The Magnus Protocol 32 - Restructuring

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Hi, folks.

Billy Hindle here, the voice of Alice in the Magnus Protocol.

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This episode is dedicated to Dan Carlson.

At times you meet people that you know instantly will alter your life.

No other group of individuals are as oddly amazing as the High Fives.

Thank you for the endless stories, inspiration, and laughs.

Rusty Quill presents

The Magnus Protocol

Episode 32

Restructuring

Alice

Alice

Hey, Jesus Christ.

Now that I have your

problem?

Jesus, I nearly messed myself.

Yes, alright.

And everything else gone on.

I'm all alone in here, and you're sneaking up on people like...

I wasn't sneaking on.

You're lucky I didn't deck you.

You're lucky I haven't fired you yet.

What are you doing?

Who's asking?

Your boss.

Debatable?

Alice.

Missing persons.

Figured I'd check and see if Sam had turned up in a hospital with no memories, ranting about eyeball monsters and overbearing would-be bosses.

And?

Nothing.

Which actually says a lot about the social lives of the people who work here when you think about it.

Right.

Well, your caseload's backing up, so.

I'm sorry?

Just don't fall too far behind.

Hang on.

Just to be clear, I think you heard, I'm sorry, I'll work harder, boss.

When what I meant is, I'm sorry, you think I give a flying fart about cases right now.

You can't abandon your work just because What?

Just because our friends are missing?

Or worse?

Why not?

What are you gonna do?

Fire me?

If I have to.

Do it.

Good luck with your precious caseload then.

We've been over this already.

If you don't stay on top of things, it's going to draw attention.

From who?

The Right Honourable Mr.

Sir Trevor Herbert, MP, OBE, DNR.

I doubt he would notice if we burnt the place down.

Alice, you know as well as I do that you aren't going to be able to spend any time looking for them if we're trapped in a government inquiry.

Or worse.

So keeping things moving is going to help look for them.

In a roundabout sort of way.

I liked you better when you were a miserable grunt like the rest of us.

No, you didn't.

Fine, but I'm gonna keep using the office systems.

Just as long as you do your cases.

Right.

Liverpool Integrated Care System Patient Record ID NICS-2015-36584B.

The following information is confidential and legally protected.

Unauthorized access, disclosure, copying, or distribution of this document is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action.

Personal information as follows.

Name, Kyla Barber.

Date of birth, 17, 11, 1974.

NHS number, 698-588-3912.

Sex, female.

Address, 45, Gardiner Lane, Wavertree, Liverpool, L153HA.

Occupation, Environmental Health Officer.

Emergency Contact, Violet Weaver, Partner, 07439183375.

Medical history as follows.

Primary Care Provider, Dr.

Micah Folkova, Sycamore Drive Medical Center.

Mental health provider, Dr.

Alan Cello, Mersey Care NHS Trust.

Chronic conditions.

Hypertension, Type 2 Diabetes.

Allergies.

Trimethoprim, Nickel.

Medications.

Metformin, 500mg.

Bicinopril, 10mg.

Sertraline, 100mg.

Diazepam, 100mg.

Olanzepine, 10mg.

Recent admissions.

01-06-2012.

Acute depressive episode.

Treatment provided.

Cognitive behavioral therapy.

Medication adjustment.

1503-2015.

A-10 detention under Mental Health Act for admission for assessment.

Approved mental health professional, Joseph Block.

Reason for detention.

Patient admitted to Clockview Hospital under Section 136, Police Detainment.

Observations.

Indicators for visual and auditory hallucination, distress, paranoia, confusion, transient global amnesia, dissociative amnesia.

Initial diagnosis.

Acute psychosis, schizophrenia, anxiety, Post-traumatic stress disorder.

Recommendations.

Immediate inpatient admission for safety and further assessment due to immediate risk to self and others.

Initial treatment plan to include antipsychotic medication and psychotherapy.

Recent notes.

Assessment delayed due to missing patient.

Recent documentation.

Partial transcript of counseling session 18-03-20-15.

Transcript as follows.

K.

Sand into water, water into stone, stone into wood, wood into cotton, cotton into blood, blood into gold, gold into fire, fire into steel.

