her treacherous, threatening.

I don't know what else you want.

Finally, this one, Gustavo G.

Why won't your husband speak out?

We demand to know Carlos's involvement with these people.

Silence is suspicious, Cecil.

What?

Everyone take a deep breath.

Count to 10.

Whatever you need to do.

We will protect our town, but we will not resort to paranoia or violence.

Okay, the tarot card reader is pointing now at my second card.

He looks smug.

And I told you so sort of grin, and I don't like it, but

I'll examine the card anyway.

The Shadow of the the Leopard

On a flint blue background, there is a large black cat.

Unlike a common leopard, it has no spots.

The leopard is walking tall, its neck extended, and its head turned to the right.

It is staring at something outside the border of the tarot card.

It does not look alarmed, rather, it appears almost pleased.

Perhaps it sees food or water, perhaps shelter, or even a potential mate.

To the left of the leopard, across the plain grayish backdrop is the black shadow of the black leopard, and it is unclear if the sun or the moon has created this shadow, but it is noticeable that the leopard and the shadow are both pure black.

No light reflects from either, but the existential difference is palpable.

The actual leopard is black because it absorbs all light.

The leopard's black shadow is black because it receives no light.

Those who stand behind us define themselves by what they do not have.

And they define us by what we do have.

Beyond that, oh, the shadow has a different shape than the leopard.

The shadow is crouched low.

its joints bent, its back bowed.

Its head almost appears to face forward rather than to the side.

It is about to run or about to fight.

Either way, it looks scared.

Is the shadow the leopard's shadow?

Or is it a different entity entirely?

Or

is it an alternate version of the leopard?

They are held together at the ground,

yet they seem to behave independently of one another.

The tarot reader pulls his finger away and blinks slowly at me.

I'm getting word that my former interns Dana Cardinal, Karim Nazari, and Joseph Fink have been in touch with one another.

Each of them has dealt with a doppelganger in their lives.

Joseph and Karim are convinced that they are from some other reality and that a doppelganger has replaced them back in their respective hometowns.

Dana also had a double, though she killed her double with a stapler.

Or vice versa.

She's never been sure who killed who.

Upon learning that Karim had managed to get back to the quote real world last year, Joseph asked him for assistance getting there too.

Karim agreed to help, but was unable to find his way back to the place called Minch.

Mit, Mit, Mit,

Milligan.

Milligan?

So, I guess with all other options exhausted, Joseph and Kareem

went to see Dr.

Janet Lubell of the University of What It Is for Help in This Matter.

But Dr.

Lubell told them,

there is no such thing as doppelgangers.

You, Joseph Fink, she explained, are a resident of Nightvale.

There is another Joseph Fink in New York State who writes podcasts and books.

He has a child and is perfectly happy living his life.

You probably read an article about him.

He wrote a couple of books last year and launched a new podcast recently called Unlicensed.

Upon seeing that this Joseph Fink looks a little like you, you made the irrational leap that you two were one and the same.

And you.

Karim Nazari, she explained, you went to Michigan last year and kidnapped the parents of a a person who also shares your name.

I have reported this to the sheriff.

They will return the Nazaris to their home state, and hopefully for you, they do not press charges.

Dr.

Lubell concluded, Doppelgangers aren't real,

but delusions are.

Go home, both of you, and accept that you are simply

you.

Before they left though, she asked, wait, did you say this Dana person killed her double?

Tell me more about that.

The tarot reader is pointing to the five of rakes now.

Unlike the other two cards, the five of rakes is light and fun.

A boy is hiding in a pile of leaves with five discarded rakes lying to the side.

The boy has shirked his duties or merely taken a break in order to play.

He has raked the leaves into a giant pile and dived in.

We can only see his tiny face and huge smile peeking out from a hole in the side.

But

why five rakes and only one boy?

Who else is missing from this picture?

Where are the others?

Why is the boy really smiling?

Is that not a smile?

Is it a smirk?

Is it a grimace?

Is the boy hiding as part of a game or out of fear?

Has he committed violence?

Does he intend to?

I'm examining the image even more closely now.

Why does the boy look like me?

I glance at the tarot reader and I can see the same question in his eyes.

If you take the five of rakes at face value, it is a boy playing on an autumn day, but the real story is in what you cannot see, the other rakers.

The secrets hidden from view.

What else is buried in that pile of leaves?

Who else?

And what does he want no one else to know?

Uh-oh.

Uh...

Listeners, Dr.

Janet Lubell is here in my studio.

And next to her is Sheriff Sam.

Hi.

Neither look happy, nor do they look like they're here for a tarot reading.

I am pointing to the on air sign on air because a passive-aggressive call for quiet is my only power in this situation.

Sheriff Sam is respecting the silence, but now they are writing a message and they're holding it up.

It says, we need to talk to you now.

You'd best take your listeners to the

weather.

I don't get you.

Is there a part of you missing?

Maybe from your brain or your heart

Either way your tongue feels blank

Did they steal it?

Fish from your dreams Maybe it wasn't even there to begin with

Either way,

I know you'll get it back

I don't get you

you say all those words you tell me But you never really tell

anyone but yourself

Did you mean it?

Love you expressed out loud Before you burnt your bridges and turns to turn around

Did you know this?

The flame was never strong But you cling to the past as if it's all you've ever known How to do

So know you're better than that,

you have a long way to go.

