172 - Return of the Obelisk

Hey y'all, it is Jeffrey Kraner speaking to you from the year 2025.

And did you know that Welcome to Night Vale is back out on tour?

We are.

We're gonna be up in the northeast in the Boston, New York City area, going all the way over to the upper Midwest in Minnesota.

That's in July.

You kind of draw a line through there and you'll kind of see the towns we'll be hitting.

We'll also be doing Philly down to Florida in September.

And we'll be going from Austin all the way up through the middle of the country into Toronto, Canada in October.

And then we'll be doing the West Coast plus the Southwest plus Colorado in January of 2026.

You can find all of the show dates at welcome to nightvale.com/slash live.

Listen, this brand new live show is so much fun.

It is called Murder Night in Blood Forest, and it stars Cecil Baldwin, of course, Symphony Sanders, me, and live original music by Disparition, and who knows what other special guests may come along for the ride.

These tours are always so much fun, and they are for you, the Die Hard fan, and you, the Night Vale new kid alike.

So, feel comfortable bringing your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever.

They don't gotta know what a night veil is to like the show.

Tickets to all of these live shows are on sale now at welcometonightvell.com/slash live.

Don't let time slip away and miss us when we are in your town because otherwise we will all be sad.

Get your tickets to our live US plus Toronto tours right now at welcometonightveld.com/slash live.

And hey, see you soon.

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Nothing lasts forever is a phrase with two meanings,

and they're both true.

Welcome to Night Vale.

All of Night Vale is a glow.

There is music in the air.

You know what that means, listeners.

The obelisk has returned.

It's been nearly eight years since the obelisk last appeared, but it's right back where it always shows up in Mission Grove Park over on the east side, right next to the whaling pit.

But a little bit south of the memorial debris heap.

The obelisk returns every five to ten years, sometimes as long as 50, and it brings with it joy, anticipation, and a deep fear.

A terror so deep in the gut that it feels like you've eaten too much ice cream, but in all reality, your body is simply bracing itself for death.

The obelisk has always behaved benevolently, but so has the sun, and we don't trust that thing fully either, so.

Past performance is not an indicator of future results.

Unlike the sun, the obelisk radiates a soft blue light.

But like to the sun, the obelisk makes a lot of noise.

In particular, music.

The obelisk sounds like a Bach concerto played by a French horn and a theremin from inside a refrigerator.

Everyone in town is gathering at Mission Grove Park to see the obelisk in person, to pay homage to this rare visit, and to confront their fears head on.

Hopefully everything works out fine, because there's some cool events I want to get to this weekend and it would be terrible to have to cancel them over a rogue obelisk.

Let's take a look at the community calendar, shall we?

This Friday night is opening night of Andrew Lloyd-Weber's Tony-winning musical Sunset Boulevard at the Nightvale Community Theater.

I'm very excited to finally see the show.

It's supposed to be a really lavish production too.

And it's based on one of my all-time favorite Billy Wilder films about an aging silent movie star star who finds an amulet that lets her travel in time, but whenever she moves through time, she enters someone else's body and can't leave until she saves her life.

This staging of Sunset Boulevard is directed and produced by.

Oh my god, Susan Willman?

Really?

Honestly, this has been a pretty long week and I might need to just rest at home on Friday.

I mean, I'm not trying to be rude here, but Susan Willman is the worst.

Did you know she once judged the chili cook-off and I came in third?

Third.

Behind Joel Eisenberg, which is fine.

Joel's an okay cook.

But also behind who else?

Susan Willman!

You can't be a judge and win first place.

I'm also pretty sure Susan used a pre-packaged spice mix in that chili.

I don't have that verified through a secondary source, but I can confirm it was over-salted again.

I'm not saying.

I'm just saying.

Anyway, go see Sunset Boulevard on Friday if you want to watch uninspired actors and muddled blocking.

Saturday afternoon is the PTA Bake Sale fundraiser to send our academic decathlon team to a tournament in our state's capital.

The PTA secretary,

Susan Willman, Willman, says this money will go toward hotel and bus travel for our brilliant and talented ACDEC squad.

Academic Decathlon is about intelligence and perseverance, says Willman in this overwrought press release.

ACDEC is about freedom and fastidiousness.

It is a celebration of hard work and we want Night Vale to show the rest of the state that blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

God, she just drones on.

I mean, yes, ACDEC is very cool and I wish our kids well, but chill with the grandstanding.

Anyway, go buy a cake to support those amazing students, even though I'm sure Susan will still manage to mess up a box mix.

Sunday is Youth Reprogramming Day at the Nightvale Museum of Forbidden Technologies.

Does your child love learning about new gadgets and advancements in technology?

Well, come on down to the Museum of Forbidden Technologies on Sunday for a day-long reprogramming event.

Docents and curators will engage those curious kids through hands-on unlearning.

They'll take their patented mind-wipe beam, point it right at each child's forehead until all interest in forbidden technology has been removed.

Kids love the mind-wipe beam because it smells like grapes, and they don't feel any pain for weeks after.

Youth Reprogramming Day is a family-friendly day of discovering that you know too much, and knowledge is treason.

