Episode 2.15: Contract Negotiation
Written and Produced by Rae Lundberg
Content Warnings (Click to expand)
Character death, screaming
NICHOLAS: (as the intro plays) At the edge of Gilt City, life by any other name would cut as deep, and all await-- [NICK AND THE INTRO MUSIC ARE CUT SHORT AS THE OFFICE DOOR OPENS.] VAL: Nick? CLEMENTINE: Are you alone in here? NICHOLAS: Uh... MILO: Who were you talking to? NICHOLAS: No one, I was just-- VAL: Sitting in the dark, staring at the wall and talking to yourself? NICHOLAS: I was, er...thinking about something. Meditating, in a way. MILO: Man, being Postmaster sounds so relaxing. NICHOLAS: I assure you, it isn’t. Can I help you three with something? CLEMENTINE: We’re just dropping off our end-of-night reports. NICHOLAS: There’s a tray outside my door for that. MILO: Yeah, well-- VAL: You were in here being weird, so-- CLEMENTINE: Anyway, here they are. MILO: No hungry houses or rude ghosties tonight. NICHOLAS: Good. Keep out of trouble. VAL: Come on, Nick. Don’t we always? NICHOLAS: (dry) Right. (pause) Hurry home now, pigeons. MILO: (closes door) Did Nicholas seem...off to you guys? CLEMENTINE: Do you think he suspects? VAL: Doubt it. And anyway, he can’t stop us. Let’s get gone. [LIGHT TRAFFIC NOISES AND ANIMAL SOUNDS OF EARLY MORNING.] VAL: So, a hundred paces...is that normal people paces? Because The Stranger’s, like, seven feet tall. MILO: It has to be in this little garden area somewhere. I never even noticed this was back here. CLEMENTINE: I don’t think we’re allowed in. VAL: No shit. Need a boost? CLEMENTINE: I can do it. (grunt, fence rattles) VAL: Look at you go, noodle-arms. MILO: I’m good too, thanks for asking. [ALL THREE GRUNTING AS THEY PULL THEMSELVES OVER THE FENCE, LANDING IN TALL GRASS.] VAL: I still don’t see anything. CLEMENTINE: It’s strange that they’d let it get this overgrown. Most of Gilt Square is so...sterile. MILO: Maybe it’s intentional. They could uncover the elevator when they need it, then let the vines hide it again. VAL: So how do we find it? Controlled burn? Uncontrolled burn? MILO: I...I could try something. [MILO DRAWS AND LETS OUT A LONG, SLOW BREATH. A SOFT WIND RISES, RUSTLING THE GRASS.] VAL: What is he-- CLEMENTINE: Shh. [THE WIND RISES HIGHER AS VINES TWIST AND RETREAT. BRANCHES AND ROOTS CREAK AND DRAW BACK, REVEALING THE ELEVATOR.] VAL: Holy shit. CLEMENTINE: How did you do that? MILO: I don’t know, really. I just kind of...reached out to the plants, and they showed me. (pause) I felt...no, nevermind. Let’s just go. [MILO PRESSES THE CALL BUTTON, AND THE DOORS OPEN WITH A SQUEAK.] VAL: I was half-hoping The Stranger was messing with us. No elevator, no deal, you know? CLEMENTINE: But here it is. (exhale) Only one option: down. [THE BUTTON IS PRESSED, DOORS CLOSE, AND THE ELEVATOR SLOWLY DESCENDS.] MILO: What if Block’s deal is legit, too? That she can nullify our contracts? CLEMENTINE: In exchange for being her spies? VAL: I’d rather be a spy for a while than a pigeon forever. MILO: It’s strange to think we could walk out of this free...or not at all. (pause) Come on, how far down does this thing go? CLEMENTINE: “To the heart of the tower, in the chest of the earth.” VAL: Can it get there any faster? Feels like my heart’s punching out of my own chest. CLEMENTINE: (softly) We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. [THE ELEVATOR REACHES THE BOTTOM AND SQUEALS OPEN. CLEMENTINE DRAWS A SHARP BREATH.] [THEIR FOOTSTEPS ECHO IN A LARGE ROOM. THE LOW, STEADY PULSE OF A MACHINE IS HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.] VAL: What is all this? MILO: This tech looks old. Reminds me of my first PC. VAL: Your first PC took up a whole room and had dozens of tubes connected to vats of mysterious liquid? MILO: Well, no, but-- CLEMENTINE: No other way out, and no sign of life. I guess Alexandra is out? VAL: Maybe, maybe that’s good for us. We can-- [THE STRATEGIST’S VOICE COMES THROUGH A SPEAKER, GRAINY AND DISTORTED. SHE SPEAKS