Keep faking it, long after you make it. Welcome to Night Vale.

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The Grand Night Vale Hotel, originally built in 1893, has reopened. As some of you know, the hotel burned down back in 1901 and was rebuilt in 1917. After the great fire of 1937, the hotel sat abandoned until the 50s, when it was renovated once again. Sadly, not many people come to Night Vale, and those who do find they cannot leave, so the Grand Hotel operated mostly vacant, save for a few confused and frightened boarders.

Of course another fire in 1982 left the hotel a charred mess, broken and alone on the edge of what once was an inland sea, which has been dry since as long as anyone can remember. Still, the Grand Hotel has a phoenix-like existence, rising from ash and falling into flame every generation or so.

Over the years, some have tried to convert the rubbled remains into something other than a hotel – say a giant department store, or a bathhouse, or a paintball playland. But bad fortune befell those endeavors before they could even begin renovations.

It is almost as if the Grand Night Vale Hotel can only ever be a hotel. It does not seem to want to be anything other than that. And unlike living beings, the hotel embraces its death, not as a final stage in life, but as a mere checkpoint in the ongoing spiral of existence itself. Speaking as a human, though, I hardly trust the process at all. Give me birth and life. If it were up to me, I’d tell death to “Scram, pal!”

Well, the last time the Grand Night Vale Hotel burned down was in 2003, and nearly a quarter century later it has opened once again.

I have high hopes. As Ulysses S. Grant once said, "Past performance is not an indicator of future results." I think this is the dawning of a new era of class and culture for our tiny town. From its Art Nouveau arches to its Deco stained-glass domes all the way to its Neo-Classical columns to its more post-modern Frank Gehry-inspired turrets that seem to dance up the edges of this 5-story mammoth of a building, The Grand Night Vale Hotel is the symbol of our city's long-standing dream of becoming one of the foremost urban centers in the world.

As you can tell, I'm thrilled to see it thriving once again. Especially because I've been working on putting together a meeting of the gods to help my new friend Dale, a newish god who lives behind the sky. I think that Dale has a message of salvation for Night Vale. Nay, for humanity itself! And wouldn't the Grand Night Vale Hotel be the perfect location for such a meeting of these supernatural rulers of our universe.

More on this soon, but first, a brand new segment.

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The stock market can be a daunting concept for many, but there's no reason to be scared. As long as you do some basic research, and exercise a little caution, you, too, can have your money work for you. I’m introducing a new segment called Finance 101, so that you can learn all about the fantastical world of money.

Today's lesson is: The Dow. The Dow Jones Industrial Average is a single number that measures how excited people are about capitalism. So when you hear that the Dow is up, that means more people are happy, and when it's down, more people are sad. Presumably the higher the Dow goes the fewer issues we'll have with poverty, healthcare, and the environment. But I haven’t really looked into that.

Think of the Dow like a balloon. As it grows bigger and bigger, it gets prettier and prettier. So let's keep inflating that balloon by putting our money into large corporations that will then take that money and put it into other large corporations who will do the same, on and on, until the economy is just people constantly earning money simply because they have money. And we'll never need to create anything at all. Remember, as J. P. Morgan once said: "Get these urchins away from me."

This has been Finance 101.

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Back to the Grand Night Vale Hotel. There are no current guests at the hotel, but that's not to say it is empty. Pierre, the concierge, is keeping the building and the grounds in top notch shape, and he knows exactly what he's doing. You see, Pierre was the concierge the last time the hotel was open. And the time before that. In fact, when I've done previous stories about the hotel, Pierre has always been there. In his younger days he began as a dishwasher when the original hotel first opened. Now, that's a dedication you don't see anymore.

According to Pierre, the hotel is as beautiful as ever, with stunning balcony views of Ash Beach, a lush Flag Room with an actual Steinway Grand – with every single key tuned to middle-C for pristine consistency – and high-ceiling-ed suites with plush beds and claw-foot tubs and original artwork down every hall. Pierre says the hotel is and always has been the height of glamor and sophistication.

