The Magnus Archives - MAG 192 - An Appointment

Episode Date: January 28, 2021

Case ########-32Case study on the administration of fear.Recorded by The Archivist in Situ.Content warnings:Compulsions (supernatural)Emotional manipulation & gaslightingMental disorientationParanoia & self-doubtMentions of: scopophobia, worms (inc. SFX), blackmail, gun violence, isolation, mild language, mass suffering, self-recriminationSFX: screams, discordant staticTranscript:PDF - https://cutt.ly/Aj5PvlPDOC - https://cutt.ly/Jj5PEEKThanks to this week's Patrons: Pioup Pioup, Anna Sprout, impressionistcowboy, Frank Voss, JURGEN! WAS! RIGHT!, Prince, Kyra Munroe, Cait2209, Jennifer Williams, freshly, Madeline, Werner, Kendal, Yarrow T. Leef, Rebecca Adamson, A.C. Reynard, Kathleen Arnett, Latitude Brown, Oscaron, Courtney McCann, Stef Aprile, TheGoodHeathen, Cheyenne Morse, Jagoda Lisak, Henry Cooke, Llyl, Transmasc King Trexel, Kirsten Wright, Fanny Baudraz, Honesty Zahnd, Jeff Boggs, Emma Stelter, Kelly Conrad, E.A. Fleming, Alex Friedman, Minnie, kelly, Mj Gonzalez, Alison Wilgus, Jessica Ma, Arthur, Jordy, Hexer Hypathia, Joyia, Jennifer Recchio, Jenna, Mads England, Jay S. Breham, DJDembo13, Steven Remington.If you'd like to join them visit www.patreon.com/rustyquillEdited this week by Annie Fitch, Elizabeth Moffatt, Brock Winstead, Jeffrey Nils Gardner & Alexander J NewallWritten by Jonathan Sims and directed by Alexander J NewallProduced by Lowri Ann DaviesPerformances:- "The Archivist" - Jonathan Sims- "Martin Blackwood" - Alexander J. Newall- "Georgie Barker" - Sasha Sienna- "Rosie" - Hannah Brankin- "Elias Bouchard/Jonah Magnus" - Ben MeredithSound effects this week by 123jorre456, Adam_N, afterguard, AlexMurphy53, altfuture, amholma, Angel_Perez_Grandi, animatik, Australopithecusman, BockelSound, daboy291, Daniela-Santos, dansayshi, darkiron98, Eelke, FractalStudios, giddster, Guardian2433, harleto, humanoide9000, InspectorJ, joedeshon, jtnewlin13, kb7clx, khenshom, klankbeeld, LampEight, LittleRobotSoundFactory, mefrancis13, mffm, mrsorbias, mzui, nebulousflynn, nhaudio, nickyg11p, Nox_Sound, OGsoundFX, OwlStorm, petewyer2, pfranzen, Phil25, pushkin, ralph.whitehead, rivernile7, Rodzuz, Rudmer_Rotteveel, savataivanov, sidequesting, sKydran, SpliceSound, sturmankin, theneedle.tv, tim.kahn, vedas, VithorMoraes, Volonda, xserra, Dynamicell & previously credited artists via freesound.orgAdditional sound effects from https://www.zapsplat.com & https://www.SoundsCrate.comCheck out our merchandise available at https://www.redbubble.com/people/RustyQuill/shop and https://www.teepublic.com/stores/rusty-quill.You can subscribe to this podcast using your podcast software of choice, or by visiting

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. Taxes extra at participating Wendy's until May 5th. Terms and conditions apply. Rusty Quill Presents The Magnus Archives Episode 192 An Appointment So this is it? Just up those stairs?

Just? You've seen how tall that tower is, right? I don't have much of a choice. Yeah, but still, it's just walking though, isn't it? And God knows we've had enough practice. How come you haven't had a look yourselves? Keep watching. You see those?

What? Oh, oh. Ah. Are those corpses? I wish. Watch. Ah! Shhh! Right. So these are the former archivists you were talking about, John?

