The Magnus Archives - MAG 170 - Recollection

Episode Date: June 4, 2020

Case ########-10The recollections of Martin Blackwood. Recorded in Situ. Content warnings:- Isolation- Depression- Anxiety- Depersonalisation & self-disorder- Self-hatred- Financial distress- Elderly neglect- Emotional / Caregiver abuse (mentioned)- Neurological impairment / Mental deterioration- Instances of memory loss- Funerals (mentioned)- Perceived abandonment- Persistent droning (SFX)Thanks to this week's Patrons: MacKenzie Cummings, Elizabeth Boyer, cordsycords, Ace of Artemis, Amanda Dalton, Becky S Chapin, Lorec, Jessica Snyder, YungBrood, Sandra Vucenovic, Kimberly, John Biegel, Nemo Nemiroff, Paula Salkeld, Sophia Anderson, Rheine, William Wold, Milana Tatarenko, Haley Morris, elliot, Katie Barrowman, Bob Charlton, RinM, TeaReesa, Madison Mason, Charly Nygaard, Jurgen Leitner, crxcrvs, Andy Juell, Henry Tschudy, Eboni Daniels, Ms Natalie Catchpole, A_Wild_Sonne, Malediction, Alex, Dante Rowe, Katia, Eric Patterson and Lynn Coy, Harmony Mills, Ronnie Stewart If you'd like to join them visit www.patreon.com/rustyquillEdited this week by Annie Fitch, Elizabeth Moffatt, Brock Winstead & Alexander J NewallWritten by Jonathan Sims and directed by Alexander J NewallProduced by Lowri Ann DaviesPerformances:- "Martin Blackwood" - Alexander J. Newall - "The Archivist" - Jonathan Sims Sound effects this week by lwdickens, Sheyvan, altfuture, Anthousai, 13GPanska_Markova_Lucie, 190175, EricsSoundschmiede, mistorcaveman, Joljo, giddster, E0las, offthesky, lartti & previously credited artists via freesound.org.Check out our merchandise at https://www.redbubble.com/people/rustyquill/collections/708982-the-magnus-archives-s1You can subscribe to this podcast using your podcast software of choice, or by visiting www.rustyquill.com/subscribePlease rate and review on your software of choice, it really helps us to spread the podcast to new listeners, so share the fear.Join our community:WEBSITE: rustyquill.comFACEBOOK: facebook.com/therustyquillTWITTER: @therustyquillREDDIT: reddit.com/r/RustyQuillEMAIL: [e-mail] Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill Ltd. and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 International Licence Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Magnus Archives. If you haven't heard yet, Rusty Quill has a brand new original audio drama, Trice Forgotten. Trice Forgotten is a swashbuckling found family adventure created by Nemo Martin. Elestes likes to keep her head down while she works as a merchant, couriering deliveries, and carrying travelers to destinations across the seas. Only as her travelers gradually become permanent crewmates, she realizes her ship has become a floating museum, laboratory, vault of repatriated treasures, and a chef's kitchen. After spending most of her life with the understanding that nothing changes no matter how hard you fight, Elestes is faced with a choice. Will she use her new network of allies to build safe harbor and potentially a future for her new community? Or will she once again put her head down and drown in her sea of excuses?

Tries Forgotten is the latest audio drama from Rusty Quill, creators of multiple award-winning podcasts, including the Magnus Archives. Search for Tries Forgotten. That's T-R-I-C-E Forgotten, wherever you listen to your podcasts. Or visit www.rustyquill.com for more information. Rusty Quill Presents The Magnus Archives Episode 170 Recollection Oh, hello. What are you?

Do I... Do I know you? Can't... Can't tell through the fog sometimes. You feel... not friendly. Familiar? The shape of you in my hand. I talk to you, don't I? We talk. What do we... What do we say? There's something there, but I just can't see it. Anyway, nice to sit down, take a load off. Not a comfortable chair, of course. None of

them are here. I've been all over this house looking for a nice place to sit, I think. Is that what I was looking for? Either way, this place is so huge, so empty. By the time you find your way to anything at all, you've probably earned a sit down. I don't think there's anyone else here. Probably never has been. Not that I can remember, at least. Is it my house? It must be, right? It must be my house, because why else would I be here? You don't just wander around other people's houses alone. You don't just...

