149 - The General

Hey hey, Jeffrey Kraner from welcome to Night Vale here.

Apart from Night Vale, we make other podcasts.

If you're already a big Night Vale fan, check out Good Morning Night Vale, where cast members Meg Bashwiner, Symphony Sanders, and Hal Lublin break down each and every episode.

Or if you're looking for more weird fiction, there's Within the Wires, an immersive fiction podcast written by me and novelist Janina Mathewson.

Each season is a standalone tale told in the guise of found audio.

Finally, maybe you like horror movies or are scared of horror movies but are horror curious, check out Random Number Generator Horror Podcast Number 9, where me and the voice of Night Vale Cecil Baldwin talk about a randomly drawn horror film.

We have new episodes every single week.

So that's Good Morning Nightvale Within the Wires and Random Horror 9.

Go to nightvalepresents.com for more or get those podcasts wherever you get your podcasts.

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If you can dream it, you can wake up in a cold sweat screaming about it.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Nightvale, today is the birthday of Leonard Burton.

Many of you are too young to remember Leonard.

He was my mentor, my friend, and my predecessor at this radio station.

I watched him die nearly 40 years ago right outside this very radio station on Mesa Boulevard, when a cargo truck ran him over.

The sight was

grisly and upsetting,

but it is that sound, that horrible snap, I will never forget.

Dozens of witnesses gathered around to help, but it was too late.

I crouched over Leonard's body, lying to him that he would be okay, attempting to coax him from some hint of life.

But there there was no final word to hear, not even a final breath.

I noted there were tears on his cheeks as a host of angels behind me moaned softly while touching fingers above a flaming trash can.

Leonard was a dutiful journalist, a true servant of his town.

He loved Boston cream pies and paintings of snakes.

If he had lived,

he would have been 117 years young today.

Listeners, thank you for all your kind emails.

A few weeks ago, I was a tad too revealing about my personal life and I mentioned, in passing, that I am a perennial bachelor.

It's true, I've never had a long-term serious relationship, but honestly, it's fine.

I get out.

I see people.

You do not need to try to set me up on blind dates with friends, relatives, ancestral ghosts.

Thank you.

I'm doing okay.

In fact, I had a date recently.

His name is Carlos.

He says he's a scientist.

Well, We have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives.

He has perfect hair, a perfect lab coat, and teeth like a military cemetery.

The date started well.

We went to dinner at Big Rico's Pizza.

He had originally suggested Gino's Italian dining experience and bar and grill, the fanciest restaurant in town, but since it was a first date, I suggested something more casual.

And that

was when things started to go

wrong.

Before we had even placed our orders, Carlos already seemed

disappointed, which in turn disappointed me.

And then there was dinner.

I was trying to tell Carlos about my job here at the station, about my family and interests, and he was like, I know, I know, Cecil, we're in love.

You and I are in love.

You just don't remember it.

And I told him,

you're cute, but this is our first date.

So let's take it slow.

And then he looked sad, and I quickly finished my pizza, and we left.

An update on the Blood Space War.

A few weeks ago, the Polonian forces who oppose us seemed all but defeated, their remaining ships cornered on a tiny moon in the far reaches of the Crab Nebula.

Yet our attempts to finally destroy the enemy failed, and the Polonians escaped and regrouped.

We're getting word that the general has agreed to step down from her post, and new leadership will replace her.

Some of you may remember the story of Eunomia, the teenager who left our Earth 200 years ago to join in the Blood Space War.

She was a dreamer, a scientist, who was recruited for her sharp mind and later groomed as a master strategist for the Wolf Gang, our allies in this unending war.

The Wolfgang were able to use wormholes to travel travel great distances in mere moments, and Eunomia eventually discovered they could use these same portals to travel in time.

After a brutal loss in the Battle of Gamma Draconis, Eunomia, then a captain, ordered her decimated platoon back in time to the beginning of the battle.

With a greater understanding of their initial failures, she was able to better fight the battle again.

Still, she lost, only to return back through time to re-engage with the enemy.

Over and over again, she re-fought the battle until she won.

Dozens of battles like this one led to her promotion to general of the Earth-Wolfgang Alliance.