Yes. I don't like them. No. So what do we do? How do we get past them? Don't know. It was never worth risking it. Wait, seriously? I thought you had this whole invisibility cloak thing going on. Sure, but I'm not exactly keen to test it against the eyeball tower guardians. I don't know the limits of our invisibility, and it seems pretty dumb to saunter up and hope it works on them. Right.

Look, I've taken you this far. Beyond this point, you're on your own, all right? No advice at all? I don't know. Believe in yourself? Wow, thanks. It's all right. Martin, they'll let us through.

Sure? Yes. I thought you weren't so good at knowing down here. What if you're wrong and then we're... I'm not. Trust me. Thank you, Georgie. Sure.

Good luck. Thank you. And tell Melanie... Tell her I'm sorry. That's not what she wants to hear from you. Well, then, what does she want? I don't know, but it's not going to be another apology. Fine. Tell her...

Look, tell yourself when you get back down, okay? I'm not your bloody PA. Okay. Anything you've got to say to me, that can wait too. Okay. Let's go, Martin. Bye, Georgie. Good luck. Ceaseless Watcher, see your servants approach. Herald their arrival and bid them welcome into your sanctum. Uh... yeah, excuse us. Okay, okay, hold. Hold on, hold on, hold on. Oi, John!

Just wait a sec. Christ, I just need a moment to catch my breath. Of course, sorry, I, uh... It's fine, I just... This moment to catch my breath. Of course, sorry, I... It's fine, I just... This is a lot of steps. It's a very tall tower. Is it? Oh, thank God I have you all seeing one,

otherwise I might have completely missed that fact. Yes, all right. I'm not keeping you, am I? No, it's just... What, you're not I? No, it's just... I am. What, you're not tired? No, believe me, I am. It's just...

It's kind of difficult not to keep climbing. What, like... You've been called? More like pulled. Gently, but very definitely upwards. Towards the top. That could be a bad sign. Probably. Delayed to bail now, though.

True. You seem less nervous, at least. Oh, God, no. I'm far more scared than I was down there, but... I don't know, I feel giddy. Powerful. Coming up from the tunnels into the tower I can see again and it's just a bit of a rush you know sure just just try to keep it together okay the last thing we need is you

wigging out I'll do my best you ready sure lead on Macduff. Let's lay on. I know, I know. The big boss. One last set of unnecessarily ominous doors and then... Good morning. Do you have an appointment? Rosie? What are you doing here? Hello, I'm Rosie, assistant for Mr Magnus.

Do you have an appointment? No, we don't. Oh, I see. Well, I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid he's booked up for quite some time. You may need to try again another day. Rosie, are you alright?

It's us. It's okay. We're here to help. Sir, please calm down. There's no need to get worked up. I'm only doing my job. Rosie, I'm not going to do this. Jonah Magnus will see us. Please inform him we're here.

I really don't think that that's... I insist. Your funeral? Excuse me, sir. Two gentlemen here to see you. The Archivist and Martin Blackwood. The Archivist and, er... an associate. Ouch. Yes, I... Yes, I understand. I just... I...

Sorry to interrupt. Like I said, unless you have an appointment, there's nothing I can do. I understand. Now, I'm sorry, but if there's nothing else, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I'm very busy. Of course. What's she doing here? She's his assistant. So the eye put her here.

Did she choose it? Did any of us? So what? She's just gone. She doesn't remember us at all. To a degree, but... You were right. I'm sorry. Oh, Christ, go on.

Nosy Rosie, he had said. The words had been soft, hidden behind the CV he was examining, but she heard them clear as day. What did you say? She tried to hide the hurt and disbelief, the sudden impact of a childhood nickname she thought she had long since left behind. Sorry. His voice was light. I don't think I said anything. There was a long moment as Rosie stared at her interviewer.

