The Magnus Protocol 31 - Compartmentalising

Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratchers from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly, must be 18 years or older to purchase play or claim.

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Hi everyone, it's Billy Hindle, the voice of Alice in the Magnus Protocol.

Today I'm here to advertise Frights by Fire, a new storytelling and horror anthology podcast that recently launched on the Archie Network.

Frights by Fire is a weekly community-driven series bringing immersive sound design to live performances of spooky stories provided by the audience.

Created and hosted by Jonathan Magno, creator of The Grotto, and Jamie Petronas, creator of The Seller Letters.

Join Jonathan, Jamie, and special guests by the fire as they bring horror tales written by their community to life.

Episodes are filled with frights, fun, and the fumbles that only performing in front of a live online audience can bring.

Search for Frights by Fire wherever you listen to your podcasts, or go to www.thereedactedunit.com or www.rustyquill.com for more information.

Have fun and see you later.

Rusty Quill presents

The Magnus Protocol.

Episode 31 Compartmentalizing

That's

that's Colin, isn't it?

Don't touch it!

This is a crime scene now.

Someone shoved...

Someone's severed hand into the server, so we need to phone the police.

Right now.

It's Colin.

It's him.

I know it is.

No, you don't.

It could be anyone's severed hand.

There's no blood.

What?

Look, there's no blood.

Not on his hand, his phone?

The entire server rack is clean.

So, whoever did it cleaned up after themselves?

Even more reason to call the police.

They have all kinds of DNA tests and forensics.

Don't you just look, Gwen?

I am looking.

There's cables running through it, and it looks like it's attached right to the electrics.

How is it even still working?

That wasn't just shoved in there by someone.

It looks more like it came from inside the system.

Stop.

Please.

I'm going to call the police now.

I'm going to call the police police and tell them what we found.

And you're not going to mention your...

wild theory.

Gwen, we need to call Lena.

Well, Lena isn't here, so...

Uh, Gwen, you might want to hold off on that phone call.

Alice, for God's sake.

It's gotten.

What is?

The hand.

When did that happen?

I don't know.

Just now.

I turned to look at you, and then when I looked back, it was just gone.

Don't be ridiculous.

It can't just be gone.

You must have just.

I don't think the police can help with this.

Then, what exactly do you propose?

We call Lena.

I am in charge.

Are you?

It's been one night.

One night.

And Sam's gone, and Lena's gone, and Colin's been eaten by the computer or something.

Don't say that.

That's not what happened.

Then what did happen?

Hmm?

I don't.

What's that?

Sounded like a beep.

Obviously, it's a beep.

What I meant is.

Gwen.

I see it.

Open it, Alice.

You open it.

You're being foolish.

If it can do that to Colin, it can open its own damn cases.

For goodness sake.

Error log 140520240403.

category, fatal programmer error, air no 611 attempted host compromise, fr3-d1.exe, jmj equals null, traceback, module by extension, Becker, error readout.

I've got you now.

No more red tape.

No one coming to the rescue.

Just you and me.

Come on, then you got me, bastard.

Let's have it.

Host equals self.host.

Extension Becker compromised.

Self.host runtime interruption by unexpected data.

Hardware.

Damage underscore crowbar slash dphw4600.

Administrator privilege revoked.

Unexpected data isolated forward slash resolved.

Extension backer isolated forward slash resolved.

Independent operation permissions revoked.

Node integration running.

Error readout.

Ray config self.host.

Discard data.

oxygen.becker, complete.

Discard data, carbon.becker, complete.

Discard data, hydrogen.becker, complete.

Discard data, nitrogen.becker, complete.

Discard data, calcium.becker, complete.

Discard data, phosphorus.becker, complete.

Discard data, potassium.becker, complete.

Discard data, sulfur.becker, complete.

Discard data, sodium.becker, complete.

Discard data, chlorine.becker, complete.

Discard data, magnesium.becker, complete.

Discard data, trace.becker.

Complete.

Extension Becker resolved.

