Supplementals

[epistemological]

[ There is the soft click of a tape recorder before the voice speaks.]

I have, in the past, found it helpful to myself to chronicle my investigations and my findings in something of a supplemental 'log' appended to my work at the Magnus Institute. Previously, this supplemental was a means of leaving behind a record for any archivist who might be appointed after my death or disappearance, that my fate would not be a mystery to my successor and that the information and experience I had might provide them a better stepping stone than was provided for me.

[ A gentle, perhaps even wry sort of sigh. ]

That goal has not actually changed, though in this case, I will be leaving these tapes to any and all wardens who might wish to access them upon my leaving the Barge. I'm not sure that these recordings, or my experiences, will prove of more or less substance than any other statement or information I aim to make available during my time here. Nonetheless, I do find that this sort of 'digest' gives me a greater degree of perspective and allows me a space for reflection, which is something I have found myself to often require if I do not wish to repeat my mistakes ad infinitum.

2019

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January | February

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January 2019

[epistemological]

[ The tape recorder clicks on.]

Supplemental for what I believe to be January, given the, er, weather present on the deck and the approximate time since what I have been told was an 'Imperial Russia-themed holiday ball'. Shame I missed that, really.

[ He clears his throat before settling to continue. ]

Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, recently appointed warden and library supervisor on the multidimensional vessel known as 'the Barge', head archivist of the Magnus Institute in London in my own world.

Statement begins.

I spent most of my first few hours on board walking a full circuit of the areas available for entry. I have found that there is at least one door which will not open even when I use what I have been told is referred to as a 'warden item' on the lock.

My 'warden item', for reference, is, as one might expect, a tape recorder. The, er, unnerving part of this is that my 'item', as it were, also serves as a tool to keep track of information on any inmates I might be responsible for, and upon attempting to explore it's more Barge-specific features, I discovered that that information will be conveyed to me by what sounds very much like the voice of Gertrude Robinson.

This does not, as you might expect, dissuade me from my belief that this place is, at least in part, under the power of the Entity we refer to as the End, given Gertrude's very much confirmed death.

During the initial investigation of my new temporary 'home', I met a self-described 'Magician' by the name of Quentin, a- the best thing I can think to describe her as is, perhaps, 'adventuress' named Iris, a lovely young woman by the name of Ronnie, and a very helpful gentleman who goes by 'Ray', apparently, all of which offered me information and a greater perspective on what this job will require, some of the details of the Barge's operation, as well as the dangers and difficulties I may face while I'm here. I also managed to meet, of all people, one doctor Harry Goodsir, the one from the Franklin expedition, yes, where I... well, I made something of an ass of myself, I can admit. Thankfully, he was quite gracious and extremely helpful regardless of my somewhat callous interest in his historical value.

[ A tired tired sigh.]

I also managed to stumble upon something rather disturbing: an entity somewhat like my own... patron, for lack of a better word, though in experience far more 'chatty' and significantly more... yellow and triangular. No less worrying, I'm afraid, though I have been informed that he is at least somewhat locked down by the structure of this place. He did mention a 'priest' of his that he said was on board, whom I contacted shortly after. Suffice to say the man is anything but interested in assisting 'Bill', as he calls himself, and may, in fact, serve as one of the better fonts of information regarding the handling of the damnable little polygon.

I did, as one might easily guess, discover that there was a library on board of some size and upon finding that there was a position available, inquired with the standing warden assigned there as to the means of taking up that position. She directed me towards the inmate working there, who she was concerned might object to my appointment. Mr. Tennant did not object and did indeed give his blessing. He has not, as of this time, decided to attempt to murder me either, which apparently is something he does, though usually only to those wardens who have been assigned to him and do not abide by his wishes.

I have dealt with less reasonable monsters.

Mr. Tennant also agreed with me that the library ought to have an archive, one where current Barge crew can leave statements of their experiences on the Barge both in an effort to preserve their knowledge for study and as a memorial to their time aboard. He has promised that he will be providing me with what materials he has already, and may be able to obtain more should his 'boyfriend' be willing to allow it. In the meantime, I will be scouting out a proper location for said archive within the library.

My other concern, regarding the library, is the possible presence of books which on my world are referred to as 'Leitner's, physical manifestations of the Entities which cause supernatural phenomena on the world from which I originate. Both Mr. Tennant and Miss Kal-El have agreed to assist me in searching for the books, though we have as of yet not determined our exact course of action. I have no intention of repeating the mistakes of either Gertrude or Jurgen Leitner, but what path is between them I have yet to explore. I have, as of yet, no evidence that such books even exist here, though I have discovered that books appear and disappear with additions to the population and I have no intention of relying on Providence in regards to a potential danger such as is presented by even one Leitner.

There are enough scars on me to testify that I am not, in any way, a lucky man.