SLOWLY AND DELIBERATELY, AS THOUGH WITH GREAT EFFORT.] STRATEGIST: I’ve been waiting for you, children. VAL: What the fuck-- CLEMENTINE: (overlapping) Where-- MILO: She’s...she’s in the-- STRATEGIST: Is my appearance shocking to you? You see why I handle most of my business through a proxy. MILO: The business of manipulating and trying to kill us? STRATEGIST: Among other things. You’ll be relieved to know that I’m through trying to terminate you three. VAL: Sure, we’ll just take your word on that. STRATEGIST: When I attacked your station, I thought I was nipping a potential threat in the bud. But I see now that my approach was far too heavy-handed. CLEMENTINE: But we weren’t a threat. We barely knew who you were. STRATEGIST: The Other doesn’t pick favorites without reason. You didn’t realize when your connection to it began to deepen, but I did. Station 103 is at the center of a catastrophe decades in the making. You weren’t the first. Neither was Ashley. MILO: Ashley...that’s why you took him? Because he was changing? And I...I didn’t notice anything was different. STRATEGIST: The process is gradual. Subtle. A pigeon might go through the motions, entirely unaware of the Other’s hold, until it decides to yank your leash. (pause) That’s how it was for me. I didn’t know how completely it owned me, until it pulled me back from the grave eight years ago. CLEMENTINE: Then you’re--you were a pigeon, too? STRATEGIST: I still am. It’s not a vocation that one decides to leave. MILO: We knew the Post was part of your office, but this doesn’t make sense. STRATEGIST: The proof is before you. All this old tech and mysterious liquid, as you call it. These machines are the only thing standing between me and the death I’ve earned for abandoning my duties. VAL: I can’t believe it. You’re a defector. You quit the Post and got away. MILO: If you call this getting away. CLEMENTINE: Is this the reward you were offering? The way out of our contracts? STRATEGIST: The only way out is death. My inventions can stave off the final unraveling of body and mind, but I wouldn’t wish this existence on anyone. CLEMENTINE: You’ve been like this for eight years? Are-are you...are you in pain? VAL: Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Eight years...you’re from 103 too, aren’t you? (a pause, the Strategist doesn’t reply) Nick’s letter said they never learned what happened to the previous postmaster, how...how she died. Maya. STRATEGIST: Whether it was an accident, or something more purposeful, doesn’t really matter. The Other wasn’t finished with me. As I lay in the damp earth of the Skelter, the plants stemmed my bleeding, and the vermin knit my wounds. The land used its decomposers to rebuild and revive me. CLEMENTINE: That’s amazing. STRATEGIST: It was agony. And it awoke me to the reality of my servitude: without the Other’s permission, I was not even allowed to die. MILO: Then are we...I don’t know, immortal, too? STRATEGIST: As long as you serve a purpose to the enemy, I expect you will be very difficult to harm. And it clearly has plans for you. For all my resources, even I couldn’t kill what the Other is determined to keep alive. VAL: No, no, this is...you talk like the Other is some kind of puppet master, and we’re just its oblivious, mail-carrying marionettes. STRATEGIST: A terrible thing to face, isn’t it? So you understand why I chose this path--I may be trapped within these walls, but compared to you, I am free. MILO: We may not be free, exactly, but the Other doesn’t control us. We came here of our own free will. STRATEGIST: Did you? Who directed you here? CLEMENTINE: The Stranger… STRATEGIST: That’s right. A spirit and one of my own agents. I’ll admit that using Ms. Prescott was an, ah… inelegant tactic, but I’m satisfied with the results. CLEMENTINE: You bitch. VAL: It doesn’t matter how we got here. We came to...to-- STRATEGIST: You came to hear what I must tell you, so shut up and listen. You believe that you’re indentured to the