Today's appearance by the obelisk is the 19th in recorded history.

Little is known about what the obelisk is, who controls it, or what it wants.

Most scientists and historians agree that it was created by subterranean gods millennia ago.

They think its purpose is a type of census for life at ground level.

The obelisk is about 25 feet tall.

It is oily and soft like a fresh brick of Parmesan cheese.

and when it appears, everyone in town carves their name into one of its four sides.

We do not know why or when this practice began.

It's simply how it's always been done.

And to question tradition is to admit weakness.

When the obelisk eventually disappears, perhaps today, perhaps several days from now, it will take our names with it.

And when it returns, those names will be gone and we will begin the tradition anew.

No one knows what happens to those names.

Are they simply erased?

Or are they read and recorded?

Is this data mining for some ancient tech startup?

Or does the obelisk truly belong to the gods?

We only know what happens to one of the names carved on the obelisk.

And for that person, we feel both envy and pity.

For while the obelisk has always behaved benevolently, past performance, etc., etc., etc.

Let's have a look now at traffic.

Route 800 is shut down until 4 p.m.

today as it has turned into a river.

No cars are on Route 800, it's just water.

Rough and choppy, spiking white rapid caps atop nearly black rushing death.

Highway officials are investigating the sudden appearance of this river, perfectly overlaying our main thoroughfare in and out of town.

Beneath the quickly moving rush of the river, river, a single fish.

Probably a bass of some sort.

Highway officials are uncertain because they don't think about fish.

Why would they?

Highway officials are annoyed that you think so little of their awareness of fish species.

They can tell a salmon from a marlin from a mackerel.

See what you made us do, one highway official said.

We could have been repairing Route 800, but you started picking on us for not knowing if that's a bass or a mackerel or a whatnot.

In fact, the official continued, we just looked looked it up on Wikipedia and it's a bass.

And fun fact, they added, did you know that bass can grow up to 25 pounds, have four rows of human teeth, and can speak Spanish at a first grade level?

The river is now branching out down sides of streets and into neighborhoods.

Pavement everywhere is a network of freshwater capillaries through town.

Expect delays of up to 10 to 20 minutes as you try to get to Mission Grove Park.

This has been Traffic.

The whole town feels like a carnival now with the flashing lights of the obelisk and its crescendo of lively music filling the cool twilight air.

We dance, we sing, we revel in togetherness and share our fears of what will happen next.

What will the question be?

And more importantly, what will be its answer?

When every name has been placed upon the obelisk, then the blue glow of the towering monolith will die away.

The entire entire structure will turn black.

All except one name.

One name will remain lit on the obelisk, and that person shall be sent forth to ask their question.

They may ask any question they choose, and the obelisk will tell them and only them the answer.

No one else can hear this communication.

If the receiver wishes to share what they now know, they are allowed to do so.

Many years back, this ritual was more organized.

Early Nightvale townships planned a democratic approach to this opportunity.

A committee of the obelisk was formed to decide on the single most important question to ask.

This approach came about in response to the super blunder of 1932, when a six-year-old boy named Bartholomew Thomason was chosen to deliver the question.

He asked the obelisk if he was, quote, gonna have corn for dinner.

The obelisk apparently said no, because little Bart started crying and the obelisk quickly disappeared, not to return for almost 10 years.

By that time, the Committee of the Obelisk was established and they chose the question,

how do you cure cancer?

Ah, this is a good and noble question.

But the citizen chosen by the obelisk was a farmer named Barry McKenney, who tried his best to take careful notes, but a lot of the detailed medical jargon was just too complex for him.

The committee tried this question again six years later, but the obelisk refused to respond to to any question it had already answered.

So Sidney Laynard of Old Town Nightvale, not having a backup question from the committee, asked if his wife Jessica was cheating on him with Gerald Framingham, and the obelisk said no, but it only said that because Gerald's actual last name was Framington, so Sidney just messed up.

Over the decades, the committee of the obelisk asked, is God real?

And the obelisk said yes, but nothing more.

After this, they tried to ask questions that would elicit more detailed responses.

One year, they asked who planned the assassination of JFK and were disappointed to learn that it was a CIA Fidel Castro-Frank Sinatra Triumvirate that conspired to murder our 35th president.

This was the most boring answer, but at least it verified what everyone already knew.

By the 1990s, though, the Committee of the Obelisk had kind of fallen out of fashion after years of corporate funding and corruption.

See, this controversy exploded in 1997 when the question put forth by the committee, which at the time was headed by the CFO of PepsiCo, was, what's the best-tasting carbonated soft drink on the market today?

The obelisk's answer, to the chairman's great disappointment, was surge.

Today, whoever is called on by the obelisk is given free reign to ask whatever they choose.

However, many news outlets regularly publish lists of recommended questions.

But there is always the risk that someone will ask something frivolous like, what's Jason Moraz up to these days?

Or, where is the body of my missing father?

Please.

God, please, just don't call on Susan Willman.

She will blow it.

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Remember when we seemed like a big problem?

Ooh,

listeners, the obelisk has gone dark.

The music has ceased.

The whole town encircles the tower waiting for its declaration, for who shall ask the question?

