((Hello my beautiful listeners. This is the third part of the WTNV series. If you haven't read my previous...chapter? I'm not really sure what to call it. Anyways, here is the link, if you can't follow it the story is on my page. [The Phone Call|http://aminoapps.com/p/scayvv] )) ((To enjoy the story listening to the podcast please go to the link at the end if this,  and if it doesn't work, search it. Trust me. It works. https://soundcloud.com/nightvaleradio/25-one-year-later-1)) ((This is the last thing, I swear. It had occurred to me that some people are really normal and don't know what WTNV is. So I recommend clicking on this link to the official site [WTNV site|http://www.welcometonightvale.com/listen/] If that doesn't work, have a copy/pasted exerpt from the site:
[IC]Welcome to “Welcome to Night Vale”, a twice-monthly fiction podcast from the town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true.))

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A year has passed. The man in front of the microphone is one year older. The man that loves science is one year older. You are one year older.

How does that make you feel?

Do you still feel young?

Do you feel... Old?

You really shouldn't feel old, you have an eternity to feel old. Don't do it now.

Do you care that a year has passed?

Did you even notice the year had passed?

If you did. That's good, congratulations. You payed attention to what scientists call time.

However, if you didn't, congratulations. You realized that time doesn't exist.

To both parties, give yourself a pat on the back. You have both passed the test.

How has your life been this past year?

Was it good?

Was it sad?

Did your family dog die?

Did you realize that the family dog was actually your cousin Jeremy?

Did you have to put Jeremy down?

Did Jeremy turn out to be locked in the basement and you killed his twin?

Did you throw your cousin Kimberly down with Jeremy?

What about cousin Steven?

Josh?

Tyler?

Rhys?

What about Bex and Blake?

Neil, Cree, and Aj too?

Did you throw all of your family down there?

Are you afraid they'll starve?

That seems like a personal problem.

Are you excited for the upcoming year?

Are you afraid that Wednesday will be cancelled due to a scheduling error?