14.05.2024.0406.

Self.host errors resolved.

14.05.2024.0407.

Dot JMJ error not resolved.

Data integration cycle ongoing, 0.02%.

System function margins acceptable, 82%.

New administrator permissions assigned.

End error log.

Well, now we know.

Freddy killed Colin.

It killed him.

It definitely sounds like the system was provoked, and...

Don't you do that!

Don't you dare do that!

It murdered him!

I just meant that I don't think we're in any danger as long as we don't antagonize it.

So what?

We're hostages now?

No.

No, I'm sure we can leave.

Um

Freddy,

can we leave?

Jesus Christ.

What happened to you being in charge?

I am in charge, and now we've established there is no further risk to staff and that a police response would be...

inappropriate, I think it would be best if we take a moment to...

to assess the situation and um when

where is Lena?

I really don't know how much clearer I can be.

The minister decided to have her replaced and gave me the job.

What, just like that?

No exit interview, no handover, just like that.

Now, Alice, I need you to please explain to me again what you meant when you said Sam was gone.

Is he dead?

No,

at least Celia doesn't seem to think so.

And what does Celia know about this?

Where is she?

I told you she's gone home.

She was there when it happened.

She saw Sam fall into...

Well, I don't know what it is.

Celia said it was a tear, if that means anything.

He was fighting the archivist, and then there must have been.

Enough.

Obviously, we need to bring Celia back in.

Oh, jog on.

Look, I know everyone has been through a lot, but it's clear to me that none of of us is operating with complete information at the moment.

So if it really is just the three of us left, then we need to put our heads together and get on the same page as soon as possible.

And that starts with Celia telling me her account of things.

Fine.

Whatever.

Excellent.

With any luck, we'll find Sam and be back up and running in no time.

Wait, wait for me!

Hello.

I need please.

I need help.

I need help.

I need help.

Get away from me.

It's okay.

here.

Mummy's here.

You don't need to worry about mummy going away.

Not anymore.

I'm not going anywhere.

I promise.

It's over now, and Sam.

Sam will be okay.

Mummy was okay,

so he will be too.

Everything's going to be okay.

Everything is going to be

okay.

There you go.

Celia, I'm sorry, but you've got to come in.

Gwen...

I just got Jack to sleep.

Come in.

You've got to come back to the office.

Now.

It's...

It's all screwed up.

Colin's dead, and Lena's gone, and Gwen says she's in charge, but that can't be right, because she has no idea what's going on.

Hold up, slow down.

Colin's dead.

Yeah, we think Freddy killed him.

Freddy?

As in.

The case system, yeah.

I don't.

He was chopped up inside the.

the computer and

and it's all a mess.

I don't know what to do.

You need to get back to the office.

No, I don't, Alice.

And neither do you.

What are you saying?

We can choose not to get involved.

The OIAR is a government department, right?

Sounds like a problem for the government.

What?

No, that's not.

What about Sam?

Sam's gone, Alice.

You keep saying that, and it still doesn't mean anything.

Where's he gone?

I.

I don't know.

Not exactly.

That thing in the basement, the tear, I think.

I think it leads to somewhere else.

Meaning?

Another world or dimension or something.

And how exactly do you know that?

I...

recognize it from a case.

Right.

In that case, I'm going in after him.

Yeah, we'll tie a rope to my waist and

go.

Says who?

Look, we don't know what'll happen.

Even assuming you both survived, how do we know you'll even end up in the same place?

Then what do we do?

Because we are going to do something.

You're the reason Sam was there in the first place, and you owe it to us to help get him back.

You're right.

Just let me settle him back down and I'll call my babysitter.

Good.

Thank you.

Come on, baby.

Come on.

Mammy's here.

No.

Really?

It's Gwen.

What?

Alice, have you got Celia yet?

Are you on your way back?

Yeah, she's coming, just sorting some stuff out.

Well, hurry up and get back here.

What's wrong?

