31 - A Blinking Light up on the Mountain

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.

You can find those seven different live show performances, including our most recent show, The Attic.

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.

These albums are only $5 and they're so much fun.

So, while we're between tours, tide yourself over with our live albums.

That's nightvale.bandcamp.com.

Our God

is an awesome God.

Much better than that ridiculous god that Desert Bluffs has.

Welcome to Night Vale.

There is,

listeners, a blinking light up on the mountain.

It is red.

Blinking lights are always red.

It is nestled among the crags and nooks of the precipitous slope.

We can all see it.

No use denying it.

The city council tried.

Nope, they said.

Blinking light.

Let me think.

Blinking light.

No,

sorry, it doesn't ring any bells.

But then a bell started ringing, a signal from the watchman who lives in Night Vale's invisible clock tower, letting us know that he had seen something.

And we all saw it too.

It was a blinking light, up on the mountain.

Ah, well, said the council, crawling backwards through a window into town hall, one by one.

Ah, well, it was worth a shot.

What does this light mean?

Who will dare investigate it?

Will it spell our doom?

Dear listeners,

who knows?

No one.

And probably

more later.

For now,

just this.

Just a blinking light.

Red

up

on the mountain.

Harrison Kip, adjunct professor of archaeology at Nightvale Community College, announced an upcoming three-part series on Night Vale Community Television, defending his fringe views that the pyramids and other ancient structures were constructed by human beings rather than benevolent ancient aliens.

Harrison, against decades of reasonable evidence, raved that it's possible that these historical marvels could have been made using mathematics and slave labor.

He went on to explain, shrieking like an obvious lunatic, that agriculture was probably

not started on Mars, and that humanity was created through evolution and not through selective breeding of alien DNA.

We reached out for comment to the president of Nightvale Community College, Sarah Sultan, who is a smooth, fist-sized river rock about the extreme beliefs expressed by a staff member.

Sarah had no comment, as she is a smooth, fist-sized river rock and unable to speak.

She can write, however, and wrote no comment

before drawing an insulting caricature of your humble reporter, which was hurtful and unnecessary.

Listeners,

here's something weird.

I know you can't see it.

But it's sitting in the studio with me at this very moment.

And it is definitely something

and definitely weird.

I'm not sure how it got here, but I'm not sure how I got here either.

Causation is difficult and confusing.

I haven't tried touching it.

I'm going to try touching it now.

Oh.

I believe it likes being touched because it started to vibrate and lean in towards my body, but that could just be its way of expressing anger or immense physical suffering.

When something is this weird, one shouldn't assume to understand anything specific about it at all.

Is it a bomb?

Is it one of those objects that isn't a bomb?

Is it just a kind of dog?

We don't know.

And we will never find out.

And we will never try to find out.

Ignorance may not actually be bliss, but it certainly is less work.

So with no new information and with nothing learned, I'll repeat what I said, gesturing at it with a hand you cannot see.

Listeners, here's something weird.

A continuation on our previous report about a blinking light up on the mountain.

As many of you noted, the very nature of our report indicated the existence of a mountain.

Which is surprising, given that we live in vast desert flatness.

So yes.

There is a mountain.

Let's start there.

There is a mountain now, rising up out of the alluvial floodplain.

It is made of rock and height and awe.

Its peak is higher than where I am now, but lower than the void.

Larry Leroy, out on the edge of town, said that it was definitely a mountain, saying,

That's a mountain if ever I seen one.

I haven't, though, seen one.

I think that's what they're like.

Mountains are like that, right?

Madeleine LaFleur, head of the Night Vale Tourism Board, said, oh great, now we're going to have to reprint all these brochures.

Before taking more sips of her coffee than she needed to in a given span of time,

because the frequency of sips was under her control and her own life was not.

John Peters, you know, the farmer?

We haven't heard from him in a while.

If anyone knows where he went or about the blinking light up on the mountain, or the mountain rising up out of this muddy plain outside of town, please call into the station and release the information with your your mouth.

As part of our service to our community, Night Vale Community Radio is taking this moment to allow one of the candidates for mayor to make a brief statement.

