Episode 1.11: History Repeats
Written & Produced by Tyler Anderson
Content Warnings (Click to expand)
Death mentions
NICHOLAS: (as the intro plays) At the edge of Gilt City, new and old stories alike unfold, and all await the arrival of the Night Post. [A DIAL TONE, THEN A PHONE DIALING. IT RINGS THREE TIMES.] MILO: Come on, Agi. I know you’re there. [THE PHONE BEEPS AS MILO HANGS UP.] MILO: Okay, guess I’ll try your home line. [DIALING AGAIN, BUT NO ONE ANSWERS.] MILO: (huffs) Hmm…I could always swing by the shop. It’s been a while. [MILO DIALS AGAIN. THIS TIME, THE PHONE RINGS TWICE BEFORE VAL PICKS UP. STATIC DRONES IN THE BACKGROUND OF THEIR CALL.] MILO: Hey, Val, it’s Milo. VAL: Oh, hey. Something wrong? MILO: I’m…not sure. VAL: That sounded convincing. CLEMENTINE: (faintly) Who is it? MILO: Oh, so Clementine is at your place, then. Good! VAL: Yeah, one second. Let me put it on speaker. MILO: I’ve told you both about my old boss, Agi, right? VAL: Uh, I think so. From the bookshop? MILO: Yeah. Well, I haven’t been able to get a hold of her. She’s hardly ever at home, but I tried that line too, and...nothing. CLEMENTINE: When did you talk last? MILO: The day before I came to the Post. I called to tell her that I’d need to take an, uh…extended leave, I guess. VAL: Extended, permanent, same thing. MILO: We talked about Ashley for a bit, and when I told her I’d have to start at the Post, she… CLEMENTINE: She what? MILO: Agi told me not to trust y’all. CLEMENTINE: Rude, but understandable. MILO: Well, not you two exactly--just the Post in general. I think she mentioned something else, but...I can’t really think of what it was right now. Anyways, the phone cut out not long after that. I’d planned on swinging by her shop way before now, but… VAL: The new job, the haunted arboretum, whatever that fog thing was about, the-- MILO: Yeah, all of that. I don’t mind going to the shop alone, but I’d prefer not to, all things considered. Are y’all free? VAL: I was kind of looking forward to not spending my day off investigating mysterious disappearances. CLEMENTINE: Don’t worry, we’ll meet you there. What’s the address? [THE PHONE STATIC FADES OUT AND IS REPLACED BY STREET NOISES.] MILO: Hey. Welcome to “Agatha’s Bookstore,” home away from home, and all that. CLEMENTINE: I can’t believe I’ve never been here. The whole “quaint, dusty bookstore” aesthetic is kind of my vibe. VAL: I can believe it. Not exactly a high-traffic area, is it? MILO: Just means the rent is cheap and she could afford to hire a bit of help. Most of the inventory is stationery and the popular stuff that she can shift quickly--nothing fancy, but it keeps the lights on, most days. CLEMENTINE: And what about when it doesn’t? MILO: Well, once or twice a month she’ll find something a bit more…collectible? Old manuscripts, journals, letters--things like that. Those must sell for a decent amount, I imagine. VAL: Maybe a few of the undeliverables at the station are worth something. CLEMENTINE: Please, don’t get any ideas. VAL: Too late. MILO: Can’t really say for sure, though. I was usually on the sales floor or moving boxes. Agi dealt with the rarer items herself. CLEMENTINE: And you were never curious? MILO: (chuckles) Of course I was. But I was more of a “have fun doing my job” kind of assistant. As long as I got my work done and didn’t burn the place down, she let me have free reign in the front. VAL: Well, I doubt she’s making much money today. The place looks closed. CLEMENTINE: What gave it away: that all the lights are off, or the “closed” sign? MILO: (to himself) But she never closes on Saturdays. CLEMENTINE: It would explain why she didn’t answer when you called. MILO: But not why she didn’t answer her home line. VAL: Agatha is old, not dead. Chances are she’s just out and about, maybe spending some of that secret document cash. MILO: Doubtful. Agi doesn’t get out much. She’s either here or at home. But it doesn’t look like she’s been here in a few days, at least. CLEMENTINE: Why do you say that? MILO: The dust on the window display. I usually took care of keeping things clean, which was a full time job of its own. It’s wild how much dust and dirt