The Magnus Archives - MAG 188 - Centre of Attention

Episode Date: November 19, 2020

Case ########-28Observations of surveillanceRecorded by The Archivist in Situ.Content warnings:ScopophobiaLoss of privacyJudgement & ShamingSchadenfreudeBystander apathyTherapeutic malpracticeBody horror (inc SFX)Eye traumaMentions of: Discussion of grief/loss, gaslighting, loss of identity, insomnia, asthma attacksEpisode TranscriptMAG 188 (PDF): https://cutt.ly/PhwoAZYMAG 188 (DOC): https://cutt.ly/UhwoMm0Thanks to this week's Patrons: Katie McLean, incorrigible_worksop, Sam Lueke, Delta Psy, Tired Naiad, Yael Zombie, Elizabeth Almasy, Angelika Agbayani, David Niemczyk, Harmoni Kauffman, Layne Woodward, Jacc, N, Rahlly, Michelle Scarcella, connanro, Diego Henriquez, Erica Julie Fricker apthemagician Zacharias Buchanan, Kathryn Sullivan, LYJun, Jordan Patton,Sophia Stasevic, Dominic Moffchiedoytiss, Liz McAnder, Juliana Scherzer, Jojoiter, 104 Tarsiers, Jara257, kendal, Kiwisheep, Renata, Devin Taylor, Emily Tucker, I should be asleep, melekinh, Kaley Bales, Vincent & Amelia, Emma Baker, Emily, here's how Web!Martin can still win, TheFool, Liv Stormborn, Nicole Just Kidding, Marika Rainey, Emily Diaz, Avah Willard, Anabel (latt).If you'd like to join them visit www.patreon.com/rustyquillEdited this week by Annie Fitch, Elizabeth Moffatt, Tessa Vroom, Brock Winstead & Alexander J NewallWritten by Jonathan Sims and directed by Alexander J NewallProduced by Lowri Ann DaviesPerformances:- "The Archivist" - Jonathan Sims- "Martin Blackwood" - Alexander J. NewallSound effects this week by 13FPanska_Cerny_Jan, 14F_NetusilovaKristyna, 14GPanskaHonc_Petr, aarom, Adam Wayne Gistarb, adamgryu, altfuture, Ambientsoundapp, avakas, bennstir, bloke09, bmusic92, bormane, Breviceps, bsmacbride, cmusounddesign, DCPoke, Deathscyp, dersuperanton, dheming, dslrguide, Emanuele_Correani, Freeman213SG, geoneo0, harilatron, hz37, ibirdfilm, InspectorJ, Islabonita, jaimage, JasonElrod, JavierZumer, joedeshon, julius_galla, Khanyi_190188, klankbeeld, kwahmah_02, kyles, LamaMakesMusic, launemax, leonelmail, leonsptvx, magedu, mars_98, martian, martinimeniscus, mitchanary, monte32, MrAuralization, nextmaking, nicktermer, nickyg11p, OnlyTheGhosts, OwlStorm, patchytherat, pcaeldries, peridactyloptrix, PeteBarry, pfranzen, phenoxyethanol, qubodup, Reitanna, RHumphries, RossBell, sangtao, semccab, Setuniman, Sheyvan, sirTmoney, smithw027, soundstack, SpliceSound, Splushionsindasky, subtletransmissions, tatianafeudal, ultradust, Uminari, v23, vandale, VlatkoBlazek, Yuval, zimbo, sketchygiot & previously credited artists via freesound.orgAdditional sound effects from https://www.zapsplat.comFor more information on this weeks sponsor visit http://bit.ly/RhythmofWarCheck out our merchandise available at https://www.redbubble.com/people/RustyQuill/shop and https://www.teepublic.com/stores/rusty-quill.You can... Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Dette er den første radio-ad du kan smelte. Den nye Cinnabon-pull-apart, bare på Wendy's. Det er ui, gui og bare 5 kroner for en liten kaffe hele dagen. Det er ekstra penger på Wendy's til mai 5. Terms og kondisjoner oppleves. Da har vi podden Skitshowet. Hva er det? Neste blir noe for to av de influensere som har fikset podden. Fortsatt på osaten som noe eierligens i Trondheim. Det er jo ikke noe hemmelighet, og det er ganske mye glem på Insta, så jeg føler at vi trenger podden for å ta det litt ned.

