The Magnus Archives - MAG 174 - The Great Beast

Episode Date: July 2, 2020

Case ########-14An examination of scaleRecorded by The Archivist in Situ.Content warnings:- Insignificance / Diminuition - Arguments- Body horror - Falling- Dissociative amnesia - SFX of deep impacts, destruction and 'pressure wave' distortionsThanks to this week's Patrons: Teo Qvillberg, cussbunny, Emilia Lee, Cora Larson, Rapsodia, Hannah McNutt, I Think Spirals Should Vote, Amaya, Stacy Bright, Matt Freeman, Black Dog, Karin Hammarsten, Heather Biggs, cinnabi, Maria Tickerhoof, Kathryn Nye, Jackie Tolomeo, Mary S., Laura, Miranda B., Kiera Gittins, tjesje, Jeffrey De Koning, Luis Narro, Ian A., Cristina Stubbe, Hayley Phoenix, kototyph, Katie Glasson, Arcturus, Jennie Styan, Abigail Eileen, Kris L, Danny Colgan, Jude, Jennifer Dyas, Megan Batchelor, Moomin Family, Samantha Leigh, Anita Mathisen, Stephanie Shinkle, Alienea, Hannah Sanner, Joan the Deer, C. E. McGill, Tamara Steeves, Nadia Bracegirdle, stitch, Esme Weil If you'd like to join them visit www.patreon.com/rustyquillEdited this week by Annie Fitch, 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 - "Simon Fairchild" - Karim Kronfli - "Helen" - Imogen Harris Sound effects this week by jamesrodavidson, LiamG_SFX & 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.

This is the first radio ad you can smell. The new Cinnabon Pull-Apart, only at Wendy's. It's ooey, gooey, and just five bucks for the small coffee, all day long. Tax is extra at participating Wendy's until May 5th. Terms and conditions apply. Rusty Quill Presents The Magnus Archives Episode 174 The Great Beast... The shadow falls over everything Maureen has ever known. When it had first covered her home, bathing the street beyond her window in unexpected shade, she had thought it an eclipse.

shade she had thought it an eclipse. There wasn't supposed to be one then, she is sure of that, although if pressed she could not have told you what day it is today. Before the shadow fell she is sure that the sun was shining brightly, although if pressed she could not have pictured it. And the humid heat of a lingering summer had left the world sleepy and unprepared, although, if pressed, she remembers the heat but not the season. All told, the time before the sky was covered is hazy to her, but she knows that there was one, a time before something blocked out the sun. one, a time before something blocked out the sun. It moves and shifts as if it is willed,

clearly a part of some greater whole. A foot? A hand? Perhaps a single finger? To look up is to see only the smallest fraction of it covering the sky. And half of Marine's mind screams at her to get back, to get further away, to get to a distance where perhaps she could see the whole of it. A position where the idea of comprehending what she is looking at isn't some bitter joke. But the other half of her mind whispers the truth. That it is already so far away that to see it in its entirety is impossible. And if she did, she could not understand it. But there is another certainty within her, another piece of terrible knowledge that bubbles up unbidden from somewhere in Meereen's soul that is no longer hers. It is coming closer.

It is descending on her home and everything that she has ever known. And when it arrives it will not even notice that it has destroyed her. That it has so casually wiped from the world everything that she will ever know or love. It will crush her home. It will crush her family and her city and her world. The shadow is over everything. Marine gathers her mother, who sits in the kitchen over a pot of sour-smelling tea, berating her that they should have left earlier. She gathers her husband, who snorts in derision and tells her that he's heard that there isn't really any danger at all.

She gathers her daughter, who asks with wide eyes and the voice of nervous innocence, Where they are going? What's going on? Marine cannot quite make out their faces as she bundles them into the car, old and shuddering as it coughs into life. Does she remember having a child? A spouse? Does she remember her mother having such a cruel sneer? It doesn't matter. They are here now, and she has to save them. She cannot leave them to the growing shadow, and the thing coming ever closer. She starts to drive. The streets are empty, the blank-faced strangers around them frozen, staring to the sky in still and silent expectation. There is no traffic, nothing to stop the laboured grinding of the elderly car as it careens down the street,

hunting desperately for the edge of the shadow. Maureen knows if she can just escape it, find where it ends and the sunlight hits the earth, they can be free. They will not be beneath it when the vast being arrives. But there is no hope in her for it. No glimmer of optimism as they hurtle down street after street. Only the crushing dread. The leaden knowledge that they started too late. That they're not fast enough. That the shadow reaches a thousand miles in every direction and they could drive for a month. Have they been driving that long? How many miles have they travelled now? And still they would never get away,

never cross that line from below the shadow into open, sunlit air. that line from below the shadow into open, sunlit air. The world gets darker, and the thing moves closer. It will be upon them any moment now. The car grinds and crunches somewhere in its engine, and rolls to a stop. Maureen grabs her daughter, now crying with fear and confusion, and begins to run. Where is she running to? It will be upon them all soon, wiping out everything they were or are or will be, rendering their lives an unremembered blip, crushed beneath its unstoppable significance. It is right above them, and it will not stop. How long has she been running? Minutes? Days? Her unfamiliar daughter laughs cruelly, carried

