Night Vale Unsolved

10

Carlos sat down with his team of scientists to go over their data from the week. They were all working on different things - there was, after all, too much stuff going on in Night Vale to do otherwise - and so the weekly meetings were just routine.
Part of this routine was snacks.
Another part of the routine was discretion. The scientists were conducting all of these tests and experiments for one, ultimate goal; to figure out why Night Vale was so different from...everywhere else. Of course, not everything was meant to be looked into. Some things were monitored closely by the city council - and StrexCorp. Carlos didn't want to put anyone in danger, but he also couldn't just forsake science in the interest of safety, could he?
"Alright, let's get started." Carlos opened the meeting. "How are those clocks coming?"
A scientist with choppy black hair and absurdly short nails answered. "We still can't figure them out," she said, speaking for her team of two other scientists who were trying to figure out how the clocks in Night Vale worked, seeing as they weren't real. "They just...act like normal clocks. But they aren't."
"Alright," Carlos sighed, frustrated not at his colleagues, but at the irrationality and ridiculousness of the matter. Addressing another group, he turned to the more recent issue of unidentifiable prints that appeared in a sidewalk that had been there for years; completely dry cement. There was a team of five working on this one; two trying to identify the prints and three running experiments to see if there was any way to reproduce it.
So far, apparently, nothing.
Just then, Carlos' phone rang. He answered it, caught off guard not by the calm voice, but by sounds in the background that sounded like...yelling? Screaming?
"Hi, Carlos," Cecil said from the other end of the line, "Um, I think I need your help down here at the station."
"What's wrong?"
"You remember those two men we saw last night? They came in for an interview just now, very nice people..."
"Cecil!" Carlos said firmly, worried about Cecil. "What's going on?!"
"Well, I might have forgotten to warn them about Khoshekh..."
Carlos sighed, a mixture of relief and exasperation. Why didn't it occur to him to warn them? Too late now, he supposed.
"Alright, I'll be right there." Carlos hung up and turned back to the still gathered, listening group. Before he could say anything, they all ushered him out of the door, assuring him they'd pack up for the night.
And so Carlos headed down to the radio station, hoping that he'd get there in time to prevent anything else from happening.