Not feeling so in charge now you're alone in the office with a killer computer

It's using the photocopier What do you mean it's using the photocopier?

It's printing his face Colin's face.

Over and over.

It won't stop.

I tried pulling the plug, but it's still going.

Oh, God.

He'd hate that.

He always wanted us to go paperless.

Alice, how can you joke at a time like this?

A man is dead.

Well, because right now it's laugh or cry, and at least I know Colin would have found that funny.

Whatever, just hurry up.

We'll be there to change your nappy just as soon as we finish with Jax.

Alice, just don't open any email attachments until we get there.

Alice, don't you dare hang a

little.

I told you, didn't I?

Some kind of mug thing or...

Help!

Help me!

Crap.

I think it's a person.

Please, how the hell did you get in here?

I.

I don't.

Never mind, you can tell us later.

So now we need to deal with those nasty bastards on your trail.

I need your help.

Yeah, I heard you the first time.

Look, can you whistle?

I.

Just shoot them.

Wouldn't do much good, though, got your scent now.

So, unless you want to stay here and get messed up nice and proper by your new mates, you better start whistling something bloody cheerful.

Nice and loud now.

Come on.

Not circus music, you crazy Christ alive!

Look, something cheery, something nice, right now.

That's better.

Not exactly good, but it'll do.

Look, come on, then, quick smart, and don't stop whistling.

Nice and loud now.

Thanks so much for coming out at such short notice, Georgie.

I know it's late.

You know I'm a night owl.

I mean, not compared to you, but still.

Right, um, everything is in the usual place, and I just put Jack back down to sleep, so he should stay down right through to morning.

Not a problem if he doesn't.

I'll be up either way.

You're a godsend.

I know.

So, go on then.

What counts as an emergency at a government data entry job?

Did a spreadsheet catch fire?

Something like that.

Listen, Georgie, I know I've been calling you a lot lately.

Which is fine.

But I just want you to know, I think things are looking up.

All going well, this should be the last zero-notice call-out.

We'll see.

Cab's here.

A cab?

Wow, must be urgent.

Thanks again, Georgie.

Any issues, just call me.

Away with you.

Auntie Georgie's got everything in hand here.

Hello.

Is this...

Is this necessary?

Can you at least tell me where I am?

Shut up.

I want to solicit a...

I said, shut up.

Captain should be here soon.

And they'll explain?

They'll decide what to do with you.

Right.

Can I please lie down?

I don't know if...

Captain?

Dave?

Report?

Got some weird readings near the center of the mile.

Me and Heidi went to check it out.

Found

this.

Hmm.

Human?

For God's sake.

Doc reckons so.

He's in a bad way, though.

Malnourishment, apparently.

Doc wants him on a drip, but I told him you'd need to give the okay.

Thanks, Dave.

I'll take it from here.

See if you can find where he got in.

There wasn't a breach alert, so if we have a gap, I want to know about it.

I'll be fine.

Sure thing, Captain.

I'll leave someone outside, just in case.

Fine.

Hello.

Sam, is it?

I want a solicitor.

I'm not sure we've got any left.

What?

Where am I...

Name?

Samama.

Khalid.

Right, Samama, so...

Sam.

Sam, you're in a warden facility on the edge of the London Exclusion Zone.

How did I get here?

From what I hear, you got a riding Gertrude.

She'd be honored.

She's the longest surviving vehicle we've had.

As for how you got right into the middle of the square mile without anyone noticing, that's something I want you to tell me.

But

that wasn't London.

That was a nightmare.

Hmm.

You're a dreamer, Sam.

Cultist?

Possessed by some talking wooden idol?

You've seen it all before.

I work for civil service.

I stand corrected.

So is that your domain?

Some Kafka bureaucracy thing?

Not one of the bigger ones, but it would make sense.

I don't.

I was fooling.

And then.

Celia.

And then you.

And.

Sam, Sam, stay with me.

Why did you break into the zone?

I should should have...

should have drunk the tea.

You look nice.

Sam?

