Episode 2.02: Figures of Speech
Written and Produced by Rae Lundberg
Special Guest Performances:
Josh Lundberg as The Governor
Content Warnings (Click to expand)
Surgery/surgical torture, intrusive thoughts, chronic injury, death mention
NICHOLAS: (as the intro plays) At the edge of Gilt City, warnings are drowned out by radio static, and all await the arrival of the Night Post. [SOUNDS OF EVENING: CICADAS AND LIGHT RAIN. VAL CLIMBS UNSTEADILY INTO HER TRUCK, GROANING A LITTLE WITH THE EFFORT. SHE LETS OUT A LONG SIGH AS SHE CRANKS THE ENGINE.] VAL: Another night, another-- [AS THE TRUCK PULLS AWAY, VAL TUNES THE RADIO. A SECOND OF STATIC, AND--] ADVERTISEMENT: --the best in home security, keeping your family safe from this world and the next. [VAL GRUNTS AND CHANGES THE CHANNEL.] LILTING VOICE: --open to all who seek answers. As the first congregation of its kind in Gilt City, we stand poised-- VAL: (creeped out) Oh. [MORE STATIC AS VAL FINDS A NEW STATION.] REPORTER: --where The Governor Themself, Emeril Augustine, is delivering their prepared remarks. VAL: Damn, is there no music on the radio anymore? GOVERNOR: Good evening, dear citizens. It’s so lovely to see all of you. I’m so glad you could be here to chat with me, and the same goes to all you dear people watching or listening at home. (aside) Micah--ah, my note cards, please? Thank you. As you know, I love Gilt City like it were my own child. And like any proud parent, I can’t resist telling everyone about my child’s newest milestones and accomplishments. Our beloved city is yet in its adolescence, but we’re preparing to enter a very exciting growth spurt. My advisors and I have been hard at work on a series of new initiatives that will secure Gilt City’s place as an industrial, technological, and cultural leader for the modern era. Let me tell you about it. VAL: (dry) By all means. GOVERNOR: You may have already seen some construction teams at work around town. In fact, just behind me, some of our expert technicians are making upgrades to the cell tower that supports all the civic buildings and businesses here in Gilt Square. Say hello, guys! Ah. Thank goodness for them. This is all part of our big push to modernize our telecommunications infrastructure. Ours is a fast-moving city, and we need to speed up with it. This means faster and more reliable internet and cell service for everyone. No more waiting at internet cafes or hunting down a pay phone to call your grandmother. If you live in the city, you should be living in the twenty-first century. Hm? Save your questions until the end, please. We’re also investing heavily in our physical infrastructure. More roads, more housing and commercial space, more parking and public transport. Now, don’t worry, your duplex isn’t about to be divided in four. As I said, Gilt City is growing, stretching its limbs. A proposal currently under review by the city council aims to redraw our borders and give us room to expand. This is great news for some of you living outside the city limits--as we incorporate more territory in the Skelter, you’ll reap the benefits of all these amenities and improvements. Of course, we can’t create a modern metropolis without a commitment to our future. That’s why a major part of this initiative is the construction of several new state-of-the-art schools, in underserved districts that will be incorporated under the proposal. A preliminary committee has already approved a mandate which would require all residents within city jurisdiction to enroll their children in public school. Now, I know that local hedge schools have been a part of life for many of you. In fact, I used to attend a hedge school run by my uncle Terry. Eight or ten of us neighborhood kids would gather around the fire pit in his backyard with our notebooks in our laps, while Terry would sip on a home-brewed ale and try to teach us what he remembered of geometry. Uh, sorry, folks, my assistant is giving me that look he does when I veer off topic. The point is, we’re so grateful to the dedicated amateur teachers who stepped up to fill the gaps in our education system, but it’s time that every child receives the same opportunity to learn, according to the same city-mandated curriculum. More on that in the coming weeks. Heh, just full of questions today, aren’t we? Hang with me, we’ll get there. All of these extraordinary projects require a lot of brains and a lot of hands to make them a reality. The entire initiative will be bolstered by an expansion of the Public Works Department, under the skilled leadership of Urban Strategist Alexandra Block. VAL: (darkly) Oh, I’m sure. GOVERNOR: Strategist Block