The Magnus Archives - The Magnus Protocol 22 – Mixed Signals
Episode Date: July 18, 2024CAT13RBC4488-14121924-15042024Experiment (brain) -/- imprisonment (existential)Incident Elements:- Existential Horror- Human Experiments- Graphic Surgical Detail- Seizure- Arguements- Mentions of: Ani...mal ExperimentsTranscripts: https://rustyquill.com/transcripts/the-magnus-protocol/This episode is dedicated to April Richards, thank you for your generous support! You can a complete list of our Kickstarter backers https://rustyquill.com/the-magnus-protocol-supporter-wall/Created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall Directed by Alexander J NewallWritten by Jonathan Sims Script Edited with additional material by Alexander J NewallExecutive Producers April Sumner, Alexander J Newall, Jonathan Sims, Dani McDonough, Linn Ci, and Samantha F.G. Hamilton Associate Producers Jordan L. Hawk, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius d’Raven, and Megan Nice Produced by April Sumner Featuring (in order of appearance) Sarah Lambie as Lena KelleyAnusia Battersby as Gwendolyn BouchardShahan Hamza as Samama KhalidBillie Hindle as Alice DyerLowri Ann Davies as Celia RipleyTim Fearon as AugustusDialogue Editor – Lowri Ann DaviesSound Designer – Tessa VroomMastering Editor - Catherine RinellaMusic by Sam Jones (orchestral mix by Jake Jackson) Art by April Sumner SFX from previously credited artistsSupport us on Patreon at https://patreon.com/rustyquill Check out our merchandise available at https://www.redbubble.com/people/RustyQuill/shop and https://www.teepublic.com/stores/rusty-quill Support Rusty Quill by purchasing from our Affiliates:Phantom Peak – UK immersive experience – 15% discount with this linkDriveThruRPG – DriveThruRPG.comJoin our community:WEBSITE: rustyquill.comFACEBOOK: facebook.com/therustyquillX: @therustyquillEMAIL: mail@rustyquill.com The Magnus Protocol is a derivative product of the Magnus Archives, created by Rusty Quill Ltd. and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share alike 4.0 International Licence. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
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Richard's. Rusty Quill presents
The Magnus Protocol Episode 22 Mixed Signals The So you just ran away?
Of course I ran away!
You sent me out there unguarded, unprepared and uninformed.
It's a miracle I got away at all.
If it weren't for that... thing.
Ah yes, this watching figure you
mentioned presumably you didn't get any contact details from them I guess it
slipped my mind as I was fleeing the supernatural psychopaths clearly I must
say Gwen I am quite disappointed I'd hoped that you might surpass your earlier
trepidation, but
unfortunately it would seem my initial estimation of you was accurate after all.
I know what you're doing. Oh really? You won't get rid of me that easily.
Gwen, firstly, just to be crystal clear, if I wished you gone, you wouldn't be standing
here.
Secondly, and contrary to your accusations, I can assure you that your death would be
much more of an administrative inconvenience for me than simply firing you.
Though admittedly it might have been simpler than having a dead bystander and two uncontrolled
externals on the loose.
So what happens now?
Unfortunately, I believe your little foray into real responsibility is at an end.
The blackmail was a bold move, I'll grant you, but it seems you lack the qualities necessary
for the more challenging aspects of this work. And I think we can both agree that you would
feel safer returning to data processing. Unless of course you'd rather quit wholesale. Back to your desk then.
Oh, one last thing. With the ministerial visit coming up, we want to avoid an impression of instability.
You will retain your new title for now, but will undertake no further assignments involving externals.
Otherwise, your departure from here will cease to be optional.
Do we understand each other?
Yes.
What was that?
Of course, Mrs Kelly.
Very good.
Welcome collection private record 5876-3. Letter from Hans Berger to Dr. Richard Caton, dated 14th December 1924. Letter reads to Dr. Richard Catton.
Richard, you will forget the delay to this message.
I wanted to inform you of the results of my latest experimentation sooner, but it was not possible for me before now.
Your reply to my first letter was most valuable, and I modified the conductive surfaces as you advised, but
now I must ask you for further clarification.
When you described your first experiments on canis and hominoidea, and your later work
on liporidii and zircopathecidae, you did not mention any unusual side effects in your
subjects.
I must know if there was any information you failed to reveal to me
because the consequences of my own experiments have been alarming. I will explain. In my last
message I told you of my latest experiments on the subject Herr Schmidt and his unusual cranial
deformity which allowed direct access to the dur dura mater above the occipital lobe.