accumulates in old buildings like this. And if I wasn’t here to do it, she’d at least try to. CLEMENTINE: Even the “closed” sign is looking a little dingy. VAL: Should we try swinging by her place, then? MILO: Maybe…wait, did you two see that? VAL: See what? MILO: Look, in the very back. There’s a light on now, in the storeroom. Could be coming from the office back there. CLEMENTINE: Oh, you’re right! It definitely wasn’t on a second ago. [LIGHT FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT TRAIL AWAY.] MILO: Where are you going, Val? VAL: Um, to the back door? MILO: Why? VAL: To get inside, obviously. It’s safe to assume that’s not Agatha sneaking around, and the little bell will give us away if we come in through the front. MILO: Huh. A surprisingly good call. [MORE FOOTSTEPS AS THE OTHERS FOLLOW VAL TO THE BACK.] MILO: Shhh. (hushed) The backdoor leads right into the storeroom and the office is to the left. There’s not much room inside, so we’ll probably run into whoever it is. [KEYS JINGLE AND THE METAL DOOR SQUEALS LOUDLY AS IT OPENS.] CLEMENTINE: There goes the element of surprise. [THE FOOTSTEPS HEAD INSIDE, AND THE STREET SOUNDS FADE AWAY.] MILO: (whispers) So it was the office light I saw. Over there, behind that shelf. VAL: You don’t have to whisper. Whoever it was heard the door. MILO: Oh, uh, right. (calling out) Agi, are you here? [THEY WAIT, BUT NO ANSWER COMES.] CLEMENTINE: Not ominous at all. Who wants to check the office? MILO: Maybe we all can? VAL: Lead the way, mister manager. MILO: I was just an assistant. Hey, hand me that broom, Clementine. You know, just in case. [A WOODEN DOOR OPENS WITH A SHUDDERING CREAK.] MILO: Agi? You in? [A LIGHT BULB BUZZES OVERHEAD.] MILO: Aaaand, nothing. VAL: (huffs) Lame. CLEMENTINE: It’s very much not lame. I’d take the ghost light over literally anything else it could have been. VAL: Maybe they went back out the front door? MILO: If they did, it definitely wasn’t Agi. She still gets around for someone her age, but not that quick. CLEMENTINE: I’ll go check the lock in the front. [PAPER RUSTLING, AS OF SOMEONE SEARCHING THROUGH DOCUMENTS.] VAL: Any ideas? MILO: None. And I can’t tell if anything’s missing, either. VAL: I mean, how could you? Not exactly neat, is she? MILO: Ha, you should have seen the place before I came on. Even managed to tame the storeroom, and that took months. Never got around to tackling all this, though. VAL: If anyone did sneak in here, I highly doubt they would’ve found what they were looking for. MILO: True… CLEMENTINE: (returning) The front is still locked up. Find anything? MILO: Nothing that would give away who was in here. CLEMENTINE: If anyone. It is an old building. Maybe the light has a short in it. MILO: It’s possible. Agi never complained about it, though, if so. And no way she could get up there and change it herself. (drawer being tugged) What are you doing, Val? VAL: Found a locked drawer in the desk--thought we could take a peek. MILO: I do not second that. If Agi has something locked up, it’s for a good reason. Look, I’m sorry I drug y’all out here for nothing. CLEMENTINE: Maybe she’s out visiting someone, or-- VAL: (opening drawer) Got it. MILO: Please don’t tell me you broke it open. VAL: Of course not. I have more respect for other people’s belongings than that. I just picked the lock. CLEMENTINE: With what, exactly? VAL: A couple of paperclips from under the desk. MILO: Look, just close it up and I’ll try her home line again. You two are probably right anyway. It was a short in the switch, and Agi is out and I’ve been worried for nothing. VAL: (shuffling papers) So you don’t want to know what’s in this drawer, then? MILO: It’s probably personal documents that we don’t need to mess with. CLEMENTINE: Um, well, what if they were personal documents with your name on them? MILO: My name? CLEMENTINE: Yeah. Here, take a look. All tied up with a little card that says “Milo.” MILO: Hmm. It kind of looks like Agi’s handwriting. VAL: Going to open it? MILO: It does have my name on it, I guess. [OLD PAPER CRINKLES AS MILO UNFOLDS IT.] VAL: Looks like some old journals. MILO: Yeah, really old. And some letters, too. CLEMENTINE: