The Magnus Archives - MAG 183 - Monument

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Starting point is 00:00:26 Know your risks. Visit heartandstroke.ca Hello everyone, Mike here, Rusty Quill's video guy, and the voice of Tim Stoker from the Magnus Archives. Today I'm here to tell you about a new novel, Burn the Dark, the first entry from the Malice Domestica series by award-winning author S.A. Hunt. from the Malice Domestika series by award-winning author S.A. Hunt. Burn the Dark is a horror action-adventure series following celebrity punk YouTuber Robin Martine, her millions of subscribers, and her intensely realistic witch hunter YouTube series Witch isn't exactly based on fiction. Robin has an ultimate goal, to seek revenge against the coven of witches who wronged her mother long ago, And returning to her home in the rural town of Blackfield, Robin meets new friends, refinds old ones, and continues her quest for justice, but not before she tangles with the Red Lord. This book's got it all. Snappy dialogue,

Starting point is 00:01:15 good atmosphere, a sense of humour, and tight worldbuilding. Plus, book two, I Come With Knives, and book three, Hellion, have already been released, so you can dive straight in when you're ready. So why not check out S.A. Hunt's book, Burn the Dark, today. Rusty Quill Presents The Magnus Archives Episode 183 Monument Oh, bugger off. Everything alright? Oh, no, what even is that? It's like Escher ate a bad cathedral and threw up everywhere

Starting point is 00:02:47 It's a building, a tower, in a sense Oh yeah, and what sense might that be? The tarot sense Really? No, sorry, it felt like a good line No, no, it was, I just, I don't know You did the look and... It's fine, sorry, it felt like a good line. No, no, it was. I just... I don't know. You did the look and... It's fine, sorry.

Starting point is 00:03:11 What's the deal, though? Part of it almost looked like... The Institute. Yeah. Yes. It makes sense. After all, it was built on the ruins of what Robert Smirk constructed. Smirk? What? No, but surely he's dead? I mean, yes, very much so.

Starting point is 00:03:29 This place is an homage, shall we say, a monument to him and those like him who tried to categorise the world with themselves at the centre, in so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering. Bit of a mouthful. Would you prefer I described it as a cascading recursion of shifting arrogance and hubristic dead ends? I would.

Starting point is 00:03:59 Hello, Helen. Might have guessed you'd be into weird architecture. Very much your area of expertise, no? Hmm, depends. Would you describe petulant poet as your area of expertise? I am weird architecture. Anyway, where have you been? I've been looking for you, but you both just vanished. Ah, right, I see. I was so looking forward to catching up after that whole Basira and Daisy thing, but then... You both disappear. I'd be very keen to know how you managed that little trick. Well, I caught Oz by surprise too. I mean, we actually...

Starting point is 00:04:35 We found somewhere to rest. That's all. Oh, yeah. Aha. Yes. Fine. Be like that. I can appreciate the particular pleasure of a kept secret. I'm sure you can. Anyway, such a shame about Basira and Daisy. I was really rooting for them to make up.

Starting point is 00:04:58 Since when? What happened to... I mean, how did you put a quick shot to the back of her head and then back in time for tea or whatever? Give over. I was obviously just prodding her, trying to make a point. She didn't want to kill her. What we want doesn't matter much these days. Oh, nonsense. What we want is the only thing that matters these days.

Starting point is 00:05:22 And Basira wanted to join Daisy. She made her choice. With your assistance. It was still her choice. What a waste. No. It wasn't. Basira is...

Starting point is 00:05:39 She's going to be okay. Oh, is she? Do you want me to tell you what she's been up to while you were resting? Where she is right now? You don't need to. I already know. I don't. She's currently moving through the void. Hungry shadows drifting in the dark. She's been there a long time now. Struggling to find the path. But she will? I think so. Yeah, she does always seem to manage, doesn't she? It's impressive. Although a little bit tempting at times. Look, Helen, what do you even want? Okay, you keep turning

Starting point is 00:06:17 up like a bad penny, and honestly, it seems like it's just to be a dick. Gasp. I am trying to be friends, Martin. Forever is a long time. And I occasionally like to have some company that isn't screaming. What do you even think friendship is? I don't know, do I? The only personhood I have is from someone I ate. You always said you were Helen. I am.

Starting point is 00:06:43 I also ate her. It's very simple, as long as you don't think about it. Look, listen, OK? I'm getting really sick of all of this. Leave it. Martin, she's just trying to get under your skin. Yeah? Well, she's really good at it.

Starting point is 00:06:55 Aw. Thanks, sweetie. But to be honest, I'm mainly just here to see which path you choose. What do you mean? Well, you know, I need to know how much of a welcome mat to roll out. Hang on. Martin, I'd prefer we talk about this alone.

Starting point is 00:07:11 Oh, I bet you would. You were probably just going to bypass it entirely, weren't you? I can't believe you would deny him the choice to see his own domain. My... My what? John, my what? I was going to bring it up to the crossroads.

