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Hi folks, Billy Hindle here, the voice of Alice Dyer in The Magnus Protocol. Today I just wanted to take some time to run you through some of the exciting Magnus merchandise, as well as affiliate links, a brand new way to support the show. You can find affiliate links in the description of all new episodes. If you are based in the UK, be sure to check out Phantom Peak, a unique, immersive, open world adventure in London. Use the link in the show notes or code RUSTY to get 15% off tickets.
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See the Magnus Archives polyhedral die set from Dice Dungeon, including an exclusive D16 featuring icons representing the fears. Visit thedicedungeon.co.uk forward slash collections forward slash rusty dash quill to find out more. There are also new designs available on our official merchandise stores for t-shirts,
Stickers, posters and more. Check the links in the description or go to www.rustyquill.com forward slash support. Thanks for listening. We hope you enjoy the show.
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It's Kareem, the voice of Simon Fairchild from Magnus Archives. Today, I'm here to advertise Remnants, a podcast just launched on the RQ Network. Remnants is a weekly dark fantasy thriller audio drama with a new mystery each week and is from the brilliant creator behind other great shows that include Spirit Box Radio and Not Quite Dead. When we die, the remnants of us return to the first and last place. Our fate is decided by Sir and his new apprentice, who read our remnants to determine whether they should be reshelved
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The Magnus Protocol Episode 21 Breaking Ground Enjoying the rain? More chisels, really. Yeah. Got one, thanks. How about a coffee you haven't let get stone cold? I'm good, thanks. Look, I know what Alice said got you, but it's only because she cares. I know. I do too. We all do.
Well, maybe not Lena. You barely know me. Maybe. Then again, maybe digging into sinister secrets together boosts you up the old affection track a bit? Yeah, maybe. That's not it, is it? Not entirely. It's more, what if she's right? About stopping with the Institute stuff? About working for the OIA? I know Alice can square it with her whole "everything's evil" and "let's stage capitalism" thing, but I don't know if I can.
You're thinking of quitting? Maybe. Whatever weird, creepy stuff is going on, I'm really starting to doubt we're on the right side of it. I suppose there's plenty of non-evil jobs out there for a smart, charming guy like you. Maybe not law, but... No, I... uh... I can go back. Well, if you get desperate, there's always the old... Beep beep? Checkout. Ah, yeah.
Well, that's the real question, isn't it? Does my desire not to actively promote evil outweigh my fear of disappointing my parents? Ooh, that's a tough one. Maybe you could stay and try to make things better from the inside? Of course, because that's such a traditionally surefire way to achieve change. Might still be better than living in London on a retail wage. True.
For now, I'm probably just going to stay and keep digging. No sense quitting until I have a better idea of what's going on, and if I get fired for it, well, that works too, I guess. And if it turns out it's as dangerous as Alice says? Yeah, well, if, like, a psycho goat monster or something tries to kill me, I'll definitely quit. Good policy. And you? Couldn't afford to leave, even if I wanted to. Sure, but...
But something else is bothering you. Has been ever since we met. Hmm. You want to talk about it? Not really. Fair enough. Let's just say I have a... complicated immigration status. Really? Surprised the civil service didn't pick that one up? I think the OIAR might be a bit less rigorous than the other branches.
Anyway, if I had to go back, I couldn't take Jack with me, but staying with him means I have some difficult decisions to make. Look, Celia, if there's anything, anything I can do to help you in check. You really mean that? I do. Thanks, Sam. I'll keep it in mind. Well, if neither of us is quitting, we should probably get back. Yeah. Institutional evil doesn't just grow on trees, right? Yeah.
from the desk of Mr. Leonardo Kennings, ACCA, co-treasurer of the Magnus Institute Manchester, to his esteemed brethren of the same, my most distinguished colleagues. By now I'm sure you have all read the proposal in detail and made your own personal assessments of the formulae and calculations submitted by Dr. Welling and his team. I wouldn't for a moment criticize the fine work they've done or the compelling case they've made or the potential transmutative properties of the dome.
nor do i believe they are mistaken about the potential power we might be able to harness were we to sponsor an exhibit of our own there i cannot however in good conscience support the project as it has been laid out nor do i believe it is a useful expenditure of the institute's significant but certainly not infinite financial and political resources
I have spoken before about my concerns over the choice of the millennium as the date for our grand experiment. I do accept, to a certain degree, Dr. Welling's proposition that the turning of the millennium is an important psychological focus of transmutation, thanks to the cultural emphasis of change placed upon the shifting of an age. That said, I still believe that determining the date should be the provenance of the astrological, not the cultural.
The constellations have played a key role in our researches for centuries, and I fully reject the notion that they should be dismissed as irrelevant to the great work in such a way as the Christian God has been summarily discarded. It should be kept in mind that the year 2000 has no relevance for cultures that do not use the Gregorian calendar, of which there are many. It means nothing to the Chinese, Indian or Hebrew calendars, and thus excludes vast swathes of the global population from our equations.