Don't worry, that's next Wednesday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man who sits in front of the mic was not doing that, he is actually currently in the lounge getting his morning coffee. Only god knows, and the few surviving, that Shiro needs his coffee in the morning. We do not want that incident to happen again. So the community radio station keeps coffee in stock. But that is besides the point. Shiro really should stop lounging in here, his show is about to go live. Shiro has begun to walk towards his radio chair. Though he is singing Video Killed The Radio Star. So... there's that random fact. Shiro plopped down into his chair and went through his cards, sipping his coffee slowly. He sighed and looked up at the 'On Air' sign,  which was off. Shiro smiled down at his cards, for no reason other than this was an anniversary of sorts. Of what? You may ask. To that I believe you will have to find out yourself. As the time passed Shiro got closer to the mic, begining to speak. "A friendly desert community where the sun is still hot, the moon still beautiful, and mysterious lights still pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep, " Shiro pauses for a moment, "Welcome to Night Vale." As the music plays Shiro takes another sip of his coffee, the last sip. "Word is in about a disturbance at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. There has been the sound of chanting and machinery from under the pin retrieval area of lane five, and Lotor has changed all the bowlers’ names on the electronic score cards to 'They Are Here!'" Shiro rolls his eyes, "This is causing some confusion, and has completely ruined Gyrgan’s 50th birthday party – which had rented out a few lanes for the afternoon. Gyrgan was last seen drinking a light beer out of a plastic cup, shaking his head sadly as he swished the liquid around, and looking out the window at the sky (mostly void, partially stars)." Shiro sighs, "Lotor was last seen howling, commanding his militia to surround the pin retrieval area and prepare for an attack." Shiro frowns and sighs once more, "And Matt – sweet Matt, brave Matt – was last seen approaching the entrance to the Underground City, saying he was going to get to the bottom of this, that someone had to, and that Lotor was deranged." Shiro looks up dramatially, "Lotor was then last seen saying, 'Oh yeah? Oh yeah? Say that to my face, big shot!' But Matthew, my poor Matthew, was already gone. I fear, Night Vale. I fear for what we know. I fear for what we don’t know. I fear for what we don’t yet know that we don’t know." Shiro backed away from the mic, unenthusiastically sharing the next bit, "The Apache Tracker,  Zarkon, stood outside of the bowling alley, glowering at the entrance and shaking his head. I remind you that this is the white guy who likes to dress in a cartoonish approximation of a Native American, and claims to have 'mystical powers.' He’s a real racist jerk, and no one likes him. And the fact that he recently disappeared and reappeared as an actual Native American changes nothing. And neither does the fact that he can now only speak Russian. He is still the same embarrassment to our town he always was. Anyway, he’s glowering at the entrance, arms crossed, wearing one of his stupid plastic feather headdresses." Shiro huffs but regains his enthusiasm, "But…back to Matt. Matthew the Scientist. Perfect of stature and bearing, perfect of tone and taut, and time having fixed what the barbarous barber Slav so treacherously snipped away, perfect of hair. One year. One year later. Listeners. Listeners! One single year since two major events in our town’s history, " Shiro sets his notecards down,  "One year. One year later. Listeners. Listeners! One single year since two major events in our town’s history. First, the opening of our lovely state-of-the-art Dog Park (which is forbidden, and which I will not mention again)." Shiro grins, "Second, and most important, it is one year since the arrival in Night Vale of our most beloved and singular citizen. He came to us to investigate our town. Because, he said, it was scientifically extraordinary, and downright bizarre. We had no idea what he was talking about, but with his golden voice ringing out from the bell of his mouth, who among us could argue with the content of such perfect speech? Oh, just one short year ago. I had arranged a small ceremony to mark this occasion, and invited Matt to attend. However, it looks like he will be…delayed. But I am not worried. I am not upset. I know that Matt will be here for the ceremony. I have the trophy here in my hand. I am holding the trophy and I am not upset. Matt will be here. He will. I am holding the trophy!" Shiro squeals like a teenage girl before resuming his composure, "In other news, a commercial airliner appeared today inside the home of surprised Night Vale citizen Nyma, who said she was about to get into the shower when it roared down her hallway and then disappeared, as suddenly as it had arrived. There is no conclusive evidence that this is the same airliner last seen in the Night Vale Elementary gym one year ago. But we have jumped to that conclusion and will defend it against all naysayers, violently and without mercy. Our truths may or may not be true, but they are ours, and we stand by them – even as the experts and skeptics hold aloft clipboards and intone to us about 'snow' and 'mountains.' Nyma added that she would like to take that shower now, and that she has no idea how we managed to arrive for an interview mere seconds after the incident occurred." Shiro looks down at the note cards, not exactly reading them, "'My doors are locked!' she said. 