265 - Labyrinth HQ

Hi all, it is Jeffrey Craner and I'm here to let you know that Welcome to Night Vale is coming to Europe. Just for a little bit, May 27th through the 30th, 2026, we will be in Edinburgh, Manchester, London and Amsterdam in that order. So if you live over there, get your tickets. They are on sale now. We're so excited to bring this newest live show, Murder Night in Blood Forest to Europe, to the UK. It's so much fun to get back there and to keep doing this show because it is such a fun show to do and to see. So Europe, we will see you at the end of May. Tickets are available at WelcomeToNightVale.com slash live. Oh, and if you like other Welcome to Night Vale things beyond just the podcast and live show, we also have the Night Vale tabletop role-playing game. It's available in stores wherever you get your games. This RPG was created by Renegade Games with collaboration with me and Joseph and Brie, the writers of Night Vale. It's quirky, it's spooky, it's fun. You know, just like this show. So if you ever wanted to be a character in Night Vale and do freaky adventures there, then get on this. You can get the Night Vale tabletop RPG wherever you get your games. Okay, let's get on to the episode and hey, thanks. Appearances can be deceiving. So can sounds, smells, sensations. Basically anything could be a lie. Welcome to Night Vale. Hello from the great outdoors, or at least from the street outside the radio station. Yes, I am back on the mobile broadcasting equipment today. I was perturbed over the last couple weeks to discover that my old mentor, Leonard Burton, has been back on the air, sometimes even broadcasting on the same frequency as our station. This is upsetting for two reasons. One is that it's rude to broadcast on a frequency that is already being used by a fellow broadcaster, any more than you would butt ahead of someone else in line at a store. The other reason is that I saw Leonard Burton get absolutely creamed by a truck decades ago. He died. He is dead. I know this. And so, how could he be broadcasting on our airwaves again? If he is alive, if I am mistaken, then I must find him. If he is dead, and his voice is being faked, somehow I must discover who is behind this twisted deed. In either case, there is a wrong here and I must write it. To make matters more complicated, we have tracked the source of Leonard's broadcast. And by we, I mean some friends who would like to remain anonymous, who work for a vague, yet menacing government agency. Thanks Alex and Jenny. And the source of the broadcast is Labrith, that tech company that Steve has been working for. What is going on here? I must go to Labrith and discover for myself, but I must also do a radio show. Thus, the mobile broadcasting equipment. You're all coming with me. But as we walk, let's do the headlines. In the news today, there is a small, tiny, totally not worrying infrastructure crisis. It's no big deal. No one is going to starve for like a few months. So please, be chill about this. It's just that it turns out, Night Vale is really hard to find, and to leave, and to enter. In general, its relationship with the rest of the world is ill-defined and tenuous. Mostly, people wander here when called by forces none of us understand, for purposes revealed in the form of visions and prophecies. The normal American stuff, right? Well, it turns out that's not great for the shipping of fresh produce and other perishable foodstuffs. Food suppliers and distributors say that trucks full of cabbages, frozen chicken, pennies, and other valuable consumables have gone missing, or have arrived in the wrong destinations. Sometimes with the driver transformed into a baby or a very old person. As a result, food shipments have become scarce. Now, you shouldn't panic. Of course, we won't run out of food. The reason I say this is because that would be very scary if it happened. And isn't the kind of thing that feels like it could ever happen in a normal town like this, and that means it can't happen and never will. Simple. In other news, the town founder has continued her rampage through Night Vale. Ever since, and I hate to bore you with a tedious recitation of a story you've heard a thousand times before, but ever since the town founder hatched out of her own statue, she has been eating citizens. Polling has been bad on this subject with 80% of Democrats and 5% of Republicans saying town founders should not get to eat people alive in front of their screaming families. More on this story as long as I am not the one who is devoured next. Always possible, I guess. This has been today's headlines. I am now outside of Labyrinth headquarters. It's a slick tech campus with everything you'd expect. A juice bar, a hammock forest, a charging station for cryptids. But it's in a weird part of town. The industrial district on Sandpiper Road. Near