Vi tar for oss hva vi har gjort den siste uka. Samtidig som vi tester nye ting, som for eksempel menneskehopp og kosnikk. Det er egentlig det. Så det man skal gjøre nå er å ned på huk igjen, for jeg får faktisk litt panikk. Hør om du gidder. I'm getting a little panicked. See you later, guys. Bye! Hi, everyone. Alex here. Just taking a moment to let you know that this episode's sponsor is The Stormlight Archive Vol. 4, Rhythm of War,

by internationally best-selling author Brandon Sanderson. The Stormlight universe is as wild as it is large, from the labyrinthine trench city of Yador to the constant shallows of the Pure Lake and the magic-battered slopes of the Shattered Plains. Spirits and knights, scholars and demons, enchanted swords and even the gods themselves all march towards a magical showdown in this newest Stormlight Archive volume, Rhythm of War. This fourth volume ramps up the tensions that Sanderson began with his New York Times bestsellers

The Way of Kings, Words of Radiance and Oathbringer, leading everyone to choose a side, and it's available to purchase right now. Search for Rhythm of War or visit the link in this episode's description and get started on your own epic journey, knowing that at the same time you're helping to support your favourite horror podcast. Thanks. The Magnus Archives Archives. Episode 188. Center of Attention. ¶¶ How much longer?

Feels like we've been walking through suburbs forever. Well, quite. Ah, right, okay. Literal suburban hellscape, then. Yes. Endless cookie-cutter housing. Impersonal. Alienating. A common expression of the lonely even before the world went to hell.

I guess. Seems a bit... I don't know, a bit tame compared to some of the other stuff, though? I mean, not to be, uh... That isn't exactly a surprise, is it? That the lonely seems comfortable to you? Guess not. But if you think there's a lack of violence or suffering, then I'm afraid you're mistaken. There's plenty, it's just... hidden.

Trapped behind identical doors and down silent streets of unknown neighbours. The suffering here is deep. And it's private. Okay, yeah, I get it. So, I guess we're looking for an empty house? Somewhere to unburden yourself? Actually, no. Helen, the distortion.

Turns out that was a lot of fear for the eye, and... You're still full? I suppose that's one way to put it. You still haven't really explained what happened there. She tried to trap me in the corridors, so I destroyed her. Yeah, I know, but... I mean...

Why? Probably because I told her I was going to kill her. Yeah, that'd do it. Was it that bad in there? There were a lot of people suffering. But that's not why you did it. She was... She was too dangerous.

She was only ever playing us. So all that talk of wanting to be friends she was just, what, lying? no, that was real she did want to be friends but she also wanted us suspicious off balance, uncomfortable she wanted to be able to hurt us

I mean a bit of a contradiction, surely is it? she wanted to be our friend. She just didn't want to be a good friend. She couldn't help what she was, I guess. She didn't even try. I hope the others don't take it too hard.

Melanie was pretty close to her at one point. Assuming Melanie's still alive, of course. Yeah. I thought you and Helen got on well, though. Yeah, I... I don't know, really. She always seemed to know just the right thing to say or the wrong thing, kind of.

Like, she had a way of getting into your head and making you feel like you didn't know what the deal was. Like you were being stupid or something. Sounds about right. Plus, I... I was a little bit jealous as well. Of what? Of Helen.

Well, the real Helen. I found the tape when you were on the run and... I don't know. Something about the way you two seemed to connect when she came in. Before she was eaten by a door? Well, yeah. It certainly seemed to have a pretty deep impact on you. It did. I think... I mean, you remember how I was back then, how paranoid.