Starting point is 00:07:30 Inside. I only just realised we would be going this way. I have a domain. Yes. Awkward. Right, well, this seems very much like a conversation the two of you should be having alone, so I'll be off then.

Starting point is 00:07:46 Watching from a distance? The eye rules everything, Archivist. We're all snoops now. Ciao. Martin. Are there people, John? What? Are there people in my domain? Not many.

Starting point is 00:08:16 Do you need to do your thing? Make a statement about whatever's going on in there? I could use a moment to think. Sure thing. Yeah, I'll... yeah. They scratch and scrape and scamper down the halls of icy granite fingers that end in jagged nails probing. Eager, desperate for the wide and stately passages of marble they are so convinced are just around the corner. This corner? No. The next one? Surely soon. It must be soon. Yes, I have simply misplaced it for a moment. They scrabble over smoothly shifting steps that grow and shrink to hidden whims and argue about the angle with nobody. If they are feeling very confident, they may lean down and stretch

Starting point is 00:09:26 a curious tongue beyond their chipped teeth and rotten gums, desperate to add another sense to their observances. More evidence to support their declaration of what the world must be. Their beards are long and matted with their prevaricating spittle and their hair is kept loose hanging over their faces to hide the looks of confusion and fear there is a way out of here there must be a way out of here there is a pattern to the movements, an unseen system to the shifting of the doors and the opening of the tunnels.

Starting point is 00:10:10 It simply takes observation and thought and patience and, above all else, intelligence. And that is what these men have in abundance. Intellects sharpened to the keen edge as a chef might sharpen their knife. They have spent their lives in holy objectivity, cleaving one Gordian knot after another in the arena of publication and debate. They must simply study and learn if they are to escape the labyrinth. They will be the first to escape. The one who sits in the central chamber cannot remember his name, but he knows that people called him Doctor.

Starting point is 00:11:00 He made sure of that. To ignore it would have been the greatest disrespect, and he will not be disrespected. Dr. Something has been waiting here for a long time, observing, timing the rotations of the passageways above him. He knows for a fact that this is the central chamber because he is the one sat here. For his observations to make any sense, they must be made from the centre of this place, and this is where he is observing from, so it stands to reason that it is the centre,

Starting point is 00:11:35 the only firm and solid place in a cacophony of undulating architecture, the only point from which it may be solved. How long has he been watching now, scratching his notes and formulae into his skin with a fragment of splintered obsidian? It does not matter. Time means nothing in the pursuit of knowledge, and he has no concerns except the solution. And he has cracked it. His mouth breaks into a smile, lip splitting in the grin, spilling a drop or two of scarlet onto skin so pale as to now be near translucent. He has seen the others pointlessly wandering the halls of course, simpering pretenders claiming to see

Starting point is 00:12:25 patterns when they are only being led by the siren call of their pathetic little biases. They're ridiculous pet theories, not like him. They'll remember him forever, the first to escape the monument. His name will be hallowed with the greats. Doctor, uh, Doctor... It doesn't matter. There will be time enough for names and gloating and awards once his achievement is secured. And now is the time to put it to the test, to prove once and for all that his peers are ignorant amateurs beside him, who can finally boast that he has found the key to the system in which they all struggle. He begins to walk, calmly and with a measured certainty, to the east. Figuring out which way was east was the first step, and the most simplistic one, Figuring out which way was east was the first step, and the most simplistic one. For the central chamber in which he had positioned himself received a ray of

Starting point is 00:13:29 light from above at regular intervals that could only be sunlight. And thus it was a simple matter to track the course of the light to determine which direction was east and which was west. Once he had noticed that, it was all about keeping a close eye on the timing of the shifts, cross-referenced with the compass point. In a westward direction, the corridors would invert every 47 seconds and shift incline every 20, as well as growing a door to a staircase every two minutes. The staircase would always be descending except for every fifth door, which would go up and twist to the

Starting point is 00:14:05 north. And just like that, he had plucked order from what would, to any of the other charlatans that wanted this prison of geometry, appear to be true chaos. It was east that he travelled now, however, because every eighty seconds the second corridor to the east made a sharp upwards inversion, leading to a full minute where every seven seconds a door would sprout from the ground. Only the first of these doors would lead you to the true path that will... A dead end? Wait, no, this... wasn't right. The first of the doors would lead him. Maybe that wasn't the first of the doors, but it was. It was the first door, but that would mean...

Starting point is 00:14:55 No, he was right. He was certain. He had factored in all the timings. This didn't make sense. It wasn't fair. He had the answer. He... The ground opens up below the poor, panicking doctor. He barely has time to register before he is tumbling, falling, smashing bone and cracking skull on the stairs on columns he impacts on his descent, one after another. But it is not the fall that terrifies him, not the pain of the impacts,

Starting point is 00:15:28 but the fact that none of them should be there, that it doesn't make sense, and it must make sense. There must be a system, there must be, because if there isn't... He lands with a heavy smack onto rough limestone and lies still, his body twisted and broken. He knows it will knit itself back together, slowly, painfully, as it always has before. But the thought of starting over, of composing yet another theory, fills him with a deep dread.