was unable to join me today, as she’s busy ironing out the details of all these big ideas, but that gives me an opportunity to brag on her. For nearly a decade, Alexandra has worked fervently for the safety and wellbeing of her beloved city and its inhabitants. The fruits of her sacrifices, though often unsung, have been shared by everyone assembled here, and her clarity of vision will guide us as we take the next steps. With Strategist Block in the lead, our dedicated Public Works agents will be responsible for ensuring that outlying districts are safe for incorporation and that city ordinances regarding spiritual observance and incident reporting are followed. In addition, our friends at the PWD will be onsite everywhere we break new ground, troubleshooting those little hiccups that inevitably arise in every necessary endeavor. It’s all hands on deck for this, so if you’re an exacting, civic-minded individual with a passion for code enforcement, you may have a future in Public Works! What could be better than a stable, fulfilling position on the front lines of our fight to make Gilt City more wonderful for all? The benefits aren’t too shabby, either. Let me tell you, at our summer ice cream socials, there are more flavors than you can--oops, there’s Micah with that look again. I’d better-- [THE RADIO CUTS OUT AS VAL PARKS AND KILLS THE ENGINE.] [VAL MAKES A NOISE OF SURPRISE WHEN SHE OPENS THE TRUCK DOOR. NICHOLAS IS STANDING THERE.] NICHOLAS: Valencia! It’s good to see you. Feels like it’s been forever, right? VAL: Nick. (pause) Uh, no thanks. I’ve got it. NICHOLAS: Thanks for coming in early this evening. Clementine and Milo are inside. [VAL CLIMBS GINGERLY OUT OF THE TRUCK, AND THEY WALK TOGETHER.] NICHOLAS: You’re going to love the new station. I have my own office now. VAL: No kidding. With its own door and everything? NICHOLAS: (pleased) Mm-hm. VAL: I can’t wait to slam it the next time I storm out. You know, shut it so hard I crack the wood and yell, “The system sucks!” NICHOLAS: I’d expect nothing less. [THEY STOP FOR A MOMENT OUTSIDE THE DOOR. NICK HESITATES.] NICHOLAS: So much is changing, it’s a comfort to see familiar faces. I’m glad you came back. VAL: What do you mean, “came back?” Where else would I be? (pause) Nick, where else would I be? NICHOLAS: Station 89, maybe? [THERE’S AN AWKWARD, ALMOST HOSTILE SILENCE BETWEEN THEM.] VAL: Who told you-- VAL: (in a breathy, echoey voice, as though in her thoughts) In my dream I lie prone, the surface beneath me cold and unforgiving. The light in the sky is so bright it seems to bleed beyond the edges of my vision. VAL: What...what did you say? NICHOLAS: I--just...I thought you would be at Station-- VAL: N-no, after that. NICHOLAS: Um… VAL: Forget it. Let’s just go inside. [A BUZZER RINGS AS THEY PUSH THROUGH THE DOOR.] VAL: That’s going to get annoying. NICHOLAS: Yeah, for me, who’s actually here during customer hours. Look at the new space, though. Having the carts on this side will be way more efficient for... VAL: (thought-voice, overlapping) White-robed giants tower above me, encircling me like wagons around my flame. From behind their masks, I feel their searching eyes, searing eyes, slicing-- CLEMENTINE: Look who it is. MILO: Is that Val Torres? VAL: Wh… I-- CLEMENTINE: You’re not just visiting, are you? MILO: We didn’t think you’d be here. You know, since you… VAL: Uh, hey, guys. You can say it. He knows. (under her breath) Somehow. CLEMENTINE: So you’re not transferring? VAL: Apparently not. My request kept going “missing” in the post. I sent it three times. Finally I just hand-delivered it to head office, and it came back the next day, denied. No explanation, not even a signature. MILO: Do you think it was the-- VAL: (tired) I don’t know. CLEMENTINE: However it happened, we’re glad you’re here. VAL: Thanks, I guess. VAL: (thought-voice) At first, I think they’re all holding pens. Brilliant steel fountain pens, glinting confidently in the sterile sunlight as they’re raised aloft. But when the giants point the pens at me, they’re brandishing the wrong ends, and the reflected light becomes sinister, sharp. MILO: Are you okay? (pause) Val? VAL: Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m great. CLEMENTINE: How’s your leg? And the PT, that’s going well? VAL: Oh, yeah. Better than well. Won’t be long before I’m good as new. MILO: Really? VAL: Sure. I mean, chicks love scars, right? They don’t have to know it’s from surgery. CLEMENTINE: Oh. Because your letter said-- VAL: Yeah, uh, we can stop talking about me now. What about you, Nick? How’s your break from 103 been? NICHOLAS: Not much of a break, actually. Hopefully