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Welcome to Night Vale is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. Fiscally responsible, financial geniuses, monetary magicians. These are the things people say about drivers who switch their car insurance to Progressive and save hundreds. Visit Progressive.com to see if you could save. Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates. Potential savings will vary. Not available in all states or situations. Hi there, this is Joseph again. I'm trying this again because the last time I uploaded this, there was a

a problem with the file and I didn't save the thing I used to make it. So I just have to start from scratch. So here I am, hello. What you're about to listen to is a preview of the Patreon-only bonus episode starring James Urbaniak as Leonard Burton that we released earlier this week on our Patreon. This is the first few minutes. If you want to hear the rest of it, you can go sign up for our Patreon by clicking the link in the show notes.

or just going to our website and clicking Patreon. It also is the way we are able to make this show. We can't make this show without it. Okay. Sorry about the problem with the file the last time. Thank you so much. Goodbye. June 30th, 1981. Hello. I don't know who will hear this, but it doesn't matter. This broadcast is about me speaking, not about you hearing.

Some creation is an act of self, rather than an outward-facing performance. I'm getting too theoretical. The Borderlands will do that to you. It's getting dark, and I can hear the noise of movement. I'll have to try to be quiet. I'm shutting off for now. Okay, I'm back. It's dawn and quiet again. I like the dawns. They're cold, but the sun doesn't make a big deal about rising. Sometimes I'll just sit on the porch all day.

Waiting for the night and for the noise to begin again. I wait longer and longer each sunset. Daring the night. But I always retreat inside. I'm a coward, after all. I don't know how far my radio waves go. Maybe some freak cosmic bounce will take them from this wasteland into the heart of civilization. I'd like that. Maybe I do want an audience after all. March 1st, 1984.

I'm getting used to being here, which makes my day-to-day easier, but I'm scared of the implications. Some things aren't meant to be gotten used to. Some things should horrify every time. The rock here is not of any kind I've ever seen before, and weirdly, I've seen a lot of rock. Just one of those things. Some people have book collections. Some people rate every movie they've ever seen in an effort to forget that they're going to die. I have examined a lot of rocks.

And this isn't any kind I've seen before. Why did it take me this many years to notice? A good question. Some days it feels like I've been here for a thousand years, but some days it feels like I only got here this afternoon. Time is unmoored. Or time has always been like this, and I was tricked for a little while into thinking it applied to me. The sky is bright green today. Smell of burning paper on the wind. January 1st, 1987.

The noises at night are getting louder. The silences during the day are getting quieter. At night there are creatures all around. I can't say what kind of creatures, because I always escape safely into my cabin. But they howl and screech. They scuttle and scamper. They invite terrifying imagining. An invitation I try desperately to refuse. I guess I should describe where I live, if living is quite the word. The cabin is exactly as it was when I first found it. A dusty smell inside.

with the faint ghost of long-ago cigarette smoke, a plaid couch with a mildewed quilt thrown over the back, an imprint on the couch that isn't quite human, probably a large dog who used to nap here, a boxy television that doesn't power on, a little kitchen that is completely empty of food, but it's okay as I am never hungry. The water in the faucet works, and sometimes I drink it, even though I am never thirsty. It tastes metallic, back of the palate pang of antique pipes.

There is a steep staircase. A third step from the bottom squeaks, and I tend to avoid it, even though there's no one to hear. No one during the day, that is. Upstairs is a small bedroom with a metal-framed twin bed, a blanket the same plat as the couch, tattered green curtains, an old-fashioned alarm clock that doesn't mark time anymore, a little bathroom with all of its fixtures removed. There's a bucket in there in case I need it, I guess, but I haven't. Not for all the time I've been here. And a porch.

Okay, and that's it. Yeah, if you want to listen to the rest, it's on our Patreon.

Sorry about the problem with the file before. Love you. Goodbye. Within the Wires is an immersive fiction podcast set in an alternate utopian dystopian timeline. Each 10 episode standalone season takes the form of found audio. Co-writers Jeffrey Cranor, that's me, and Janina Mathewson use relaxation cassettes or museum audio guides or a series of voicemails to plunge you into the world of Within the Wires.

It's a vibe, and it's a story you can piece together as you listen. Season 9 is out October 15, 2024. Subscribe to Within the Wires wherever you get your podcasts.