the warehouse flats and the parking lot full of 1996 Toyota Corollas. Other than the Labyrinth campus, there is not much on this stretch of road. Just a pre-owned bathroom tile business and an old woman selling frozen enchiladas out of a cooler. Let me go inside. Okay, there is a very hip little foyer. A reception desk with no one at it. A living wall made entirely of cactus. So cute and... Oh, so spiny. There is a neon sign that says Rise and Grind. And another one that says Positivity is Key. And another that says Speak not of what you have seen owe pilgrims of this sacred order. Basic corporate cliches, but you know, the effect is still nice. Hello? There isn't anyone here. I don't. I don't. I actually don't see any way to continue further into the building. This foyer has no doors except the one to the outside I just came through. How is one supposed to visit this place? Steve? Are you here, buddy? There's an excellent barista set up, although no barista is currently operating. I suppose I could make myself a cup of coffee, but I prefer to use my own hammer for that. I'm kind of particular about coffee hammers. Wait. Hold on. In the living wall of cactuses there is a small round hole. Hardly seems big enough for a person, but I think I see a light on the other side. Could that be the entrance? Surely not. And yet, let me just... Ouch! Ouch! Ow-ee! Ah! Okay, these cactuses are definitely real and their spines have not been trimmed or blunted in any way. Ah! Ah! And I'm through. Okay. I'm now in a large office room full of cubicles, so I guess that was the entrance. Pray avant garde. Oh, I should do some radio stuff. Right. A word from our sponsors. For many decades now, Campbell's Soup was known for our distinctive red and white cans and our premium soup products. But all of that changes today, because we are, right now, about to drop several thousand gallons of seawater on a Broadway performance. Which Broadway performance? We won't say, because then they might stop us. Why? Well, now when you think of Campbell's, you'll think, wait, the company that dropped thousands of gallons of seawater on a Broadway performance and then got sued into oblivion? This is how you change your reputation by boldly acting and thinking later, if at all. Campbell's Soup. Here it goes. Three, two, one. The Lion King. More like the Sea Lion King. This has been a word from our sponsors. This cubicle farm is empty. It's almost as if it was full moments ago, but emptied out right as I was coming in. Water coffees still warm on some of the desks. A chair is spinning lazily from the momentum of unseen escape. A clunky black office phone sits off the hook, a small tinny voice saying, hello? Hello? From its receiver. Where did the workers go? Were they fleeing me? Or is this some danger here that I am unknowingly putting myself in? I press on. There is a whiteboard. It looks like they were in the middle of a meeting and taking notes. Some of the notes. What if we all jumped at the same time? Could that be enough? Another note. Larry suggests sewing needles. Another note. Juggling supplies? Question mark? And then what looks like a paragraph of text scrawled frantically at the bottom of the whiteboard and just, as frantically, wiped off with the sweaty palm of a hand. In the back there are a few offices of what are probably the head honchos. Desks made of actual wood. Windows with a panoramic view of the parking lot. Writers on the wall that are either family members or photogenic strangers. And here the office ends. Once again there does not appear to be any way forward. Except I am noticing a light shining from the waste paper basket in this office. Looking down, yes, yes, I can see a tile floor down there. Again it's an opening barely enough for a person but I will... Ah, ah, ah, ha, ha. Good thing the mobile broadcasting equipment is so small. Whoa! I've fallen through to the next level. Umm, more on that soon. But first, an important message from the dental underground. Hello, it's us again. Don't worry, you're safe. We would never hurt you in ways you would know about. We are here for your kids. Oh, ha, sorry we misspoke. We are here about your kids. We want to talk about them, your kids. We want you to know that we would never snatch them away. We would never creep into your house in the narrow hours of the night and replace your children with doubles who are in every way your child except they are missing a soul. We would never do that to you. We've done it to others, obviously, but we are not currently planning to do it to you, is the point. Instead, we want to talk about your kids' teeth. We are, after all, merely dentists, merely dentists who live underground. There is nothing weird going on here. Did you know that your child's teeth might rot? Might rot clean away? Why, with the way things are today, it might