The stars, by contrast, are eternal and near unchanging, thereby providing a far more stable base for a project that has always been conceived of as a universal transmutation. I understand, of course, that this particular debate is one that myself and those who think as I do have long since lost, and I do not wish to reawaken old schisms when a unity of purpose is so profoundly vital to the success of our endeavours at this time.
Nonetheless, I believe it is worth raising once again in relation specifically to the Millennium Exhibition proposal, as to go forward with this would tie our intentions even more irrevocably to this conception of Gregorian dates as having true and meaningful significance. Even beyond this admittedly more abstract consideration, I believe that the Dome Project is almost uniquely dangerous to our work as a place of power.
The calculations provided by Dr. Welling and his team presuppose that any outputs from the site will be broadly balanced, that as a symbol of the future, it captures both optimism and despair, the belief in a better world, and the terror that a new millennium will bring nothing except new ways to suffer.
It is my belief, however, that the actual balance of energies involved will be profoundly skewed towards the fearful and despairing, thus invalidating the majority of the calculations provided by Dr. Welling and his team. Public support for the dome is limited at best, and the stated plans hardly inspire confidence in its utopian ideals. Even beyond this, however, Dr. Welling's calculations have failed to account for aspects of stagnation.
This modern social and political order following the fall of the USSR has taken root in the popular imagination as a natural and final state of society with an emergent and inherent stability. The turning of the millennium is therefore felt as an end of history to borrow a term, and in this context the Dome may be seen as a monument to this order. A full stop. Not to mention a desperate cry for relevance from an imperial power locked in a death spiral of diminishing importance.
If my suspicions on these points are correct, these echoes of stagnation, almost entirely antithetical to our transformative ambitions, make the exhibition profoundly unsuitable to be utilised in the work. And this is not to mention the location problem, as I believe it may already be in the process of developing into a locus without our intervention.
You are familiar with the peninsula on which the edifice is to be constructed. Dr. Welling et al. explained it in the proposal, though not in great detail. Specifically, I would note that they rather glossed over its history as a gas works and the incredible levels of soil toxicity that still remain in the area, currently the focus of much of the building and land reclamation efforts that will ultimately allow for the dome's construction.
Knowing this proposal was forthcoming and suspecting that it would elide this particular concern, I myself made the journey down to London some weeks ago to personally inspect the site. I still have connections and clout enough to have a tour arranged on my behalf, and what I saw there troubled me deeply.
The labourers were in poor shape, grey-faced with blank expressions, as they shifted barrows of dirt and shovelled sodden earth with such rhythmic defeat that were not for the bright yellow of the excavators and the omnipresent fluorescent waistcoats, I might have believed it an etching of some grim Victorian salt mine. Their fingernails were cracked and dirty, their voices were hoarse, and their words often gave way to ragged bouts of coughing.
I had not previously considered that there might be any need of mask or respirator, but shortly after my arrival I found myself surreptitiously holding my handkerchief to my mouth and nose, if only to lessen the pervasively acrid smell. The foreman, a sprightly young man whose weak moustache gave him the air of an overambitious school prefect, was talking excitedly about the engineering of the building, about struts and sheets and material loads, and when I asked him how long he expected the dome to stay up,
He went quiet for a moment. He told me he wasn't sure. "Could be there forever," he said, with an odd manic edge to his voice. "Or it could be gone in a year. You just never know, do you? You never know what's coming." Something about the way he articulated this thought, this clearly disordered conception of the future, sat rather ill with me.
I began to develop another suspicion: that the contaminants of the place were not simply chemical in nature, but may have contained a more psychical poison. To be clear, had that been the extent of what I observed, I would not be so vociferous in my opposition to Dr. Welling's proposal. Unfortunately, it very much was not. Following my guide's strange comments, I began to hang back somewhat from the rest of the group, attempting to make my own determinations without the consideration of being watched.
I espied a worker operating one of the concrete mixers that arrested my attention. He was of East Asian descent, Pakistani, I believe, and his face was locked on the aperture of the mixer, spinning round and round, as though hypnotized by the motion. There was no one else in sight, and it seemed to me as though the din of industry and construction had faded somewhat, like it were muted as he stood in his senseless reverie.
"'Abruptly, he turned and walked over to a nearby ditch "'that was in the process of being dug out for the foundations. "'I could see the tell-tale indications of heavy metals in the earthen edges of it, "'but he took no precautions as he hopped down into it "'and began to stare at the wall of the trench, "'as transfixed as he had been at the mixer.'
Were I writing for a less learned and experienced audience, I might take some time here to caveat my reliability and sanity. But given none of us are strangers to the strangeness of our work, I will speak plainly of what I saw for the sake of brevity. From the dirt of the wall emerged the same man as was standing before it. He clawed his way out, slowly, painfully, as though it were a grave. But this second version of the worker was not identical.