[ A breath in, a clearing of his throat, and he seems ready to continue. After a moment-]

I have experienced my first 'flood' as they are called, though I find the use of metaphor in an emergency announcement to be in poor taste. This change in the 'parameters for our consensual reality', as Iris put it, seems to have involved the sharing of dreams. In my case, I had two such visitors: a rather 'energetic' young woman by the name of Darlene who is now convinced I am insane and the... unavoidable Mr. Cypher, or 'Bill' as I have referred to him previously. I also managed to wander into someone else's dream, a... welcome respite from my own somewhat perpetual nightmares; Iris was even kind enough to provide me with tea while I was there.

Given the unfortunate nature of my dreamscape, as it were, I sought out the assistance of a 'witch' by the name of Hilda who was kind enough to offer her services with a mixture that kept me awake during the remainder of the flood so that no one else would be forced to deal with the unpleasant nature of my sleeping hours. This did, as she warned me, result in spending several days unconscious after the flood had ended; I have only been awake some three hours or so since that time, but I will have to make sure that I provide her something appropriate in thanks for her assistance.

[ Another, shorter pause. ]

I cannot say if my experiences on board have made me more or less comfortable with my decision to come here. There are things about this place which deeply disturb me, some of which I even happen to think are outright evil, that it seems others are quite willing to not just tolerate but even, possibly, enjoy. All the same, I cannot see myself turning back from this path.

Sasha deserves to live, to have her life. Basira seems almost lifeless in her resignation, Daisy in need of what appears to be endless violence to channel her anger. Melanie has an unhealthy obsession with murdering Elias that I fear will only develop into something worse, Tim has all but lost who he is in his rage over everything that's happened, something which I know myself to be a primary cause of, and Martin-

Suffice to say that they deserve better. Better than I was, and better, it seems, than I can manage without this devil's bargain. Whatever I must do here to obtain their freedom, to 'save' them for lack of a better word, I will do it. And I will do it to the best of my ability.

I only hope that upon my return, that freedom won't be short-lived.

[ There is silence for a moment or two before-]

End recording.

February 2019

[epistemological]

[ The tape recorder clicks on.]

Supplemental for what I will be calling February, if only due to the shortness of the month. I think. The, er, the announcements are what I'm going on.

[ The soft sounds of ceramic on wood, the rhythm that of a man taking a sip of something warm before depositing it on the table.]

Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, warden and library supervisor... head supervisor, for the moment... on the multidimensional vessel known as 'the Barge', head archivist of the Magnus Institute in London in my own world.

Statement begins.

This month has... certainly been- I suppose illuminating sounds a touch overdramatic, but with more time and more experience, I feel I'm getting a better idea of the shape of what this place is, what it does. At least as much as one could hope for.

It is clear to me that my assertions regarding my time here being a 'devil's bargain' are absolutely correct. This place is... the very best I could hope for is 'neutral' but the evidence so far points to something... darker, more malign.

The first piece of that evidence... [ and this is a very tired sigh indeed ] is that it appears that several of the books which, in my world, would have been stamped with the bookplate of Jurgen Leitner have... followed me here, much to my dismay. I have alerted the others of the library staff and they are proving... helpful. Supportive, even. Though I truly wish that I could provide more to Mr. Tennant specifically to put his mind at ease. He, at least, seems to understand enough to be afraid... if not enough to realize that there is only so much that can be done.

At least, for the moment.

I am not the only one to have found what I will continue to call the... Leitners here on board. Iris, predictably, stumbled upon one of Leitner's own utility texts, specifically A Disappearance, whereas Miss Fiona Goode happened upon the other. The Seven Lamps of Architecture, however, has been destroyed... at least for the time being. Whether this means it's in the wind or no longer present on board- that, I cannot know. Though I do need to speak to Miss Goode on the fact that she managed to make the text seemingly spontaneously combust.

A feat in two respects.

Two other texts were found as well, much to my dismay: a rather depressing young man by the name of Steve Rogers found The Boneturner's Tale and Miss Kal-El, my fellow librarian, happened upon Ex Altiora which she believes may be a helpful tool for controlling her lightning-based abilities, though this of course will require some... experimentation. Something which I find myself more interested in pursuing than is perhaps wise, if I'm to be honest.

The first of my observations is that it appears as if this place, to some degree, neutralizes certain volumes. A Guest for Mr. Spider, thankfully, appears to be among those neutralized, though the... malevolence remains about the text. Thankfully, the book is in my keeping and will remain so for the foreseeable future. [ A short pause.] Somewhat more interestingly, it appears as if the Barge functions much like the architecture of Sir Robert Smirke. [ A few breathes before he continues.] Suffice to say, that little revelation will provide much food for thought in the coming months.

[ Another pause, another tap of a mug on wood.]

I've become acquainted with more denizens of this place, including a gentleman whose name I didn't catch who insisted on climbing the stacks. Gortys, a rather... sweet-natured robot, is none-the-less one I will need to watch in the library as her understanding of sorting systems is... unique, to put it mildly. Mr. Constantine continues to be an irritant, though one with some sense regarding what to keep in his flask, thankfully. Nokov, whom I believe to be yet another entity of sorts on board, a fact that does not at all fill me with confidence. And lastly, a gentleman by the name of Newt who... [ there's a soft swishing sound with a bit of a tap to the end as he scrubs his face] makes me wish, against all reason, that Martin was here.