in Meereen's exhausted arms. They cannot escape the shadow, as their doom gets forever closer. Far, infinitely far above her, Edward holds his grip tight. His fingers are white with strain and his own arms burn and ache deeper than he thought possible. his own arms burn and ache deeper than he thought possible. He is interlocked, woven into an unending tapestry of suffering contorted bodies. The shape that they create is a mystery to him, but as it moves he can feel his own muscles twitch and stretch with those he holds on to, together shifting and pulling and lifting the bulk of the thing of which he is only the tiniest part. Where the impulses come from he does not know, travelling through the impossible colossus, rippling down the people who form its bulk, moving as one. He

does not know where in the thing he is, but suspects that it is not too far from the edge, for sometimes he can see something he might almost believe to be sky. Some part of it hits the ground, however distantly below him that may be, a foot perhaps, or a limb of some sort. The shuddering impact of it resonates up through the bodies that surround him, and all at once they cry out in pain. He can hear bones snap and tendons rip as the force of the step sharply shifts the twisted arrangement of human misery. Edward's own neck is spun, pushed by the shoulder of the woman crushed in behind him and turned so

far to the side that he is sure another millimeter and it will break entirely for hours he holds that position dreading every moment that the next motion of the thing they construct will break him like thin porcelain. And then it comes. Not another stepping impact for those are rare and ponderous, but the agonised pull of the whole trying to lift itself. Every muscle in every body tenses all at once, and Edward finds himself moving, pushed and squeezed and gasping for space and... free. Without warning he finds himself in open air,

forced out of the thing like a chute pushing up through the soil. He takes in a deep breath, his protesting limbs now limp and almost useless, and collapses upon a ground that looks up at him in envy. No. Not a ground that looks up at him in envy. No, not a ground, for it is only now that Edward realises how thin the air is, how cold it is without the warmth of uncountable bodies surrounding him on all sides. Behind him he can see the shifting sea of people stretching out forever,

but in front of him, a can see the shifting sea of people stretching out forever. But in front of him, a few hundred meters away, there is what appears to be an edge. In a place where time has meaning, it might be said it takes Edward hours, days to drag himself over the writhing floor. But eventually he finds himself laying upon that horizon, willing himself to look out, over and down, see where he is, if there is any place to which he might escape. And so finally, he looks. His stomach drops and his arms seize as he looks upon a hundred miles of slowly moving humanity, down to a stark and barren ground far below. It is so far down that if he climbed for a year, he would not reach the end of it. His tears fall down and away into the open sky.

His teeth lock in fear and he begins to try and move backwards, away from the precipice. But there is a movement, a shift in the people below him as the great beast stretches some part of itself. A wave of spasming limbs passes beneath Edward and in a moment he is flung upwards and away, out into the empty air below. He is falling. He cannot breathe as the air is forced from his lungs and the razor-cold wind lashes at his skin. He is falling. The beast he was once a part of is a blur beside him as he plummets, human forms lost in the strange, moving texture.

He is falling, and he is so small and so afraid he wonders if he will ever hit the ground. He does not want to die smeared over that flat and hateful wasteland far below. And he flails, limbs throwing themselves violently around, trying to catch a hold of something, anything, to save himself. Edward feels a hand grip his. The stop is sudden, violent, wrenching his shoulder from its socket with a wet pop. He screams in pain, but also in relief relief as he hangs there, suspended above his fate. Despite his dread, it takes only a moment for him to make his decision. He reaches out with his other arm

and feels it gripped by a dozen hands as, slowly, inexorably, Edward allows himself to be pulled back into the great suffering Colossus. Far below, there is another impact, as if something were being stepped on. Is it much further? Yes. I'm not entirely sure what you were expecting. It's the Vast. The clue is in the name. Yes, alright. Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on.

Whatever. So how far are we from the other side? And don't say time and space don't work here, that's a cop out and you know it. Fine. Three days. Thank you. Wait. Wait, what counts as a day? What an excellent question.

Oh, my God. You can be infuriating sometimes, you know that? Yes. Fine. Fine. How about Simon? How close are we to him? Close, but he's able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. Meaning? Meaning I know where he is, but if he doesn't

want us to reach him, I don't know if we'll have much of a chance. So, well, we're just going to trust him to show up to his own exit. Jesus! Apparently. Hello.

Hello. Dreadfully sorry. I only just noticed you were both here. That's the problem with having such a big place, you know. You can miss things if you're not careful. Er, right. Good to see you again, Martin. And you must be the famous archivist.

Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New Age, etc. Lovely to meet you at last. Simon Fairchild, at your service. I know who you are. Of course you do. I imagine you know pretty much everything by this point. How is it? How does it feel?

Strange. Yes. I can imagine. These gifts can feel very disconcerting at times. I'm sure you'll get used to it eventually. And how are you, Martin? Still trying to save the world and all that? Yes.