we’ll have time to catch up more later, but now that we’re all here, we should go over some of the new and upcoming changes to our day-to-day. MILO: I don’t love the sound of that. NICHOLAS: It’s nothing too onerous, just some needed updates to administrative and budgetary policies. First, we’ve got to run a tighter schedule. I know the nights getting longer makes it feel like you’ve got a little extra time, but everyone needs to be finished by four. Just keep an eye on your watches. Val, if you find it’s taking you longer to run your route, we may need to adjust… VAL: (thought-voice) The scalpels are cold-hot-cold on my skin. Meeting little resistance, they dive, drilling red oil. They draw a cross on my chest, the center of a compass rose, blossoming. The layers of me curl and lift away. NICHOLAS: Sound fair? (pause) Okay. Next, new procedures for incident reporting. If you encounter or experience anything on the job that “cannot be identified or explained through conventional means,” you have to log it and submit the form directly to me before the end of your shift. Ideally, you would come back to the station immediately after the event to file your report. MILO: (dry) While still making sure we don’t run late. NICHOLAS: Well, yes. Just use your discretion. The important thing is getting them to me before you leave, so I can compile my own report for head office. CLEMENTINE: Have you always had to send nightly reports? NICHOLAS: The Urban Strategist wants more organization and oversight of Post stations, particularly out here where we haven’t had much support in the past. It means more responsibility for the postmasters, but I look at it as an opportunity to prove myself. VAL: What else are you reporting to her scheming highness? NICHOLAS: Don’t be paranoid, Val. We’ve always answered to the Governor’s Office. Now there’s just a more consistent system in place. VAL: (mocking) “Don’t be paranoid, Val.” CLEMENTINE: I’m starting to think maybe paranoia isn’t such a bad look for pigeons. MILO: Is it paranoia if you’ve already survived an attempted assassination? NICHOLAS: I understand your concerns, but I would never share information that might endanger any of you. MILO: As far as you know. NICHOLAS: ...Right. Let’s move on. Lastly, and this one’s been a long time coming, we have to be more accountable for the station’s assets. That means no using Night Post property--including the trucks--for personal business. VAL: Uh, respectfully--get fucked. NICHOLAS: I’m sorry? VAL: Don’t give me that look like you’re surprised. You know I don’t have a car. And right now, all of my paycheck that doesn’t go straight to rent I have to spend on painkillers and hospital debt. NICHOLAS: I, uh...I didn’t realize you were-- CLEMENTINE: I don’t have a truck anymore, remember? When will I be issued a new one? NICHOLAS: I’m actually not sure about that. Uh, I think-- MILO: They really want to preach about Night Post property after what they did to us? What they did to Ashley? What about the station’s human assets? NICHOLAS: I never saw these letters you all say you got from the Urban Strategist. The Governor’s Office assures me that they had no part in the accidents that occurred that night, and that they would never seek to harm city employees. MILO: (angry disbelief) Accidents? VAL: Great, so long as they’ve assured you. So glad we can rely on your support when your boss tries to kill us. CLEMENTINE: Hold on, none of that was Nick’s fault. MILO: No, he’s just choosing to be complicit. NICHOLAS: I do support you all, I’m just not in a position to fix this. It would take a lot to convince people that our city government would act against its own postal service, and without proof-- CLEMENTINE: To convince “people,” or to convince you? MILO: Oh, sorry, I didn’t think to grab the letter while I was trying to escape the building collapse that killed my friend. VAL: And now we’re doubly screwed, because they’re giving that woman more lackeys and more power. CLEMENTINE: Wait, what’s this? VAL: The Governor’s got a whole plan for Public Works in the Skelter, headed by you-know-who. Heard it on the radio on the way here. Knowing how Augustine likes to talk, they’re probably still going. NICHOLAS: Here, why don’t we turn it on? Maybe it’ll clear some things up for us. MILO: Seems unlikely. NICHOLAS: (tuning the radio) Um, what’s-- VAL: 1300. The Mark. [A BIT OF TUNING STATIC BEFORE THE GOVERNOR’S VOICE COMES THROUGH.] GOVERNOR: --got a very special committee looking into that right now, don’t you worry. All right, next? Yes, you in front. [THE SHOUTS OF REPORTERS CLAMORING TO BE HEARD.] REPORTER: What impact will the