Dec 16, 2018
Let Strex security take Yvonne away. I have plans for her.
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Let Strex security take Yvonne away. I have plans for her.
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My suit for tonight!
Help put up some decorations by yelling at interns to put them up faster
Kevin got drunk and lost his phone. He will not be posting photos today. :(
He went with the black tie.
My telepresence bot is standing there like nothing is wrong. It's easy, when apparently all that's showing on the screen instead of my face is a lighthouse anyway. I'm glad I, my real I, is in the desert where I can text without glancing furtively over my shoulder.
Something is wrong. I think the Night Valeans have been drugged, perhaps by something in the food or Kool-Aid. Perhaps in the alcohol, but this is not the sort of drunk madness that accompanies alcohol. People are changing their very personalities and minds. Cecil is among them. They have been getting progressively more and more confused, compliant, and religiously fanatical as the evening has progressed. People who were previously stand-offish are now dancing in great ritualistic chanting circles with their Desert Bluffs counterparts. They have lost all sense of self and what made them Night Valean. Nobody seems to be aware of this but me.
If anyone is reading this, please, send help. Cecil, if you read this, please… get out. Just get out. I see you through my webcam, removing your shirt and smearing blue mud on your belly, drumming that Strex-brand drum while Desert Bluffs re-educators smear conductive gel on your temples. I tried to reach you from my telepresence robot, but you pushed me away, insulted when I refused to shout praises to the smiling god. I try calling and texting and snap chatting, but you do not answer. I post this now in desperate hope that you at least check tumblr before you are re-educated. Please, Cecil, forget this smiling god, forget productivity, forget deadlines, forget the StrexCorp Masquerade, and run. Run back to the place where I may someday be, so I can imagine that you are closer to being in my protective arms there than you are here, Cecil, just run.
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My telepresence robot has been standing in a corner by the vegetable platters for the last hour. Cecil has been ignoring me, but hey, on the plus side, he's socializing a lot with the Desert Bluffers. Look at him having animated conversations, making friends… oh, they're chanting now. I'm glad he's found a social group he can do activities with. Sometimes I worry he gets too lonely waiting for me to return from the desert. I need to hurry up and post this; it looks like a whole lot of people are getting together to chant now. Night Vale and Desert Bluffs are really getting along!
Steve Carlsberg has brought home-baked scones to pass out. Cecil snubs him accordingly.
Cecil and I just arrived at the Masquerade. Well, at least Cecil did, with my telepresence bot in tow. From what my webcam shows me, the venue is gorgeous. High gold ceilings, crystal chandeliers, gourmet hor d'eourves, live music, and costumes putting my plain metal frame to shame. Though I of course cannot smell anything from the desert, Cecil tells me there is also an enchanting aroma of vanilla in the air.