You don't just... Just wander... you don't just wander what was I saying? don't do you remember? you store them I suppose keep stuff locked up in those little wheels that's memory isn't it? computers used to be like you

big whirring things with loads of tape. They called that memory. But it's not, not really, it's just numbers and... Maybe you're blank as well, same as me. Are you? Can you remember what I've already said? Because I... I can't. The words keep creeping away. Like... When I try to think back to focus... Focus on...

Oh. Hello. Hello. What are you? I can't quite see. Do you feel familiar? Do I know you? Do we talk? I hope so. It's good to talk with people. It's... Oh, I met someone. Did I tell you? He's... I don't know. I like him. He doesn't like me, though. Really. Don't blame him. I don't like me sometimes, and I am me. Plus, he's... my boss? Is that right? Either way, it's probably for the best. Wouldn't really be appropriate. You don't need to worry, I'm not doodling his name on my desk or anything.

His, uh... His, um... His... Name... Wait. Wait, what is his name? I don't... Why can't I remember his name? His name? I don't... Why can't I remember his name?

His face, I don't... Where am I? This isn't my house. Hello? Hello? I don't like it here. I can't see anything with all this fog. There's nothing out of the windows, it's so cold. The fireplace is dead Who is that? I need to sit down.

Oh, hello. Who are you then? Hmm. Hmm. Can't quite make out. A tape recorder? Can't remember the last time I used a... Blast from the past. Familiar. Yeah. Well, it's good to have someone to talk to. Otherwise you can go strange. You... I don't...

What was I saying? This chair really isn't comfortable. I had to look round for better places to sit. Did I tell you that? But it's a big house. My house, I think. Nowhere comfortable. So I suppose this is it. It is my house, isn't it? Must be. Must be.

But I don't really remember. Just... I'm so tired. It's hard to think when you're this tired. Hard to... to focus. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not tired.

That's just the fog. I can't see through the fog and it smells. What is that? Damp, sort of chemical almost. I don't like it. Why does my house smell like that? It can't be my house. No, no, no.

My house doesn't smell like this. My house smells... smells different. It's weird, isn't it? The smell can trigger memory so powerfully. Like this one, it makes me think of... I don't know.

Is it a person? A place? No, people don't smell like that. Besides, I'm all alone. I'm all alone. I'm all alone. Why am I alone? I shouldn't be alone. There should be people. It's such a big house. My house. There must be other people.

People who care. Hello? Hello? All these rooms. I think they're the same as this one. I don't know why I decorate my house like this. I don't like it. I like... It's not my home.

It can't be. Do I have a home? This place feels like it's all for me, I think. But I don't... I don't like it here. It can't be cheap living here. A house this big. I really need a job.

I started lying on my CV. Did I tell you that? That I didn't want to. I mean, I tried to be a good person, but we're really up a job. I started lying on my CV. Did I tell you that? That I didn't want to. I mean, I tried to be a good person, but we're really up against it. And I know they're going to find me out. I just know it. They'll ask something, or I'll say something stupid, and then they'll know. They'll know, and then...

What am I doing? I can't afford a place like this. I need money. Not just for me, but for... Wait. Wait, no, it is just me, isn't it? It's always been just me. No, no, no, that's not right. I'm not alone, no, not alone. John? John? John? John? John? John? John? John? John, I'm here. Can you hear me? I can't... It's... It's his place.

Where are you? I need you. I need you, John. Where did you go? Please don't leave me. I can't do this on my own. Please. I'm not enough on my own. Alone. All alone. Oh, hello. What's this? Wow, retro. What are you up to, little buddy? Just listening? That's okay. It's nice to have someone to talk to. Maybe you can keep a better handle on things than me.

It's this fog, you know? Makes it so hard to see. What was I saying? I feel like there's somewhere I need to be, but... But no, no, this is my house. Where else would I need to be? I just... I wish I had more comfortable chairs. Would be nice to have somewhere relaxing to sit down. Rest a bit when Mum's asleep. Did I tell you about my mum?

