#mag022

MAG022 – Caso 0161203 – “Colonia”

Testimonio de Martin Blackwood, asistente del Archivo en el Instituto Magnus en Londres, sobre un encuentro cercano con algo que creo que una vez fue Jane Prentiss.

[Disclaimer/ Aviso]

A list of TMA characters that did not turn on their phone torches despite living in a time where that was very much possible. also f u TMA for making me research when phones started having torches in them. it's 2005 to 2007, depending on the model. though Nokia also had one in 1999. MAG022 Martin Blackwood (2016) MAG025 Mark Bilham (2015) despite him remebering in the end

Case #0161203, Martin Blackwood Release date: June 9, 2016 First listen: 16th October, walk into work. 

And so we get Martin. I have a tag on my main tumblr, that I employ when I am feeling particularly vulnerable and am feeling a kinship with a character. It is ‘i take my comfort character’s face in my hands and say ‘you and I. we’re going to bleed together.’… 90% of it is Martin. I have a lot of feelings about this man.

- He is our first archival assistant we hear directly from.

- The first line we get from Martin is ‘I just want to make a statement about what happened to me.’ To me this echoes a sentiment that grows in the Archivist through seasons 2 and 3. That of refusing to die a mystery, to fade into the obscurity that clouded Gertrude’s death. Martin wants to tell someone, even if it’s just the tape recorder, even if it’s an (suspected) inanimate object, but it will listen and not judge. I don’t know if he expected Jon to stay and listen or not.

- The pause after asking Jon to speak for his soundness of mind. Now is not the time Jonathon. The probably hurt.

- This is our first ‘hot off the press’ statement, not our first ‘recorded on the same day it was brought to the Institute’ that was MAG013, but this helps us tighten up the in universe timeline a little.

- Feels appropriate that this was all kicked off by Martin following up on statement MAG016, a statement of The Web. The pulling of strings to set everything rolling to lead to the invasion of the Institute and to start the dominoes falling, and it all comes from the Mother of Puppets; the beginning of preparing Jonathon for The Watcher’s Crown, the loss of Sasha in the confusion, the discovery of Gertrude. As Carlos had said, ‘Can you be haunted by the ghost of a spider that destroyed your childhood?’ Appears so yes.

- I think there’s also something about Martin being in this situation and being in danger on the Archivist’s orders. Yes, he had a job to do, but Jon was the one that sent him out into the field like that and I wonder if this will be the start of the guilt of endangering and hurting others that will compound within the Archivist, if it hasn’t already taken root in the form of guilt over the fate of the bully who went to meet Mr Spider.

- ‘I like spiders.’ And so the premise of web!martin first hatched. I very much agree that Martin was forever destined for The Lonely, but the touch of The Web about him was always a wonderful feature. I don’t know if I am wording this correctly or accurately, but the two Entities do compliment each other nicely. If I find myself in the grip of The Lonely and people are caring about me or interacting with me, there’s a part of me wondering how I’ve managed to trick them into it. That voice has gotten smaller in past years, but it used to have very good projection. I think the premise of web!martin has an interesting discussion about survival and being brought up in certain emotional environments attached to it.

- Bless you Martin for describing the commute. Still not 100% where the Magnus Institute is, it’s in Chelsea on the north side of the river, I’d imagine it’s on the eastern end of Chelsea to be closer to the site of Millbank Prison, although the tunnels mean it could be anywhere. But if we assume Martin jumped onto the Central and District line at Sloane Square and changed to the Northern line at Embankment, he’d then take the High Barnet route to Archway.

- ‘I didn’t want to come back to you without due diligence, though – I’ve learned that lesson...’ Jonathan, what have you done? What have you done to cultivate this sort of desperation to please in Martin, who, crush on you aside, has an already compromised understanding of self worth and worthiness in general? Do we need to have words?

- ‘...a worm of some sort.’ I don’t think we ever get a definition of what type of worm these are exactly. And it’s interesting that ‘worm’ keeps getting used when so often if something’s burrowing into rotting flesh it’s typically maggots; flies in a larval form. But seeing as these worms hunt down a victim and aren’t hatched out on a food source… I really don’t want to research but the natural scientist in me is edging towards the keyboard… I’m going to regret this.

- Yeah I regret this. Ok, I’ve gotten a little more insight into the use of ‘worms’ because it look like it can and does get used interchangeably with maggots, even within a species naming convention. Must confess, I was thinking ‘worms’ in terms of ‘annelids’ but then that excludes all sorts of phylum of parasitic worms and sea worms and I hate taxonomy with a burning passion. I understand we need a system of categorisation, but I don’t think anything we come up with is ideal for purpose because nature don’t work like that. Carl Linnaeus, you tried your best, I still want to shake you.