That not Sasha was there, and I could sense something wasn't right, but I just couldn't place it. Left me a suspicious wreck. Then when Helen Richardson came in it seemed like she was in the same place I was, but worse, further along. I thought maybe if I could help her that would mean maybe I wasn't beyond help. I'm sorry for how it worked out me too was there any of the original Helen left in there? if there was I could never see it properly

I know that Helen Richardson was gone the same way Michael Shelley was gone I know the distortion was neither of them I also know that the distortion of Helen was not the same being as the distortion of Michael, but they were all so twisted up as a direct part of the spiral. It's like I could follow the knowledge of any one line of identity, but as soon as I tried to take a step back and see the whole, the picture changed.

I want to believe that thing was just wearing Helen Richardson like a mask. That I finally avenged her. At least we'll have plenty to tell the others when we meet up. Yeah. Yeah, we will. Speaking of, how's Basira doing? Where is she at the moment? She's trying to catch her breath in a labyrinth of masks.

She hates the stranger, but has overcome it before and will do so again. Her path is slow And painful But she hasn't fallen yet Thanks I'm trying not to worry about her I know Oh Hold on

What? We're about to enter London proper. We should take a moment. What's it like? It's the seat of the eye. The other powers have small enclaves within it, but... It's going to be a lot. Okay.

A lot of what? Okay. That's a lot of, um... Are they real? They're not people. But they can see us. Do they ever leave the windows? No. They don't need to. They have a very good view. And the cameras? I wouldn't look at them too closely.

I won't if they return the favour. Okay. Okay. So, do we just just start walking again? I don't see why not. At least there aren't any cars. I suppose they don't get many new faces around here. Especially not the Archivist. Don't forget you're a celebrity.

Maybe. Or maybe it's Elias's personal welcome wagon. new faces around here. Especially not the archivist. Don't forget, you're a celebrity. Maybe. Or maybe it's Elias' personal welcome wagon. Oh. Is that a possibility? I don't know. I still can't see him. Then I guess we'll find out. Let's move on. Don't need to attract any more attention. Uh, yeah. Besides, it turns out I can feel a statement coming on.

And I'd rather not do it with any more of an audience than absolutely necessary. All right. You want to show so badly. Fine. London. Carmen hated London. She had only ever moved here because there were no jobs in her field outside of it, though right now she couldn't have told you for certain what her field actually was. When she had first arrived, she had almost convinced herself she liked it.

That had worn thin very quickly. But recently the place had changed. It felt different. It had always watched her come and had never been under any illusion about that. Most surveilled city in the world. So much so that you didn't even notice most of the time. She would barely register the bank of CCTV monitors on the side of the bus that cycled through angles until you were staring at the side of your own head. And she had lived next to

a small park for two years before she realised the huge metal pole in the middle of the pathways wasn't a street lamp, but a bank of cameras. She had once counted how many times she could spot a camera watching her during her morning run. 31 in 10 minutes. At least, it had been back then. Last time she had tried it, there were hundreds. They tracked her movements, and made so much noise that she could not have ignored them if she had tried. It was halfway between the mechanical whir of a focusing lens and the low rattle of mean-spirited laughter. Carmen

didn't go running anymore. She lay in bed now, the lights of the street lamps below her window washing out the world in a faintly green LED glow. Her curtains had long since torn, and there was nowhere to buy any more. When she turned onto her side, she could see the blinds of the flat across the street twitching, the suggestion of an observer between the slats. Carmen turned her back to the window, tried to ignore the sense that she was being watched, being judged. Her own eyes drifted to the door to her room and she realised it was ajar. In the gap stood her flatmate, the one whose name Carmen didn't remember and who she couldn't recall moving in. Straight blonde hair atop a round, friendly face that never seemed to blink.

