A drop here, a drop there (a one-shots/snippet book)

Where he belongs (WtNV)

2024 A/N: Carlos' last name didn't get revealed yet when I wrote this years ago so it's a good thing I didnt post this till now huh?

Excerpt from Night Vale Community Radio broadcast; Radio host, Cecil Palmer.

He who fears he will suffer, already suffers because he is right, and it's only a matter of time before they come for him.

Welcome, to Night Vale.

[Intro music plays]

Early on this day, familiar visitors came here in Night Vale. They arrived before the sun even squinted in the sky and prepared its noisy entrance in our sleepy town. While most of us were still lying in our beds and listening to the reassuring sounds of the Secret Police's helicopters as they flew in the dark empty sky, they drove through the semi-silent streets until they found themselves in front of the laboratory, right next to Big Rico's. That laboratory, as you all know listeners, is the workplace of my husband, Carlos. You know him, my perfectly imperfect Carlos with his perfect hair.

Well, he found them this morning sitting in front of his lab, some fighting off sleep, and some having been defeated in the call to practice for their future, and more permanent, nonexistence. Carlos told me that they told him that they were scientists, his former co-workers from the University of What It Is.

I don't know if you remember, listeners, but a few years ago representatives from the University of What It Is came looking for Carlos while he was trapped in the Desert Otherworld. It was a...difficult time for me, and I'm afraid that in my urging of driving out the carnival, you also tried to drive out the scientist outsiders. I had to distract the mob with the weather.

[Nervous chuckle] Good times, am I right?

After Carlos came back, we talked. And he told me he no longer remembered them, his co-workers. He barely remembered anything of his life before Night Vale. "But it doesn't matter. This is my home, now," he said, with the same sincerity as when he came home from the Desert Otherworld.

And oh, how my heart soared, how my heart flipped about, how it did whatever various metaphorical actions that hearts have a tendency to do in these types of situations. If my heart had gotten any warmer, I suspect it might have cooked itself and everything else around it. Which is a really inconvenient thing to happen. We all know what happened to Vick Lisdane last Wednesday. Urgh. Take care not to let your hearts overheat, listeners, it's only polite.

Yes, even if you have multiple hearts. Especially if you have multiple hearts. You know who you are.

But anyway, I didn't mention it on the show before because he asked me to talk less about personal matters on air, particularly when it's about personal details in our relationship. He's shy sometimes, my Carlos. But now, he gave me permission to talk about this! What a treat, am I right?

But that is for later. I can hear Station Management rumbling from here, which I interpret as them telling me to get a move on with the news before they kill me... That is, that's what I hope they meant. I really don't want to know what fate worse than death they are actually threatening me with.

And now, traffic.

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Memory can be a tricky thing in Night Vale. From reeducation -and subsequent de-education- of forbidden knowledge by the Sheriff's Secret Police, to the Glow Cloud wiping off people's memories whenever it wants after the possession of said people, memory is something that can easily be lost in this town and the townspeople just treat it as another Tuesday.