happen quicker than you think. A healthy child and then bam! Rotting teeth. Imagine it. Picture it. Imagine it graphically. That's why for your child's safety, it is best to remove their teeth. Just take their teeth away and keep the teeth somewhere safe where they can never get food or sugar on them, all that yucky stuff, and they can never rot, where they can stay pristine forever. If that sounds difficult to do, don't worry. We've already done it. We crept into your house in the narrow hours of the night, and we took all of their teeth. So don't worry, their teeth are safe. And we only promised we wouldn't take your entire child. We keep our promises to the letter, and only to the letter. This has been important dental information from the dental underground. We love you. Having fallen through the waste paper basket, I am now in, I guess, the bathroom? It's a long tile hallway lined on both sides by an endless row of identical stalls. All of the stalls are ajar and empty. They are perfectly clean, so compliments to the janitorial staff, uh, wherever they are. There's no one here. Which is good, I guess. I would feel weird recording while someone was in here. Both directions look the same, so I'm going to pick one and start walking. Hello? Nothing. Wait, was that a flush? Hello? Sorry to bother you. Now, maybe a trick of my ears. Wait, no, there it is again. It's a voice. It's the voice of Leonard Burton. Hold on, Leonard, I'm coming! I've reached the end of the bathroom. It ends at a wall of mirrors and, ugh, it stinks. Unlike the toilets, the sinks and mirrors are filthy. The soap dispensers are empty. There is graffiti scratched into the glass. Things like, for a good time, try ballroom dancing, and, to live is to suffer, baby. And employees must wash hands after using the bathroom. Once again, a dead end, but I still hear Leonard's voice echoing somewhere. Uh, let's see, I can't go down the drains, and I am not crawling into a toilet, so... Let me check the stalls. All identical. All like... Okay, well, this one is different. It's empty of any features of a bathroom stall. There is a square hole in the floor with a ladder leading down. Well, don't have to ask me twice. Here I go into the hole in the bathroom floor. I'll have to strap the broadcasting equipment to my bag, so... What a great time to check in on the weather. I'm not sure if I can get in there. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I'm not sure.���� When it comes down to the bedrock When everything that you've known is Shattered glass in the doorways And you're wrestling with an angel for control Blask a whiskey, sash of hot letters from a lover That you should have long forgot When your tidal waves of tears turn to blood Or her lips when you know it comes down Down, down, down, down, down, down So what really matters to you Who, who, who, who, who, who, who, who, who What really matters to you Who, who, who, who, who, who, who, who What really matters to you Music Oh, oh, oh, blask a whiskey, sash of hot letters from a lover That you should have long forgot When your tidal waves of tears turn to blood Or her lips when you know it comes down Blask a whiskey, sash of hot letters from a lover That you should have long forgot When your tidal waves of tears turn to blood Or her lips when you know it comes down Down, down, down, down, down, down So what really matters to you Who, who, who, who, who, who, who, who What really matters to you Who, who, who, who, who, who, who What really matters to you Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh Your current account picking crumbs out of its belly button wondering, should I eat them? But when you start investing with Monzo, your money's always busy. It turns on regular investments, invests your spare change, and tops up your stocks and shares, ISA. It even helps you make sense of risk and return. Monzo, the bank that gets your money moving. You could get back less than you invest. Monzo current account required UK residents 18 plus T's and C's apply. And I am Richard Spate. We were both on a little show you might know called Supernatural. It had a pretty good run. 15 seasons, 327 episodes. And though we have seen, of course, every episode many times, we figured, hey, now that we're wrapped, let's watch it all again. And we can't do that alone. So we're inviting the cast and crew that made the show along for the ride. We've got writers, producers, composers, directors, and we'll of course have some actors on as well, including some certain guys that played some certain pretty iconic brothers. It was kind of a little bit of a left field choice in the best way possible. The note from Kripke was, he's great. We love him, but we're looking for like a really intelligent decoveny type. With 15 seasons to explore, it's going to be the road trip of several lifetimes. So please