It's late, the flatmate said, her tone level. Carmen's throat tightened. I am trying to sleep. This is not acceptable. The words bit into Carmen and she felt her head swim and her heart race so fast she thought it was going to burst. What time was it? She hadn't been making any noise. How had her flatmate known? This was her room, her space. She was allowed to be awake. She was... Her flatmate was still there, standing in the doorway, eyes locked on her. Carmen was shaking all over, trying to keep her teeth from chattering,

from making more noise that might further disturb this presence in her room. She did not sleep, and her flatmate did not move. not sleep, and her flatmate did not move. And as the night passed, she could have sworn she heard the faintest snicker drifting from nearby windows. The sun came up gradually, bathing everything in the harshest of lights every pavement crack revealed every broken window or poorly painted facade laid bare for all to see Carmen stared at her face in the mirror the glow of morning reflecting back the bruised and puffy bags under her eyelids the wrinkles that seemed to deepen every day

how many days now and the pale weariness that almost leaked from her skin. She tried to force a smile, but her reflection just stared at her, well aware that it was false. Behind her, she saw the face of her flatmate, that same expression that dropped a hot coal of anxiety into her stomach. I am waiting for the bathroom, the flatmate said. This is not acceptable.

Bile rose from Carmen's throat for just a second as the flatmate took a step closer, watching her every move, examining her for imperfections, for failures. And there were so many. Carmen pushed past her out of the bathroom and ran back to her room, where she tried to find clothes for the day. But everything in her wardrobe was fit only to draw attention to her. She so desperately wanted to simply disappear, just for a moment. A camera swivelled the focus on her the moment she left her flat, stepping onto the landing, lens extending towards her right eye level. She instinctively swatted at it, batting it away. It was softer than she expected and warmer,

impacting the wool with a gentle pop and leaving a sticky grey residue behind it. Carmen hurried down the stairs as the other cameras all focused on her and the other doors on the floor began to open to see what all the fuss was about. From the speed at which they opened, her neighbours must have been standing just behind them, waiting. She took it two steps at a time going down,

and almost tripped and fell twice, but it was better than the lift. The lift was nothing but cameras and mirrors, infinite reflections staring at each other out to all eternity, and the endless multiplication of four cameras to watch it all forever. No, she wasn't going in the lift. At last she was in the street, the air of the city close, dry and tinged with that gritty texture that always made her afraid she was going to have an asthma attack.

tinged with that gritty texture that always made her afraid she was going to have an asthma attack. Did she have one recently? There were memories. Flashes of lying on the ground, desperate for someone, anyone to help. But they had just watched silently. Some had taken videos. But she was here now. She couldn't afford to have another attack today.

She had somewhere very important to be. The street outside was not crowded, which gave Carmen the briefest moment of hope. Perhaps she could make her journey in relative peace. But then the camera orb on a nearby pole swivelled to focus on her, and just like that, every single person turned towards her as one. Her stomach dropped as one by one their faces lit up, taking on that unmistakable hue of anticipation, of recognition. Carmen could remember none of these people, but there was no ignoring the fact that they definitely knew her, and more than that, she was important to them. Oh my God, the young man said as she tried to walk past him.

It's you! He waited for a response, but Carmen had nothing to say. And as her feet locked in place, her mind could do nothing but recite at her a litany of her inadequacies, her failures, her regrets. What did he want from her? His smile turned into a sneer. I should have known, he spat. What a disappointment.

Carmen tried to walk faster, ignoring the middle-aged woman who looked her up and down, not bothering to hide the judgment in her gaze. All she had to say was, oh. The little girl implored for Carmen to play with her, huge eyes pleading, but she didn't have time. You're just like everyone said you were, the little girl screamed as Carmen tried to walk away no wonder Simone left you shut up shut up shut up there's no way the child could have known that did someone see of course they did of course they were always watching judging knowing all her business and there was nothing she could do to stop it to keep them from being disappointed, to not hurt them. She just screwed up, and

they all just watched her fall. Sounds like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, her therapist said, voice soft and mellifluous. The deep brown of her eyes met Carmen's, and as always, Carmen had to quiet the flutter of her heart, choke down and try her best to hide the seed of lust that had settled inside her long ago. But she was certain she saw a flash of contempt pass across her therapist's face. She knew. She had seen. It does feel like that, Carmen said there's so much pressure and I don't know why

I know why, the therapist said it's because everyone's counting on you everyone's watching Carmen was back in her room at last. She had no curtains, so pressed her mattress against the glass to keep out the light. To keep out the curiosity. Her door did not lock, so she pushed her unused desk against the flimsy MDF. To keep out her flatmate.