city, that you work for me, so of course you can’t understand why I would oppose the Post. But consider: there are plenty of candidates who don’t fear the Skelter and are more than desperate enough to take the job, so why would Gilt City conscript its couriers? The answer: we don’t. VAL: Right, because I’m doing this for fun and personal growth. MILO: Can we cut the call-and-response bullshit and get to the point? STRATEGIST: The Night Post predates Gilt City, predates any surviving record of this place and its settlers. Neither I nor The Governor Themself has any hold over the Post. The Other selects its own tools and binds them to service; all the city does is create paperwork after the fact to give the impression that we are in control. VAL: This can’t be...you’re, you’re lying, this is all some intricate plan to manipulate us. I mean, that’s what you do, isn’t it? You-- CLEMENTINE: It makes a certain kind of sense. When we went on strike, it was the Other that retaliated, not the city. MILO: Even given what I’ve seen, this seems a little too fantastical to be true. Why would some supernatural entity control people just to make them deliver mail? STRATEGIST: Don’t you remember the letter I sent you? Messages are power, and the routes you follow are as ancient as the earth you walk upon. The Post extends the Other’s influence throughout the Skelter, gives it inroads to the city. If the Other is a body, you are its red blood cells, just as vital and just as incognizant to the big picture. MILO: This metaphor doesn’t explain what the Other actually is. STRATEGIST: Even I don’t know that for certain. If we could identify it, do you think we’d be calling it the Other? I know it’s not of this world, and that it poses a grave danger to humanity. It destroyed Prime City, and I believe, many more before that whose names were lost to time. CLEMENTINE: So you want to destroy the Post because you believe pigeons are...what, harbingers of the end times? VAL: It sounds even more ridiculous when she says it. MILO: Even if this is all true--and that’s a big fucking if--it doesn’t give you the right to do what you’ve done. Ashley was innocent, he didn’t ask for any of this. STRATEGIST: Ashley Wilder was unlucky, as are we all. I gave him a chance to work with me, to try and save our bright city, but he refused. With all that he’d learned, I couldn’t let him go back to his little station, but he proved quite useful as a test subject. MILO: No, no… VAL: Steady, Milo. MILO: She can’t get away with this. STRATEGIST: Children, you must realize, this is so much more important than any one of us. I brought you here because I want you to understand. The information I fed you through Ms. Prescott, when I defunded your station and tried to split you up, all of that was meant to help you discover the true nature of the Other and empower you to defy it. VAL: So, all my denied transfer requests-- STRATEGIST: No, that wasn’t me. Apparently the enemy has some interest in keeping you all together at 103. Another indication that we must act quickly. Emeril was adamant that we use a softer touch, but we can’t wager the fate of our city against the governor’s reelection chances. CLEMENTINE: Augustine’s initiative--extending city limits, expanding digital communication--this...this is all about fighting the Other. STRATEGIST: Emeril is determined to handle this without revealing anything to the public. They want to keep the illusion intact. The rumor I dispersed about terminating contracts was intended to, ah... quietly identify any potential defectors to our cause. CLEMENTINE: I...almost feel bad for Will. STRATEGIST: But it’s too late for the subtle approach. Paranormal incidents have been on the rise for years, and more and more pigeons are exhibiting worrying symptoms. It’s time for the couriers of the Post to stand up to the Other before they become weapons turned against their own people. VAL: You and your cloak-and-dagger club kept all of this hidden. How