In the quiet night, under few stars peeking through the purple sky, we can hear only the sounds of crickets.

The obelisk, so black as to appear cut out from reality, suddenly shines a small blue line.

It is a name.

It is on the south face, and it is

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Listeners, I don't know if I can stop this, but I will try.

Let's go now to the weather.

I like the way you you look, but I don't like your favorite books.

Your heart is good, but not your politics.

You love the morning light, and I love playing late at night.

No wonder why we aren't a perfect fit.

We don't see eye to eye on these crucial things in life.

When you like dogs, and me, I'm indisposed.

And you're beautiful and so full of life.

But oh, your music tastes troubled down the road.

And I added up your pros and cons and I weighed my options well

Though I may have done the numbers wrong Well, it's too late now to tell

Oh, I looked before I fell

Oh, I don't like gratitudes about kindness and gratitude.

And you help yourself to far too much self-help.

Me, I'm on a city doors of small mistakes and big remorse.

I never take it easy on myself.

We don't see eye to eye on these crucial things in life.

When you like dogs and me, I'm indisposed.

and you're beautiful and so full of life but oh your movie tastes trouble down the road

and I added up your pros and cons and I weighed my options well

though I may have done the numbers wrong well it's too late now to tell

oh I look before I fell

Somewhere in my heart of hearts I wonder if these tally marks are worth the time it takes to ride on down

And maybe there could come a day when I could learn to love the way you see that world of yours spin around

Or call me if you're ever back in town

Hey, it's Jeffrey Kraner with a word from our sponsor.

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Well,

it's too late.

She's asked her question.

I'm not sure how I could have stopped this disaster, even if I made it over there before she could ask it.

Okay, as you know, by now, the obelisk lit up with Susan Willman's name.

And she grinned smugly and did that fake like, who, me?

What?

Oh my God, gesture, and then walked on up to the obelisk.

The crowd was calling out questions to her like a game show audience trying to help a contestant.

No single phrase discernible above the others, and Susan just looked around, her big goofy eyes scanning the people around her as if she would actually lower herself to listen to their questions.

She thinks she's so high and mighty with her PTA officer status and her hit Broadway musical production.

No, no, no, Susan's above us all, just as important as she can be.

She waved her arms like wings for quiet, and the audience obeyed.

She's so self-important, so attention-seeking.

And then she asked her question.

The one question we as a town get only every decade or so.

And Susan said, hey,

so what's your name?

What's your name?

What a waste.

Did she forget we only get one question?

The crowd began to boo, or at least I did.

I started booing and I am part of the crowd.

The obelisk began to speak only into Susan's mind and Susan listened closely.

She giggled at first, like a little girl hearing a silly joke from a grandfather, and then her tear-filled laughs turned into tear-filled breaths, which eventually became tear-filled sobs.

After about three minutes, the obelisk vanished, and Susan stood alone on the small hill between the wailing pit and the memorial debris heap.

And she told us what she heard.

Or well, she told us some of what she heard.

Susan said in an unusually booming, authoritative voice:

Whosoever speaks aloud the name of the obelisk shall become the obelisk.

Whosoever becomes the obelisk shall live forever.

Whosoever lives forever shall know all things.

Whosoever knows all things shall be damned.

And whosoever hears the name of the obelisk spoken aloud shall perish.

The crowd parted for Susan as she left the park.

They mumbled their disappointment in both the question and its answer.

Some spoke with pity, some with disdain, while some thought it was all pretty cool and new.

Much better than last time when Dave asked who would win the 2013 NBA championships, said one person.

Dave won a lot of money on that answer, though, responded another.

He has a yacht now over at the harbor and waterfront recreation area.

But most everyone whispered their fear for Susan's power itself.

I mean, Susan received a gift today, a cursed, cursed gift.

You know what?

I think I might go see that Sunset Boulevard after all.

And I love it.

I don't get to tell Susan very often what a visionary theatrical director she is, but

I might even put some stacks of cash down on her cakes Saturday, too.

Really support that academic decathlon team.

The spirit of American ingenuity and perseverance, and all

Good question, Susan.

I'd like to never learn the answer, but good question nonetheless.

You're one of, if not the, best person I know.

Thumbs up.

Stay tuned next for our newest game show, Nothing Will Ever Be the Same.

Good night, Night Vale.

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 Dispirition.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Dispirition.

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

This episode's weather was Pros and Cons by Sugar and the Mint.

Find out more at sugarandthemint.com.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at Nightvale Radio or try to make friends with the wasps that have moved into your chimney.

Check out WelcometonNightvale.com for info about our upcoming live stream production of our first touring live show from back in 2014, The Librarian.

Our last one was a blast.

This one will also be a blast.

Today's proverb, bite your tongue.

Fun, right?

Martha listens to her favorite band all the time.

In the car,

gym,

even sleeping.

So when they finally went on tour, Martha bundled her flight and hotel on Expedia to see them live.

She saved so much, she got a seat close enough to actually see and hear them.

Sort of.

You were made to scream from the front row.

We were made to quietly save you more.

Expedia, made to travel.

Savings vary and subject to availability, flight-inclusive packages are at all protected.

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.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

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.