welcome to exo-k: nothing to fear but exo-m
Some AUs I Have Planned (But Will Never Write (Because Only givemehistory Wants Them)) #4:
Welcome to SM Town
take it away, cecilyeol.
Every day, we are making history. Every day, that history is becoming part of us. Soon it will bury us in the past, a past called irrelevance.
Welcome to SM Town.
Hello, listeners. Management has asked me to remind everyone that today is Trash Day and that participation in Trash Day is both encouraged and mandatory. The Town gift shop is still selling packs of Post-It notes for those who have yet to purchase theirs. Candidates for trashing will be lined up behind the Museum alley at four o'clock this afternoon. Remember, yellow note for those who still deserve another year, pink note for those who are optional, and pink note with a heart for those who you would like to see go to the Stage Beyond the Clouds. As always, notes are cumulative. After reviewing the vote from last year, Management is happy to announce that Jino and Moonkyu only need eight and three more hearts respectively! Do your part and keep our Town clean.
---
And now, the news.
Reports have been coming in that there is an eclipse sweeping in from the east. "Chanyeol," you might be saying, "how does an eclipse sweep in? Aren't eclipses just an event that happens?" To which I say, dear listeners, that anything worth happening is worth happening slowly. Excruciatingly, teeth-pullingly, pointlessly slowly.
Sehun - you know, the MMORPG farmer - said he stared at the incoming eclipse for a few hours this morning and went completely deaf as a result. When reminded that he was already hard of hearing, his expression remained exactly the same, and he did not respond. Joonmyun, the head of LSM's Secret Police, reassures us that Our Dear Leader has everything under control, and under no circumstances should we panic. He proceeded to turn paper-white and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He opened his mouth wide and from his throat came a ghastly voice bellowing, WE ARE ONE. WE ARE ONE. WE ARE ONE. He then ran out of the broadcasting room screaming silently.
Kyungsoo, the proprietor of the kimchi spaghetti shop on Main Street, says that hooded figures appeared in his shop today; says they are of varying heights and sizes and nationalities; says they inhaled multiple bowls of spaghetti and didn't clean up after themselves. According to Kyungsoo, the tallest of the hooded figures claimed they emerged from the shadow of the eclipse and were here to reveal the truth of the world. Another was said to have retorted rather sullenly that no, they didn't, they drove here, and he had the cramped legs to prove it, and was promptly pinched in the arm. Kyungsoo claims that one of the hooded figures had the face of an angel. At least, when he wasn't laughing.
A message from Our Dear Leader: if you see doubles, they are not your imagination. Repeat, they are not your imagination. They are very real. They are made of blood and sweat and tears and flesh. Your blood. Your sweat. Your tears. The harvesting is going just as planned, and soon your cooperation will not be necessary.
Exciting news from the SM Town chapter of the Boy Scouts. One of their members, Jung Yunho, has finally achieved all the necessary requirements to advance from the rank of Fear Scout to that final and most terrible ranks, Eternal Scout. The ceremony will take place at an unspecified time today, in a well-lit box in the basement of the Museum's main hall. All those who wish to attend the ceremony should bring a thermos of two parts adhesive mixed with three parts hot tea and contemplate the meaning of silence. Attendants should consider how close silence is to pure, unadulterated screaming, and how screaming looks exactly like the brightness of stage lights aimed at your face as you are slowly immortalized in the collective memory of thousands. Attendants are also reminded to keep their heads down.
Speaking of scouts, it's almost soccer season, and here at SM Town we're gearing up for our first major game against the Big Hit Scouts. I'm sure all of us remember the bitterness of last year, when the Big Hit Scouts complained to the Regional Soccer and Dress Code Authority that SM Town was buying votes for their victories. After a lengthy investigation into the allegations, the RSDCA announced last week that all students would be required to purchase off-season Urban Outfitters clothes, bandannas, and shoes with pointless straps. Furthermore, traffic cone orange jerseys would be the only outfits allowed at Homecoming.