At last she was alone. Nobody could see her. She could do what she liked and it would harm nobody. So why didn't she feel it? Why was there still that small, panicked buzzing in the back of her mind that told her something could see her? That she was not alone. Carmen managed not to scream but couldn't stop herself kicking the wall in frustration. The rage passed in a moment and shame hit her like a truck. Someone had seen that, she was sure of it. And what must they think of her? On the section of wall

she had kicked, a big chunk of plaster crumbled to the floor, revealing the brick behind. Carmen's brow wrinkled, first in confusion, then in horror. Set into those bricks behind the plaster was an eye. It was larger than a human eye and flatter, almost the size of her head. And it pulsed gently. The pupil was locked on her. And all at once Carmen understood how deep it went. But they were in everything, lurking in the very fabric of the world she lived in, always keeping watch on her. It was not in rage, but in cold fury that Carmen moved the desk and marched down to the kitchen,

ignoring her flatmate's recriminations of her actions being unacceptable. She picked up a chef's knife and returned to her room, shutting the door behind her once again. She looked at the eye, and the eye looked back. Carmen's arm shot out, thrusting the tip of the blade right into the pupil. But it did not cut anything, for there was nothing but empty blackness. Carmen's knife, then her hand, then her forearm passed into the void of that pupil, her skin bristling with the cold. And then the iris closed around her arm, the thin flesh of the tightening muscle clenching with astonishing strength as it held her in place.

Then, inch by inch by inch, it began to pull her in. She tried to scream, but her flatmate simply shushed her. Her terror was pointed and crimson, and tomorrow she will wake up hating London, and worrying about how many cameras there are. Oh! Is that what you wanted to hear? Why you're all staring at me like that? You wanted the story. Or maybe I am your chosen one and you're just waiting for your orders. I'm special to the thing upstairs

so that makes me special to all of you as well, right? Well, let's see if I'm worthy of your attention. I love you. 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, and Alexander J. Newell as Martin Blackwood. 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. Thanks for listening.

Hi everyone, Alex here. To be continued... Elizabeth Almacy, Angelica Agbayani, David Niemczyk, Harmoni Kaufman, Lane Woodward, Jack, N, Raleigh, Michelle Scarcella, Conanro, Diego Henriquez, Erica, Julie Fricker, App the Magician, Zacharias Buchanan, Catherine Sullivan, Lijan, Jordan Patton, Sophia Stasevic, Dominic Moff-Cerdoitis Liz McCander Juliana Scherzer Jojoita 104 Tarsiers Jara257 Kendall Kiwi Sheep Renata

Devin Taylor Emily Tucker I Should Be Asleep Melekin Kaylee Bales Vincent and Amelia Emma Baker Emily

Here's How WebMartin Can Still Win The Fool Liv Stormborn Nicole Just Kidding Marie Kureni Emily Diaz Thank you all. We really appreciate your support. If you'd like to join them, go to www.patreon.com forward slash Rusty Quill and take a look at our rewards. Hello, it's Kareem, the voice of Simon Fairchard from the Magnus Archives, letting you know about our sponsor, Audible. For fans of heart-racing, bone-chilling and mind-bending stories,

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Taxes extra at participating Wendy's until May 5th. Terms and conditions apply. As women, our life stages come with unique risk factors, like high blood pressure developed during pregnancy, which can put us two times more at risk of heart disease or stroke. Her kommer et podcasttips fra Eikast. Hei, Dana! Hei, Erika! Og sammen har vi podden Skitshowet.

Hva er det? Neste blir noe for to av de influenza som har fikset podden. Fortsatt bostaden som noe eierligens i Trondheim. Det er jo jo ikke noe hemmelighet at det er ganske mye glem på Insta Så jeg føler at vi trenger podden for å ta det litt ned Vi tar for oss hva vi har gjort den siste uka Samtidig som vi tester nye ting Som for eksempel menneskehopp og kosmikk Det er jo egentlig det

Så det man skal gjøre nå er å nepe huk igjen For jeg får faktisk litt panikk Hør om du gidder Bye