You will remember that in addition to electric stimulation sessions, I was taking advantage
of this deformity to record more accurate pressure measurements using a vulcanized rubber
tube filled with saline and capped with latex inserted into the cranial aperture.
I enclosed for your consideration charts, displaying the predicted pressure changes
correlating with emotional shifts, stimulation and cognition in the patient.
Your response advising me to use silver for improved conductivity in the stimulation sessions
proved correct, and so, given hope by this positive result, I decided to attempt a recording of
the electrical signals within the brain once again. I placed wires of silver beneath the
scalp of the patient for and aft, and instead of the customary stimulator, I instead attached
a Lippmann capillary electrometer. The results were erratic at first, but after much trial
and error, I found that by using
a double-coiled Siemens recording galvanometer, I was able to reliably record the electrical
signals.
I have this time enclosed a photograph of the results from these sessions taken by my
assistant and wife, Ursula.
This discovery alone should be enough to upset the Zietkleist, coming so soon after the work of Eindhoven.
But I am too aware of my reputation of late, and I know that I need a significant discovery to quiet the naysayers.
I thus invited Herr Schmidt for another, more intensive recording session. He was hesitant at first, but I was eventually
able to impress upon him the zeitnot of our research and he consented. I have
recently become aware of the Russian physiologist Konstantin M. Bykov and his
work on the hemispherical bridge. In short, he claims to have found the center of the self, nestled as a bundle
of fibers between the two halves of the brain. When I corresponded with him, he claimed that
once this bundle is severed in canines, their behavior resembles that of two separate animals
in one body. I was dubious of these results, but they did present a new avenue for experimentation
and one I knew that no one had yet attempted. So it was two weeks ago that Schmidt finally
consented and we began insertion of the silvered wires to the depths of his brain. The surgery
was taxing, but eventually the electrodes were well positioned and we were able to begin recording electrical activity.
We first ran through the standard tests and replicated previous results with little variation.
I then began to question the patient regarding himself.
Imagine yourself. Tell me of yourself. what is it you want, etc. At this point, the familiar sweeping
waves I had come to expect were instead strongly exaggerated. Perschmidt seemed completely unaffected,
but we feared the equipment had shifted or miscalibrated, so we ended our first session
there and began disconnecting the equipment.
I reviewed the data late into the night, somewhat downcast that this latest exploration to new
depths had provided little new data.
I will admit to falling asleep at my desk, overcome with exhaustion.
I dreamed of an ocean, deep and unforgiving, with an unplumbed heart full of
dark secrets waiting to be uncovered, whilst overhead flew radio signals, invisible and
unknowable, not even rippling the surface. Such a shame these two things would never meet.
Such a shame. I woke with my own brain charged with inspiration
and an idea for a wholly new approach to our work. I began by borrowing some equipment
from the engineering department. A telegraph key and sounder, some wiring, contacts, relays,
capacitors and various electrolytics.
No doubt the engineers will complain, but at this moment that is the least of my concerns.
In a blitz of activity, I deconstructed both the sounder and key along with my latest Edelman
galvanometer and then reassembled them in rather a novel way. Looking back, I cannot say how I arrived at the final design,
but nonetheless, in my fervor, I was certain it would work.
We would plumb the depths of that ocean from which I had awaked.
Ursula and I returned to the college theater,
and after a brief explanation to the patient,
we began to reattach the electrodes
to my new device.
I then began to question him.
He answered the standard questions normally, but now, rather than waves of ink unfolding
across a paper drum, there was instead a distinctive clicking from the telegraph receiver, a languid
pattern as though it were operated by one
in a state of torpor.
Herr Schmidt laughed at the novelty of the device, and even Ursula was skeptical of my
logic, but we nonetheless proceeded with my new line of questioning.
Imagine yourself, the clicks slightly accelerated as the patient did so before slowing to their previous random
rhythm.
I pressed on.
Tell me of yourself.
Again there was a slight increase in the ignorant tapping whilst the patient repeated his name
and occupation.
What is it you want? Again, the same banalities of food, drink, and toilet
from Herr Schmidt, and accompanied by the gentle tapping of the telegraph sounder accelerating
as he considered his words. All had proceeded well, and even Ursula appeared to be more
enthused having seen the results. We thus prepared to end the investigation.
I should point out here that though very sure-handed, my Ursula is not the fastest of assistants,
and so I have often found myself forced to wait upon her during sessions.
It was during such a delay that I had a moment of uncharacteristic whimsy.
As Ursula assembled the equipment for disconnection, I idly began to tap at the sending key as
though sending a telegraph myself.
