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Clearly Fictional

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Carlos admits, a little sheepishly, that the first time he heard Cecil on the radio, he thought that the day’s news was some sort of War of the Worlds-esque dramatization. Cecil doesn’t know what he means, and Carlos has an urge to be surprised: how could anyone in Cecil’s line of work not know about The War of the Worlds? But this is Night Vale, and Carlos can’t afford to be surprised by everything that should surprise him.

He tracks down an old copy of the broadcast on cassette tape (it should be freely available online, but the site has been blocked by the Sheriff’s Secret Police). Cecil listens to it intently, and admires how calmly Orson Welles handled the situation. Carlos pauses—Cecil does understand that this is a work of fiction, doesn’t he?

Well yes, now that Carlos mentions it—that is to say, of course. Not very realistic, is it, the way that Welles can describe the otherworldly visitors in such detail? Or, in fact, remember the events at all? And everyone knows that creatures like that don’t come from Mars. How could they, when Mars probably doesn’t even exist?

Again, Carlos can’t quite bring himself to be surprised. He reassures Cecil of the red planet’s existence and Cecil hastily adds that it was very well done, he almost believed it was real, and that Orson Welles certainly has a very nice voice, doesn’t he?

He does, Carlos admits (because he’d be lying if he disagreed) and then he adds, “almost as nice as yours.”