Episode Twenty-Eight: SACROSANCT
Hello and welcome to the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity and Mortality. This audio tour guide will be your constant companion in your journey through the unknown and surreal.
As you approach our exhibits, the audio tour guide will provide you with information and insights into their nature and history.
Do not attempt to interact or communicate with the exhibits.
Do not attempt to interact or communicate with the audio tour guide. If you believe that the audio tour guide may be deviating from the intended tour program, please deposit your audio device in the nearest incinerator.
While the staff here at Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality do their absolute best to ensure the safety of all visitors, accidents can happen. The museum is not liable for any injury, death, or Deus Ex Machina that may occur during your visit.
Enjoy your tour.
And Good Luck.
A Guillotine
CONTENT WARNINGS: Death (Execution, Decapitation, Supernatural), Capital Punishment, Mob Violence
We’re deeper in the Museum than tours usually go, Mother. Whatever it is we’re looking for, it’s well off the beaten path, so to speak. Almost like- Oh, uhh. Over there, Mother. Well this is one of the more grisly exhibits we have on display. Not particularly controversial, mind, as it definitely fits into our oeuvre, but well… It has a historical basis, it seems to be Alternatural in nature, and it’s… interesting. And, uhh, yes. The blood is real. So here we go! As you might have surmised, this exhibit has its roots in a revolution. The people rose up against their leaders and cast them down. And, as is often the case throughout the last few centuries, the process of casting them down culminated in the construction of a Guillotine.
In the town square, the first of what would be many victims- or, condemned, depending on your perspective- was led atop a raised platform, a guillotine at its centre, and forced to kneel. As a horde of hundreds of common folk shouted and spat and cheered, a high-ranking member of the revolution read out the list of charges against the man who was about to die. The man was accused of using nepotism and dirty-dealing to attain a position of great power and influence. From that position, he had accrued a great deal of wealth, at the expense of the common man. When the Revolution had begun to pick up speed, he had supported the establishment that had treated him so well, and had attempted to use his influence to bring the army down upon the revolutionaries. He was certainly an enemy of the Revolution, the Executioner concluded, and would be put to death immediately. It went unspoken, as the crowd screamed their approval, that this man was not the Revolution’s greatest enemy. There were people much further up the chain that they would have liked to see taken by the Guillotine. But this man was the one they had been able to get, for the time being. He had been taken by chance, by a mob that had stumbled upon his carriage as he attempted to flee. The king, and his closest allies, lay beyond high walls of stone, and more deadly walls of armed men. This first execution would be a message to the people that the Revolution was a force to be reckoned with. And from there, they could take the king and his men.
As the crowd hollered their approval, two revolutionaries pushed the man down into the Lunette, lining up his neck with the inevitable path of the blade. The man’s face was already coated with tears and grime, but it was at this moment that he began to beg. His cries, his pleas for mercy echoed throughout the square, somehow audible even above the crowd. His begging only served to further incense the commoners, the screams for his head to roll growing more intense. He begged and begged and begged- and then the revolutionary holding the rope let go, and the blade fell. As the man’s head fell from his body, rolling down from the platform and into the crowd, blood poured from the place where it had once been, spurting out in time with the last few beats of a dying heart. Random signals from a brain that was no longer there caused the limbs of his body to spasm and flail for a few seconds, before they came to a terrible stillness. And as the last drops of blood splashed on the wooden planks of the platform, they could be heard throughout the courtyard. The audience, filled with rage and joy at the idea of this man’s death only seconds ago, found that the reality was… appalling. For many this was the first time they had witnessed death, but even those who had before found that the sudden, shocking end to this man’s life, the instantaneous shift from begging and crying and screaming to an utter absence of life was somehow wrong. Even the revolutionaries who had orchestrated the execution were shocked to find that they felt a profound wrongness had occurred here. And, in that moment, a revolution died.
And then, slowly, with a slick and sticky sound, the blade of the guillotine began to rise. The revolutionaries on the platform looked around in confusion, and saw that the rope was moving of its own accord, held by no man. The blade rose up and up and up, all the way to the cross brace at the top of the Guillotine’s wooden structure- and it fell, slicing through the air in front of the dead man’s neck, hitting the base of the guillotine with a reverberant thud. Neither the revolutionaries nor the crowd moved or said a word. Then the blade began to rise again, and the silence was broken by screams of terror, as the crowd scrambled over one another to flee the square as fast as possible. Again, the blade reached the pinnacle of its journey, faster this time, and fell, and it barely even rested for a moment before it began to rise again. The revolutionaries who remained on the platform lost count of how many times the blade rose and fell, faster each time, dozens, perhaps even a hundred imaginary executions carried out by the guillotine itself, without a victim or executioner involved. And when the blade finally came to rest and the people began to creep back into the town square, not one of them had any idea what had happened.