An update on our hooded visitors. Kyungsoo has sent me multiple texts since we last spoke saying that there is more than meets the eye about the hooded visitors. Apparently they claim to be from another world where we are an idol band in Korea - wherever that is. According to our visitors, a rift opened up between our worlds, sucking the "Korean" half of the band into this world. They insist that we must go with them, because we are delaying their "comeback", and also this place is incredibly creepy and deranged, and Zitao has a low tolerance for this kind of thing, so the sooner we go back the better. Kyungsoo, I appreciate you keeping me and the listeners updated on the situation, but dude, were thirty text messages really necessary? You are blowing up my phone. Literally. It just exploded. Which was really awesome and I wanted to take a picture of it for you but then I remembered my phone just exploded, destroying the contents of your messages and thus my knowledge of what they said. Can you, uh, call me on the station phone to remind me of what you texted?
---
Let's go to a word from our sponsors.
Setting out on a project of self-discovery? Need help? Unfulfilled?
Having feelings? Uncomfortable feelings? Are they regret? Unfulfilled?
Is your life filled with meaningless moments, spiraling out into a vortex of emptiness? Does it threaten to consume you? Do you feel its teeth? Unfulfilled?
Is your body covered in a sheet of fragile skin? Is that skin even yours? How can you be sure? Unfulfilled?
Are you curious what lies inside you? What about other people? Have you ever wanted to slice that skin open and reveal the real you? Unfulfilled?
Whose thoughts are these? Whose thoughts are these? Unfulfilled?
Ever wondered if you're necessary? Have you convinced yourself that you are necessary just so you can keep going? Unfulfilled?
Have you ever reached out to touch someone's hand only to realize you can't, because you don't exist, and it is only other people who are real? Why is touch real? Can you depend on touch? Who can you depend on?
We can't help.
This message brought to you by Genie.
---
An update on our hooded visitors. Intern Jongin recently went to investigate the Winnebago near the car lot where our hooded visitors have taken up camp. He was gone for a few hours and came back a completely different person. Even though he looked, sounded, and even smelled exactly the same as Intern Jongin, I was not fooled. I knew that he had been replaced by a robot that was simply wearing Jongin's skin. To the parents of Intern Jongin, I regret to inform you that he died this afternoon, in pursuit of truth and community radio. He was a good intern. His true body is probably resting in the Winnebago out near the car lot, but if that is too much trouble, I would be happy to offer you the mottled body of his clone that is currently bleeding to death by my feet. I suggest asking the mortician to pry open its skull for the film reels inside before you bury it.
Shortly before its death, Intern Jongin's clone handed me a printout of an email. I contemplated throwing it away, as it was no doubt a ploy by Jongin's clone to mislead us all and live among us. But then I considered the possibility that that the email was from the real Jongin, and it was his last cry for help. So I blotted the blood off the printout and began to read it, only to realize it was-
-from Byun Baekhyun.
Now listen here, Byun Baekhyun. I am sick of you constantly hassling me and the community radio staff. This is the fifth time this week you have written in requesting we change our programming to 24/7 broadcasts of the nine-person women's college down the street. Not only is it invasive and possibly illegal, it's simply impractical. As SNSD does not allow men to enter its campus, how will I continue to broadcast the news if we move our studio there? I see from the subject line of your email that the solution is for me to cross-dress. But surely you remember the last time I attempted to cross-dress. Surely you remember...the horror that followed.
Dear listeners, life is too short to waste time reading emails from the Byun Baekhyuns of the world. In fact, here is a list of things you should waste your time doing instead.
Collecting underwear from strangers and selling it online. Arguing about plastic surgery and the validity thereof. Projecting your emotions on performers who have no choice but to pretend they like and understand you. Down-voting negative comments on online forums while flooding the same forums with all-caps proclamations of your love for "oppa." Convincing others that your interpretation of a manufactured facade is the "right one." Depending on the validation from nameless, faceless strangers online. Eating your feelings when you discover that your chosen one may, in fact, be less than flawless. Wishing happiness or terrible acts of self-harm and loathing on people you will never meet. Caring about strangers. Caring about yourself. Caring about anything. Caring.
---
And now, let's go to the phones.
---
Thank you for your calls, listeners. If we didn't get to your question today, please call back tomorrow, and I hope we will be able to talk then.
While I was taking your calls, I was also doing my own part to participate in Trash Day. My vote put Moonkyu in the lead, and it appears Jino might be safe for yet another year.