His expression was a pure, friendly confusion, a light sort of innocence that gave nothing away. But she had definitely heard it. Was he just going to pretend it hadn't happened? Apparently so. She studied the face of Elias Bouchard. He seemed far too young for the role he had apparently found himself in, with an old-fashioned haircut that seemed to accentuate the image rather than lessen it. How was he

already the head of an academic institution? No doubt Mummy and Daddy had something to do with it. The thought leapt across Rosie's mind before she could stop it, and with no small amount of bitterness. His eyes, though, were different. There was something in them that unsettled her. They didn't match the rest of his face. They were cold and grey, and somehow so much older. So why do you want this job, Ms. Zampano? Because I need money to live, pompous ass she didn't answer because I let my imagination and paranoia wreck my marriage

and now I've got nothing and if I don't get a job I'm just sitting around an empty flat staring into space instead she smiled I guess I'm just curious to know what goes on in a place like this to know what goes on in a place like this. From up here she can see all of it at such a distance. She can hear the distant screams, spot the occasional gout of blood, smell the burning flesh wafting from far below when the wind is right. Should she be doing something? Her hand hovers over the

intercom. Mr Bouchard isn't to be disturbed. Rosie is certain of that. But what else can she do? She chokes down her unease and smiles again, just in case anyone might be watching. just in case anyone might be watching. They weren't actually Cockney. She knew that for certain. They might as well have been asking to take that table up the apples and pears. Some kind of practical joke being played on her? She said nothing, though she glanced around in case anyone was watching from a distance, snickering.

The pair of them loomed over her with identical expressions on their identical faces, expressions of gruff impatience. Rosie looked over the delivery form. Jonathan Sims, the name read. She knew him. Well, knew of him. The things they said about him in the break room, the sort of things that passed across Mr Bouchard's desk about him. She hadn't been snooping, exactly, but maybe a little bit curious. always talked to her as though she was in on something, even though Rosie had never understood half the things she had told her.

Sims was different. He was insecure, aggressive, desperate to be taken seriously. Of course, having seen his file, Rosie kind of understood why on earth Mr Bouchard had given him the job at all was a mystery to her. But it didn't make it any easier to talk to him. He was in the building, and she really should have called down, gotten him to come up and sign off on the delivery, but if he dragged his feet, that would have left her here with these two weird impressionists, and no doubt when he finally did arrive there'd be some drama or other. No, she'd just sign for it and pass it on to Martin. He'd get it sorted out.

Besides, she was kind of curious to see what was in the package. It is him behind it all, she's certain. The words and noises that sometimes leak out of Mr. Bouchard's office are enough to convince her of that. Should she still call him Mr. Bouchard, knowing what she knows now about what it is that lives inside him? Through him? She doesn't really need to call him anything, of course. He hasn't spoken to her since she clocked into the building, and there haven't been any visitors. She still smiles, though, just in case. He didn't even look up from his desk. "'Everyone else is evacuating!' she yelled over the din of the fire alarm. Mr. Bouchard just smiled.

I wouldn't worry about it, Rosie. He shuffled his papers. Just a little incident down in the archives. It'll be dealt with soon enough. Something was wrong. He hadn't had any calls. No one had come by. There was no way for him to know what was going on. But he said it with such confidence. She turned and slowly walked back to her desk. Something was going on, and Rosie wasn't going anywhere until she knew what it was. When Sasha James barrelled past her without even glancing in her direction, Rosie knew she'd been right to wait. She moved quickly to the door, listening, looking around the edge.

What were they talking about? Worms? Like that weird infestation they had down there? How was that an emergency? Behind his desk, without missing a beat of his conversation, Elias caught her eye, and suddenly she was a child again, creeping towards the rotten board in her parents' attic, burning to know what lurked behind it, unsuspecting of the squirming nest of half-dead insect bodies she was about to reveal. nest of half-dead insect bodies she was about to reveal. Then she was back in the office. Mr. Bouchard was still smiling and Rosie turned to run.

