A Wake-Up Call

[free_r_kevin]

*A radio turns on. Then another radio. And another, and another, until there are a thousand radios whispering and howling into the open air. No one turns them on. They turn themselves on. Vague Radio Host Powers™ turn them on, possibly. After all, this is something that Kevin needs everyone to hear.*

Look around you, Strex. Look inside you, Strex. See what you have created, Strex. Know what you have made us into, Strex. We believe in a Smiling God. But that doesn't mean we have to love him.

F-fuck this place. I h-hate it here. You're. Not. Welcome!

It's said that if you open the average zoo animal's cage, there's a good chance it will just stare at you and then ignore the open door completely. Ye gods, but I wish I could do that right now. But the open door is in my mind, and all the memories are coming through.

Desert Bluffs wasn't so different from Night Vale, once upon a time. I can't tell you how long ago, because the drugs they filled us with made it kind of hazy and time isn't real anyway. But then StrexCorp came, and they took over everything, and people who didn't sell out started to disappear.

We noticed, we fought back, and that just made it worse. There were literal cubical drones, hordes of people with identical black eyes, and when we managed to . . . stop . . . those they opened a portal that turned night into day with a light that was the power of a sinister Smiling God.

That light made things fade. Things like defiance and memory, weapons and supplies. For a while everything was translucent, reality was burning away in the second sun. When it stopped everyone who had been out in it had black eyes and broken smiles.

I remember these things. I forgot for so long, but without the meds I remember now.

I remember being the last to fall. I remember my last farewell, speaking through the glowing night to the brainwashed and the broken. I remember when a man who looked almost like I do now killed poor Vanessa so horribly.

I remember that the first thing they had me do, once I had been brought into the light, was kill my family. It was a very effective measure to keep me from wanting to be rescued. Without them to keep me blind and happy I would remember that, and who wants to remember something like that?

So they made me loyal, and I spoke with their voice, so the town spoke with their voice. Because I was the town's Voice, after all. I kept the town in thrall, as they kept me in thrall, as that horrible light k-kept us all in . . . oh, no, I can't do this. I'm sorry.

And now, the weather.

I really don't think I can do this anymore. The things I did for them, the murders, the sacrifice, the rituals . . .  there's always been rains of blood in Desert Bluffs, but only because Strex was experimenting with time travel. Not to mention the things we did to make lunch breaks shorter, or how the StrexPets were made, or--oh gods.

*There's a good five minutes of muffled sobbing, and then:*

C-can I have my meds back, please? Th-thank you.

This has been a Fuck StrexCorp Synernists Inc. production. The hell is a Synernist, anyway?

 

The Voice of the broken people is Kevin. Do not call him Kev, it makes him sarcastic.

Very special thanks to Kevin, for being willing to have his breakdown on air. Thanks, Kev!

Today's proverb: Technically, you catch more flies with vinegar than with honey. Oh well.

Comments

[imperfect_science]

Carlos is pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear this broadcast.

It’s on a strange frequency he’d only picked up by accident as he’d adjusted his own jury-rigged radio antennae. He’s been hiding out from Strex for a week now, and he hadn’t dared risk taking a radio with him into hiding. He was pretty sure they were all microchipped and possibly fitted with GPS devices. He’d just opted to make one instead, just to be safe.

He’s not sure what he’s hearing at first. It sounds more like Cecil- not the voice of course, but the words. The defiance and the poetry and the slight sadness. But it’s not Cecil, and he’s quite sure it’s also not a broadcast Strex would let go entirely public, which would explain the strange half-there-half-not station he’d happened to find it on. Carlos stays with his hand on the dial of the radio, stricken and still right up until Kevin’s sign-off.

He doesn’t like Kevin. How could he? Even if he hadn’t been a part of the current invasion of Night Vale, he had tried to kill Cecil with his bare hands once. Carlos isn’t in the habit if disliking people he doesn’t even know, but Kevin had made it easy.

That still doesn’t make it any easier to decide what to do after the radio’s frequency has dissolved back into static.

He has his cell phone still. He has the radio station’s number. Even as he listens to the phone ring, he has no idea what he’s going to say if someone actually answers.