- Ok, back on track. But looking around, I reckon these worms could be the larvae of screwworm flies, a blowfly species that lay their eggs in open wounds and yes, it’s flesh eating. Mainly attacks animals and livestock in particular. Can and will parasitise humans. Martin even says, when he first saw it, he mistook it for a screw. There are two types of screwworm flies: Old World, Chrysomya bezziana, and New World, Cochliomyia hominivorax. I can’t remember if Jane Prentiss mentions anything about travel in her statement and Old World would make more geographical sense, but hominivorax means ‘man-eater’, they lay nearly 8 times the eggs as their cousins and have a significantly higher body count.

- The body does look segmented and screw like and they do look a little charred, like they’ve been held over a candle flame and the smoke has just blackened them.

- I’m not gonna link articles or photos in case you folks accidentality click links when you don’t mean to. You want more information on these creatures that cast aspersions on if there is a loving God, you go looking. Good luck.

- But of course, these things are falling out of a monster sustained by the fear of infection and rot, so who the fuck knows…

- Now, a basement window isn’t going to be big, it is unlikely it is going to be anything other than something you have to effectively post yourself through, but at the phrase ‘I’m not exactly the smallest guy in the world’, the fandom decided that Martin is large. He’s tall, he’s broad, he’s stout. he’s plus sized, he’s fat. And I think this is damn sexy of you all.  As a fat person myself, thank you. I have loved looking at all the different depictions of Martin in the fan art and he looks so good. There was a part of me that was very worried because so often in media, ‘fat’ is short hand for ‘unattractive, undesirable, lazy, stupid etc etc’ all the negative things. And while Jon does rant and rave about Martin’s supposed incompetence, although the examples that are given seem to be perceived failures after considerable efforts in the face of impossible tasks, (you gave him the name ‘Angela’ and the 60km² London Borough of Bexley and you were expecting a fucking miracle my guy!), his shortcomings are never attributed to his size.

- ‘…so I take a bit of a tumble onto the basement floor. Luckily I get away without hurting myself and start to have a quick look around…’ looks back at my opening blurb on MAG003 Yeeeeah I’m gonna have to write that thing on the Magnus Archives presenting self-neglect in the line of duty.

- ‘…the place had a really bad ‘feeling’ to it.’ Animal hind brain, kicking in once again. ‘…this musty smell, and the air was dusty and thick.’ Once again, the more ‘animal’ senses coming to the fore to highlight danger before the ‘rational’ brain can recognise it. And I think it’s a fascinating device and trait because if you listen to that instinct every time, odds are you’ll be ok. You may look like a bit of an idiot, but you’ll be ok. You only have to ignore it once, and you are very much not ok.

- ‘… but I didn’t like the way my… shadow moved.’ See the uncanny valley shit, heed the uncanny valley shit.

- Unfortunately, whatever charm he had with old ladies in Bexley doesn’t apply in Islington.

- ‘...slightly more co-operative after I lied to him...’ Ok, seeing more fuel for the web!martin fire now. I’m seeing it now; Jon compels, Tim flirts, Sasha perseveres, Martin lies.

- The landlord seems ‘genuinely surprised to hear about the death’ which seems a mite sus, considering although Carlos was looking to move, me was found dead at the Boothby Road address, after neighbours had complained about the smell. The clean up too, having to remove a body encased in web, surely would have registered with the landlord, unless perhaps, he’d recently take on the property.

- ‘…I was worried I hadn’t really done enough investigation for you.’ Martin… oh Martin, darling. I think both of us need some help understanding ‘work/life balance’ and ‘duty to the job’ don’t we. Also, I doubt this will be covered by paid overtime or time back in lieu, trust me on this. ‘…but… I mean… it’s my job, isn’t it?’ Oh dear.

- ‘…what looked like a human figure.’ Once again, vague bumping up the creep. - ‘She was facing away from me, apparently staring at the corner of the wall.’ Thank you, Blair Witch Project…

- The description of ‘the cough’, yikes. Yikes, Martin, put the poet’s pen away, I don’t need it right now.

- A man finds a strange woman in a darkened deserted room, she drops the overcoat, revealing a red dress. Out of context, it’s… well, I find it unnerving, might be due the aceness, but I can see how that can read as the start of an illicit liaison, a little Mrs Robinson in The Graduate. Which makes it all the more stomach churning when you consider the context of The Corruption is so often wrapped up in looking for love and unhealthy forms of connection. Adding what we know about Martin, that he is a young gay man, yeah, this makes my skin crawl in not just the obvious ways. More than likely, this line of thinking is more and insight into my perception of the world and probably not something Jonny was going for but, thems the brakes.