Take your feelings,

put them inside a glass bottle,

let them flow and drift on the sea,

and then hope somebody finds them

Maybe even they will understand

That you're a poor stranded soul

Longing for your way to love

Welcoming shelter

Once you find it

move on to the next

Pray your spirit doesn't break from all the shame and stress

I don't know you I guess restless enough

But the way you act tells me enough to tell how you react

when you fall.

To know you're better than that.

And that part,

I know you'll get it back.

Its absence is terrible.

No need to very act.

Cause you have a long way to go.

You have a long way to go.

You have a long way

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expedia made to travel savings vary and subject to availability flight inclusive packages are at all protected charlie sheen is an icon of decadence i lit the fuse and my life turns into everything it wasn't supposed to be he's going the distance he was the highest paid tv star of all time when it started to change it was quick he kept saying no no no i'm in the hospital now but next week i'll be ready for the show now charlie's sober he's gonna tell you the truth how do i present this with any class i think we're past that charlie Charlie.

We're past that, yeah.

Somebody call action.

AKA Charlie Sheen, only on Netflix, September 10th.

Sheriff Sam started with stilted small talk.

They saw the framed picture on my desk that was sent to me last year.

The photo changes all the time.

It's usually a picture of some redwoods.

But today, it was a sepia-toned photo of a man dressed just like me.

And Sam asked, that your father, Cecil?

I said, I didn't know.

That frame was delivered to me one day from an unknown source.

I keep throwing it away, but it keeps reappearing on my desk.

Dr.

Lubelle began scribbling notes.

She said, for future research, like someone had asked.

She then placed her hand on mine, as if sympathizing with my fatherless upbringing and added, Everything needs an explanation, don't you think, Cecil?

Finally, Sheriff Sam said, you want to tell us where Dana Cardinal is?

I said, I didn't know.

I hadn't spoken to her in months.

Dr.

Lubell said, she's not in any trouble.

I just want to learn more about these supposed doppelgangers in Nightvale.

Dana claims to have met and killed her double.

Or the other way around, I interjected.

Of course, no, of course, of course, or the other way around,

she repeated with sacrine empathy.

What I'd love to know from Dana is where this double was buried.

Then Sheriff Sam whispered excitedly, Cecil, I just learned that murder is a felony.

Dana could be in some pretty bad trouble.

Well, we don't know that yet, Sheriff Dr.

Lubell said.

Cecil, if her double was, in fact, a doppelganger and, you know, not a real human being, then Dana's in no trouble at all.

The tarot reader had already packed up his cards.

He held out his hand, and I understood.

I placed three dollars across his palm.

He bowed lightly, almost a shrug, and left.

strenuously tugging his cart behind him.

Wow.

Tarot cards, Dr.

Lubell said.

What a scam.

And she laughed pityingly.

Then she swung back to me with a fierceness in her manner I had not yet seen from her.

You call me if you hear from Dana.

She tossed her business card on my desk and left with the sheriff.

Next to her card, I saw that the tarot reader had left behind one of his own.

It was a tarot card I had not drawn.

It was called the scientist.

On it was a person in a white lab coat holding a clipboard high in the air, covering the top half of their face.

All that was visible was the scientist's mouth, which was so poorly drawn it was as if the artist fell asleep halfway through painting it.

And in the scientist's pocket was a card.

It was the same card, the scientist.

And in that scientist's pocket, the same card, and on and on and on.

And

I

think

I think I wasted three bucks.

Stay tuned next for the popular game show, Who's in My House?,

where contestants try to understand strange voices and figures in the dark.

Good night, Nightvale.

Good night.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents.

It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Kraner and produced by Disparition.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Disparition.

All of it can be found at disparition.bandcamp.com.

This episode's weather was Long Way by Bonfire Realm.

Find out more at bonfirerealm.com.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio and Instagram at nightvaleofficial.

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Tell you what, check out nightvalepresents.com where we have a twice-monthly mailing list that gives you everything we're up to and is not owned by any weird billionaires.

Today's proverb, you break it, you bought it.

That's the only way to purchase.

We don't accept cash in this store.

I'm Amy Nicholson, the film critic for the LA Times.

And I'm Paul Scheer, an actor, writer, and director.

You might know me from the League Veep or my non-eligible for Academy Award role in Twisters.

We love movies, and we come at them from different perspectives.

Yeah, like Amy thinks that, you know, Joe Pesci was miscast in Goodfellas, and I don't.

He's too old.

Let's not forget that Paul thinks that Dune 2 is overrated.

It is.

Anyway, despite this, we come together to host Unspooled, a podcast where we talk about good movies, critical hits, fan favorites, must-sees, and in case you missed them.

We're talking Parasite the Home Alone, From Greece to the Dark Knight.

We've done deep dives on popcorn flicks, we've talked about why Independence Day deserves a second look, and we've talked about horror movies, some that you've never even heard of, like Kanja and Hess.

So, if you love movies like we do, come along on our cinematic adventure.

Listen to Unspooled wherever you get your podcast.

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Hi, we're Meg Bashmaner.

And Joseph Fink of Welcome to Night Vale.

And on our new show, The Best Worst, we explore the golden age of television.

To do that, we're watching the IMDb viewer-rated best and worst episodes of classic TV shows.

The episode of Star Trek, where Beverly Crusher has sex with a ghost.

The episode of The X-Files, where Scully gets attacked by a vicious house cat, and also the really good episodes, too.

What can we learn from the best and worst of great television?

Like, for example, is it really a bad episode, or do people just hate women?

The best, worst, available wherever you get your podcasts.