But after our most recent failure in the Crab Nebula, there is concern that she has lost her effectiveness.

An emissary from the Blood Space War has returned to Nightvale.

They are wading through town in their oversized spacesuit, no doubt here to deliver us more terrible news from the front.

Perhaps there will be no peace in our lifetimes.

More on this story as it develops.

Our town is returning to normal, or so I have been told.

Community college student and blood space war protest organizer Basima Bashara said her mother exists once again.

Basima claims that a few weeks ago her mother suddenly did not exist, thus making Basima not exist, but as of this week, they do exist.

Basima blames the time-traveling actions of our general for changing the landscape of everyone's existence.

I can't wrap my head around this listeners.

I do not remember Bassema ever not existing, or that she was gone and returned.

So it's hard for me to believe this story.

I took inventory of my own life and everything

is as it always has been for me.

I work at a radio station.

I own a 14-speed bike.

I have a one-bedroom apartment with a soaking tub, walk-in closet, carpet shredder, knife compiler, and a full-length mirror in the hallway.

It's an antique my mother handed down to me.

She knows I love mirrors.

I don't have any siblings, but my mother is alive and I talk to her regularly.

We get along great.

I called her to make sure everything is as she always remembered it.

And she said, what?

I don't know.

Yeah, sure, what a dumb question.

She's always been witty like that.

All is stasis.

Nothing has been taken from my life.

The Intergalactic Military Headquarters reported all-time high profits this month.

They have built a stealth stealth bomber entirely out of rare 1913 Liberty head nickels, each valued at around $5 million.

Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald admitted their financial success was not attributable to the new smartphone app he developed.

No,

Archibald said, sitting astride a white tiger.

That app was super glitchy, but my dad's crazy rich and knows a bunch of people in the Pentagon, so we're good.

Archibald then took a massive hit off a vape pen.

This is my new thing, Archibald said.

Steam pens.

No nicotine, no THC, only pure water vapor.

Did you know water is good for you?

Like, it gives you life, man.

If we're gonna vape anything, we should be vaping vapor.

What if that's what vape means?

Vapor.

If it doesn't,

it should.

This has been your financial report.

Sad news, Nightvale.

John Peters, you know, the farmer, reported that his brother James is returning to service.

in the Blood Space War.

James has been promoted to general to replace the retiring Eunomia.

Dang, Jim's such a good brother, John said from the middle of his field of invisible corn.

I really like having him home.

I'm going to miss him.

But I guess the universe needs him more than I do.

John then uprooted an invisible corn stalk and hugged it tightly while humming the classic church hymn, Party in the USA.

Okay, this is getting annoying.

So the guy I was telling you about earlier, Carlos, he's been texting me this whole show, saying he wants to see me again.

Let's see.

Something, something.

My timeline is still wrong.

I should have a sister named Abby.

Here's a photo of her with some kid.

My mother died.

I'm supposedly afraid of mirrors.

And he and I are actually married.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, now he's texting me a picture of a dog.

Our little puppy Aubergine, it says.

In the picture, Carlos is holding the dog.

I.

Huh.

That's weird.

I just had a strange feeling.

What's that term?

Jamie-vu, I think?

Where you remember something that never happened?

Outside my window, I see the emissary,

their oblong mirrored face pressed against the glass, each hand raised to their head to block out glare from the sun.

I'm waving to the emissary now.

Hello, emissary, I said just now.

What is the French term for remembering something you've never actually experienced?

I said even louder, wondering if the emissary can hear me through the window and that thick helmet.

Also, is aubergine a good name for a dog?

I think it is.

I called once more, just to start a decent conversation, because I was getting creeped out by the sight of a silent astronaut peering at me through my window.

I can see myself in the reflective face.

I.

I don't like this.

I do not like this

at all.

Please go.

Please leave.

I cannot.

I'm covering this window with a sheet.

I do not not like this mirror.

I don't like one bit.

No.

Let's go to the weather.

Two blocks away, my favorite place to stay in a 20-acre wood, my imagination played.

I was just a child when I watched it fall away.

Bulldozed to the ground, my own forest overpaid.