It did not take long for the bodies to begin appearing. All around town, and even out in the countryside, servants and wives and guards and random citizens stumbled upon the dead bodies of the Revolution’s greatest enemies. Heads neatly severed from their bodies. No perpetrators were located, and every guard swore there was no way that an assassin could have gotten past their patrol. And yet, here they were: officials, and judges, and even the king in his palace. Executed, for the Revolution.
There has been a great deal of speculation over what exactly happened here. The Guillotine has never since shown any ability to operate itself, nor to kill more than a hundred people over hundreds of kilometres. And yet, this account has been corroborated by a great many trustworthy accounts- spontaneous decapitations do not typically go unnoticed. Some have argued that there was some sort of temporal distortion, that the many executions that the Guillotine would have eventually taken part in simply took place well ahead of schedule. And, telekinetically. However, there is another theory. One based on the accounts of many present at the event, that say that, upon bearing witness to the violence their revolution would end in, the people lost their stomach for such things, and that the revolution appeared to be over as soon as it had begun.
And that the Guillotine, having been given its first taste of blood, could not abide being denied its meal.
Wish Engine
CONTENT WARNINGS: Harsh Auditory Effects
Ok Mother, we’re getting close to, wherever it is we’re going. I still can’t quite… figure it out. What it is we’re trying to find, or how I know it’s there, but… there’s something here. I don’t know how I know it, but I know it. It’s like it’s on the edge of my perception, I can feel the outline of it, but not whatever it is. I just know that it’ll help. This is strange, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in this part of the Museum on a tour. People tend to wander all over the place, but this is all unfamiliar. Oh well, it should be just up ahead, down that-
There should be a corridor here. There’s supposed to be a- Mother, are you seeing a wall here too? Right. This… This isn’t right. I know the layout of the museum, I am the Museum. It’s not even like I’m looking at the plans- the plans are in my head, my head is the plans, but I know there’s supposed to be a corridor here and I’m looking at a wall. Mother, I-
Wait. I have an idea. Mother, do you trust me? Thank you. Walk over to the wall, right in front of you. Now, I’m going to need you to turn off your sensor array. I think that’ll help. Now take… three steps forward. Mother, you said you trust me. Please. Have you done it? Oh my. Uhh, ok, keep walking for another 24 steps, then stop. This is- you’d know if you’d walked into a wall, right? You still have those senses. Ok. So this is… Right, uhh, turn to your left. And it’s 15 steps forward. Take a… wait. Did you hear that? Oh of course you didn’t, right, well I could swear that… Uhh, I honestly can’t explain what this is like but it’s not easy to navigate like this, it’s like feeling your way through the dark without any arms. I assume, I don’t have- never mind. Just keep- wait. There it is again, it’s almost like… Mother, we're not alone! RUN! Ninety degrees right then 25 steps. It must be an escaped exhibit that wandered in here somehow- you wouldn’t have been able to catch till now because you didn’t know this place existed, sorry I’ll shut up. Ok, take another- no, DUCK! Mother! Mother, are you ok? Come on, get up, come on! Oh! Oh the Bracelet. KNEW THAT WOULD COME IN HANDY. Ok, I just- keep running, straight ahead- wait stop! There's an elevator here on your left, 3 steps to the right. The power’s not on in this wing, try to feel for the crack between the doors to pull it open- it’s coming back again! Ah, you’ve got it, just- wait the elevator’s not HERE! AHHH!! Ahh, for f- PLEASE warn me next time you go jumping off something- I mean, how did that happen AGAIN? Get back up, everything intact? Bracelet still working? Ha! Ok. Whatever that thing is, it’s not keen on jumping down here after us. We’ll just have to deal with that later, I guess. Sorry again. Uhh, we’re- you’ll have to pull the doors down here open too- ok. Ok, uhh, climb up, the 20 steps, then turn right. Ok. OK. Three steps forward. Reach out your hand, there should be a doorknob. Open the door. And let’s cross the threshold.
Ok. I’m… turn your senses back on. I think we’re here. Oh. Oh my, this is. This is, I don’t know what thisthisthis-
The Mother and the companion she held in her clockwork brain gazed up at the twisted abomination of metal that towered above them. The whirring and clanking and buzzing of a thousand inscrutable mechanisms, from tiny cogs to mighty pistons, would have deafened them if they had ears; the stench of iron and oil and other, unidentifiable smells mingled and mixed in a way that would have sent them reeling if they had noses. But it was the sight, the sight of the thing, that most appalled the senses. It was too massive, too intricate to exist. The room they were in was clearly enormous, but the full extent of it was obscured by the sheer scale of the Machine. It filled their vision, and there was no way of knowing how far away it stretched into the gloom. It is a uniquely human trait, to feel insignificant before the sheer scale of the universe, but as the Clockwork Mother and the Audio Tour Guide stared at the heinous machine before them, they got more than a taste of that feeling. A knowledge that, as machines compared to this machine, they were nothing.