J.

Kyla?

K.

Plastic trees in rings of glass, no wind for wings, no birds, no birds.

J.

Come back, Kyla.

K.

I'm.

I'm sorry, I don't.

J.

That's all right, Kyla.

Why don't we take a moment for a reset?

K.

Reset.

Yes.

J.

My name is.

K.

My name is Kyla Barber.

I am in Clockview Hospital.

J.

And

K.

And um.

And I am safe.

J.

And now breathe in.

Hold.

And breathe out.

And again.

J.

Better?

K.

Yes.

Yes.

Sorry.

J.

No need to be sorry.

Are you ready to continue?

K.

Yes.

J.

Alright.

Now, Kyler, I'd like you to try and tell me what happened at, uh, at the Man Island Developments.

K.

I can try, but I don't.

it doesn't make sense.

J.

That's alright.

It doesn't have to make sense.

It's about what you experienced, what you felt.

Not about any sense we might try to make of it right now.

Just start at the beginning.

K.

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

Sand.

Sand silent but for the wind's caress of red dunes.

Dry iron dancing beneath a thousand, thousand sunrises and sunsets.

Calm.

So calm.

Until.

A drop.

A single drop that crashes down, herald to the floods that follow.

Then a trickle, a torrent, earth's blood and water scattering the dancers, then locking them in an embrace of sand and stone as the land roils beneath, bucking and heaving, untamed and unseen until

one becomes two, two becomes four, and four becomes innumerable.

The boiling froth of life smears itself across the waters, building upon itself in ever more impossible designs.

Fragments into cells, into cilia, into spores and plants and fins and wings, and limbs and blood, and teeth, and claws, and hair and hands and finally, everywhere becomes somewhere.

Becomes here.

This place distinct in the newly minted minds that wander through me and around me.

I am

here.

They mark my heart with carven stone, frozen dancers now standing in six exaltations, changing me, turning me once more into somewhere new.

I am home.

More minds are born, grown, aged, and lost in a new and faster dance of happiness, tragedy, love and loss.

They know me and love me for sheltering, nourishing and nurturing them until...

blood is spilled.

Fresh water for my river, new bones for my earth and soon I have a name.

Not home but Leopold.

Now enshrined in ink and pigskin.

Six become seven as those long frozen dancers are regimented into the foundation of untold footfalls.

New veins of prosperity branching from my river's river's artery which now ebbs and flows with trade and exploration.

The quiet is gone now, replaced by shared purpose and disquiet.

They try to temper rivers run again and again, building new havens to shackle me which I must wash away with wind and rain and sea, but they are industrious.

Blood washes once more across my ground, let by steel and sulphur, forging me into a city.

Such a grand name for such a grievous wound.

More home now to stock and cargo than flesh and bone.

They are so industrious.

Their choking trade clogs me with the filth of their endeavour and the silt of their constant contempt, which turns to theft as they steal from my river's depths until

they fill these wounds with blood once more, but now it is not their own.

Instead, a ceaseless torrent of tobacco, cotton, and chain-bound misery pours in, fueled by stolen sweat and stained steel.

They are so industrious, industrious, and I am angry.

The river stutters as they drag fresh land from the depths and trap me inside, severed from myself and lessened from a city to an island made for man.

And what men they are.

Bilge bloated on the bodies of the broken, they laugh without mirth, servants of lust and despair, with regret crawling amongst the soured timber of far-off wilds.

And still the children of those otherwares are dragged to me, their grief shackled within the walls of the gory carnal warehouses, which reek of desolation and slow carnage, until the last ship vomits its wretched hold upon my shores.

Perhaps this imperial fetish has finally been assuaged, but no.

The gory houses burn too late and return too soon, and with them come the trains, metal ripped from my earth and baptized in death before it, bellowing black smoke and burrowing into my heart and filling it with stolen, rolling lightning.

I am angry.

Another flood of bloodshed fed by skyfire this time, and finally, there is a moment of respite from their ceaseless progress.

Instead, I am a home once more, a weary home filled with hardship, but also children's laughter.

I had almost forgotten how it had felt.

But then their humble lots are scattered for the benefit of trams, buses, and more besides.