On my way back to the studio, I passed by the Winnebago out by the car lot. One of the hooded figures emerged and called my name. It was the tall one that had spoken to Kyungsoo first. He threw off his hood, revealing flawless golden hair and a perfect complexion. "Chanyeol," he said in his deep voice, "don't you recognize me?' I didn't. "It's me, Kris," he said. I don't know anyone named Kris, and told him so. "Damn," he said. "I was hoping that you, at least...."
He trailed off. We stood there, staring at each other. The silence was total. In truth, listeners, I felt as if I knew this Kris, as if I had dreamed him before, as if he was one of those pesky afterimages that the Town medical community always warns us about, as failure to treat these afterimages can result in blindness and masturbation. Listeners, it terrified me a little. My voice trembled as I demanded he tell me why he and the other hooded visitors were here. "Go back to where you came from!" I roared. "And take this eclipse with you!"
Kris just looked at me sadly. The eclipse was moving in more quickly now, draining the light from the sky. "If it was that simple," he said. "But I think we can't go back unless we're together. I think we're all stuck here until you remember where you're really from. Until you return to reality."
"How do you know this isn't reality?" I asked him. "What if your world was the lie, and this is where you're really from?"
He had no answer.
Soon, the darkness swallowed us both.
Somewhere, listeners, there is a mythical place called Korea, where Kris and I are members of an idol band. Somewhere, there are lights, and screaming fans, and schedules we must all follow. Somewhere, Our Dear Leader is simply our dear leader, and we are not always in fear of being replaced by clones, or robots, or robot clones. Somewhere, eclipses don't take the whole day. This all happens somewhere else.
But here, Kris and I stood in the car lot, looking out together at the haloed sun up in the sky. It was majestic in the blackening sky, blinding us both with its terrible, unyielding light. There is so much in the world that we don't understand. What we do understand is like that sliver of the sun, trying to claw its way out of the hole of darkness, and failing. Is it better to cling to the light or to succumb to the dark? I suppose we will never know.
And so, heavy with the unknowable, I say, good night, SM Town. Good night.
less a fic than a parody. apologies for the 120% debut-era jokes. apologies for the blatant copy of the superior welcome to night vale writing. apologies for you having to read this. apologies for me having nothing better to offer you. apologies for everything..
Welcome to SM Town
take it away, cecilyeol.
Every day, we are making history. Every day, that history is becoming part of us. Soon it will bury us in the past, a past called irrelevance.
Welcome to SM Town.
Hello, listeners. Management has asked me to remind everyone that today is Trash Day and that participation in Trash Day is both encouraged and mandatory. The Town gift shop is still selling packs of Post-It notes for those who have yet to purchase theirs. Candidates for trashing will be lined up behind the Museum alley at four o'clock this afternoon. Remember, yellow note for those who still deserve another year, pink note for those who are optional, and pink note with a heart for those who you would like to see go to the Stage Beyond the Clouds. As always, notes are cumulative. After reviewing the vote from last year, Management is happy to announce that Jino and Moonkyu only need eight and three more hearts respectively! Do your part and keep our Town clean.
---
And now, the news.
Reports have been coming in that there is an eclipse sweeping in from the east. "Chanyeol," you might be saying, "how does an eclipse sweep in? Aren't eclipses just an event that happens?" To which I say, dear listeners, that anything worth happening is worth happening slowly. Excruciatingly, teeth-pullingly, pointlessly slowly.
Sehun - you know, the MMORPG farmer - said he stared at the incoming eclipse for a few hours this morning and went completely deaf as a result. When reminded that he was already hard of hearing, his expression remained exactly the same, and he did not respond. Joonmyun, the head of LSM's Secret Police, reassures us that Our Dear Leader has everything under control, and under no circumstances should we panic. He proceeded to turn paper-white and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He opened his mouth wide and from his throat came a ghastly voice bellowing, WE ARE ONE. WE ARE ONE. WE ARE ONE. He then ran out of the broadcasting room screaming silently.
Kyungsoo, the proprietor of the kimchi spaghetti shop on Main Street, says that hooded figures appeared in his shop today; says they are of varying heights and sizes and nationalities; says they inhaled multiple bowls of spaghetti and didn't clean up after themselves. According to Kyungsoo, the tallest of the hooded figures claimed they emerged from the shadow of the eclipse and were here to reveal the truth of the world. Another was said to have retorted rather sullenly that no, they didn't, they drove here, and he had the cramped legs to prove it, and was promptly pinched in the arm. Kyungsoo claims that one of the hooded figures had the face of an angel. At least, when he wasn't laughing.