'My windows too! I’ve had my eyes shut for years! How did you get in here?'" Shiro rolls his eyes, almost saying, 'Foolish Nyma.' Instead Shiro says, "The local chapter of the NRA has begun market-testing some possible new slogans. These include: 'Guns don’t kill people, blood loss and organ damage does.' 'Guns don’t kill people, people kill guns.' 'A list of things that kill people: 1. Conceivably, anything 2. Not guns!' 'Guns don’t kill people, we are all immortal souls living temporarily in shelters of earth and meat.' And, 'If you say guns kill people one more time, I will shoot you with a gun, and you will, coincidentally, die.' To vote on the new slogan, simply fire a gun at the object or person that best represents your choice." Shiro grabs another card, "Parents, let’s talk about safety when taking your children to play out in the Scrublands and the Sand Wastes. All children in Night Vale are missing this week, so there’s no current safety issues. Hope we find ‘em!" Shiro looks down at the new note card his assistant handed him, "Oh happy day! I have just received word that Matt returned from the entrance to the city, gesturing to everyone around and asking them to follow him. He lead them into the pin retrieval area, which is not an easy place for a crowd, so there was a lot of crouching and saying 'Excuse me. Excuse me!' But soon enough, they were all arrayed on the clifftop, overlooking that dreaded subterranean metropolis. Lotor, and his militia, and the folks that had come for Gyrgan’s birthday, and Gyrgan himself – still holding his plastic cup of beer and leaning morosely against the wall, pointedly refusing to look where everyone else was, " Shiro flipped to the back of the note card, "This was the first time most of them had seen the city. It seemed so distant below them, its strange spires small and far away. The windows in the buildings, alight with the fire of hostile life, were tiny dots from where they stood. They could hear the footsteps of the approaching army, the chanting! Many of them quaked with fear, but not Matt. My brave Matt stepped out into the pit, climbing down the slope. At first, onlookers were horrified at his lunatic descent. Then, they were confused…as he got to the city much faster than they expected. And then, there was panic, as their eyes told them a story they could not understand, let alone believe. 'Behold,' said Matt, standing in the center of the Underground City, 'this is not an enormous city miles below the earth. It is a very small city about ten feet below the earth, populated by tiny people, who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the ten feet to our world!' He gestured at the spires, which came up, approximately, to his knees. 'We have nothing to fear!'" Shiro hands the note card back to his intern, "Well…if Matthew says it, I will happily repeat it. We have nothing to fear, and never did!" Shiro looks at one of the previously thrown down note cards, "The City Council would like to remind you about the tiered heavens and the hierarchy of Angels. The reminder is that you still should not know anything about this. The structure of Heaven and the Angelic organizational chart are still privileged information. Also, Angels aren’t real. 'I really get tired of having to say this!' a City Council representative said to a group of disgruntled Angels. 'Angels aren’t real They just aren’t!' The Angels became unruly, and were dispersed by a thunderclap from Heaven." Shiro covers his mouth for a second, "Oh… A truly fearful thing has happened, listeners. Matt, standing triumphantly in the toy-scaled city, was attacked by tiny people using projectiles and explosives. He fell back to the side of the small hole in the pin retrieval area of lane five, blood welled through his shirt, and here I am, stuck in my booth, useless, only able to narrate and not to help. He staggered, fell to his knees – so much blood! He collapsed completely. Curse this town, that saw Matt die. Curse me. Curse it all! Let us take a moment to– Let us…take this moment– Ladies and gentlemen, let us mourn the pass- Can’t. I can’t! I am still holding this trophy!  I– We go now to this puh– …pre-recorded public service announcement." As the pre-recorded announcement played Shiro got up and paced for a second, leaving, "Scientists, and science in general, would like to remind you that some things exist and some things do not. Usually you can apply the simple test of seeing if it is there. If it is there, it exists! If not, it probably doesn’t – but it might just be currently existing somewhere else! Existence is tricky, these scientists say. Research shows this. For instance, there is that house in the housing development of Desert Creek out back of the elementary school – the House that Doesn’t Exist. It seems like it exists, like it’s just right there when you look at it, and it’s between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it does not exist. They have proved this with science. The scientists still haven’t gotten up the nerve to ring the doorbell and find out what happens. Do you want to do it? They’ll pay you $5 if you do! 