- The description Martin gives of the Flesh Hive is really evocative and weird, because you’d expect a decaying corpse to be just that; you’d expect to hear about fetid and rotting flesh, blood still wet in the wounds as the body broke down. But as she’s described as ‘grey’, ‘honeycombed’, ‘like a wasp’s nest’, it’s clear she’s dry and empty.

- Martin’s life, soul, very existence is in peril, and all he can think to do is get his phone out to capture evidence so his boss will believe him… Archivist, when I say be gentle and careful with this man, I FUCKING MEAN IT.

- I’ve done a little wiki look at Stockwell, London where Martin lives. Affectionately known as Little Portugal, but also has a significant population of Caribbean and West African heritage. The area has a lot of social housing, and we learn that Martin does come from a low socio-economic back ground, constantly worrying about money and supporting himself and his mother.

- ‘Oh god, maybe I’d left her to die.’ Martin, you are too good for this world and that kinda thinking is going to get you dead.

- Knocking. The knocking at the door. It’s something seen in horror quiet a bit, the idea that the threat asks for permission to enter and you are the one that seals you fate by allowing it, unwittingly or not. There’s the tradition that vampires need to be invited into a building after all. There’s a flavour of Poe’s The Telltale Heart to it too.

- This really is a siege situation. No only physically trapped, but no electricity. No way of contacting anyone on the outside, no distractions, just him and his thoughts and his fear and the knocking. For 13 days. I mean, they used to use sleep deprivation in witch trials as a form of torture. And there’s something terrible about this being Martin’s own home, the turning of sanctuary to prison.

- I appreciate the word choice of ‘she called herself to be a practising witch’. I’m reading that as the definition of ‘practising witch’ is one she is establishing and not a generally held one, not one tarnishing other people who would consider themselves practising witches. Does that make sense? Just makes her feel like the outlier rather than the norm.

- 1. Thank God, for his own sake, that Martin does not appear to live with his mother, and 2. did any of Martin’s neighbours notice?

- ‘What’s that Martin? You feel unsafe in your own home. Come stay at the archives in my personal bolt hole, you will be safe.’ Ok Jon… ok.

- Prentiss must think she’s so fucking funny; ‘stomach problems’, ‘it might be a parasite’. Ma’am take that Alien’s Xenomorph shit and get out.

- ‘Keep him. We have had our fun.’ Oh, the use of the plural. The loss of the self… Lovely…

- Ok, what is ‘the Archivist’s crimson fate’ exactly? Because a lot of the Magnus Archives colour scheme is green, so what is the crimson fate? Is The Flesh Hive talking about themselves, seeing as Jane Prentiss is still in the ragged red dress? Seems very self-aggrandising if that is the case. Does the Flesh Hive know of other Entities movements? The red of the Nikola Orsinov’s ringmaster’s coat? The title lights do go red in MAG119 when The Stranger makes their play.  Is there anything else I’ve missed? The hunters storming the Institute at the end of Season 4? Jared Hopworth? Leitner’s murder? These all seem a little more tenuous.

In hindsight, I think I may have found something that had me associating with Martin so strongly from almost the beginning. While was share a lot of traits in common which I will no doubt discuss, we also share an experience. 2020 was the year of COVID 19, of isolation and lockdowns. But it wasn’t our only pandemic, we also had Bird Flu. I work with birds and at the time I was a keeper in a captive collection of waterfowl, an at risk group, see as it is most commonly carried by migratory geese and swans returning from the Arctic circle to winter in Europe. About a month after hearing this episode for the first time, we had a case, we had a death, and I was the one who found patient zero. My life flipped overnight; I was contacted by health agencies for monitoring, government agencies descended on us, the site was closed to the public with the smallest of skeleton crews to keep the place running, and I had to move on site to do my job and take care of the birds I am responsible for. The levels of biosecurity we needed to observe skyrocketed. We had security on the perimeter, I had to go through a sign in check point if I wanted to leave. All the while, we lived in constant dread that the government officials were going to turn around and demand that we cull everything under our care, as they had done when they first turned up before they truly understood what we are; a captive collection and a wildlife reserve, not a farm. And we’d been able to shout them down once but we didn’t know if we’d be lucky a second time. There would have been nothing we could have done, except possibly physically fight them and I considered it. It was a terrifying and exhausting few months. And looking back, sitting on a bed that wasn’t mine, with no distinction between home and work any more, and constant reminders of the threats we were facing, I think Martin and I could have commiserated over that winter.