And she never mentioned anything about these? MILO: Well no…wait, yeah…maybe? Last time we talked, Agi said she had something I might find a use for. This could be what she meant. VAL: A lot of it looks older than all three of us--maybe even combined. MILO: I’m kind of afraid to rifle through it all. Half the pages look ready to fall apart. VAL: I accept thanks in the form of food, by the way. MILO: Mark that down as an IOU. VAL: Oh, I will. CLEMENTINE: Are you going to take all this with you? MILO: I don’t know. Obviously it was meant for me, but not sure how any of it would actually be useful. CLEMENTINE: Well, I’m not in a hurry. We could just...skim through it all, just in case. MILO: You want to read the ominous documents? That’s a first. VAL: Guess I’m rubbing off on you. CLEMENTINE: The difference is, I’m not breaking open sealed envelopes. And these clearly have Milo’s name on them. VAL: Well, just to be safe… hand me a few of the letters, Milo--those are my favorite. ‘ CLEMENTINE: I’ll take the journals off the top. MILO: Alrighty, class is in session. VAL: Better than whatever we would’ve gotten into tonight, I’m sure. CLEMENTINE: Maybe. [A TICKING CLOCK AND THE HUM OF OVERHEAD LIGHTING FADE OUT AND BACK IN.] VAL: These definitely aren’t nothing. These four are about a “Prime City”... it sounds familiar, but I don’t know why. MILO: Same here. CLEMENTINE: These all mentioned a “Prime City,” too. Listen to this bit: [TENSE, OMINOUS MUSIC RISES IN THE BACKGROUND.] CLEMENTINE: (reading) It has become clear that Prime City is likely in its last days. The Night Post continues to function as best it can, but any movement beyond the outer limits of the city is dangerous, to say the least. Melvin Thompson, a confidant of immeasurable value, went missing while completing his delivery route last week. No effort has been made to recover him. Of course, Melvin is just one of many disappearances--and likely far from the last. The Council recently imposed a citywide curfew at sundown in hopes of curbing citizen contact with the Other. The measure has proven effective so far. However, if surviving records are to be trusted, it’s only a matter of time before the twilight hours become as dangerous for normal folk as it is for-- [THE MUSIC FADES, AND WE CAN HEAR THE DRONING LIGHTS AGAIN.] CLEMENTINE: And, I can’t make out the rest of it, honestly. MILO: I’ll try to piece together the rest of it later. You find anything, Val? VAL: Nothing too out of the ordinary for us. There’s some stuff about the Post, a few pigeons I’ve never heard of, and possibly a murder? “Prime City” and “the Other” come up a lot too. MILO: Why Agi would want me to have all of these is--oh. CLEMENTINE: What’s wrong? MILO: One sec… (sighs) VAL: Well? MILO: This we do know about. Where does it start…okay, here. [IN THE BACKGROUND, ECHOING, DISTORTED ORGAN MUSIC RISES] MILO: (reading) My Lovely Davina, The knocking I mentioned last we spoke? I now hear it every day. What terrible entity has chosen me to suffer such a despondent existence, I cannot say. All I know--day in and out, dawn to dusk, sunset to sunrise--is that damn knocking. Knock, knock, knock. Then, a brief silence before it comes again: knock, knock, knock. Sometimes that’s the end of it for hours, sometimes a few minutes. Then: knock, knock, knock. I’ve given up on finding peace or escape from this incessant evil. There are periods of time--sometimes in stretches of up to several hours--in which I can dwell in relative peace. Peace as it relates to lack of noise, but not peace of mind, heart, or soul. When I dare open my door to escape into the outside world, I can almost pretend I’ve simply imagined it all. However, once I return home, it resumes unabated. It’s maddening, Davina. When it starts, I’ll go to the door, but hear nothing from the other side. When I find the courage to use the peephole or check a nearby window, there is simply… nothing. No one and nothing each and every time. But the moment I step away from the door, it resumes. Over and over and over. And, most damning of all, I’ve long thought I was the only one who could hear it; though that may not be the truth of it after