Years of memories, climbing in the trees, flattened by remorse, the polish of the course.

Given a prescription, parents gave me pills.

Follow up on Tuesday with Dr.

Sederell.

Acting like the corpse is closely manicured.

Putting something polished over something natural.

I don't mind the money, I don't mind the golf.

But the fence around my favorite place just kind of pissed me off.

I'm not your friend, I'm just sad.

I'm not your friend, I'm just saying.

I'm not your friend, I'm just sad.

I'm not your friend, I'm just saying.

The world keeps moving slowly, we seem stuck behind.

Nature's feeling lonely, or maybe just my mind.

Did we take for granted all the things we had?

Why do I live growing?

We're getting less and less.

Used to have a bookstore, fans here after all.

We're stuck with the billboards, all the things that now are gold.

I'm not depressed, I'm just sad.

I'm not depressed, I'm just sad.

I'm not depressed, I'm just sad.

I'm not your friend, I'm just sad.

I don't mind the money,

I don't mind being gone.

But the friends around my favorite places kind of pierce me off.

I'm not your friend, I'm just sad.

I'm not deep,

I'm just sad.

I'm not your friend, I'm just sad.

I'm not deep,

I'm just there.

I'm not your friend, I'm just sad.

I'm not depressed, I'm just saying.

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

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I will tell you about the emissary in a moment.

But first,

I must tell you that Carlos called me.

Here's his voicemail.

Cecil, I'm calling for personal reasons.

I'm calling to tell you that I love you.

That I have loved you almost since the first day I met you nearly seven years ago.

I...

didn't know anyone in Nightmare and you were the first person to take any interest in my studies.

It's not easy feeling alone, but within a year I wasn't because I was with you

and

now we are married.

Well, at least in my timeline, we're married.

We have been married.

And we have a beautiful puppy named Aubergine, a house, a relationship.

You have a sister.

And, you know, you have a brother-in-law too, and a niece who is a talented athlete and enormously just a kind young woman.

And we have...

Oh,

you're gonna play this on air, aren't you?

Oh, of course you are.

Well, never mind.

Anyway,

somehow you don't know any of this.

I've been working nights and days trying to repair this break in continuity, and I haven't slept much because I can't sleep until we're back in the same timeline.

But I can't find anything that will fix this.

I don't know what else to do other than to just say, trust me.

I will start over.

I will go to Rico's on another first date.

I will pretend to hear about your life for the first time.

I will tell you about mine for the thousandth time.

It won't be the same for me, but it will still be you.

And that's all that matters.

You.

You're the one.

Oh, God, this must sound crazy.

You barely know me.

And

I'm coming off as desperate, but it's because I am.

Please call me.

And I did.

Call him back.

And I said,

I love you too.

Babe, I love your beard.

I love our dog.

I love...

I love our life together.

Minutes before that, I did not feel that way.

I did not know about my life with Carlos because it had never happened in my history.

It was in those minutes, though, that the emissary

spoke to me.

The emissary entered my studio.

and removed her helmet.

And underneath was the face of an old woman.

It was the face of Eunomia, the young girl who disappeared from Night Vale on her 17th birthday 200 years ago.

Eunomia told me she had resigned her post as general.

She was the most successful leader in the Blood Space War, but tampering with timelines had caused life in the universe to nearly cease.

to exist.

Eunomia knew she would have to undo what she had undone so many times over, even though it would put peace out of her reach.

She's doing that.

She is taking responsibility by visiting every single person affected by her actions.

She's telling them what she has taken from them

and what she will now give back.

It will take her a long, long

time to do this.

It will take take her the rest of her life.

In my case, she told me I had a sister, Abby, a brother-in-law, Steve, a niece, Janice.

I did not know those names.

She told me about my husband, Carlos.

I knew that name, but did not feel love for it.

She took my hand and told me to look at the moon.

There was is a thick wedge missing from it.

I never noticed that the moon was broken.

Eunomia said, I will leave now and I will undo what has been done and your life will return to how it was.

I asked, but I have a life now, and she said, but what of the lives of others?

You are all connected.

If I do not fix yours, how many others will never have back what the war has taken?

And what about you?

I said.