Maybe she could help, stuck here at the top of the impossible tower. She could just buzz him, ask him what was going on, tell him to stop. A finger hovered over the button. Her hand was shaking. What if he got angry? She couldn't afford to lose this job. She couldn't. Rosie put her hand down and started smiling again. She was getting very good at it by now. She had waited for the gunshot. Her whole body felt like it was made of glass, locked in place but ready to shatter at any moment. Mr Bouchard had told her explicitly, do not phone the police. But that woman, she'd been dressed as police and she had a gun and Sims, she'd been practically dragging him. What was Rosie

supposed to do except wait for a gunshot that never came? Then the others arrived, Tim and that new girl. She wanted to warn them, to tell them something was wrong, but what if it made Mr Bouchard angry? Why did the thought of that terrify her so? He was just a man, and he'd never been anything but cordial to her. Did she need this job that badly? At the back of her mind, her curiosity urged her to get closer, to try and hear what was being said. But this time fear locked her into her seat. When the other police did come and Mr Bouchard's voice came through the intercom so light, so in control, she sent them away, and watched as the others

filed out of his office so slowly, so defeated. That was when she no longer suspected. She knew. Finally, her paranoia had not been for nothing. She was working for evil. Not someone misguided, not selfish, but truly evil. And she knew she was going to sit there and ignore that fact. She knew the sort of information he had on everyone, and now she knew what he was capable of, what he might do if he thought Rosie might be a threat. She was just going to sit there, watch, and hope to go unnoticed. And a small part of her almost wanted to see what was going to happen. Why doesn't she do it? She knows he's in there. She can hear him occasionally. And he likes her, Rosie's pretty sure of that. She is perhaps the only person on earth in a position to help, to at least ask what is happening, to ask why. But now all she can

do is sit there and smile, waiting for the intercom. There should have been relief when they led him out in handcuffs, a weight removed, a tightness loosed from her chest. But there wasn't. Mr. Bouchard had smiled at her as the inspector marched him out. He wasn't even surprised. She hadn't smiled back. She hadn't smiled in a long time except for that painful customer service grin she had forced onto her face when Mr. Bouchard had visitors. Visitors like... Of course. The floating unease settled into shape as soon as she saw Mr. Lucas. Rosie knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

Rosie, right? I'm Peter Lucas. Elias asked me to look after the Institute while he was away, I'm Peter Lucas. Elias asked me to look after the Institute while he was away, so I guess that makes you my assistant, right? She knew all about Peter Lucas, of course. Bouchard had always been very careful to leave his files in conspicuous enough locations for her. She knew he'd been preparing her. She didn't want to let him down. Or did she? Rosie didn't even know anymore. At the very least, he'd never lied to her, never failed to validate her suspicions or indulge her snooping. As afraid as she was, he seemed to understand her. And as much as she disliked this temporary replacement, she knew she was going to stay. People have come to see Elias.

No, not people. Not anymore. They stare through her and she knows that she was never going to help. She smiles at them and politely informs them that Mr. Bouchard isn't seeing anyone without an appointment. Her face aches and her teeth buzz in her gums. Where else could she have gone? Mr. Lucas was dead. Mr. Bouchard was missing.

So many friends and colleagues dead. The violence. The gunshots. The old man and his... daughter. Their murderous joy. She couldn't stop thinking about their faces, how they had looked right past her as they ran through the building. Over now, of course. Weeks ago.

Too early to forget, but too late to act. Wasn't that always the way? Her flat was empty and silent, all her friends and family now so distant as to be almost strangers. What else could she have done except come in to work? She didn't know who for or why. She had simply sat at her desk and waited for the phone to ring. She waited, and she waited, and it got dark, and it got light. Over and over and still she waited. All she knew was that something still needed to happen, and she couldn't bring herself to leave until she knew what it was. Not until the sky began to change, and the screaming began, and Mr. Bouchard returned to his office. And by then, it was too late. In many ways, it felt like it had always been too late. In many ways it felt like it had always been too late.

Sorry. Oh, Rosie. Mr. Sims, was it? Yes. I believe you have an appointment mr. Magnus is waiting just inside right is there anything we can do to help her if there is it's on the other side of these doors head right on in he's ready for you okay No. Can he hear us? I... Does he even know we're here? I don't. Elias! Jonah Magnus! Oi, dickhead! Come down here so we can kick your arse! Can't hear you, Martin.

Yeah, I got that. What's wrong with him? Nothing. Nothing's wrong with him. He's the pupil of the eye. Meaning? He won. The Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike 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, Sasha Sienna as Georgie Barker, Hannah Brankin as Rosie, and Ben Meredith as Jonah Magnus. 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 all. We really appreciate your support.

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