Ahoi, ahoi, it is Jeffrey Kraner letting you know that welcome to Night Vale is coming to Europe. May of 2026, we will be in Edinburgh on May 27th, Manchester on May 28th. That's my birthday. London on May 29th and finally on May 30th, we are closing out our short little jaunt overseas in Amsterdam. This is our newest live show, Murder Night in Blood Forest and it is so wild and so much fun. You gotta come see it. Tickets are on sale now so Europe, go get your tickets. Come see us at the end of May. We'll see you there. Tickets are available at welcometonightvail.com slash live. Also if you like to gear up with Night Vale stuff, we have some brand new merch in our store. We just put out a t-shirt that says laughter is the only medicine. We have this really cool hot and cold tumbler designed by Jessica Hayworth with these really creepy moths on them and also you know why not? We just made a trophy and it's a trophy you can get for yourself. This says first place, hottest scientist. I don't know, you do you. We also have new bumper stickers. We have posters. We have t-shirts, spider rolls baseball cap, shorts that say creepy on the butt. You know the drill. We have tons and tons of stuff and we're always adding new things and taking away all things. So if you've seen our store once, you've only seen it that one time it's always changing. So check it out at welcometonightvail.com and just click on store. Okay now let me get you to your Night Vale episode and hey, thanks. You live, you learn, you die, you also learn. You just don't hold on to the lesson for very long. Welcome to Night Vale. All is in chaos, all is in ruins. The worst has come to be and the worst of the worst might yet to be. The supply chain into Night Vale has completely broken down under the weight of our existential otherness. No trucks can find their way through these strange backroads that lead to our doors. The shelves of the routes are bare. No frozen yogurt. No province-al herb mix. No edible cling film. All the necessities of life that we assumed would be on hand forever gone. What are we to do without sweet baby raised barbecue sweet flavored cop drops? Our whole fish flown in daily from high end Japanese seafood markets as we are custom too. Now is not the time for panic. No. The time for panic was a few weeks ago when there was still anything we could do about this. Now is the time for despair. Real lamenting hours if you know what I mean. City Councils speaking from their underground bunker where they have been hoarding food over the last few years put out a statement reminding people that the city council is fine and quote, well, sucks for the rest of you. And that seems great, if I'm honest, but I'm a reporter and must stay impartial so maybe it's actually good? Who am I to say? Meanwhile, Steve Carlsberg, my friend and brother-in-law, is leading the men who are not tall and the men who are not short through town a silent procession. They're leaving behind labyrinth which sought to use them toward a known and inhuman ends. They're leaving behind their generic labels and asserting each of their specific identities. Gathered outside of town in the desert, Steve calls upon them one by one and they tell their stories. A man who is not tall steps forward. My name is Yosef. I was born and raised in Philadelphia and then on my 40th birthday I woke up and I was in the passenger seat of a labyrinth truck. I didn't know why this had happened to me but I also did not know how to resist the inextricable tide of change. And so over the years I have taken part in unforgivable things. I have buried crates in the desert from which I could hear the faint but terrible sounds of fingernails clawing at wood. I don't understand anything I have done or that has been done to me but I never knew how to stop until now. A man who is not short now speaks. My name is Christine. I have always lived here at Night Vale. I actually wanted to work for labyrinth. I remember seeing their trucks as a child so secret and yet so important. I wanted to be secret and important too. And so I traded away everything that made me myself and became what they needed me to be. Once I drove my neighbor to the desert. I slit his throat. I did this because I knew labyrinth needed me too. My partner who I now know is named Dennis watched impassively as I did it. We have been made monstrous. Is there any way back for us? Finally, Steve says, I am a man who is not short and I am Steve Carlsberg and I know the way back. It is by speaking loudly and repeatedly the actuality of our individual lives. The more individual we are, the less hold labyrinth has on us. And somewhere a crow calls a sharp bark in the evening air. On an office wall, a door appears. A woman who is both not tall and not short steps out of it, a look of sad determination on her face. That supply chain crisis is of course not only affecting food. Toilet paper is obviously a no-go, but really you should have joined the go outside and spray at it with the garden hose revolution when you have the chance. It is time we caught up with the rest of the world. And it is almost impossible to find double A batteries. Although weirdly, there are more triple A batteries than ever. We are practically swimming in those useless things. Other core essentials that have become impossible to find? Printer paper. Laser discs. Whiffle bats. Scratching posts. Horse figurines. I repeat, you cannot find horse figurine one in the town of Night Vale. Gordon Moreno, former PTA president and current head of the Night Vale Consumers Association, announced he had something to say and then screamed for several continuous minutes into the microphone until he passed out from lack of air. He is currently resting in our break room. Although every time he wakes up, he just starts screaming again. Frantic Night Vale citizens are standing at the edge of town waving glow sticks and shouting, hear truck, hear truck to try to help trucks find their way to Night Vale, but all to no avail. Soon enough, we will have nothing left to eat except triple A batteries and those things taste terrible. Out in the desert, Steve speaks to the people of Labyrinth. They will not let us go peacefully. We have always known that. We are the milk they churn into the butter of oppression or a better metaphor than that. He directs the men who are not tall and the men who are not short to construct barricades and keep