The following is from the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home.

I replaced your books with other books.

The covers are the same, but the content has been altered.

I don't think you read enough, but that is not why I did it.

I changed every single word of some of the books.

In others, only a single comma on a single page.

This is a metaphor, but I'm not sure what it represents.

That is also a metaphor.

We all are.

Our political system has become too complicated.

I am not complicated.

I'm just a gentle old lady who lives in your home.

I'm touching your hand right now.

No, not that one.

Not that one either.

Do not think you are superior because you have a face and I do not.

All of your books are now different books and you did not notice.

So who is a lost child in the dark howling woods of this fable?

Anyway, I hope you'll vote for me.

One of the books is now my life story if you'd like to know more about my background.

No, not that one.

Not that one either.

You'll know it because my life story is just like yours, starting with calamity and shouting and ending with an empty room and a to-do list.

Also, Hiram McDaniels has been exchanging emails with corn lobbyists looking to elbow in on our local imaginary corn market.

Hiram, bad for our community, bad for our interests, literally a five-headed dragon.

Vote for the candidate you can trust.

Vote for the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home.

And now a word from our sponsor.

Today's broadcast may have been brought to you

by uncertainty.

And now back to our regular programming.

Aha,

we have some sharp listeners.

Several of you noted that the strangeness of today does not end with the blinking light up on the mountain or the mountain itself,

but also

this vast, muddy plain it rises from.

So, yes, we are now reporting that there is a great flood plain strewn with bones around our city.

Its wet patches glint slightly when the blinking light is illuminated.

At night, when all distance is darkness,

it appears that the universe itself is glimmering red

and then gone.

Red

and then gone.

The mud ripples under the footsteps of the approaching masked army, and this warps the reflections in interesting ways.

Carlos says he would like to study it, but that he promised to make a certain person dinner and he has to learn how to put other things besides science first.

Some of this realization might have come with help from those around him.

Mayor Pamela Winchell was seen holding her official mayoral bloodstone aloft towards the mountain and the blinking light upon it.

She was standing on that plane.

The plane that exists now,

which we should have mentioned earlier.

In other news, a man in a tan jacket carrying a deer skin suitcase was seen outside of one of the currently closed subway entrances, passing out flyers, explaining the benefits of a mass transit system, and encouraging citizens to push for the reopening of the subway as soon as possible.

Transit is the opposite of traffic, the flyer reportedly said, and

subway more like Wowza.

Some citizens reported that the flyer went on to say, Transverse the navel of the world, that secret, buried point.

It is my home.

Help me get home.

It is already too late to be early, but not too late to be on time.

Here at the station, we can't confirm any of this, as those holding the flyer soon found that it had vanished from their hands, that they could barely remember their interaction with the man, and that, looking back, all they saw was a haze of dust and heat, distant and indecipherable, like a country they'd never lived to visit, like the landscape of a fading dream, like fiction,

Like fiction.

Alright.

We're really gonna get it right this time.

We have been focusing too narrowly, and we realize that.

As many of you pointed out, we should have spent less time on the blinking light and more time expanding on the bit about the approaching masked army.

So,

there is now a great massed army coming towards us across the bone-covered plain.

We have no specific information about them, other than that they look small when far away, and then appear to grow as they come closer, which they are

coming closer.

They also might actually be growing.

They are quite large now.

The blinking light up on the mountain has not changed its pace.

There is a noise like growling, only less organic, like wind howling through a canyon, only more

growly.

Ladies and gentlemen, here is what we know.

There is a blinking light up on the mountain.

There is a mountain on the flood plain.

There is a floodplain under the imminent army.

There is an imminent army maybe a couple of hours march from here.

I do not believe now that we are leaving anything out.

If you have homes, I suggest you flee them.

If you have friends, I suggest you warn them.

If you have children,

did you not know how dangerous and unpredictable the world was when you created a defenseless tiny human within it?

And much like Madeline LaFleur, head of Night Vale's Tourism Board, I will now control the one part of my life that is under my control.

Let us go now, and I do hope we come back

to the weather.

Oh, baby, please surrender.

Let's go quietly.