He did caution that there seems to be a Presence, though. It's like a ghost, he said, but one that is both within and without. The Presence is in the walls and in the air and in your body. It makes you see things you don't want to see. For instance, Pierre said that while he was cleaning up room 237 this morning, he saw a spider, and he hates spiders. But when he looked closer he saw it was just some lint. Stuff like that.

This didn't sound too bad and might have a perfectly reasonable explanation, but Pierre said he sometimes hears crying. He wanders the halls trying to get closer to the sound, but it never increases or decreases in volume. It is so familiar to him. It is like the crying is in his own head.

Pierre then paused, reflecting on how bananas that statement sounded, and then said it's probably fine. Back in the day the Presence used to scream at all hours, but a gentle sob can be kind of peaceful and charming.

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Let's hope so, because we have some important guests coming to stay at the Grand Hotel. Both The Woman from Italy and the Distant Prince are coming to Night Vale as part of this meeting of the gods I've been organizing for Dale.

The promise I made to Dale during my time behind the sky in his Cleansing Grove was that I would use my status as the voice of Night Vale to call upon all of the gods to help stop the End Times, which Dale foretells.

Now, I don't know many gods. Several months back, my friend Jalen put together a spreadsheet of all the gods in the world. But this is just their true names, not emails or phone numbers. I was able to track down a few through their representatives and agencies. Shiva was the only one who got back to me, but he didn't really reply to my request for a meeting. He just sent me an autographed picture of himself with a note that read "Thanks for being an awesome fan!"

I've mostly been reaching out to the gods of Night Vale. I'm not sure what makes someone a god, or a titan, or a demigod, or just a supernatural entity, but better safe than sorry.

The Faceless Old Woman said she would attend a meeting. So did the son of the Glow Cloud. Even Susan Willman said she would attend, since she is now the god Huntokar. I'm actually not even sure if Susan is still alive inside the body that looks like her, though her physical form is still in town, buying groceries, taking golf lessons on the weekends, and working her regular job as a realtor.

There's also the Smiling God, which, fine, I guess. And the angels, all named Erika, who are at least messengers of a god. Also I invited the City Council who aren't a god themselves, but they have to at least be a creation of some kind of mean-spirited higher power. And if nothing else, I feel like we should have representatives from the city of Night Vale on hand. Hence, I also invited our town founder Tabitha Littlefield with the caveat that she cannot eat anyone at the meeting.

There are a few gods who don't live in town. Fortunately they will be able to stay at the Grand Night Vale Hotel!

The Woman from Italy arrives Tuesday night.
She lurks and lurches, her movement a sight
To cause dread and despair upon ashen faces.
No one is safe from the deadly path that she traces.

So bemoan, beware, belay all hope, and what’s more:
She'll be staying in the Governor's Suite on the top floor!

Oh and the Distant Prince will be coming to Night Vale as well. He'll maintain as much distance as possible, taking a room at the farthest end of the hotel's southern wing.

This meeting is going to be the most important event in our history, Night Vale. I'm so excited.

###

Speaking of the hotel, Pierre said he made some headway into understanding the Presence which can be felt and heard throughout. He said it's starting to come back to him. He remembers the sound of a young woman crying. It has always been there, in every incarnation of the hotel's history. There are also patches of heat throughout, sometimes a wretched smell, and even a sense that light bends around you. Nothing is ever quite as it seems in the Grand Night Vale Hotel.

Pierre compared it to the famous Stanley Kubrick film, The Shining, which is about some astronauts who are sent on a mission to the moon with the purpose of finally blowing that thing up. Only the astronauts discover that they were never actually sent to space. What they thought was the moon was really just a sound stage in Burbank. So those men escape and build their own rocket and fly to the moon themselves but then realize the moon is actually pretty nice and decide to live there.

Like that movie’s premise, the Grand Hotel creates a false reality, as if the visible world were only a veil covering an unthinkable past. Pierre said he remembered a young girl. He can see her in his mind, everything but her eyes. She's wearing a simple, humble dress, has curly hair, and she is dancing. No, not dancing, limping. And laughing. No not laughing, sobbing. Great heaving sobs. She is reaching for Pierre, and Pierre is too scared to move. He screams and she screams too, and all the lights go out. He is plunged into blackness yet he can feel hands grabbing his. Nails – nay, claws – piercing his skin, a humid, wheezing breath against his ears whispering [sinister] "You found me." And then a wicked laugh, and the smell, oh god it's vile, he says. Please stop! No more! No more!