We should try to keep quiet, actually, you know. Make sure not to wake her. The drugs, they hit her pretty hard, but if you make enough noise and she wakes up and... Yeah, it's not good. Not a good time. I know she loves me. I know she does. But that doesn't make it easy. There's always so much to do, and I'm always forgetting something. make it easy. There's always so much to do, and I'm always forgetting something. I do try, you know? I mean, I really try to keep on top of things, but I'm just... I'm just so forgetful, and she... she... Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them

slip away. They can't hurt you if you don't think about them. They can't shout at you or call your names. And I always think of Mum's face when I've done something wrong. Wait, wait, I don't... Her face, I... I don't remember her face. Did she have a face? Don't be stupid, Martin. Of course she had a face. You just can't remember it because you're a bad son. Because you left her to rot in... Where did she go?

She didn't like it. I didn't like it. It smelled... It smelled like... Where am I? This isn't right. I shouldn't be here. I should be... Somewhere. Someone. There are people who trust me.

People who love me, so why can't I remember them? Why can't I see them? Sasha. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I remember there was, there was Sasha. I can see her face. No, no, wait, no, not, not Sasha, some, something else. The thing that isn't Sasha that, that took her and, and made her something else and her, her face, her face, I can, I can still see it. Laughing. Telling me that there's, there's nobody else I'm alone the only people who could ever stand to be around me

are gone even from my mind what is this place so cold and I can't see anything there's all this fog I must have left the window open. Let fog in.

My heating bills must be through the roof. Stupid, I can't afford that. At least I've got a job now. Did I tell you I've got a job? I mean, the interview was weird. I don't really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me.

Threw me in. And I knew that he knew what I had done. I was so scared, but then he smiled and shook my hand. What was his name? He said I had the job, that he looked forward to working with me. I was still so scared I could barely move my arm. I was so terrified I'd let him down. And then I met John and... John John John John I'm here John I I think I'm lost I think I don't... Oh, hello. What are you?

Huh. Didn't even know I had a tape recorder. Do you still work, or...? Huh. Yeah, seems like you're running all right. Hey, I should do some poetry. You could give it a little bit of that funky lo-fi goodness all the cool poets love a bit of tapis right maybe find somewhere different to sit though I hate these chairs don't even know where I got them

did I tell you I've been writing poetry? nothing much really just fragments, thoughts haven't written anything like it since I was a teenager but my new job is a lot, and I don't know, something about that place, it just, it makes me feel weird. The sort of weird you have to just get out somehow. Maybe I should do some open mics or something. I don't know. Just for me, really, I think. Oh, you want to hear some? Yeah, yeah, okay, sure. Well, I can... No. but the words, they just wash away. I suppose that's quite poetic actually, isn't it?

But there's nothing else there. I don't like this place. It's so cold and the logs in the fireplace are damp from the mist. I don't know how I'd even light them. They smell really bad, like wet dirt. Makes me think of... When I was nine, my grandad died. Did I tell you that? I went to the funeral, and the coffin was so shiny. It was already sealed. But on top there was a photo of a young man. Someone who looked almost like my grandad, but it wasn't him.

He wasn't finished. Not yet. And I suddenly began to panic because I was trying to remember what he looked like, his face, but I couldn't do it. And I knew I'd never see him again. He loved me and I couldn't even remember his face. It was a horrid, drizzly morning that day and they put him in the ground and he smelled like earth. Cold, damp soil. What was I saying?

Sorry. It's just this chair. It's so hard to concentrate when you're uncomfortable, isn't it? Now I think... Hey, hang on. Where did you come from? Tape recorder? What?

You want me to give you a statement? But why? The eye is one. It can already see everything. It wouldn't need a... It wouldn't need a... Well, it's just nice to talk to someone, I guess. No one real ever really listens to me anyway.

They nod and respond and say, No, Martin. Not now, Martin. Leave it, Martin. Funny thing is, I didn't ask them to do anything. I just wanted to see if they needed a hand. Is that me? Is that me? Is that me?