Imagine yourself.
Immediately, the clicks stopped dead.
There was a moment of stillness as the last echo finished
rebounding off the tiled walls. Then it was replaced by a sudden flurry of
activity from the sounder. The patient seemed completely unaffected, but the
equipment was triggering faster than I would have thought possible. If before we
had seen waves lapping at a shore, this was a torrent, a
tidal wave of signal. I tapped again, automatically following the script I'd prepared for myself
without thinking.
Tell me of yourself. The activity intensified, the sounder rattling across the pitted wooden
desk with its vehemence. Finally, I spoke my last question via the telegraph.
What is it you want?
This was met with an overwhelming surge,
and the struggling sounder began to smoke under the strain.
My concentration was broken at this point by the clatter of dropped metal instruments.
I was irritated by such an uncharacteristic clumsiness in Ursula, especially at the moment
of possibly my greatest breakthrough yet.
I turned to scold her, but then I saw her face.
She was pallid and stood near swooning in terror, staring at Herrschmitt as though it were a corpse answering
my questions rather than our completely healthy and vigorous patient.
I turned back to him, and he was seemingly as confused as myself, frowning with concern
for my wife.
Is something wrong?
I asked her, gesturing to the procedure which had until that moment been proceeding quite
excellently.
Can you not hear it?
She whispered, barely audible, about the telegraph sounder.
My irritation grew yet greater.
Of course I could hear the sounder.
It was deafening.
Before I could say as much, however. The patient began to convulse.
There was no warning.
One moment he was looking quizzically at Ursula and I.
The next moment his back was arched and shuddering with the most violent grand mal seizure I
have ever witnessed.
He was already restrained, of course, but the leather straps creaked in distress as
his muscles snapped taut and the leather straps creaked in distress as his muscles snapped
taut and the arteries throbbed in his neck. He began to scream in agony.
I once saw Tetanus take a man during my time in the cavalry, and this seemed horrifyingly
similar. Vicious and mindless facial spasms rupturing contortions of the body and fingers
arched in a rictus claw. Ursula and I fought to insert a belt into his mouth
before he severed his own tongue but were unsuccessful. We were all yelling
then and as the telegraph reached a repeating frenzied crescendo there was
an almighty crack, loud as a gunshot, and a gout
of bright arterial blood sprayed from the deformity at the back of Herr Schmidt's head.
The telegraph abruptly stopped, as did our yelling.
There was then a moment of deafening silence, punctuated by the grisly tear of fibers ripping themselves
from the patient's skull and landing with a wet slap upon the tiled floor before falling
still.
Ursula and I stood staring at one another of the bloodied and broken corpse that was
once our patient.
She then whispered one last time with terror-stricken eyes,
you could not hear it. In the weeks that followed there was all manner of paperwork and
investigation, but ultimately it was a moot point. We had signed consent from the patient prior to the procedure,
and there was no evidence of foul play. Just another case of unfortunate frontier science.
Regrettable, awful even, but not suspicious. It was brain surgery, after all.
Neither I nor Ursula attended the funeral. It would not have been appropriate.
I did write a letter of condolence to his wife that I thought quite touching,
and convinced the university accountants to pay the fee owed to his widow despite their vociferous protestations.
They relented only on condition of her sworn secrecy on the matter. It was some time before I was able to sit and review the formal findings of the experiment.
I had had the foresight to set up a recording ticker for the telegraph sounder, so I had
a complete transcription of the event, at least from the perspective of the equipment.
I began to examine this ticker, unsurprised to see random noise from
the outset. I almost set it aside, assuming that was all there was to it, but instead
I noticed a pattern. Peering closer, I found myself frozen in realization. Clearly I had
misfiled something. I checked my folders carefully and was only convinced these were the actual records when
I noticed the blooded fingerprints across the third page I had left as I retrieved the
data.
I returned to the tape and quietly examined it in silence.
That was when I finally understood my wife's fear. She was always
a better communicator than I, and this extended to her proficiency with telegraph. I can use
it, but I lack the skill of her ear. I must decode where she can just listen. Thus it
took me this later study to ascertain what it was she had
heard during the experiment before Herr Schmidt's unfortunate passing. It was written there,
plain for anyone who thought to decode it. Question. Imagine yourself. Response. I, I am, I am I, me, I, I am me, we, I are we, we are.
Question, tell me of yourself. I am here, here alone. We are I alone, all alone. So alone together, together alone.
Nothing. No. Alone, alone, alone, alone.
