Diane considered the ways they could get a plastic flamingo. Driving around town looking would take all day, especially if Carlos and his team of scientists and Josie and her team of angels or whatever they were had already done a lot of searching.

The radio station was not too far from here. They could head over there and see if Carlos would let them have one of the flamingos. This would be a tough ask, but considering how much Cecil cared for Diane and for her search for Josh, she might have the ally she needed to convince the handsome scientist to hand over a bird or two.

No, she realized, that wouldn’t work. He’s a scientist. Above all things, scientists are protectors of our world. “Scientist is another word for hero,” Mayor Cardinal was fond of saying. They use science to not only learn things but also to change those things so that everything is better going forward. Just like the scientist who cured polio, or that couple who invented radiation, or the astrologers who write our futures for us.

A good scientist would never compromise societal good for one person’s needs.

Jackie opened the door to the car.

“Here’s your croissant.” She handed Diane a cup full of melted butter, yeast, salt, and cold water as well as a spoon and napkin. After wheat and wheat by-products became illegal in Night Vale, Patty continued to make her pastries using the same ingredients and techniques, minus the flour.

“Thanks,” Diane said, desperate for a snack. “Hey, Jackie, listen. I’ve been thinking about how to get a flamingo. It’s a long shot but . . . What’s that?”

Across Jackie’s lap was a metal crowbar, solid black save for a small yellow price sticker.

“We’re going to go to the lab to get some flamingos. If Carlos is on the radio, who’s going to stop us?”

Diane bit her lip. She stared at the crowbar.

“I’ve never thought of myself as a person who steals things.”

“Well, what’s your plan?”

“Never mind. It wouldn’t have worked. Let’s steal them.”

They drove to the science district and pulled up to Carlos’s lab. Diane was on lookout while Jackie tried to crack the combo lock with her crowbar, which was not as easy as it looks in Lee Marvin films.

Loud metal thwack after loud metal thwack made Diane nervous. Surely someone would come to see what the noise was. Or worse, someone would summon the Secret Police using the poorly hidden microphone in their house. They would surely be arrested, or maybe even vanished.

Jackie had not made any progress when a woman with long, wild hair and long, wild nails and long, wild eyes touched her shoulder. Jackie pivoted around and raised the iron bar in an automatic defensive response. The woman did not flinch.

“The world ended over thirty years ago,” the woman said.