new telecom upgrades have on the Night Post? NICHOLAS: Here we go. MILO: Hm. GOVERNOR: I’m glad you asked. The Night Post is a long-standing institution here in Gilt City, and every one of us should be grateful for our couriers’ hard work and sacrifices. I know I am. It can’t be easy delivering mail in the dark, right? That being said, we need to reevaluate the role of some of our traditions as we engineer our city’s future. Certainly, we won’t need to rely so much on traditional modes of communication once our digital systems are brought up to date. The Post has been a topic of particular interest for Strategist Block for some time now, and already we’ve begun identifying places where we might trim the fat, so to speak. Nothing drastic has been decided yet, but I can definitely see us reaching a point in the next few years where the Night Post becomes obsolete. [COMMOTION FROM THE PRESS SECTION, LOUDER THAN BEFORE. THE SHOUTS BLEND INTO THE DISTORTION OF VAL’S INNER VOICE.] VAL: (thought-voice) Gloved hands, precise but not gentle, hollow me piece by piece. Once I am taken apart, the fragments of me arranged on the table like a cannibalistic rummage sale, the giants appear momentarily stupefied. Their eyes buzz around the circle, mouths move vaguely behind masks. Then the figure at my feet nods, and they all leap forward in a flurry of white robes and latex fingers. There is no system, no precision as they reassemble me, no restraint as my component parts are stacked and pressed and forced back into approximate place. They shovel my insides, hand over hand, back through the opening they created. With coarse thread, they close the gate. Once done, they stand slump-shouldered and panting, wiping damp foreheads with gore-spattered smocks. They lean forward like a wave, as if of one mind, and draw down their masks to display crack-lipped smiles. Their voices dig and scrape at my ears. (multiple layered voices) Are you okay yet? Are you okay yet? Are you okay? Are you-- CLEMENTINE: Are you okay? VAL: (pained, breathing hard) Stop...asking me that! All I ever hear anymore is, “You all right? Does it hurt right now? Do you need to sit down? Are you okay?” CLEMENTINE: I’m sorry. I-- VAL: And the answer is pretty fucking obvious! Milo’s husband is gone, you would have burned to death if not for the clone that’s stalking you, and every time I look down in this place--it’s stupid, but for a second I’m convinced that the floor’s about to fall away, and there’s just...nothing underneath. CLEMENTINE: We could talk about it, if you want. VAL: That’s just it though, it doesn’t matter. Everyone knows we’re not okay, and all they have to say is, “must be hard delivering mail in the dark,” or “my boss says you’re all full of shit,” so-- NICHOLAS: (interrupting) Wait a minute-- VAL: I’d rather just get on with it until the next bad thing happens, like I’ve always done. (quieter) Guess I’d better get a head start. [VAL GETS UP AND CROSSES THE ROOM, ONE FOOTSTEP HEAVIER THAN THE OTHER. SHE GRUNTS AS SHE THROWS HER WEIGHT AGAINST THE MAIL CART.] MILO: Can I-- VAL: Don’t you dare. [A LONG SILENCE AS VAL WHEELS THE CART OUT THE BACK DOORS.] NICHOLAS: You know I don’t really think that-- CLEMENTINE: (standing) I should go after her. MILO: This meeting’s over, right? NICHOLAS: Yeah. Yeah, it’s over. (pause) Good luck out there. 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 a morning shock jock, and tell them about The Night Post. Promo for Khôra: [MEDEA’S THEME ON VIOLIN] MEDEA: My name is Medea. I am of the planet Colchis. It’s embarrassing that I didn’t realize up until now that I’ve been captured by... MEDEA: Atalanta? ATALANTA: I was the last remaining crew member aboard the Argo, and it’s been a while. You’re the only person who has any idea where the Fleece is. MEDEA: You’re... looking for the Fleece? ATALANTA: Something as powerful as that is dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands. Best for a hero like me to find it before anything bad happens, y’know? [ARGO’S ALARMS BLARING, SHIP CREAKING] ECHO: Critical systems failures detected. MEDEA: That doesn’t sound good. ATALANTA: Oh, you think?! MEDEA: --Firing now! [ARGO’S GUN SHOOTS] [CROWD ROARS] ATALANTA: You call that a parry? [CHIMERA SCREECHES] ECHO: Present dangers include: the chimera must be very close to our projected flight trajectory. ATALANTA: Medusa, focus! MEDUSA: I can’t focus! There’s a giant monster out there! [MINOTAUR BELLOWS MECHANICALLY] MEDEA: Atalanta? ATALANTA: What? MEDEA: Don’t get yourself killed. [METAL CRASHING] [MUSIC ENDS] TALESPINNER: Khora. K-H-O-R-A. Now available wherever you listen to your podcasts.