A message from Our Dear Leader: if you see doubles, they are not your imagination. Repeat, they are not your imagination. They are very real. They are made of blood and sweat and tears and flesh. Your blood. Your sweat. Your tears. The harvesting is going just as planned, and soon your cooperation will not be necessary.
Exciting news from the SM Town chapter of the Boy Scouts. One of their members, Jung Yunho, has finally achieved all the necessary requirements to advance from the rank of Fear Scout to that final and most terrible ranks, Eternal Scout. The ceremony will take place at an unspecified time today, in a well-lit box in the basement of the Museum's main hall. All those who wish to attend the ceremony should bring a thermos of two parts adhesive mixed with three parts hot tea and contemplate the meaning of silence. Attendants should consider how close silence is to pure, unadulterated screaming, and how screaming looks exactly like the brightness of stage lights aimed at your face as you are slowly immortalized in the collective memory of thousands. Attendants are also reminded to keep their heads down.
Speaking of scouts, it's almost soccer season, and here at SM Town we're gearing up for our first major game against the Big Hit Scouts. I'm sure all of us remember the bitterness of last year, when the Big Hit Scouts complained to the Regional Soccer and Dress Code Authority that SM Town was buying votes for their victories. After a lengthy investigation into the allegations, the RSDCA announced last week that all students would be required to purchase off-season Urban Outfitters clothes, bandannas, and shoes with pointless straps. Furthermore, traffic cone orange jerseys would be the only outfits allowed at Homecoming.
An update on our hooded visitors. Kyungsoo has sent me multiple texts since we last spoke saying that there is more than meets the eye about the hooded visitors. Apparently they claim to be from another world where we are an idol band in Korea - wherever that is. According to our visitors, a rift opened up between our worlds, sucking the "Korean" half of the band into this world. They insist that we must go with them, because we are delaying their "comeback", and also this place is incredibly creepy and deranged, and Zitao has a low tolerance for this kind of thing, so the sooner we go back the better. Kyungsoo, I appreciate you keeping me and the listeners updated on the situation, but dude, were thirty text messages really necessary? You are blowing up my phone. Literally. It just exploded. Which was really awesome and I wanted to take a picture of it for you but then I remembered my phone just exploded, destroying the contents of your messages and thus my knowledge of what they said. Can you, uh, call me on the station phone to remind me of what you texted?
---
Let's go to a word from our sponsors.
Setting out on a project of self-discovery? Need help? Unfulfilled?
Having feelings? Uncomfortable feelings? Are they regret? Unfulfilled?
Is your life filled with meaningless moments, spiraling out into a vortex of emptiness? Does it threaten to consume you? Do you feel its teeth? Unfulfilled?
Is your body covered in a sheet of fragile skin? Is that skin even yours? How can you be sure? Unfulfilled?
Are you curious what lies inside you? What about other people? Have you ever wanted to slice that skin open and reveal the real you? Unfulfilled?
Whose thoughts are these? Whose thoughts are these? Unfulfilled?
Ever wondered if you're necessary? Have you convinced yourself that you are necessary just so you can keep going? Unfulfilled?
Have you ever reached out to touch someone's hand only to realize you can't, because you don't exist, and it is only other people who are real? Why is touch real? Can you depend on touch? Who can you depend on?
We can't help.
This message brought to you by Genie.
---
An update on our hooded visitors. Intern Jongin recently went to investigate the Winnebago near the car lot where our hooded visitors have taken up camp. He was gone for a few hours and came back a completely different person. Even though he looked, sounded, and even smelled exactly the same as Intern Jongin, I was not fooled. I knew that he had been replaced by a robot that was simply wearing Jongin's skin. To the parents of Intern Jongin, I regret to inform you that he died this afternoon, in pursuit of truth and community radio. He was a good intern. His true body is probably resting in the Winnebago out near the car lot, but if that is too much trouble, I would be happy to offer you the mottled body of his clone that is currently bleeding to death by my feet. I suggest asking the mortician to pry open its skull for the film reels inside before you bury it.