I am angry.

And now there rises a canker of glass and empty luxury, a monument of displacement that would deny lands past whilst promising prosperity.

But I will abide you no more.

Your foundations of bone built, both of mine and those that would have called me home, splinter and slip beneath the weight of your capital arrogance.

The metal veins that waste my waters for your warped and bloated wants bend and break, overflowing with the filth of your forebears.

The cables that you stitched so cruelly in my flesh now snap and spill their lightning upon the stolen grandeur of your foreign marble floors.

The stems of steel that shoulder your ambition foul and fail and fall, overwhelmed by the weight of your derelict intent.

The dances that you look through but never see shatter and stab such sharp shards into you as cutting retort for your blindnesses.

Your reliable residences sold but never owned grow cold and dark, unloved, unlike the homes of those that came before your sight.

The offices you loud so loudly as clean and trim and proper now stain and stink with long-kept scandal as your ledgers wilt and rot.

There is no place for you here.

There is no place for you here.

J.

Kyla?

K.

No,

I am not her.

I am here.

J.

Kyla, I asked what happened to you, not what happened to the place.

K.

And all who dwelt within me will feel the weight of it.

Their bones will be my bones, colonized as is my right.

J.

I don't know if this is helping.

K.

Let me go home.

Let me be

home.

Transcript ends.

Difficult case?

Hardly.

Building comma angry.

Done.

So.

How do we even start with this mess?

How does someone get shredded by a computer?

I don't know.

Maybe we focus on the why for now, rather than the how.

Okay, but I'm still at a loss about what happened to Sam.

Maybe if we went back to the bad idea,

we still don't even know what it is or whether it's still a danger.

How about you focus on Colin and I'll focus on Sam?

I was the one with him when he left.

I'll have more to go on.

Will you, though?

Because you didn't exactly remember anything useful when I asked you before.

Sorry, I know this isn't your fault.

I'm just.

I know.

I am too.

I swear, I'm going to pick up the steak.

I really don't think it's a good idea to be messing around with it.

I f to

a hand?

I think it's probably Collins.

Don't touch it!

Oh,

but there it goes.

Yes,

it's happened a couple of times now.

I just wanted to make sure I wasn't.

Um.

I'm pretty sure I saw some teeth in my keyboard yesterday.

It was just for a second and I wasn't sure, so I didn't say anything, but.

Is there anything else I can do for you?

Or.

No, no, that's fine.

I'd better get back to uh...

to it.

Listen, Gwen.

I realize it must be a lot sitting in the big chair while all this is going on.

But if you ever, you know, need a hand,

well, let me know.

Yeah?

No, I don't think that will be necessary, Celia.

Now, as you can see, I'm quite busy.

Sure.

Just look after yourself, Gwen.

I assure you, I always do.

Okay.

For God's sake, how do you even

right

Hey, leave me a message or don't whatever

Hey Luke, I'm guessing you're driving or picking some old granny's knickers off your head after a gig or something.

So no need to call back.

Just checking in on you and and the tour.

Sounds like it's going well.

Just FYI, I had to use PayPal this time since you're abroad, so let me know if you have any issues.

It's not like I'm going anywhere.

Things are a bit weird here.

There's actually a lot going on at work, and

actually, you know what?

Do call me back or text me or something.

I think I need to talk to a real human person.

And you're the next best thing.

Anyway, say hi to the lads for me.

Later.

The Magnus Protocol is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial 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 Alexander J.

Newell and edited with additional materials by Jonathan Sims,

with vocal edits by Lorian Davis, soundscaping by Tessa Vroom, and mastering by Catherine Rinella, with music by Sam Jones.

It featured Billy Hindle as Alice Dyer, Anusha Battersby as Gwen Bouchard, Lorianne Davis as Celia Ridley, with additional voices from Alexander J.

Newell.

The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner, with executive producers Alexander J.

Newell, Danny McDonough, Lynn C.

and Samantha F.

G.

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 rustyquill.com.

Rate and review us online, tweet us at the RustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us via mail at rustyquill.com.

Thanks for listening.

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Hi folks, Billy Hindle here, the voice of Alice in the Magnus Protocol.

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