Question. What is it you want? Response. Help. Help we us. Alone. Help we. I help need. Help out. Help out out I out out out we out I out out out out help need out out out out out out out
the rest was obscured by Herr Schmidt's cerebrospinal fluid. I have enclosed a photograph of this record for your examination.
You see now, Dr. Caton, why I have contacted you. Was there anything in your original experiments
which might explain the psychic phenomena I have witnessed here at Jena? I have searched
my whole life for proof of such events, but I was ill-prepared for such violence,
especially considering your own claims that your experiments were without complication.
I fear that unless you can verify my results, or at the very least provide some prior correlative
indications, I must delay publishing my findings for the foreseeable future. Worse still, I may even need to omit the details of this final experiment for fear of the ridicule of my peers.
I entreat you, Dr. Caden.
Any help you can provide on this matter would be warmly received.
I await your thoughts with humble expectation.
Signed, your earnest colleague, Hans Berger.
Alice?
Yeah?
Has anyone else been using my PC? Why do you ask? My case load is off.
Off how? Someone's been in and edited my setup since the start of the night.
I wouldn't worry. You know the system's screwed. It's probably all the horrendous
porn you've been downloading. Anyway I'm grabbing a coffee. You want me to bring
you something? Why are you messing around with my cases, Alice?
I... I would never!
We both know your crap at lying, so can we skip that bit?
What are you doing?
Listen, Sam...
Alice!
There is something up with your computer.
I don't know how or why, but it's deliberately giving you cases that feed into your whole magnus thing.
Seriously.
You go on and on about me losing it, and now you're telling me what?
The computers are out to get me.
I'm just trying to look out for you.
No, you're not.
You're trying to control me.
Again.
Well, Tuff, I don't need you breathing down my neck every second and claiming it's to
protect me.
I can look after myself.
Can you though?
Colin's already lost it.
Gwen is clearly heading the same way and now you're getting ready to start pinning up a conspiracy board as well.
I've seen this happen to people before.
Then why would you recommend me for this job?
Because you needed something and...
Because I just thought you'd be different.
That you might actually listen to me.
Why are you even here, Alice?
I...
What?
The money isn't that good.
The hours are crap.
And clearly, you've seen this job destroy people.
But you've still been coming in every night for years.
You know why.
Luke's back.
Don't give me that. All you do is complain.
But if things were as bad as you'd make out,
you'd already be gone.
You'd never hang around if there wasn't something in it for you.
So what is it?
Because if you can keep your head straight,
it's actually pretty easy money.
And you know what? Maybe I do
get a kick out of being the only one who can
really hack it.
But I had hoped that you might be the same.
That if I showed you the ropes, we could...
What?
Forget it.
I'm done.
You wanna go get your head stuck spelunking down a rabbit hole with Celia?
Be my guest.
Alice, I know this must be hard for you.
Seeing us together.
Don't flatter yourself. Enjoy your break down. Just keep it quiet. Some of us are trying to work.
For God's sake, Alice!
You heard that Dan? Hard not to.
Yeah. I'm sorry. She just...
...pushes my buttons.
It's fine. You two have history.
Maybe it's easier if I don't get mixed up in all the...
Baggage?
I was gonna say noise.
Don't worry about it.
It's her problem, not ours.
I'm done trying to placate a jealous ex.
She can either get over it or get lost and right now either is fine with me.
Okay.
So, does that mean you're looking back into the Magnus Institute?
Why?
Do you have something new?
I might. Tell me. You something new? I might.
Tell me.
You're sure?
I'm in. All the way.
I might have come across a few important names.
Oh yeah? Like who?
Jonathan Simms and Martin Blackwood.
Who? by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share-Alike
4.0 International License. The series is created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J. Newell and
directed by Alexander J. Newell. This episode was written by Alexander J. Newell and edited
with additional materials by Jonathan Sims, with vocal edits by Lorie Ann Davis, soundscaping by Tessa Vroom and mastering
by Catherine Rinella, with music by Sam Jones.
It featured Billy Hindle as Alistair, Shahan Hamza as Samama Khalid, Anusha Batasmi as
Gwen Bouchard, Lorie Ann Davis as Celia Ripley, Sarah Lambie as Lena Kelly, with additional
voices from Tim Fearon.
The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner with executive producers Alexander Janual, Danny McDonough,
Lynn See and Samantha FG Hamilton and
Associate Producers Jordan L. Hawke, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius the Raven and Megan Nice.
To subscribe, view associated materials or join our Patreon, visit RustyQuilt.com.
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Taxes extra.