join us and subscribe to Supernatural then and now. Oh, I don't know. Two minutes and 30 seconds plus 30 to 60 seconds for ads. This warehouse is lit by dim lights hanging high above from a ceiling that I cannot see. There is still no sign of anyone else here, but there are hundreds, if not thousands, of wooden crates. The air is heavy and stale. I feel like I might be the first person to enter this dusty sanctum. The crates go on forever. There is no indication what is inside them, but from somewhere in this warehouse, I hear the voice of my mentor broadcasting on as though he did not die in front of me. Blood on asphalt, a soul dissipating. So I keep moving forward deeper and deeper. And this brings me no nearer to the voice. I reach out, brush my hand against the wood of one of the crates, and then I open it. Oh, inside there is a woman. She is dressed in a work shirt and jeans. She gets up and says, hey, thanks, and walks off into the darkness of the warehouse. Okay, well, let me try another one. Okay, this one has a small toy train. There is a posted note on the train that says, let me see, highly cursed, do not play with. If the words choo choo are said near it, the consequences could be dire for us all. Oh. The inside of the locomotive is lighting up and steam is pouring out of its tiny stack. I am starting to think I should never have read that note out loud. I am just going to close the crate again. There we go. All good now, I am sure. Leonard's voice is even louder over here. Another crate. Okay. This crate opens into what looks like a hotel hallway. I am stepping down into it, and even as I do gravity shifts significantly, and now I am standing upright in the hallway. Leonard's voice is coming from somewhere in here. I am walking down the hall. Every door is boarded shut except one, room 2A. I push at the door, swings open. Oh, hi. Leonard? Is that you? I think so. Self becomes such a confusing subject past a certain point, doesn't it? I saw you die. I expect you did. Do you know where we are, by chance? We are at the headquarters of Labyrinth. Ah, that makes a lot of sense, actually. Did you know that one time I tried to do an investigative report on Labyrinth and they ran me over with a truck? Yes. I was there. Of course. You said. I think they've trapped me here to send secret messages to their agents in the field. At first I was content to be in front of a microphone, but how long have I been broadcasting? Oh, about two weeks? Ah, see, from my point of view, it's been, if I check my watch here, about 2,000 years. An upsetting amount of time for anyone, I think. Well, thank you for opening the door. I suppose I should be getting along then. Where will you go? Right. Who even knows? Well, hopefully I see you again under better circumstances, or at least different ones. Bye, Leonard. And with that, he ambles out of the hotel room and down the hallway before disappearing around a corner. Well, I do feel good having rescued my old friend and mentor. I am not feeling great about the fact that Labyrinth captured his soul somehow, maybe. And what does all of this mean for Steve working here? All in all, kind of a mixed day. Time to return the equipment to station. Oh no. The exit from the crate disappeared. So I'll first have to find my way out of this vast otherworldly hotel. I hate it when this happens. Stay to next for the new hit single from Chapel Roan, I Don't Have Eyes and You Shouldn't Either. Good night, Night Vale. Good... Oh great. All of the doors disappeared. And there go the lights. This is going to take a while. Good night. Night Vale presents Welcome to Night Vale as a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink, Jeffrey Craner and Brie Williams, and produced by Disparition. The voice of Leonard Burton was James Urbaniak. The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin, original music by Disparition. All of it can be found at Disparition.Bancamp.com. This episode's weather was What Really Matters by Ariel Silver. Find out more at the link in our show notes. Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Blue Sky at Night Vale Radio or on Instagram, Tumblr and TikTok at Night Vale Official. Or dance like no one's watching because you're the only one left in some sort of apocalypse scenario. But mainly check out WelcomeToNightVale.com where we have a twice monthly mailing list that is the best way to keep up to date directly from us to you. Today's proverb, hats off to you, socks off to you, and a shirt that doesn't quite fit off to you. Music Are you squeamish about horror movies but kinda wanna know what happens? Or are you a horror lover who likes thoughtful conversation about your favorite genre? Join me, Jeffrey Kramer and my friend from WelcomeToNightVale, 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 9 wherever you get your podcasts. Boo.