[free_r_kevin]

*After a moment a painfully cheerful voice says hello. Painful because there are blatant undertones of unspeakable misery leaking through.* Yes, hello? This is Kevin, at the radio station! What do you need?!

[imperfect_science]

Carlos is extremely aware of how unqualified he is to be doing this, whatever his intentions are. Taking advantage of an enemy’s weakness in order to gather useful information? He’s not a strategist. Investigating an interesting anomaly in another person’s psyche in order to better understand them and their life? He’s not a psychologist. Just trying to help someone who sounds like they’re existing in a living hell? He’s not very good with people.

But he is a scientist. So when someone picks up the phone, he answers.

“Kevin. I heard your broadcast just now.” A pause. “This is Carlos, but the way.” Another pause. “The scientist.” This idea seems worse and worse the longer he acts it out.

[free_r_kevin]

Oh! *There's a short, confused pause.* Well the happy pills ensure that I can't really remember it anymore, but if it would make you feel happy to try to reassure me anyway then I'm happy to help out!!!

[imperfect_science]

[ What does any sane person have to say to that? Carlos leans back in his chair and rubs at his temples with his one free hand. This just got a lot more complicated. ]

But I don't think you've really forgotten. It's still there. [ He taps the side of his head despite the fact that he knows that Kevin can't see.

... that he probably can't see. He's really hoping he's not under surveillance and this is all just a long, drawn-out ruse while DB agents head out to find his makeshift hideout. ]

They're just putting a blanket over something and hoping it will go away if they can't see it. But it's still there, taking up space and having mass and existing. That's the most scientific way of explaining it, I think.

[free_r_kevin]

I don't think memories have mass, generally. *He chuckles.* And supposedly the mind remembers everything, but can only access it during near-death experiences and Suppressed Trauma Appreciation Week!

But remembering things is highly unwise, so I always take my happy pills and tell myself that I like it better the Strex way.

[imperfect_science]

They don’t. Generally. [ Carlos is really tempted to hang up at this point, because it’s clear this is something that’s going to take a lot more than single phone call to even make a dent in. But even knowing that, he can’t make himself push the “end call” button. Maybe it’s the fact that, despite Kevin’s return to his usually sickly sweet voice, the memory of him grinding his defiance out through gritted teeth is still so fresh. ]

Is that how you’ve decided you’ll live the rest of your life? Ignoring reality and helping Strex do the same thing they did to Desert Bluffs over and over again? [ He isn’t hopeful for an answer at this point, so he doesn’t even wait one for one before continuing on . ] I haven’t heard you tell anyone who you’re speaking to yet.

[free_r_kevin]

Do you know what reality is like around here? What it's like in Desert Bluffs? If I didn't ignore it I'd go crazy. *He laughs, and it's a broken thing.* And this is me saying that!

In any case, enough drugs will make me think that everything is wonderful. And you absolutely have to take the drugs. Sometimes the pills follow us around and try to fly into our mouths!

Please don't remind me! If I think about it too much I'll want to tell.

[imperfect_science]

Kevin’s ability to work doublethink to his advantage rivals Cecil’s; or he might even be better at it than Night Vale’s own resident radio host. Carlos isn’t sure if it’s right to feel impressed, not when Kevin has obviously had to adapt this little mental tactic in order to keep some modicum of self-awareness.

It is impressive though.

“You're right that I don’t know what it’s like there. Cecil saw it once, and described it on the radio…” And it had sounded just as grisly as Kevin is making it sound. Carlos lets his eyes linger on his own jury-rigged radio as he considers what else he should say. There doesn’t seem to be a lot left that will leave a dent in Kevin’s current state.

“Maybe there is something we can do. I can’t promise you anything at all.” And he for sure isn’t going to mention any of his current plans over this unsecure connection. “But you might not have to live like this forever. Take what you want, or… what you can from that.”

[free_r_kevin]

Let me guess. Covered in blood and body parts? Occasional corpses? A lovely combination of yellow paint and animal viscera?

That's very kind of you! Probably misguided and doomed to failure, but still! Kind. *He chuckles, mostly returned to blind happiness by now.* I hope to see you in person some time soon, so I can thank you face to face!