Will you return to your teenage life on the farm?

No,

she said.

I cannot go back to that age, but I will go back to that time and place.

I only wish to see my family one more time.

And what about the war?

I said.

There will always be a war

because there will always be a lust

for a war,

she said.

I am sorry, Cecil.

I have to go.

She pointed to the moon once again

and it was whole,

unbroken.

I tried to squeeze her hand.

It was gone.

It was only me in the studio.

On a late summer afternoon in 1816,

an astronaut appeared in the center of Nightvale.

Ninety-six years later, a dog park would be established on that exact spot.

The astronaut walked silently through the dusty streets.

Bow-legged and slow, the emissary walked toward the outskirts of town.

It took hours, and nearly the entire city followed her.

Past a lot that would eventually belong to Old Woman Josie.

Past the homestead of Eugene Leroy.

until she reached the Peters Farm.

And there,

she stopped.

There was a greenish aura about the astronaut as she turned to face the gathered mob.

The astronaut put her gloved hands to her neck and unlatched the helmet.

There was a loud hiss and a pop, and she lifted the mask.

The crowd approached tentatively as the helmet came fully off.

Townsfolk cried out.

The face of the visitor was nearly skeletal, a rotted corpse, long white hair peeling down the back of the skull, an incomplete set of elongated teeth visible with no lips to hide them, startled eyes, ever staring with no lids to express anything else, and what was left of the skin had shriveled and yellowed.

The crowd had begun to step backward, but one woman stepped forward.

A tired and pale woman.

The woman whose farm it was, approached the decomposing astronaut and said,

Eunomia?

The general opened her mouth slowly and spoke in a hoarse cough.

Mother,

she said.

Eunomia's young mother touched her elderly daughter's face.

Eunomia broke into dust

and the empty spacesuit collapsed to the ground, leaving behind the faint shape of the woman's dissipating daughter.

In a cornfield on the outskirts of town,

The general's ashes scattered across a golden lake of ripened corn.

In the very place where her military successor, James Peters, you know, the general, would be born 150 years later.

The memories of what Eunomia said to me, the memories of my life without my family, are fading quickly.

Night Vale returns to normal.

Whatever that means.

I told Carlos I was so sorry for causing him such pain.

I cannot ever know how difficult that must have been.

He only tilted his head and said,

Already forgotten.

I wasn't sure if he was being literal.

Stay tuned next for the unceremonious continuation of all that is real.

Good night, Night Vale.

Good night.

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

This episode was written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Kraner and produced by Disparition.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

The voice of Carlos was Dylan Marin.

Original music by Disparition.

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

This episode's weather is sad but not depressed.

From the musical fiction podcast, It Makes a Sound.

Hear the whole soundtrack at nightvale.bandcamp.com.

And go to nightvalepresents.com for more information on the podcast, which is a beautiful story about what we remember, what we forget, and has a whole bunch of catchy songs like this one.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcome to nightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at Night Vale Radio or re-watch Sister Act and let us know if it holds up.

Check out WelcomeTonightvale.com for more information on volumes three and four of our illustrated episode book collections out now.

Plus, info on the very last tour of A Spy in the Desert live show this fall.

Today's proverb: I'm gonna take my horse to the Old Town Road, and then we're gonna go grab drinks and dinner.

Maybe watch a movie.

Girls' Night.

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-season, and Casey 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 podcasts.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

Hey, Jeffrey Kraner here to tell you about another show from me and my nightvale co-creator, Joseph Fink.

It's called Unlicensed, and it's an LA Noir-style mystery set in the outskirts of present-day Los Angeles.

Unlicensed follows two unlicensed private investigators whose small jobs looking into insurance claims and missing property are only the tip of a conspiracy iceberg.

There are already two seasons of Unlicensed for you to listen to now, with season three dropping on May 15th.

Unlicensed is available exclusively through Audible, free if you already have that subscription.

And if you don't, Audible has a trial membership.

And if I know you, and I do, you can binge all that mystery goodness in a short window.

And if you like it, if you liked Unlicensed, please, please rate and review each season.

Our ability to keep making this show is predicated on audience engagement.

So go check out Unlicensed, available now only at Audible.com.