watch for any approaching danger. Other groups try to teach each other martial combat. I think you put your thumb inside your hand when you punch, says a man who is not short healthily, so your thumb is protected. Everyone else nods eagerly. Steve does not take part in this training. He sees something that makes him lose interest in everything else. It is Abby, his wife, and Janice, his daughter. They have come not in an unmarked black sedan nor a box truck with the Labyrinth logo on the side, but in the family hatchback. The family embraces here at the edge of everything at the turn of history. I am sorry. I lost myself even for a moment. And I am sorry that in finding myself, I have put you in danger. Steve says, yeah man, it sucks, says Janice. It really does, says Abby. You shouldn't have done that, and it has made our life a lot harder. Steve nods, I know. I can only try to find my way back to you, and to do that, I must face this. Sounds like some macho BS, but go off, King, says Janice. Please be home for dinner, says Abby. They get back in the hatchback. They leave Steve in the desert. He is more scared, less focused than before, but the great task in front of him remains. Back in town, a woman who is not tall and not short passes the moonlight all night diner. A man rolls around in the parking lot. Mudwum, the man says, mudwum. She reaches down and touches the man on the forehead. The man makes a shuddering gasp, and then he dies. She leaves the body on the dusty asphalt, and continues her slow, unstoppable walk toward the sandwastes. Toward Steve. Word is in now that not only are food and basic consumables unavailable due to the complete collapse of the supply chain into Night Vale, but even day-to-day items like washers, buyers, laptop computers, and woodchippers are nowhere to be found. I bought a laptop just last week, so obviously I have been thinking that it's time for me to get a new one. But everywhere I looked, the Ralphs, the Worst Buy, Diana's computer and crab shack, they're all out of stock. Now I'm stuck with this antique machine that can barely open an internet browser in half a second. It makes me feel less than, honestly, and that's the supply chance fault. Susan Escobar, the second-grade scrying teacher at Night Vale Elementary School, has been in the market for a new stove. I don't want nothing fancy, she said, unprompted, to a passerby who mistakenly made eye contact. Just a cherry red gas range, has to be asked. I don't believe in electricity, on account of the Lord. But there is no stove to be had, gas or otherwise. Not anywhere Susan has looked, and she says she has looked everywhere. I've even tried scrying, she told me, although I hadn't asked. But the bones are silent. If there were a stove, those bones would find them. But the trucks won't come. She shivered, even though the afternoon was blisteringly hot. The trucks won't come. She muttered again. The sun starts to set, and the shadows of the people of Labyrinth stretch far out from their bodies. Steve stands at the top of a hill, and his shadow casts itself all the way to the bottom. He is watching a woman who is both not tall and not short, as she picks her way, steadily up to him. She does not cast any shadow at all. The barricades do not slow her, and not a single one of the brave talking people of Labyrinth make a move to defend themselves. Finally, she reaches Steve. He tenses, but she nearly meets his eyes steadily. Behind her eyes, there is a chasm of deep time that makes him feel like vomiting. The people of Labyrinth shudder in quiet fear, as the woman and Steve face each other. Somewhere on the radio, a man says something about the weather. The wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows. The wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows, and the wind blows fell asleep with my head on the window, holding one month's chair. You breathe in loud, and burn entire track, but you're here right now, although you're seeing red. So just keep driving around, to feed from the stream, with the radio down. Don't turn it up for me. Oh. 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She waves one hand, have a look at this now Steve and the people of Labrith grown as a strong image of a burning cactus next to a rock shaped like a pit viper, riggles its way into their minds Then the image of ants crawling along the frame of a rusted Chevy truck, then stars, ancient, and pitiless, hundreds, then thousands, then millions and eternity of stars, and not a single one Shining upon life, these images push through their mind like the trampling of a panicked crowd The people of Labrith stagger, Steve falls to his knees As easily as that, she says, as easily as that it can be done And yet, here you all are, rebelling against this natural order What do you have to say for yourselves? Steve is silent for several seconds He needs to put himself back in order and shake off her terrible visions Finally, still on his knees, he speaks Yes, we are only human, he says, I am only human And you are something else, something bigger, something more powerful, I don't know what it is, and I don't want to know But we are human, and that is its own vital thing Our lives are so brief, and they matter so much, they matter all the more for how quickly they pass Steve rises to his feet, the woman looks up at him coolly We would not stand in the way of Labrith, he says, but neither can we remain in your driver's seats and office chairs We cannot stop the machine, but we do not need to help it run We are neither, not at all, nor not short, but we each of us have names and lives, and in this moment we are reclaiming those lives and those names Now, do what you will to us He finishes, his lips are dry, he licks them nervously And this is the answer for all of you, the woman asks Steve clanses at the crowd, no one says anything Finally, Christine in the front nods Emboldened, Steve looks back at the woman Yes, he says She shrugs Fine, she says You're all fired We purchased that self-driving ride-share company, what was it? Detour, because we needed a system that lacks the weakness of humans Only the cold reliability of ghosts who drive cars Now, please, bury your company IDs and key cards in the sand of the desert She tilts her head On a personal note, Steve Carlsberg You are the only interesting human being I have ever met Not that interesting Not more interesting than a