RADIO JUPITER: This is Radio Jupiter calling out to all who hear. Please respond. Awaiting your reply.

This is Radio Jupiter. I am not sure who is listening. I am not sure if there is anyone to listen. I can only verify my own existence. I can only verify the void around me, the apparent fact of stars, the swirling atmosphere of the planet below me. I cannot verify much.

I don’t know who I am, or where I came from. I woke up here, and all I have to go on is my call sign. So this is Radio Jupiter, reaching out to whoever there is to be reached out to.

It is so beautiful, here on my perch, here in my place, in the cosmos and the universe about which I know nothing but feel everything. I don’t know if everywhere is this beautiful, or even most places. Did I happen onto the one beautiful place in the All of it? Without perspective, there is only what is nearby. Without the burden of comparison, everything is beautiful.

If a person is the sum total of every experience they’ve ever had, is a person without memory still a person? Or are they a different creature altogether, made either limited or limitless by the possibilities of a clean slate. I’m either trapped or I am more free than anyone who can hear this. If anyone can hear this.

There is a framed photo in this room. It is an elderly woman. Maybe my mother, or my grandmother, or an aunt. Perhaps merely a photo I saw in a magazine once, and liked for whatever reason. I have no way of knowing what kind of person I am, what kind of photo I would keep. Perhaps it is a photo of you. Do you present as an elderly woman? Would you like to? I think perhaps I would like to. Even for just a little while. But I only am what I only am. I ever am whatever I am.

This is Radio Jupiter, calling all cars, all space ships and all insentient space debris…

[radio noise, the changing of frequencies]

CECIL: …let me try moving this? Is this better? Can you hear me?

Ok, my producer is giving me the signal that we are now back on the air. Sorry about that. Not sure what that other signal was, but it completely took over ours, which is rude.

We’re currently looking for the source of the signal. We’ve narrowed it down to…up. Just right up there somewhere, beaming on down to us. But we’re back in control and we do not expect any more interruptions. Of course, we didn’t expect that interruption either. I don’t expect almost anything that happens to me. My life is full of mystery and surprise, as is yours I’m sure. But still. We seem to have this one technical issue addressed.

With that settled, I think we can get to the news.

Our top story concerns…Susan Willman. Ok. Sure.

There has been a lot of talk in town since the whole incident with the Obelisk, in which Susan Willman learned the name of an immortal, all knowing being. This name now exists in her head, an object of great power, reverberating through her thoughts. She has withdrawn from her duties as director of the Night Vale Community Theater, and the Night Vale PTA. Oh, darn, we’ll miss her, and her prosaic, muddled staging, and grandstanding about homework-life balance.

Susan has instead taken residence in a booth at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner, there at all hours, toying with a half drunk coffee and playing with the reflection of the sun in the back of a spoon. At night, the mint light of the sign outside sends strange shadows across her face, and her friends say they sometimes don’t recognize her at all.

Steve Carlsberg, who is taking over her role at the Night Vale Community Theater, went to talk to her about some finer details of the casting process, and said that she was less than helpful. She was weeping and the only thing she said, the entire time he was there, was that she was afraid to speak, lest the awful name slip past her lips.

“No one was meant to carry such death inside of them,” she whispered, and then said no more.

“Sure, yeah, makes total sense,” said Steve, as he horked down some invisible pie.

Well, I think we’ve given Susan enough attention for now. Moving on.

In other news, the new Beer Cave at the Ralphs has been closed for repairs due to occasional time loop issues reported by certain customers.

Manager at the Ralph’s, Dave Boll [pronounced like “bowl”] issued a statement by spelling out words with cantaloupes in the parking lot, saying “Everything is fine with the Beer Cave. It’s a great and refreshing addition to Night Vale. Please don’t go inside or even look at it, as we don’t know why it’s doing what it’s doing. Everything is fine. Please stay safe and stay away.”

Dave then rearranged the cantaloupes to create complex fractal designs that made me dizzy to gaze upon, but were beautiful nonetheless.

When reached for a comment, Ralph’s corporate said they had no records of any branch in a town called Night Vale, and were tired of receiving prank calls with bizarre tales about a made up store. When provided with pictorial evidence of Night Vale, a representative at Ralph’s corporate began to bleed from the eyes while shouting “this can’t be real, my god, this can’t be real.”

More on the story of the Beer Cave, if anything…

[the other frequency breaks in]

RADIO JUPITER: This is Radio Jupiter, floating out there in the out there. Not sure if any of this is getting through, but continuing to narrate on the off chance anyone will hear this and come, you know, to collect me.

I’ve been doing some digging through this spaceship, and I’m disturbed by what I’ve found. Weapons. Many many weapons. Racks of guns, cases of grenades and explosives. Radar that I instinctively know is for tracking combatant space crafts even though I have no memory of receiving that training. I am armed to the teeth and ready to wage war.

But on what? There are no living beings in sight, and for all I know there are no other living beings anywhere.

Perhaps I am here to wage war upon the planet below me, that swirling gaseous titan. Maybe someone had enough of it and sent me up here to put Jupiter back in its place. If so, I think the weapons they gave me were insufficient. I experimented by shooting off a round or two out the airlock, but the bullets soared into the upper atmosphere of the planet without slowing at all. My attack had no appreciable effect on my victim.

So maybe the planet is not my target. Could it be the stars themselves? I am sent here, a pinprick in the side of god, to cast myself at the stars, shouting threats and tossing grenades until the entire torus of the universe cowers and surrenders.

Perhaps that. Or perhaps I am at war with you, whoever is hearing this. Maybe I was given this radio in order to threaten and terrorize before I attack. So be afraid. I am coming. Once I figure out where you are. I have no idea which direction to start moving, and I don’t even know if this spaceship has any way of controlling movement or if I’m just stuck in this orbit.