His hair was white, his skin wrinkled and pitted with age and illness, and his every movement slowed with the agony of infirmity. Were I to guess, I would say he was some forty or fifty years older than the man with whom he was twinned. The younger version, for his part, seemed to break out of whatever reverie had overtaken him, with an expression of purest terror across his face.
He moved to scream, but before he could utter more than the most perfunctory of cries, the older, or perhaps newer, version of him, depending on one's perspective, covered the original's mouth with gnarled and twisted fingers. Despite his, or perhaps its, apparent age, this elderly copy was clearly possessed of enormous strength, and was easily able to pull the young construction worker towards the dirt wall from which it had emerged.
The struggle was grim and desperate, but not particularly lengthy, and in less than a minute, both had vanished into the polluted ground. The last thing I saw of them both being the poor young man's horrified eyes, disappearing into the darkness and mud. I rejoined my guide without comment, and had no other encounters worth noting here during my visit beyond the general malaise induced by the sight of which I have previously spoken.
It should be clear enough, then, why I felt compelled to write in opposition to Dr. Welling and his team's proposal to become involved with the Millennium Exhibition and the dome that is to house it. It is my firm belief that not only is this site already on its own journey to become a decidedly hostile locus, but that the future it represents, and that we are being pushed to incorporate into our grand ritual, is unfit, being so profoundly poisoned.
I thank my brethren for their time considering these letters, and wish them insight in their works. You bastard. You wanted him to read this, didn't you? Just slipped it into his caseload all subtle-like and waited for him to hear it? Well, not this time. I see what you're doing. Trying to lead him on? Feeding his obsession? Colin was right about you. What do you want? Who's in there?
Alice, may I ask why you are investigating Sam's terminal? Oh, er, Sam was having an issue with it earlier. Same errors as mine, and since Colin's still not around, I thought I would give it a quick go. See if I couldn't copy Gwen's solution for him. I see. And I presume that Sam consented to your intervention? Oh, er, yeah. Yes. Well, regardless, he really shouldn't be sharing terminal access like this. It's a security risk.
I'll, er, let him know when he gets back. Please do. In the meantime, I would suggest you return to your own terminal. We wouldn't want these technical issues to put you behind your own caseload, now would we? Er, yeah. Sure. Can I, er, can I speak freely for a moment? Do you ever not. Fair. But look, serious talk a moment. We're going to struggle to keep on top of everything without Colin.
Everything keeps breaking and we don't know the first thing about fixing it. Interesting. If anything, my data seems to indicate the system is actually functioning slightly better without his interferences. Oh, well, I don't know about that. No, you wouldn't. Well, I should probably... Have you heard from Gwen tonight? What? No. Why, should I have? It's nothing. I simply wondered if you had heard from her tonight. She is late returning from her assignment. Something's up.
You look worried. You never look worried. Only about your caseload, after all these interruptions. Of course. Do let me know if Gwen contacts you. Will do. What did you do? Come back, little canvas. Get away from me! I'm thinking trash poker, but I never want to impose my own taste on a client. Shit!
Shit! You sound like someone who might have a... Or perhaps a silver spoon done across the face. Hmm, choices, choices. Hey, help! You've got to help me! Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's up, love? They're trying to kill me. Cool. Oi! Back off. I'm warning you. Nice ink. Barbed wire, is that? What?
But not badly done. You look so sharp you could cut yourself. Oh god! Don't worry. We'll get you something much more... unique. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. End of the road, Princess Civil Service. Please, please don't. You know...
When you first walked in I was just gonna give you a bit of ink, something small to keep you up at night. But now, now we're gonna have to get creative. Tell me
How do you feel about scorpions? What are you talking about? What are you doing? Alright, stop it. Stop it. Enough I said, shut up. Shut up. Stop talking. Stop talking.
You did this. Well stop it, she's mine! Now... I found this one! Damn it. Fine. Go get her then. Didn't you hear me, freak? She's all yours! Not here there, is it? Yeah, whatever. Mankey old git. Oi! You left your- Ah! Motherfu-
The Magnus Protocol is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Sharealike 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 Jonathan Sims and edited with additional materials by Alexander J. Newell.
with vocal edits by Nico Vitesse, soundscaping by Meg McKellar, and mastering by Catherine Rinella, with music by Sam Jones. It featured Billy Hindle as Alice Dyer, Shahan Hamza as Samama Khalid, Anuja Battersby as Gwen Bouchard, Lorianne Davis as Celia Ripley, Sarah Lambie as Lena Kelly, with additional voices from Jonathan Sims and Beth Ayer.
The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner, with executive producers Alexander J. Newell, Danny McDonagh, Lynn C., and Samantha F.G. Hamilton, and associate producers Jordan L. Hawke, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, C.T.S. DeRaven, and Megan Nice.
To subscribe, view associated materials, or join our Patreon, visit RustyQuill.com. Rate and review us online, tweet us at TheRustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us at mail at RustyQuill.com. Thanks for listening. To everyone else, this is a desk. But to you, it's a launch pad. You're starting blood. This ain't a desk. This is opportunity.
Oh, yeah.
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