We'll hold our questions, we'll hold our fire.

You don't have to explain a thing.

I know the dreams of young Americans have short wigs that make a good show.

But they're not brilliant, they're just burning brilliantly.

And there's a difference,

don't you know?

You'll never be famous.

You'll never be a millionaire

There's just a few of us who love what you do And we do and we do and we do

Last week I couldn't sleep, I couldn't sleep I've been worrying a lot about some things

I finally got a bed, I put on that CD And I listen and listen in the dark.

And for that night, for that hour,

you were the best thing that ever happened to me.

And the morning I felt sorry, I'll put some word all over again.

You'll never be famous,

you'll never be a millionaire.

There's just a few of us who love what you do.

And so you do, and so you do, and so you do.

You chose to hit play on this podcast today.

Smart Choice.

Progressive loves to help people make smart choices.

That's why they offer a tool called Auto Quote Explorer that allows you to compare your progressive car insurance quote with rates from other companies so you save time on the research and can enjoy savings when you choose the best rate for you.

Give it a try after this episode at progressive.com.

Progressive casualty insurance company and affiliates.

Not available in all states or situations.

Prices vary based on how you buy.

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 Veeep or my non-eligible for Academy Award role in Twisters.

We come together to host Unschooled, 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 Grease to the Dark Knight.

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

Listen to Unschooled wherever you get your podcast.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

Well, we did come back.

Here we are, post-weather.

Carlos finally took a look at the situation.

The blinking light up on the mountain and all that came with it.

Horrific invading army, etc.

Oh, that?

he said, gesturing with a spatula he had until moments before been been using to cook.

That's a mirage.

I've seen that one before.

When you get the clouds in a certain way and the temperature is where it's at, you can sometimes get this blinking light mountain floodplain masked army mirage.

Wow, this is a pretty strong one.

It should disappear in an hour or two.

And it did.

Completely gone.

Well, the mountain and the blinking light and the floodplain disappeared.

The masked army turned out to be real.

But they weren't coming to attack us, just passing through on their way to attacking someone else.

And they provided some valuable traffic for local business.

A few of them even took a bus tour of Radon Canyon.

Madeline LaFleur was both relieved and pleased.

I'm relieved, she said.

I'm also pleased.

She was still sipping her coffee too often.

Perhaps her feeling of lack of control stems from a personal issue rather than the impending doom we imagined.

Stress from her failure to live up to her own self-imposed life goals, for instance.

Or a relationship that wasn't exactly the relationship she had envisioned it would be.

But who knows?

No one.

No one has ever known anything.

Not really.

Still, nonetheless, we have come to another end.

We have come to it as we we always do.

Blind, ignorant, groping.

I take comfort in that consistency.

There is no blinking light up on the mountain.

There is no mountain towering over a muddy plain.

There is no muddy plain under an invading army.

There was an invading army, but they're gone now.

What is left?

Well,

what is always left?

Night Vale.

Our little city, our tiny town, our nightvale.

Proud, safe,

existent.

Stay tuned next for the background hum of the universe, amplified and with live color commentary.

Good night, Night Vale.

Good night.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of commonplace books.

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

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

The voice of the faceless old woman was Mara Wilson.

Original music by Disparition.

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

This episode's weather was Never Be Famous by Hussalonia.

Find out more at hussalonia.com.

Comments, questions, email us at nightvale at commonplacebooks.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio.

Check out commonplacebooks.com for more information on this show as well as all sorts of cool nightvale stuff you can own.

And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link.

That would be cool of you.

Today's proverb, throw your hands in the air.

Now your arms.

Keep Keep detaching limbs and throwing them in the air.

Hopefully, the birds will be sated and leave.

Are you squeamish about horror movies, but kind of want to know what happens?

Or are you a horror lover who likes thoughtful conversation about your favorite genre?

Join me, Jeffrey Kraner, and my friend from Welcome to Nightville, Cecil Baldwin, for our weekly podcast, Random Number Generator Horror Podcast Number 9, where we watch and discuss horror movies in a random order.

Find, here's the short version, random horror nine wherever you get your podcasts.

Boo.