Pity? Well, Armageddon... It's not for everyone, I suppose. I'm quite enjoying it, of course. Although Junior over there can be a little bit of a handful. I might have guessed you'd be happy living in this nightmare. I mean, not that it matters, but yes, I am. Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it.

But I'm not one to tell you how to live your eternity. No, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I'm not one to tell you how to live your eternity. No, you're not. Because I'm done listening to you. I'm sorry. I'm not sure I follow. All those lies you told me. You helped to do this. You turned the world into your playground. Not to be a pedant, but if you recall, I was actually doing a favour for Peter. And if Peter had won, none of this would have happened. Also, not to make excuses, but they weren't exactly lies. Just oversimplifications of complicated truths. And guesses. A lot of guesses. Almost all guesses, really really Now I come to think about it Shut up, I don't care

Goodness, we're rather tetchy aren't we We've not been having an easy journey John What, it's true, we haven't Well in that case, thank you for swinging by To my huge corner of the apocalypse We don't get many visitors these days And well

You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person. I, um... I mean, obviously you're still ultimately finite and all that, but altering the very fabric of reality, that's... whew. That's pretty good going, all things considered. That's enough. John? Er, yes? Do it.

Er, do what? Kill him. Hang on. Can he do that? He can, and he's going to. Only in... Right. Seems a bit rude, to be honest.

John? Just give me a moment. In fact, yes. You know what? I'll probably just be going then. I'd prefer to keep existing if it's all the same to you. John! I... Been lovely chatting to you. Good to see you both.

Feel free to pop by again when you're feeling less, um, murdery. John! John! You let him go? Yeah. Why? Because, er... Why did you let him go, John?

I don't know. I just... I didn't want to kill him. Why not? Because he was nice to you? Because he was charming? Because he was fun? No, I just... Not now, Helen. I just wanted to add my vote to the disappointed

side. Wait, really? I was rather looking forward to watching an old man metaphysically explode. Honestly, I feel a little bit cheated. The others were exceptional fun. You were watching? Of course. As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real honest to godless Timmy God murder spree.

You're really not helping. I'm not trying to. Look, it's none of your business. Either of you. Like hell it isn't. Martin? Don't Martin me. Sure, he looks like a harmless old man, but... I know, Martin. I know all the things he's done. Fantastic! So, rip him up. Pop him. Oh, oh, just give me a bit of a head start so I can find a good spot.

Enough, Helen. I won't be in the way. You won't even know I'm there. Again. What is it, John? What's wrong? I just... I won't be in the way. You won't even know I'm there. Again. What is it, John? What's wrong? I just... This whole avenging angel thing, I'm not... It doesn't feel right. It seemed to feel right when we were avenging all the wrongs done against you.

I know. I know. All right, but well... That's kind of the problem. I have all this power and I want to use it to try All right, but, well, that's kind of the problem. I have all this power, and I want to use it to try and help, but I... I mean, I do. I've done so much damage, and anything that might help to balance that is... But killing other avatars is not... I don't think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse. You're removing evil from the world.

I'm not, though, am I? The tenement fire is still burning. The mortal garden is growing wild. The carousel is... What? How are we still having this intensely boring conversation? I honestly thought that actually ending the world would be enough to stop you whining, but no. You're the most powerful person in a world where the worst consequences imaginable have already happened.

Absolute power with zero responsibility. And absolute power with zero responsibility. What more can you possibly need to just enjoy yourself a tiny bit? Fine. Guess I'll just leave then. Hang out inside myself until you get angry again and accidentally have some fun. It's not fun. And here I thought you'd forgotten how to make jokes. I'm sorry, Martin. After meeting the child, I thought I'd been...

I really hoped things would be simpler. You know? A nice, straightforward apocalypse. No. No, I'm sorry. Cheerleading you when you're on a magical murder spree probably wasn't a great idea. I started it. Good point. I'll keep my apology then. I do kind of wish you'd wait until after Fairchild to have your crisis, though.

You really want that old man dead? I mean, yeah, sure. When you say it like that, it sounds bad. But what did he do to you? He threatened to throw me off a rollercoaster. Ah. Okay, I know it sounds like a joke, but... No, obviously he's an avatar of the vast. I understand it's a scary threat coming from him.

Yeah. It just doesn't sound like a scary threat. Thanks for that. Hang on. You're still down to kill Elias, right? Jonah, whatever. I'm still going to confront him. I don't know if killing him is something I'm even capable of, but if I can, and I have to, I will. Yeah?

Don't worry. I won't hesitate. Right. Right, right then. Good. Let's go, then. We don't want to keep him waiting. Lead on.

Er, I... Oh, right, yes. Follow me, then. 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 Jonathan Sims as The Archivist,

Alexander J. Newell as Martin Blackwood, Kareem Cronfley as Simon Fairchild, and Imogen Harris as Helen. To subscribe, buy merchandise, or join our Patreon, visit RustyQuill.com. Rate and review us online, tweet us at TheRustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us via mail at RustyQuill.com. Join our community on the Discord via the website or on Reddit at r slash the Magnus Archives.

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