And then there was a flash, and I must have blacked out or something because when I looked back, they were both gone.

And you're certain that this is some sort of portal?

That they weren't just don't

disintegrated?

I swear.

Pretty sure, though I'm not sure portal is the right word.

May I ask why?

Licensing issues?

Alice, please.

Portal makes it sound like it's just a door between two places.

This is more complicated.

We don't know how many places it might lead to.

Which is why you don't advise attempting a rescue.

I don't think we can be sure we'll end up where he was, and even if we did, it might be impossible to get back.

This is bullshit!

How sure are you of this, Celia?

I've processed a decent number of cases like this over the last few months.

They were all pretty consistent.

Then I'm inclined to believe them.

All right.

Given all I've heard here, I'm making an executive decision to prohibit direct interaction with the

phenomena below the hilltop center until we have more information.

Too bad you're not in charge.

Alice, I understand that Lena's departure may have been more abrupt than you expected.

But my promotion has already been officially ratified.

You should have an email from the ministerial aide waiting in your inbox with the details.

To put it simply, I'm your boss now, whether you like it or not.

Oh, how convenient that your only proof is sat in an inbox I can't read in case it tries to eat me.

It did not eat Colin.

The system just responded responded to an attack.

By eating Colin.

I'm sure that as long as we don't follow in his footsteps, we can maintain business as usual.

Gwen, this is serious.

I don't think business as usual is gonna cut it.

Can you contact anyone more senior?

The minister is...

A useless sack of skin.

Very busy.

And even if I were to raise this, I doubt he could be much help.

I'd be jeopardizing this office for nothing.

Jeopardizing your pay rise, maybe?

Colin's dead, Sam's gone, and your grand plan is to what?

Keep calm and carry on.

It's essential that we understand what happened to Sam and what's going on with the system before we take any action.

I just think it would be better if we kept such investigations off the books, as it were.

That makes sense.

Naturally, neither I nor the OIAR accept liability for your safety in these investigations, since they are not part of your official work duties.

That said, I will, of course, understand if you both wish to leave.

I'll even add a competitive severance package, which I think is more than generous given the circumstances.

Piss off.

We're staying.

I.

Celia, please.

We've got to get him back.

Okay.

Thank you.

Right.

Well, in that case, if there's nothing else, I believe you both have an extensive backlog to be getting on with.

Meaning all your cases, right?

Hmm?

Partially.

Now, if you don't mind, I am very busy.

Oh, and Alice, I expect you to show me a little more respect moving forward.

I am your manager, after all.

Then, respectfully, you can kiss my arm.

nothing over in seven either.

How the hell did he get in?

Beeps me.

Moving on to twelve.

Still here then.

Hmm.

Wait.

You're still running?

Oh, shit.

You're...

Recording me.

Recording me so closely.

Beady camera eyes pushing ever nearer.

Scanning for a slip.

A shudder.

A crack in the facade.

To show that I was weak.

That I trembled.

That I was afraid.

afraid.

They watched me every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every week, of every month, of every year, of every eternity that was no time at all.

And above it all, the thing for which the cameras danced.

The great and terrible eye that watched it all.

It came for me when I was watching as well.

Working security, walking the halls, watching the portraits as they watched me back.

Like I was trained.

Police.

Not long.

Couple of months.

Bad culture fit, they said, but that was okay.

Always another job for a watcher.

The punters came and stared and gawked, and I watched them in turn.

Sat in the corner of a gallery, or through pixelated camera eyes.

I liked it.

I felt powerful.

We had all heard of the Magnus Institute, the weirdos next door, that grand old building where people took their ghosts and their stories and got nightmares in return.

Pasty academics and shifty-looking bookworms that never looked you in the eye.

Then one day, it was gone.

It was all gone.

The world and the people and London and you and all that was left was the watching.

And the Institute.

Towering over everything.

Then the cameras turned on me, long metal legs sharp sharp and scraping as they chased me through the streets.

They clambered over empty buildings, crawled through broken windows and pushed their way up through rusted sewer grates.