supernova, for instance, but a little bit Interesting Done with words, she turns and walks back through the sand wastes toward Labyrinth headquarters at the same steady, slow pace with which she had arrived Steve begins to laugh And the crowd laughs too, they howl with laughter, finally, free and utterly lost Steve and the people of Labyrinth turn still laughing with relief and fear And walk back through the sand wastes to their town They are only citizens now like everyone else But they have made themselves separate from their neighbors And they don't know what to do next Janice and Abby are waiting for Steve at the city limits, leaning on the hatchback He rushes to them and they embrace again It's done, he says I'm only here for you now I don't know what I'll do for a job or how I'll support the family, but I'll figure out a way And most importantly, I'll be there every day I love you Then he looks up in confusion Around them, the citizens of Night Vale run here and there screaming and throwing trash cans in small shrubs Why is everyone wailing? Steve asks Have you not noticed that nothing has been able to come into Night Vale for weeks because trucks can't find their way in or out? Says Janice, they get lost Their navigation systems can no longer handle the strange highways through the desert Steve shakes his head You don't use the navigation system To drive on those roads you need a language that comes beyond thought that happens in places in your brain you didn't even know existed Well, I guess truck drivers can't do that, says Janice No, says Steve, but I can He gestures at the newly unemployed crowd behind him We all can Which is how Steve and the former members of Labyrinth Commendered the big rigs left behind by frustrated truck drivers who couldn't find their way out of town Steve and his people used their innate impulses of movement to cross the desert Take route 900 out of town until you see the tree that looks like your mother weeping And then make a left on a smaller road Eventually you see two old logs that look like they are arm wrestling And from there it is a slight right and then a sharp right and then boom, you're in Omaha That's just an example They brought us back food and toilet paper And finally a new laptop for me so I don't have to keep using this thing that is almost eight days old now Yeah Steve is working to organize these drivers into a new company that due to the complexities of navigation We'll have something of a monopoly on getting goods in and out of nightfills So I suspect he will do quite well for himself Maybe he can finally fix his pool that Janice and Abby have been bothering him about It's time he put his mind and his energy into the people who care about him most Meanwhile the boss trucks and cargo vans and unmarked black sedans of labyrinth are self-driving using the ghosts of detour And honestly they're terrible at it They heat crashing There are like vans on their sides with crates piling out of them on every block A self-driving is just not a workable system especially for an ancient mysterious force older than breath and thought But ffff, so what do I know? I'm just a guy eating a battery Stay to next for the hollow voice of the universe Eulagizing another year into rest calling another year into being And good night night veil Good night At a little house on a little street in the scrying druid housing development A man named David Lane stands on his front lawn eating a popsicle He found the box of popsicles in his fridge their shaped like sponge bob square pants from the last time he had a weekend with his son which was a while ago Probably for the best he doesn't know if he has anything to offer his son but disappointment and sponge bob popsicles And his son deserves better than that David had a very strange experience a few weeks earlier yes the strange is relative in a town like night veil But he had been propelled by an inexplicable force to drive into the desert and there a man had put a knife to his throat He was going to die was supposed to die But instead the man had let him go and he had run home He promised to become a better human being a better father even though he knew these were not promises he would be able to keep He licks his popsicle Freezer burned it really has been a while since his son has visited A woman walks up to him Hello she says as though they have an appointment and she is checking in Hello he says back he doesn't know who she is My name is Tabatha Littlefield she says I founded this town Okay he says it's nice what she says cocking her head the town it's nice He wishes he wasn't holding a freezer burned popsicle shaped like sponge bob square pants He feels that this woman might be the change he has been waiting for his way out of this sad stasis And he is right about that She opens her mouth wide and then wider and then beyond any human capacity her mouth is a tunnel to a dark nowhere The sky turns red or it seems to David is not holding the popsicle anymore Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents It is written by Joseph Think Geoffrey Krener and Bri Williams Sound design and production by Dispiration The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin original music by Dispiration All of it can be found at disparition.bancamp.com This episode's weather was radio down by caged animals find out more at the link in our show notes Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvail.com Or follow us on Blue Sky at Night Vale Radio or on Instagram, Tumblr and TikTok at Night Vale official Or ask a dog is being good or is being bad The answer is usually is being bad but you still love them But mainly check out welcometonightvail.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 to tell the difference between left and right just make an L with both hands and the hand that is on your left and is your left hand Hi, I'm here to tell you about good morning Night Vale Welcome to Night Vale's official recap show and unofficial best friend food podcast Join me, Meg Bashwinner and fellow try hosts, Hal Lublin and Symphony Sanders as we dissect all of the cool, squishy and slimy bits of every episode of Welcome to Night Vale Come for the insightful and hilarious commentary and stay for all of the weird and wild behind the scene stories Good morning Night Vale with new episodes every other Thursday, get it wherever you get your podcasts Yes, even there
