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Cecil's (other) Cassette
[The following was made the week after Homura and Ike's deaths, after the music room was unlocked.
It is recorded on a self-erasing cassette, sorry.]
Hope's Peak? Am I doing this right?
This is Cecil. Um...Cecil Gershwin Palmer. If you are listening, then I am most likely already dead. I do not know if more will die after me, or if I will be the last, but as of this recording, Tran, Miriam, Saki, Hanaekoma, Homura, and Ike have all fallen to the terrible trap laid to us by Monobear.
First off: there will be a watch on my desk. I was going to let Homura have it before her death; you can decide amongst yourselves now who gets it. It was a gift from my Carlos.
I'm sorry, for so much.
There were times when I thought about murdering one of you. There were times when I thought about murdering so many of you, and about how easy it would be for some, and for others, how uneasy I would make myself.
...only, I never would do that. I would never willingly let myself become a part of the headmaster's game; I would never take what chance another human being--or, well, any other sapient person--had to survive when we all had so much at stake.
You are all so, so beautiful, and I am glad. Glad that, out of all the infinite accidents in the universe, you were still able to exist.
Is that not beautiful, Hope's Peak? To know that you were deemed worthy of existence? That you have survived everything up until this point?
...
I will keep this short. I can't say whether any of you will ever find my boyfriend Carlos, or my niece Janice, or Tamika Flynn, or anyone else in Night Vale. I can't say, even, if any of you will do me the honor of watching Strex burn.
But there is someone out there who is still, possibly, within your grasp.
There is a woman. She is not in Night Vale, or even the desert that cradles our little town, or the forbidden dog park where only hooded figures and their attendant staticky hums lurk.
She is somewhere else, wandering the desolate roads and rocky wastelands, leading a masked army of giants, with her only connection to Night Vale a phone that, even after all these months, is still working. She is young, but in her travels she has grown and accumulated wisdom as vast and unknowable as the distant cliffs of the universe.
If any of you ever meet my former intern Dana Cardinal--and she is somewhere in this dense yet fragile web of universes--tell her what happened. Tell her that I am sorry that I couldn't escape, and that I hope everyone--after destroying Strex and escaping this wretched murder-hive of a school, of course--can live their lives unchained and unafraid for as long as they can. Perhaps, even...that I hope Carlos can still find someone else to live his life with, if he has not lost hope.
Tell her, too, that she has always been important.
I have no doubts that more of us will die. That more of us will fall into despair and desperation and drive ourselves to murder. But hear this: we are all slowly dying. We are all impermanent, and everything the headmaster does is just an unnecessary reminder of the fact.
So, use that impermanence well.
And, well.
Goodbye, everyone.
Goodbye.
It is recorded on a self-erasing cassette, sorry.]
Hope's Peak? Am I doing this right?
This is Cecil. Um...Cecil Gershwin Palmer. If you are listening, then I am most likely already dead. I do not know if more will die after me, or if I will be the last, but as of this recording, Tran, Miriam, Saki, Hanaekoma, Homura, and Ike have all fallen to the terrible trap laid to us by Monobear.
First off: there will be a watch on my desk. I was going to let Homura have it before her death; you can decide amongst yourselves now who gets it. It was a gift from my Carlos.
I'm sorry, for so much.
There were times when I thought about murdering one of you. There were times when I thought about murdering so many of you, and about how easy it would be for some, and for others, how uneasy I would make myself.
...only, I never would do that. I would never willingly let myself become a part of the headmaster's game; I would never take what chance another human being--or, well, any other sapient person--had to survive when we all had so much at stake.
You are all so, so beautiful, and I am glad. Glad that, out of all the infinite accidents in the universe, you were still able to exist.
Is that not beautiful, Hope's Peak? To know that you were deemed worthy of existence? That you have survived everything up until this point?
...
I will keep this short. I can't say whether any of you will ever find my boyfriend Carlos, or my niece Janice, or Tamika Flynn, or anyone else in Night Vale. I can't say, even, if any of you will do me the honor of watching Strex burn.
But there is someone out there who is still, possibly, within your grasp.
There is a woman. She is not in Night Vale, or even the desert that cradles our little town, or the forbidden dog park where only hooded figures and their attendant staticky hums lurk.
She is somewhere else, wandering the desolate roads and rocky wastelands, leading a masked army of giants, with her only connection to Night Vale a phone that, even after all these months, is still working. She is young, but in her travels she has grown and accumulated wisdom as vast and unknowable as the distant cliffs of the universe.
If any of you ever meet my former intern Dana Cardinal--and she is somewhere in this dense yet fragile web of universes--tell her what happened. Tell her that I am sorry that I couldn't escape, and that I hope everyone--after destroying Strex and escaping this wretched murder-hive of a school, of course--can live their lives unchained and unafraid for as long as they can. Perhaps, even...that I hope Carlos can still find someone else to live his life with, if he has not lost hope.
Tell her, too, that she has always been important.
I have no doubts that more of us will die. That more of us will fall into despair and desperation and drive ourselves to murder. But hear this: we are all slowly dying. We are all impermanent, and everything the headmaster does is just an unnecessary reminder of the fact.
So, use that impermanence well.
And, well.
Goodbye, everyone.
Goodbye.