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Rusty Quill presents The Magnus Protocol
Episode 39 Dependent Nice place. Huh. What? I thought I recognised the address. This is Alice's parents' house. I'm sure of it. Is that a problem? No, it's just... I helped her move the stuff out after they... Huh. What?
It just occurred to me they could still be alive here. Not likely. Why not? Just playing the odds. Older relatives, less likely to make it through everything. Plenty did, but if they're dead in your universe, hard to believe they had better luck in this one. Makes sense, I suppose. Maybe she's not in. Then she won't mind us having a look around. You can't just go in. Why not? What if someone calls? Yeah.
Stay here and let me scope it out first. Trust me. Yeah, okay. Georgie? Georgie? Georgie? Sam? Hey Alice. How? Yeah, so, um... How are you here? I don't... God, I missed you!
Let me know when you're finished. I didn't believe them. I couldn't. And I was right. You're here. This is going to be a bit weird. So you really aren't my Sam? I'm afraid not. Then I'm sorry that I... Don't worry about it. It's not the first time an Alice has flung herself at me. Oh, so we're together where you come from? Well, no. I'm so sorry. Don't be. It was mutual. We actually still work together and it's...
It's fine. Oh, right. I can't imagine working next to you- my Sam and not being together, you know? It's basically just morbid jokes and gossip. Of course. So, you and Sam- We got married a month before the incursion, but then- What happened to him? Appendicitis. We managed to get you to a hospital in time, but it wasn't long after Towerfall.
There were hardly any doctors, no supplies. They did what they could, but sepsis set in and then... I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry, I couldn't... It's okay. I'm sure he didn't blame you. You're lucky it didn't happen to you too. It did. A few years ago, I guess around the same time, I went to hospital and it was pretty straightforward. Look, Alice visited me in the hospital...
She hid a fetish mag under my pillow so the nurses would find it. I hope she knows how lucky she is to still have you. We shared a domain during the incursion. You learn a lot about someone when you've shared your fear with them. I'm not sure I understand. Couples often share fears, so a fair few ended up trapped together during the incursion. That makes sense, I guess. Is that why you dream? What? Who told you that? No one. I spotted the nitrazolpam on your shelf.
It's more common than people think. It never ends well. Sorry, am I missing something? After Towerfall, everyone had nightmares. We all revisited our domains in our sleep and, well, it turns out people in the same domain ended up connected. Connected how? We used to share our dreams, Sam. What? Sam, you should know. These weren't happy daydreams. This was dark, awful stuff.
Not as bad as the domains themselves, but still. Most people moved on and the dreams faded, but the people who are still playing around with it, er... What did we dream? I'm at work. Someone is yelling at me, trying to return something. I keep telling her we can't accept it, but she doesn't want to hear it. Finally, I just tell her I'll go check with the manager and duck in the back to waste her time instead.
I move to push my way through the faux velvet curtains behind the counter, and instead manage to tangle myself. I'm so furious that I've made a fool of myself in front of her, so I double down and keep trying to force my way through the veil of thick cloth, but they just press in closer, wrapping me and smothering me.
I start to struggle, first in anger and then in panic as I grow hotter and hotter and feel myself begin to suffocate. My thrashing only makes it worse and soon I slump down into the seemingly endless folds beneath my feet. I open my mouth to yell but can only manage a tight, muffled cry. The cloth is heavy, heavier than it should be.
I strain with all my strength and it yields only to press in closer. I can't breathe anymore and it's so warm and... wet. The cloth is sodden and warm and heavy. I strain one last time, arching my back, hooking my fingernails into the material, trying to drag it from my face, my toes clenched with the heaving effort.
The cloth yields slightly, but then so do I, my strength finally failing me, and I am left unable to even pant beneath the sweltering damp mass. I lie there, still and quiet for a moment, only to realize I am not still, not really. I am rocking. The cloth is moving, rocking me back and forth, back and forth.
It could almost be comforting if it weren't for the sound. There is a deep low roar all around me, rumbling and rushing in all directions, incessant and overwhelming. Soon I can't tell the difference between the noise around me and the rushing of my own blood in my ears. They are one and the same, swelling and ebbing in time together.
I want to put my hands over my ears, block out the sound that is so loud that I can feel it through my body, but my arms are trapped, held fast by my side so I can't do anything but listen to the pulsing rhythm from the closed darkness all around me. The thunderous heartbeat terrifies me, because I recognize it. I've heard it my entire life.