can we organize against something most people don’t even know exists? STRATEGIST: You are correct, Valencia. The people must be informed. With or without the governor’s support, I intend to reveal the truth and declare the Night Post an enemy of Gilt City. VAL: What? But-- MILO: Most folks around here already see the Post as the enemy, or at least are suspicious of us. If you tell them pigeons are agents of some ancient evil trying to destroy the city-- CLEMENTINE: It will end in blood. STRATEGIST: It began in blood. The important thing is that it ends. CLEMENTINE: There has to be another option besides turning everyone against innocent pigeons. STRATEGIST: Collateral damage is guaranteed. Some couriers may be killed or forced out of Gilt City. But we cannot save what the Other has already poisoned. By excising this tumor, we will preserve the whole. MILO: And you think it’s justified, right? STRATEGIST: I know it’s a hard truth to come up against, Milo, but you, me, and all the other pigeons--we’re already done for. It was over for us from the moment we were chosen. Either we fight back now, or we’re sacrificed as pawns later. VAL: She’s right. CLEMENTINE: Val? VAL: There’s no other way out of this. We can’t just keep doing our jobs, knowing we’re helping bring everything down around us. MILO: Well, we can’t just keep doing our jobs and waiting to be torn apart by an angry mob, either! You remember those protesters when the new station opened? How do you think they’ll react to all this? VAL: We can’t control how anyone reacts. But the rest of the Post deserves to know what they’ve been pulled into. What’s been done to them. CLEMENTINE: According to Block, this began before Gilt City was even founded, but we’re still here. What she’s proposing will do more damage than the Other has in all of this time. VAL: You’re so predictable. You think the Skelter is all sunshine and roses, full of nice, peaceful spirits who just want to help us. CLEMENTINE: That is not true-- VAL: Milo, you agree with me, right? After what Ashley went through, we have to make that mean something. We have to fight the thing that took him away. MILO: She took him away. And Ashley wouldn’t want to be the reason anyone else got hurt. VAL: You’re unbelievable, both of you. We finally have answers, real answers, and you want to keep them to yourselves. CLEMENTINE: At least for now, until we can verify any of this. We need to take some time to think before we blindly follow the woman who’s been stringing us along this whole time. VAL: That--that makes sense. (exhale) All right. I’m with you. [BACKGROUND NOISES ARE REPLACED BY AN EERIE, MELANCHOLY BLEND OF PIANO AND STRINGS.] STRATEGIST: Disappointing. I tried so hard to open your eyes. Another failed experiment. VAL: You’re a shit scientist. Get used to it. STRATEGIST: (sigh) If you won’t turn from your misguided path, then I have no use for you. MILO: That’s it? We just...leave? STRATEGIST: You’re of no concern to me anymore. The route I must follow remains the same. CLEMENTINE: The information will get out regardless. We haven’t stopped anything. VAL: Unless…her propaganda machine has kept her secrets this long. She’s the only leak. MILO: These tubes don’t look too sturdy, do they? And without them... CLEMENTINE: Milo, that’s--you can’t mean-- MILO: I’m not saying I’m proud of the idea, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving. CLEMENTINE: That may be, but still-- VAL: Look, we already know the governor opposes her plan. We’ll just go to Augustine, let them deal with it. STRATEGIST: You three manage to impress and infuriate me in equal measure. You’ve clearly become very powerful pawns of the Other. Even your postmaster can’t keep you in check. (steady beep, as of a heart monitor) I’ll have to course correct. MILO: Wait, what about Nicholas-- STRATEGIST: Goodbye, pigeons. This is your last flight. [A LOW-FREQUENCY PULSE, FOLLOWED BY A PNEUMATIC HISS. A GROWING HUM AND CRACKLING ELECTRICITY AS