And the girl was gone. He was alone in the dark foyer of the hotel. And so he found a candle to light his way. He lit several more.

The power to the hotel is completely out. No lights work. The breaker box isn't even on the wall in the control room. It is as if the hotel were plunged back into its own childhood in the 19th Century.

Pierre lit a candle for every room. He felt the Presence, but it was silent now. He wondered if perhaps the Presence was merely the hotel itself, and he was its caretaker. He would return the building to its original glory. Let the candles light the way he told himself over and over, this muttering mantra his inspiration to restore the natural order of each and every room.

And…

Oh! I just received a news alert that the Grand Night Vale Hotel is engulfed in flames. The Night Vale Fire Department is sending all engine and ladder companies to the scene immediately.

While they do that, let me send you to the weather.

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WEATHER

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I've got great news. The Grand Night Vale Hotel is no longer on fire. The bad news is that this is because the hotel has completely burned down.

Thankfully, no guests had yet arrived to stay at the hotel, and all of the hotel staff on hand today were accounted for with no reported injuries. Except for Pierre.

It is uncertain exactly what became of our concierge. Here’s what we know.

A firefighter found him in the middle of what was the Room of Flags, calmly playing Franz Liszt's magnum opus "Neun und Neunzig Luftballons." The firefighter tried to pull Pierre to safety but Pierre did not budge.

Pierre said to him: "I finally understand. For the Presence is not a dream. Nor is the Presence the Hotel itself. How can a hotel have a soul to lose? No, a building is a building. It is not life. It is not granted by any god, but constructed by man.

"The Presence I felt I have felt many times thence," Pierre continued. "And I will feel many times thenceforth. The Presence is the past. A memory. An old pain. The crying girl. She is. She was. No… she IS my sister. We were children, and we worked in the kitchen of the Grand Night Vale Hotel. But you know how children are. They are but a whim, an impulse, an innocence.

"One evening, we abandoned our task of washing the dishes in the restaurant to play a game of Hide and Seek, and oh, she was a master of hiding. And on this night I could not find her. But I could hear her. I searched and searched the halls and the empty rooms. I looked under tables, behind divans, inside cabinets.

"But then I smelled something. We all smelled something. Smoke. It was vulgar the way these urbane patrons of such a fine hotel behaved in that moment, like cattle, like cats, like snakes. Trampling the carpet, the furniture, each other. And even me. I heard the snap of my finger bones under handmade Italian leather shoes, but I felt no pain. I fought to stand, and I ran against the mob to find my sister. To save her. My last waking memory was two hands taking mine in the thick cloud of smoke. I felt her climb onto my back and whisper in my ear: [relieved] 'You found me. You found me.'

"'And I will never lose you again,' I said. And that was my last waking memory. I play this song because it was her favorite song. Everytime the hotel is rebuilt I cannot remember my sister until the flames return. Through this cycle we live forever, together, and in a sheet of fire I can see her face. I will see her face. I will. I will. I do. I see it now! She is here!"

At this point, Pierre rose from the piano bench and caught someone in a loving embrace. It was a woman with coifed gray hair and an elegant dress. And the two siblings held each other tight, tears welling in their eyes.

"Ummmm," said the firefighter, "So, do you need rescuing, or…"

"No we're good. We can only live in the flames, so we must enjoy our brief time together posthaste," Pierre said as he and his sister ran off hand in hand, laughing.

The fire department said that the blaze was caused by the fatal combination of way too many candles and a complete lack of a smoke detection system. A cursory look into the building’s certificates and permits, revealed that there were none. There was no record of any owner or company constructing or reconstructing this hotel. In fact, no paperwork exists at all throughout its nearly 150 year history. As if the hotel just built itself. And then destroyed itself. Over and over, one generation after another.

"Pretty dope, right?" said the fire chief. "Saves tax dollars not having to do all these inspections."

Stay tuned next for the breaking of ground of the newly restored Grand Night Vale Hotel.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

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PROVERB: 'Twas it brillig? 'Twas it really?