'Just ring it once, OK? We’ll be watching from back here. You’ll probably be fine.'" Shiro came back to the chair, after chugging an entire pot of spiked coffee, to deal with stress. "Ladies, gentlemen, how wonderful! Matt is not dead at all! It seems that the Apache Tracker ran in, crouching awkwardly through the pin retrieval area and shouting “Наконец, мое время пришло!” (1) He leapt into the pit, trailing his offensive feather headdress, and heaved Matt up in a mighty bear hug, carrying him out of the pit while being attacked viciously by the miniature citizens of the miniature city. Even Gyrgan, upset still about his ruined birthday party, couldn’t help but cheer as the formerly false, now real, Native American laid Matt safely on the linoleum floor. Lotor, who of course is also a licensed doctor – as all bowling alley owners are required to be – checked his wounds and indicated through a series of rhythmic hoots that Matt will be, in fact, OK! He’s OK!" Shiro sighs happily. "Never before in my career as a broadcaster have I gone through such a roller coaster of emotion and fear! To think, that I had lost that most precious thing to me, the presence of Matt in my life, and then to have it brought back, so that I could appreciate it all the more. Oh, Matt! All the words I would never have said to you! And the news that the city is in fact only a miniature city ten feet down…well, that was startling as well. But it appears that all is well! And so I say to you, with a heart singing its way from heavy to light, goodnight, Night Vale! Good– Oh no! I have just been handed a note." Shiro scanned over the note quickly, "Oh. This is not good news. Ladies and gentlemen, in his valiant rescue of our beloved Matt, the Apache Tracker was mortally wounded. He is bleeding profusely and it is getting all over his fake feather headdress, and he says that even his ancient Indian magics will not help him – which of course they won’t, because they’re not real, " Shiro stated blankly, "Listeners, how could I have been so wrong about this man? A racist embarrassment to our town? Maybe. A real jerk? Yes. But he also was a man with Night Vale’s best interests at heart, who worked closely with the Angels and the mysterious Man in the Tan Jacket to protect us from the miniature city under the bowling alley. And he, at the cost of his own life, saved Matt. Matt breathes and soon the Apache Tracker will not. Tell me nothing else, and still I will tell you: here is a good man. Here is a good man dying. Here it is, the end of a good man’s life. The Apache Tracker spoke, not in a hoarse whisper, but with a clear, ringing voice, addressing the sky hidden behind the styrofoam panels of the ceiling: 'Ладно, ладно. Я знал, это случится. Ты можешь взять мою машину.' (2)" Shiro read carefully, "He said this, and then he died. The Apache Tracker is dead, Lotor confirmed. Gyrgan is slumped into a folding chair, kicking his feet and saying, 'This is the worst birthday party anyone has ever had.' Goodnight, brave Tracker. Goodnight. I thought you were one thing and you were another. It is likely I will learn nothing from this, " Shiro sighed, not really caring about this news. At that moment his phones dinged, "Oh! Message on my phone…Matt wants to see me. He says to meet him at the Arby’s parking lot. Um… I am not sure what scientific exploration now needs the services of my radio audience, but I will dutifully go, dutifully meet him. And as I go, let us all go. Go now, to the weather." Shiro got up quickly as the music began to play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I arrived at the parking lot to find Matt perched on the trunk of his car in flannel and jeans, his perfect hair mussed, his perfect teeth hidden. 'What is it?' I said. 'Wha– what danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?' He shook his head. 'Nothing,' he said. 'After everything that happened…I just wanted to see you.' My heart leapt. My heart soared! My heart metaphorically performed a number of aerial activities and literally it began to beat hard. 'Oh?' I said, my voice more tremble than word. Matt looked at the setting sun. 'I used to think it was setting at the wrong time,' he said, 'but then I realized that time doesn’t work in Night Vale, and that none of the clocks are real. Sometimes things seem so strange, or malevolent, and then you find that, underneath, it was something else altogether. Something pure, and innocent.' 'I know what you mean,' I replied." Shiro smiles, lovingly, "Somewhere, the tiny people of the city below have arrived in Night Vale, and are beginning their war against us – having already shown themselves capable of murder. Somewhere, a Man in a Tan Jacket is whispering into the ears of our mayor, and we do not know what agenda they pursue. Somewhere, the body of the Apache Tracker lies cold and still, never to speak of ancient Indian magics again. This all happens somewhere else. But here, Carlos and I sat on the trunk of that car – his car – looking together at the lights up in the sky above the Arby’s…they were beautiful in the hushed twilight, shimmering in a night sky already coming alive with bits of the universe. One year later. One year since he arrived. He put his hand on my knee and said nothing. And I knew what he meant. I felt the same. I leaned my head on his shoulder. We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby’s. We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights – mostly void, partially stars? That sky reminds us we don’t understand even more, " Shiro paused, looking towards the door, "Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight." Shiro got, up grabbing his coat and leaving for a second time that day. But first he stopped to listen the the daily proverb.

Daily Proverb: Fun Game: Say “toy boat” over and over. Do it for the rest of your life. Retreat from society, and live on alms. Whisper “toy boat” as you die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Russian Translations:
(1) Finally, my time has come!
(2) It’s Fine, it’s fine. I knew this would happen. You can have my car.

As usual my art is done by the talented Umi.

Thank you for reading!

Good Night,  Night Vale,  Good Night.