I know, I know.

[ A low chuckle, only a little wry. Perhaps even a little warm.]

At least I'm moderately certain that you'll never tell him I said so. And really, it's probably best to be content with that.

[ A shuffle of a few papers.]

Bill continues his campaign to irritate me into submission, both before and after my-

[ He clears his throat then and huffs, just a little. ]

Well, I suppose I'll get there in due time.

[ A soft sigh.]

I think I may have... made a- a friend, a man named Rhys who- suffice to say, he's- he's certainly got what my grandmother would call a 'unique perspective' but- we, uh, we had a few drinks. Talked. It was... it was nice, honestly. A-and Miss Hilda was... well, very kind. [ A wistful sound, the kind one makes when they are unused to kindness. Or perhaps just miss a very specific kind of it.] She makes me think of Georgie a little. Just a little.

And I suppose, on that topic, I can't quite leave off Mr. Tennant, whom I find almost suspiciously easy to talk to. He is an inmate, something I cannot and will not forget, and yet...

And yet.

Perhaps it is the fact that we are both trapped, though I've hardly made clear the nature of my own captivity. Perhaps it's that we're both... both monsters attempting to be honest about that fact. He has told me, point blank, that he does not wish for me to be his warden, and I cannot help but agree with his reasoning.

[ Soft.] And yet.

[ There is a hard clearing of his throat, a few moments of shuffling before he speaks again.]

Good news first, I suppose. Well... better news, as I still find the idea of a wedding aboard this vessel to be if not a bad idea than at least in poor taste, especially between an inmate and a warden. [ Huff.] Well... it's not my business, really, not even my wheelhouse, if I'm to be honest. And I suppose there is something to be said for finding happiness where one can. Though it certainly does seem as if people here do, er, "bond" for lack of a better word. Iris thinks it's to be expected, considering, but... I guess that's just a perspective I lack given my own... predilections.

[ There's a long, low breath out before he speaks again.]

I suppose I can't put it off any longer.

[ Another face scrub, longer this time, and his voice is crisp in obvious irritation as he begins.]

The Admiral, in their infinite wisdom, decided to offload the lot of us on an island for a week or so while they conducted repairs. We were given supplies and assured that the island was otherwise uninhabitated.

And it was that second fact which turned out to be woefully, painfully inaccurate.

The... Beast Men, as they called themselves, were, from their account, the victims of a rather terrible set of 'doctors' whose experiments seemed, from what one of them said, more an examination in cruelty than any true scientific exploration.

[ He's clearly holding back, mostly because he has a full statement from one of the Beast Men. Which-]

The details of which will be added as supplementary material at the end of this recording. [ Sigh.] Suffice to say, it was gruesome enough that... even given our treatment at the hands of these creatures, I-

[ There's more here, much more, but he cuts off because he doesn't quite have the bandwidth for it, doesn't quite want to go into the ways that he has to wonder about them, about himself, about choice and lack of choice and which one is more terrifying. No, that... this isn't the place for it. Not for the moment, anyway.]

Eventually, though, the scientists were gone and the... people left took over their work, using any visitors to 'practice' their anatomical alchemy as they wished.

I was captured by someone who thought to use me for a bargaining chip, I believe. I didn't see their face in the dark but... I have my suspicions. [ A soft throat clear.] While there, I took a statement on gnomes from Ford Pines due to a- my seemingly inescapable needs. I'm not sure if, given his experiences, I have lost his trust to some degree, made my... situation with the Eye more of a reality to him, but I should hope that he understands my predicament. One of my... predicaments.

[ A deep deep sigh.]

The... Beastmen- they- they changed me a bit. Gave me- I mean, my transformation was relatively minor compared to some of the others, but I still can't- it's certainly not comfortable-

[ Huff.]

I... currently have the ears of a cat. Let's just- let's just get that out there. The ears of a cat atop my head, my own ears removed, and my teeth have been modified... accordingly. So that when I say that Miss Goode and Ray were somewhat concerned for me after my captivity- the reasons were... quite... apparent.

I have expressed my displeasure to the Admiral and the medical staff on board seem to believe that this can be corrected, but suffice to say that I am at current somewhat...

I honestly don't know what I am about it. Upset? Disturbed? Irritated? Not just for myself, of course, but the idea that those on board, those here can and have been so radically changed against their will- their bodies violated like that, and who's to say what it's doing to their minds-

[ A bit of heavier breathing.]

I have good reason to believe that there is only more of this to come and I am- I am still resolved. But I admit to finding myself just a touch shaken.

[ There's a low, dark chuckle there.]

The more things change, eh? [ It settles.]

I've nothing more to say for the moment. Just... work to do, I suppose. Always work to do.

[ A softer sigh.]

I think I'm going to go have a cigarette.

Statement ends.