THE MACHINES OVERLOAD. THE LIFE SUPPORT BEEP GETS FASTER AND FASTER UNTIL IT BECOMES A SINGLE, PIERCING NOTE.] MILO: It’s overloading! CLEMENTINE: Why would she-- VAL: She’s crazy! Just get to the elevator! CLEMENTINE: (repeatedly pressing button) It won’t open! [A SERIES OF EXPLOSIONS, AND A RUSH OF FLAME. FIRE SPREADS THROUGH THE ROOM.] VAL: Shit, fucking shit-- CLEMENTINE: There has to be another way. MILO: There isn’t, remember? CLEMENTINE: Well, look around! We have to find something-- [BLOCK’S VOICE IS HALTING, FORCED. HER LIFE SUPPORT IS SHUTTING DOWN.] STRATEGIST: I die on my own terms. Free! Do you hear me, you bastard? [AMID THE CHAOS, GHOSTLY WHISPERS RISE AND RESOLVE INTO WORDS. OVERLAPPING VOICES COME FROM ALL SIDES.] WHISPERS: This way. Here! Hurry! You can make it. Careful! Run, pigeons, run! CLEMENTINE: Come on! I-I think I see-- MILO: There’s some kind of panel here. How did you know? VAL: Just help me get it open. (straining) WHISPERS: We know you, Maya. We know you. We found you. STRATEGIST: No--no! Get out! [THE PANEL RIPS FREE OF THE WALL WITH A METALLIC CLATTER AS ANOTHER EXPLOSION SHAKES THE ROOM.] CLEMENTINE: We have to climb. MILO: We’re behind you. Go! [THEY HURRIEDLY ASCEND THE LADDER THROUGH A NARROW TUNNEL.] STRATEGIST: (muffled) You monsters! Get away from me! [ALEXANDRA SCREAMS, A MIXTURE OF FEAR AND RAGE. THE SPEAKER CARRYING HER VOICE GLITCHES AND CUTS OUT ENTIRELY.] VAL: (out of breath) This feels...even longer than the way down. MILO: Almost there. Keep going. [ALL THREE BREATHING HARD AS THEY REACH THE TOP OF THE LADDER. THE NOISE BELOW DIES AWAY AS THEY PUSH OPEN THE COVER AND CLIMB OUT.] CLEMENTINE: (catching her breath) We...we made it. [VAL GRUNTS AS SHE PUSHES THE MANHOLE COVER BACK IN PLACE.] VAL: And I’m pretty sure Block didn’t. MILO: Sun’s up. We should get out of here before anyone sees us. VAL: But where do we go from here? CLEMENTINE: My father used to say, “When you’re lost, point yourself toward the one thing you can rely on, and head for that.” MILO: I’ve got two, and they’re both right here. VAL: (laughs) You’re screwed. MILO: So you’ve been telling me since I joined. VAL: And clearly we were right. CLEMENTINE: Haven’t you heard? We’re kind of psychic. MILO: Do you see us catching a break in our near future? VAL: Define "break." CLEMENTINE: Pancakes and a hot shower, maybe. MILO: Hm. It's a start. NICHOLAS: (as the outro plays) Thank you for joining us on the last route of the season. Regular service will resume in 2022, but check your mailbox in the meantime for special deliveries. If you're satisfied with your postal service, please rate and review us. Send a letter to an ambitious civil servant, and tell them about The Night Post. Promo for Where the Stars Fell: [ED’S RECORDER CLICKS ON.] ED: (clears throat) This is routine update log number six for Dr. Edison Tucker concerning my research into the town of Jerusalem, Oregon and the existence of the supernatural, paranormal, mythological, and etcetera, etcetera, blah blah blah. Anyway. Since arriving, I’ve definitely encountered some stuff that could be classified under “weird-ass.” The other day I found what looked like claw marks in the vegetable patch wiring, and nobody in town will talk to me about the picnic area near Lincoln’s Farm. Although that could be because everybody thinks I’m one of those monster hunting idiots. Which I’m not, okay! I am an experienced professional who takes my work extremely seriously, and I am going to prove this if it’s the last thing I ever-- [LUCY’S VOICE COMES SCREECHING FROM THE KITCHEN.] LUCY: Eugh! Dr. Tucker! What have I told you about keeping samples in the fridge?! ED: Although to be honest, I think the biggest mystery on my hands is how I’m gonna survive living with Lucille Kensington, stuck-up extraordinaire. So if you guys don’t hear from me again? It wasn’t something in the woods that got me. (beat) Probably. V.O.: Where the Stars Fell. Streaming now wherever podcasts are found.