all. I’ve mentioned these episodes to one other person, save yourself: our friend Markus. Last he visited, I broached the subject, expecting him to laugh away my maniacal imaginings. A stress-induced hallucination of sorts, likely brought on by the innumerable tasks assigned to me by the Council. Instead, the conversation fell away to silence. He seemed…perturbed. When I repeated myself, he responded with only this: “And what does it ask of you?” I asked what “it” was, and he became even more distant, whispering: “Do you hear them?” I assured him I’d heard nothing but that infernal knocking. That was that, it seems. Quickly, he drew his cloak and scarf about him and made for the door, apologizing for the abruptness of his departure under his breath. He stood with his back to me at the door, grasping the crystalline knob in a gloved hand, seemingly frozen. Markus then turned to me after a moment and uttered the last words I believe I’ll ever hear him say: “Don’t answer it.” And then he was gone. I’ve yet to reach out to him after that meeting nearly a month ago now, and frankly, I’m a touch scared of broaching the subject again. And, perhaps, I’m afraid that any correspondence is likely to go unanswered. That this maddening phenomenon is not affecting only myself provides me some solace, however ill-fated it may be. I do not know what else to say. In more normal times, I would request your companionship here in the city, but traveling has become increasingly dangerous. I hope that whatever mania has gripped myself--and the city at large--passes quickly. Please stay safe, my dearest Davina, and may we reunite when my heart is less troubled. Yours truly, Beirut Darringer [THE DRONE OF THE OFFICE RETURNS ONCE AGAIN.] CLEMENTINE: Is this what it’s been like, Milo? MILO: Not exactly. It’s only ever happened at home once. And there were no voices then. VAL: But then again at the arboretum, and the night before we found you out in the woods. MILO: That was the only time I’d heard any voices, though. CLEMENTINE: Why was she saving all this for you? MILO: I…don’t know. But she has to know something we don’t. VAL: Try calling her again. Maybe she’s home by now. MILO: Worth a try. (paper shuffling) I think it’s under here somewhere. (a load of papers falls to the floor) Oops. Yeah, here it is. [MILO CALLS AGAIN, AND THIS TIME AGI ANSWERS.] AGI: Hello? Hello? MILO: Agi! You’re home. It’s Milo. AGI: Of course it is. No one else calls much these days. MILO: Are you alright? AGI: Well, I’ve felt like shit the past two weeks, to be quite honest with you. Why? Milo: I couldn’t get ahold of you on the phone, so I came by the shop. It didn't look like you'd been in for a bit. AGI: I thought now was as good a time as any for a bit of time away from work. No one wants to shop with an old woman hacking and moaning away. MILO: That’s fair enough. Um, last time I called, you mentioned that you might have something for me, possibly about the Post or Ashley. Did you ever find it? AGI: I….hm, I’m sorry, Milo…I don’t quite remember. Was there something in particular you wanted to know? MILO: Well, no, I guess not. Are you sure you’re okay, Agi? AGI: I’m okay as a sick, old woman in her seventies can be, I suppose. Don’t worry too much about me. I’ve been in worse shape. MILO: If you say so. Just get some rest and I’ll be sure to come visit soon, okay? AGI: Oh, Milo, that sounds lovely. MILO: I’ll see you soon. AGI: Stay safe, Milo, okay? MILO: I’ll try, Agi. (hangs up) VAL: Seems like she’s losing it a bit. MILO: I’m not so sure. CLEMENTINE: Should you take all this by and ask Agatha about it? MILO: Not yet. Maybe she has forgotten our last phone call, or maybe she wasn’t the one that left it here. I don’t want to drag her into all this any more than I have to, you know? All this has something to do with Ashley and the Post…but what? NICHOLAS: (as the outro plays) Thank you for joining us on tonight's route. You can find the couriers of Station 103 at nightpostpod.com or on Twitter @nightpostpod. If you're satisfied with your postal service, please rate and review us. Send a letter to your long-lost twin, and tell them about The Night Post.