Starting point is 00:16:06 The broken doctor is not alone in the room where he now lies. Another figure, stooped and mumbling, staining bloody notes into a torn and discoloured robe, glances over at him. A sneer passes across the cracked face of the doctor. He knows this man a professor. At least he puffs himself up to be. His curled lip is reflected in the face of this pretender who scampers over to where he fell, chunks of stone clutched tight in pink and bloody hands.

Starting point is 00:16:41 I told you, the professor gloats, that your precious compass-point rubric is nonsense. It's all about the stone, the rocks that make up this place. You see, here we have the limestone, here the granite. Taste it. No? Your loss. I have also identified basalt and slate in various quantities shot through the staircases in veins. Now, if we ascribe a hierarchy of spiritual purity to these stones with the hypothetical but inevitable marble at the top,

Starting point is 00:17:15 then it will be a simple matter of following the current of these stones through the... The doctor that lies on the floor has recovered just enough to laugh. You're still working on mineral theory? How painfully outdated. A flash of genuine fear crosses the face of the professor at this dismissal, before he picks up his chunk of granite and begins to smash the doctor's head in yet again. Finished? Yes.

Starting point is 00:18:02 Good. I need you to explain something to me. Alright. How do I have a domain? That doesn't make any sense. It's like I said. Everything here is either Watcher or Watched. Subject or Object, yes, I know, we've been over this.

Starting point is 00:18:20 Well, you're a Watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements. The Eye is fond of you. You're not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means... That one of them belongs to me. But that's... How can I be a watcher? I didn't even know it existed. But you've suspected for a while now, haven't you? Maybe. But that's not watching. Do you want me to tell you about it? No. Yes.

Starting point is 00:18:53 No, no, I don't know. I don't know. It's a small domain. A swirling mix of the eye and the lonely. Inhabited by a few lost souls whose fear is not of their isolation or their agonies, but that no one will ever know of them. That they shall suffer in silence and be mourned by nobody. That's why you can't really see it. It's why even if we do travel through it,

Starting point is 00:19:21 you won't be able to see any of the people trapped there. But I'm not an avatar. Avatar isn't a thing, Martin. It's not. It's just a word. A word used by fools like Smirk to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist. Human, avatar, monster, victim.

Starting point is 00:19:42 Only now, now, there's a binary. Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now, there's a binary. There's finally a clear dividing line and... Well, I'm sorry you're not happy with which side you've ended up on. What about Daisy? Or Basira? Daisy carved through the domains of others. Basira, well, in a very real way, she was a sufferer in Daisy's domain. Maybe the only one.

Starting point is 00:20:11 Hunting, following, hurting. Now Daisy's dead, she's free, sort of. She's inherited something of Daisy's ability to move through the other domains. For now, she'll feed off what she sees in them. As to whether the eye ultimately gives her a domain of her own, I don't know yet. You didn't tell her any of that. I didn't think the metaphysics of her place in the fear ecosystem

Starting point is 00:20:38 was something she'd be particularly interested in at that moment. Fair. But you seem very reluctant to tell anyone any of this stuff. I did try, right at the moment. Fair. But you seem very reluctant to tell anyone any of this stuff. I did try, right at the start, but you didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I didn't push it. It's hard, I have so much knowledge,

Starting point is 00:20:55 but how do I decide what people want me to share and what they never want to know? I guess that makes sense. So what did you mean about the crossroads? When you were talking to Helen? It's a maze in there. Something between a Rubik's Cube and a magic eye picture.

Starting point is 00:21:17 I can find us the way through easily enough, but, well, for us, there are two ways out. Two paths to London. What are the choices? One would be a long, winding route. We'd see a lot of horrors, but remain personally untouched. And the other is my domain? Eventually. It's a shorter path, with faces we know along the way.

Starting point is 00:21:46 Including Helen. I thought Helen was her domain With all the doors and that She is, but she has a position within this pseudo-landscape like any other Okay So I mean, I suppose we've got to do that one, right? We don't have to We could just... What? We could dodge around it? Take the path of denial? I guess.

Starting point is 00:22:08 But what is it you keep harping on about? The journey will be the journey? I mean, it's pretty obvious that this one is my journey. If you're sure. I'm sure I love you. I love you too. Let's go. The Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill Thank you. Alexander J. Newell. It featured Jonathan Sims as The Archivist, Alexander J. Newell as Martin Blackwood,

Starting point is 00:23:10 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. Thanks for listening. Hi everyone, Alex here. I'd just like to take a moment to thank some of our patrons. Thank you. Isabella Silver, Nuka96, Shy Magpie, Katie Nelson, Sam Keish, TJ Hummel, SDD,

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The Magnus Archives - MAG 183 - Monument

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