Martin? Martin. Martin. Martin. It doesn't sound right. Who else would I be? Whoever owns this house, I guess. It certainly doesn't seem like the sort of place that someone

called Martin would live. Martin. It feels like a small name. One that wants to be warm and happy. Not like here. You know, I've wandered around all these rooms and they all just make me feel alone. They scare me. Even when I find someone else I feel alone. Did I tell you? I found someone else wandering around. They were all thin and grey. Faded.

Like they'd been here for ages. I think they'd been crying but it's so hard to tell through the fog I tried to talk to them but it was just difficult I asked who they were and they looked at me like they had no idea what I was talking about

what's your name? I said your name? you must have a name they just shrugged and and I, and, and they gestured at me, like they wanted to know my name, and I, I couldn't tell them, I couldn't remember, is this your house, I asked, and they said, they said yes, but then they stopped and shook their head. And then they started to laugh, quietly for a bit, and then they cried. And they wouldn't stop. They asked me who they were, if there was anyone looking for them, if there was anybody left who even cared, but I didn't know. I didn't know, and I...

I ran away. I didn't know, and I... I ran away. I had to run away. I had to go and have a sit down, okay? I just wish I'd thought to buy some nicer chairs. Still, it's not like I've got guests coming, is it? The house is empty, and honestly, I can't think of anyone in the world who would care if I lived or died. I'm scared. I think this fog is doing something to me. I can't know if I mind. Maybe I deserve it.

So much of what's behind the fog hurts. So much of it just makes me want to curl up with pain and embarrassment. Maybe the fog's here because I want it here. Is that why I open the windows? Maybe I ask the fog to come. No, no, no, no, no, no, that's not true. I remember hundreds, thousands of lost souls wandering the halls. Hollow memories with eyes full of tears. I've seen them. They're all trying to remember.

To recall. To picture someone. Anyone who loves them. And their hearts are all full of fear. Afraid that those people are gone forever. That maybe... Maybe they never existed at all. Why am I here? I here I fell behind

I was too slow and the fog caught up I was following, always following never leading, never leading why did he leave me behind did he who are you John John John, yes Did he? Who are you? John.

John. John, yes. John, I remember him. I need to keep him here. If he can find me, he knows enough. Surely he knows enough to find me, but I can't. If I forget him, if I forget me, maybe there's nothing left to know. No one to find.

Talking helps. Thank God you're here to listen. Just don't stop talking. You are Martin Blackwood. Yes, you didn't choose to be here. John is coming. I am Martin Blackwood and I am not lonely anymore. I am not lonely anymore. I want to be here. John is coming. I am Martin Blackwood, and I am not lonely anymore. I am not lonely anymore.

I want to have friends. No, I have friends. I'm in love. I am in love, and I will not forget that. I will not forget. I am Martin Black... Martin! What, John?

Martin! John, over here! Martin, hold on, I'm coming, I just... Oh, Martin. Thank God, I was... I thought you were behind me. I thought you'd left me behind. Gone on without me.

No, never. I just... I didn't want to look too hard. I promised I wouldn't know you, and with the fog on all the rooms, I just... I lost you. I'm sorry. It's okay.

No, I... I tried to use the... to know where you were, but it was... You were faint. It was so strange. It took me so long just to find you. John, it's okay.. John, it's okay. I promise, it's okay.

This place tried. It really did. And honestly, I wanted to believe it. But I didn't. This place... My God. Yeah. Yeah.

Martin, if you did, if you wanted to forget all of it, stay here and just escape, I would understand. No. It's comforting here, leaving all those painful memories behind, but it's not a good comfort. It's the kind that makes you fade. Makes you dim and distant. Okay. Okay, good. I just... I wanted to make sure that you knew what this place was. It's the Lonely John. It's me. Not anymore. No.

No. No. Not anymore. The Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 international license. Today's episode was written by Jonathan Sims, produced by Laurie-Anne Davis, and directed by Alexander J. Newell. It featured Alexander J. Newell as Martin Blackwood and Jonathan Sims as the Archivist. To subscribe, buy merchandise or join our Patreon,

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