Shortly before its death, Intern Jongin's clone handed me a printout of an email. I contemplated throwing it away, as it was no doubt a ploy by Jongin's clone to mislead us all and live among us. But then I considered the possibility that that the email was from the real Jongin, and it was his last cry for help. So I blotted the blood off the printout and began to read it, only to realize it was-
-from Byun Baekhyun.
Now listen here, Byun Baekhyun. I am sick of you constantly hassling me and the community radio staff. This is the fifth time this week you have written in requesting we change our programming to 24/7 broadcasts of the nine-person women's college down the street. Not only is it invasive and possibly illegal, it's simply impractical. As SNSD does not allow men to enter its campus, how will I continue to broadcast the news if we move our studio there? I see from the subject line of your email that the solution is for me to cross-dress. But surely you remember the last time I attempted to cross-dress. Surely you remember...the horror that followed.
Dear listeners, life is too short to waste time reading emails from the Byun Baekhyuns of the world. In fact, here is a list of things you should waste your time doing instead.
Collecting underwear from strangers and selling it online. Arguing about plastic surgery and the validity thereof. Projecting your emotions on performers who have no choice but to pretend they like and understand you. Down-voting negative comments on online forums while flooding the same forums with all-caps proclamations of your love for "oppa." Convincing others that your interpretation of a manufactured facade is the "right one." Depending on the validation from nameless, faceless strangers online. Eating your feelings when you discover that your chosen one may, in fact, be less than flawless. Wishing happiness or terrible acts of self-harm and loathing on people you will never meet. Caring about strangers. Caring about yourself. Caring about anything. Caring.
---
And now, let's go to the phones.
Click to view---
Thank you for your calls, listeners. If we didn't get to your question today, please call back tomorrow, and I hope we will be able to talk then.
While I was taking your calls, I was also doing my own part to participate in Trash Day. My vote put Moonkyu in the lead, and it appears Jino might be safe for yet another year.
On my way back to the studio, I passed by the Winnebago out by the car lot. One of the hooded figures emerged and called my name. It was the tall one that had spoken to Kyungsoo first. He threw off his hood, revealing flawless golden hair and a perfect complexion. "Chanyeol," he said in his deep voice, "don't you recognize me?' I didn't. "It's me, Kris," he said. I don't know anyone named Kris, and told him so. "Damn," he said. "I was hoping that you, at least...."
He trailed off. We stood there, staring at each other. The silence was total. In truth, listeners, I felt as if I knew this Kris, as if I had dreamed him before, as if he was one of those pesky afterimages that the Town medical community always warns us about, as failure to treat these afterimages can result in blindness and masturbation. Listeners, it terrified me a little. My voice trembled as I demanded he tell me why he and the other hooded visitors were here. "Go back to where you came from!" I roared. "And take this eclipse with you!"
Kris just looked at me sadly. The eclipse was moving in more quickly now, draining the light from the sky. "If it was that simple," he said. "But I think we can't go back unless we're together. I think we're all stuck here until you remember where you're really from. Until you return to reality."
"How do you know this isn't reality?" I asked him. "What if your world was the lie, and this is where you're really from?"
He had no answer.
Soon, the darkness swallowed us both.
Somewhere, listeners, there is a mythical place called Korea, where Kris and I are members of an idol band. Somewhere, there are lights, and screaming fans, and schedules we must all follow. Somewhere, Our Dear Leader is simply our dear leader, and we are not always in fear of being replaced by clones, or robots, or robot clones. Somewhere, eclipses don't take the whole day. This all happens somewhere else.
But here, Kris and I stood in the car lot, looking out together at the haloed sun up in the sky. It was majestic in the blackening sky, blinding us both with its terrible, unyielding light. There is so much in the world that we don't understand. What we do understand is like that sliver of the sun, trying to claw its way out of the hole of darkness, and failing. Is it better to cling to the light or to succumb to the dark? I suppose we will never know.
And so, heavy with the unknowable, I say, good night, SM Town. Good night.
less a fic than a parody. apologies for the 120% debut-era jokes. apologies for the blatant copy of the superior welcome to night vale writing. apologies for you having to read this. apologies for me having nothing better to offer you. apologies for everything..