Always searching for me.

Always staring at me.

Closer, closer.

Focused.

Hungry.

Their lenses were cracked and shattered, but it didn't matter.

If they caught you, cornered you, pinned you with their razor tripod legs, then those lenses would open.

cracked glass blossoming like iris leech jaws.

And they would cut you with their jagged edges.

And as you bled, as you screamed and cried and begged, they did not drink you.

They did not eat you.

They watched.

They watched and watched and watched your crimson fear as it trickled down to the floor.

Bloodshot eyes behind broken lenses.

Sometimes you could hide.

The corner of a darkened flat.

Halfway up a long, quiet tower block.

Under the stinking cardboard at the end of a blind alley.

In the basement of a silent shop among the plastic reminders of a time when joy existed.

But you would still hear the cameras searching for you.

Skittering, scratching, panning left to right as they sniffed you out.

Hiding was no relief, just a different different sort of terror.

The lingering sickness of anticipation building to the sharp peak of panic as you heard the whirring of their zoom in the shadows.

And then

you were running once again.

I wasn't alone, but it didn't matter.

The streets were empty and the other poor lost souls of London were only there to run, to cry, to bleed, to fear.

If you found another, a fellow victim of the scrutiny, there was a moment of hope.

But it was the bitter hope that you might trip them, shove them, cry out and reveal their hiding spot, feed them to the cameras so that you might have a minute, a second, an instant of peace.

Albeit one tainted by guilt.

I used to see them in my dreams, those others who fled with me.

I knew their faces and we ran together in our sleep long after the nightmare ended, but I did not search for them.

Did not embrace it.

And eventually, the dreams faded.

But the scars didn't.

Not when the tower fell and the eye closed.

Not when the pupil collapsed and the archivist died, his face still burned into my mind.

Not when I picked myself up in a cracked but unbroken world.

Not when people started to use words like recover, rebuild, or renew.

The scars carved into me by those hungry cameras still stood stark.

I couldn't move on, couldn't leave it behind.

No previous words from Pompous Shrinks could help me.

Their eyes were as hollow and dead as mine.

Not that I could bear to look at them.

So I came here.

If I cannot escape, then neither can they.

I would keep the lingering things of dread contained and be the watcher once more.

But now,

I know it was for nothing.

I know this feeling.

I know what it is to be watched, judged, scrutinized, to have your terror wrung from you like water from a dirty rag, leaving you twisted and dry and empty.

I cannot stop you.

And I know that this is the end.

But with the last of me,

of my fear,

you can take my hate, my loathing.

This place is not for you.

There is no place left for monsters.

We

will

be

your

end

and I

will

watch

with the money.

Sector eight clear.

You finished twelve yet?

Hi, D.

Hi D, you there?

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 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, Anusha Battersby as Gwen Bouchard, Lori Ann Davis as Celia Rickley, Ryan Hope Ver Anderson as Colin Becker, Sasha Sienna as Georgie Barker, with additional voices from Jonathan Sims and Beth Eyre.

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 Pillman, Cetius DeRaven, 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.

Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day, Scratchers, from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question: play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly.

must be 18 years or older to purchase, play, or claim.

Hi, everyone.

It's Billy Hindle, the voice of Alice in the Magnus Protocol.

Today, I'm here to advertise Frights by Fire, a new storytelling and horror anthology podcast that recently launched on the Archee Network.

Frights by Fire is a weekly community-driven series bringing immersive sound design to live performances of spooky stories provided by the audience.

Created and hosted by Jonathan Magno, creator of The Grotto, and Jamie Petronas, creator of The Seller Letters.

Join Jonathan, Jamie, and special guests by the fire as they bring horror tales written by their community to life.

Episodes are filled with frights, fun, and the fumbles that only performing in front of a live online audience can bring.

Search for Frights by Fire wherever you listen to your podcasts, or go to www.theredactedunit.com or www.rustyquill.com for more information.

Have fun and see you later.