And with that, I recognize what is wrapped around me. What is shrouding me and smothering me and will not let me free. Living, sweating flesh. Folds and creases and swathes of it pressing in on all sides, trapping me, crushing me to the point I can't tell where I end and it begins.
Then I can feel it. Not just the pressure that threatens to crush me with its embrace, but the gripe of something within me that does not belong. A speck of grit around which a pearl of pain and fear is amassing. What is that? I reach for it, but it's burrowed too deep into me.
I just want to grab it and rip it out, tear out whatever is inside of me, throw the festering mass as far from me as I can. I manage to reach a hand up and begin to grope at the pain and as I do, I feel the immense weight all around me press in even harder. And as I grasp the lump, the thrumming meat all around me tightens till I cannot bear it.
Finally, I am forced to release my hand and when I do, that pressure eases with it. But I am not comforted. I am terrified. I can feel the lump in my body. Can feel it writhing even when I struggle myself and I realize it is me.
It is me, and I am it, and I am trapped within myself, and no matter what I do, I will never escape this living tomb. I surrender myself to my flesh then. What use trying to fight myself? I let my body twist and bend and break without resistance, pulverizing me into something unrecognizable as my joints creak and my bones snap, and then suddenly...
You are there, and we are together again. There is no speech, no contact beyond the crushing embrace of skin and bone to which we belong, but I can feel you within myself, and feel myself within you. And while I lie, fetal and squirming in this bloody rushing meat, you stand cracked and sharp, enshrined in bone, but we are together.
Together, the rhythm of our malignant embrace finally stutters once, twice, then fails. A deep roar of vitality all around us slows, then stills, and for the first time there is true silence. Then it begins to cool.
The overbearing heat slowly giving way to a pallid chill as the once pliant muscle stiffens like cured leather around and between us. We can feel the liquid pooling beneath us, then slowly rising, tepid and viscous as the skin wilts and sags upon us, dragging us down into the bubbling putrescence below the body.
Our body rots, warping and wilting and bulging and melting around us and within us, sloughing off and away, leaving us, only us, naked and withered and bleeding and starving and shitting and dying, but together, always together. And even now, you are there waiting to suffer with me once more.
It's not long till sundown. You should stay. I... er... I'm afraid we need to head off. It's no bother. There's loads of space and I've still got some food left. I don't eat much, so I'd be happy to share... We really need to get back. Warden business. Don't go. I'm sorry, Alice. I really am, but I can't stay. I'm not... I don't think it would be a good idea. I understand.
But please come back when you can. I'm sure I know stuff that could help. About our domain, our dream. I'll... err... I'll come by if I can. I'm always around so you can drop in- Goodbye, Alice. Don't look back. Just keep walking. That was messed up. I should have warned you when I spotted the sleeping pills. Most dreamers... they're broken. Something snapped and now they'd rather linger in a nightmare they think they belong in than face an uncertain reality.
It's so sad. It is. And dangerous. Life's difficult these days and we can't afford for people to just quit on everything. I just can't wrap my head around it. Don't try. You were never in a domain so you'll never really be able to understand what- No, I mean, I just can't really imagine loving someone so much that I would do that to myself. That wasn't love, Sam. That was grief. But once someone's gone, what's the difference?
Well, either way this has been a complete bust. No hints on the Archivist, no useful connections to your other self and we've wasted a whole day finding out exactly nothing. I'm sorry, alright? It's not like we had any other leads. Let's just get back. Got a fair distance to go and not much daylight left. Georgie? What? Was it just me or was Alice a lot more articulate than expected? Yeah.
She was. You think the archivist? Maybe. Better safe than sorry. I'll call it in, see if I can get a patrol to come and do a sweep. Oh, idiot! What? What did I do? No, me. I checked every inch of that bloody house for tape recorders and I never bothered to check my own bag. Shit! So that means... Back to the house. Move! Move!
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 and
with vocal edits by Nico Vitesi, soundscaping by Meg McKellar, and mastering by Catherine Rinella, with music by Sam Jones. It featured Shahan Hamza as Samana Khalid, Sasha Sienna as Georgie Barker, and Billy Hindle as Alistair. 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, 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 TheRustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us via mail at RustyQuill.com. Thanks for listening.
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