Either way, this is Radio Jupiter, apparently declaring war. Consider it declared, and stay tuned for….

[frequency shift]

CECIL: Can you hear me?

Can you hear me?

They can hear me?

Ok, I apologize. We’ve been doing all kinds of troubleshooting, including shifting the angle of our broadcasting tower, updating all of our software, and yes, before you ask, we did try unplugging it, doing a ritual spilling of blood, and plugging it back in.

The issue we’re having is that these broadcasts are being sent out on military frequencies, which unfortunately automatically override ours. I’m unclear why the military would be getting into broadcasting. That’s more of a community radio thing, so let’s all stick to what we’re good at. I’ll keep doing radio shows that inform and delight, and the military can spend 3 trillion dollars on a plane that instantly explodes if anyone tries to fly it.

We have reached out to Rudy Dejardins, the local representative of the Military Industrial complex. He has a little table set up outside of the hardware shop, and anyone who has any questions for the military can just ask him and he’ll do his best to answer. Most of the stuff he can’t answer, because it’s classified or embarrassing, but sometimes he’ll say a few cryptic words. In this case, his only answer was to make “mmm-mmm” sounds and shake his head frantically, while rolling his eyes toward the heavens. So not clear what to make of that, but I’d sure love whatever this broadcast is off of my frequency, Rudy, any time you want to get on that.

And now for a word from our sponsors.

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This has been a word from our sponsors.

And now, as a special treat, Mr. Lee Marvin himself will perform Act 3, scene 5 of Shakespeare’s classic tragedy, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. This is the scene that contains that immortal line, “I never knew the meaning of fear until I kissed Becky.” Ok, Mr. Marvin, take it aw….

[frequency change]

RADIO JUPITER: This is radio Jupiter, speaking to you from a time of peace. Yes, there was that brief episode of war, and it was regrettable. I fired upon an innocent planet, although that planet seems none the worse for my crimes. In any case, that war is now over, as far as I’m concerned. I have no interest in battles and conflict, especially when I have no memory of what that conflict could involve. I have no interest in killing anyone, and I have no interest in dying quite yet.

So: peace in our time. I’m jettisoning all the guns and other weapons. Let them scatter out harmlessly into the universe, most of them swirling down the gravity well of Jupiter where the immense pressure of the inner atmosphere will compress them into diamonds. I don’t know if that idea is scientifically sound, but I like the thought of it. All these worthless guns, made glittering jewels, swirling in the endless storm of a planet that doesn’t even know they’re there.

As for me, now that I have declared peace upon the galaxy, I would like to know what is out there. I have found the controls for this ship, and it seems I must have been trained in their use because whatever I do appears to work as I want it to. I am turning away from the only star I’ve ever known, because my memory is short and it’s the only star that has been there for the last two hours. I am turning out to the dark unknown, and I am casting myself into it. I hope there is a grander universe out there. I’d love to see it.

This is Radio Jupiter, letting the cosmos know that I am on my way. I’ll see you soon. Or, given the size of space, most likely I won’t see you. But we’ll both exist, and won’t that be nice.

[frequency shift]

CECIL: Wow. Thank you Mr. Marvin. Truly a performance for the ages. And what a treat for…what happened? When!? Not again.

This is Cecil Palmer, of the Night Vale Community Radio Station. I don’t know if you can hear these words, but if you can, we have identified the source of these intrusive broadcasts. She is agent N-223, sent during the early years of the Space Program on a top secret mission. She was put into hibernation so that she could wake up and serve as reinforcement in the Blood Space War at some point in the future. But it appears that the hibernation damaged her memory, and anyway the Blood Space War doesn’t happen for another thousand years, so she won’t be much use in that battle yet.

Thanks to the anonymous tipster who snuck us this top secret info. We owe you, Rudy.

Oh, it looks like we might be having more interference due to some rough weather.

[WEATHER: “The Faded Red and Blue” by David Berkeley http://davidberkeley.com/]

RADIO JUPITER: This is Radio Jupiter, on the tail end of the tail end. If there was anyone listening back near that star, I think I’m getting out of range. I feel you getting out of range. Whatever presence I felt, that I was speaking to, that feeling is getting hushed and fuzzy. The way I’m sure my voice is for you now.

You’re going to have to go on without me I suppose. Be brave about it. Or be scared. Your feelings are not my problem anymore, if they ever were. I have new problems now. Problems of void and cosmos. Problems of dark matter and lost memories. I am adrift in a universe that does not know I exist, but then, you are too.

I don’t know what is out there. But I hope I live to see it. Won’t that be something. If I get to see whatever happens next? I hope I do.

Well, this is Radio Jupiter, signing off for the last time. Stay safe out there. I’ll try to stay safe out here. Goodbye.

[frequency shift]

CECIL: The signal has faded out. It seems she has finally left our world, and also left my radio frequency. I’m not trying to speak badly of a strange remnant from a war that has not yet happened, floating out into the nothing beyond the nothing, but come on. Please use a different frequency. That’s just rude.

The military, through Rudy Desjardins, has disavowed any knowledge of agent N-223 or her mission.

“Nope,” Rudy said, through clenched teeth. “Never heard of her. I certainly wouldn’t just say her name on the radio after being asked not to. That’s not something I would do, Cecil,” he said.

So I dunno. Maybe we got the story wrong.

It is something, isn’t it? We are bits of life, floating in a whole lot of non-life. That fact is true for us in both space and time. We are brief on any measure. And yet we can reach out our voice, and be heard, even if only for a moment. And that has to mean something. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?

Stay tuned next for an angry buzzing from inside your cutlery drawer, but you’ll be too afraid to open it and find out its source.

Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.