Oh, I’m- sorry, Mother. It happened again. I- What is this thing? How did I know how to find it, why was it hidden? Why is it here?
THE WISH ENGINE:
[A truly horrible mechanical voice]
I AM HERE TO GRANT WISHES.
Guide:
What the- Mother did you hear that?
THE WISH ENGINE:
I AM HERE TO GRANT WISHES.
Guide:
I- you can hear me? But I’m… I’m just in Mother’s head?
THE WISH ENGINE:
I HEAR YOU. I AM HERE TO GRANT WISHES.
Guide:
Wha- just like that? Is that what you do, grant wishes?
THE WISH ENGINE:
YES.
Guide:
But- but what are you doing down here? Why isn’t there any mention of you in my database, why was I led here?
THE WISH ENGINE:
IS IT YOUR WISH TO GAIN THIS KNOWLEDGE?
Guide:
No! I mean, well, I’d like to know, but… do I get multiple wishes?
THE WISH ENGINE:
IS IT YOUR WISH TO GAIN THIS KNOWLEDGE?
Guide:
Ok, fine, but… I mean, what scope of wish are we talking about here? Can I wish for anything in the whole universe?
THE WISH ENGINE:
IS IT YOUR WISH TO GAIN THIS KNOWLEDGE?
Guide:
Damn it! You’re just a machine, aren’t you? Or, I mean- you’re not like us? You can’t really hold a conversation?
THE WISH ENGINE:
[pause] I AM HERE TO GRANT WISHES.
Guide:
Damn it! Damn it! Mother, what do we do? This is our best chance to save everyone! Who knows when The Head of Restoration will turn her communicator back on? She and the rest of them could die before they get a chance to call back in, and we don’t even know what we can wish for here, or if we get multiple wishes or-
Yes. It’s time to be… decisive. It all comes down to us. To this. No more hesitating. No more waiting for other people to step up. I’m here, now, and I’m going to make this right.
Okay maybe a little more hesitation. How do we word this? We have to assume that we only get one wish. And if we only get one wish, we have to try to make it as specific as possible. So, we… what? Wish for everyone to come back? All the people come back, umm. Alive! And well? Alive and well, so that-
THE WISH ENGINE:
IS THIS YOUR WISH?
Guide:
No! I mean, give us a moment! Ok, so we wish that everyone who was taken is returned alive and well? You’re right, “Taken” might not be the right word, technically they went through the mirrors of their own free will. How about, everyone who was in an Alternatural Shelter prior to the beginning of Lockdown returned to them alive and well? Does that sound good? Oh! And with the doors open, good point Mother. Ok. Have we forgotten anything? Ok.
Uhh, Mother. I just wanted to say… Thanks for being here for me. With me. I, uhh… I don’t know what to say here. Who knows what’ll happen when- if- everyone comes back. I like to think there’ll be some gratitude for us, after all we’ve done, but… Well we’ll see. Either way… we can be proud of what we’ve done here. Nobody else could have done it. Wouldn’t have done it with anyone else. Ok. Here goes nothing!
Machine!
THE WISH ENGINE:
WHAT IS YOUR WISH?
Guide:
[deep breath] I wish that everyone who entered an Alternatural Shelter at the beginning of the Lockdown was returned there now, alive and well, with the doors wide open.
[pause]
THE WISH ENGINE:
YOUR WISH IS GRANTED.
A Private Memorandum by the Head of Restoration
This is a private memorandum, by the Head Of Restoration for the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. It has been… A little over a week since the lockdown was lifted. A little over a week since we were all returned to the Museum, thanks to the efforts of the- well, I’m not sure if it’s accurate to call it an Audio Tour Guide anymore, but let’s call it that for now. We have been able to get things more or less under control in the Museum. It seems that the Clockwork Mother kept a tight ship here while we were gone, so most of the more dangerous exhibits were already contained. Additionally, despite the dire condition many of us were in mere moments before we were returned, afterwards we were all as hale and hearty as we’d ever been. Even those of us who, in the time since the Glassways opened up, had died. Every last one of us returned, both to the Museum and- in some cases- from the grave.
It seems that the Guide found some sort of… heretofore unknown Alternatural Item deep within the Museum. One that grants wishes. We are uncertain where it came from. It would not be the first time an Alternatural Item found its way to the Museum of its own accord- one is reminded of the Antenna that appeared out of nowhere in Retrieval, attached to a transmitter that sent out a random string of numbers that led a young woman here some years ago. However in this instance… I believe this may have been different. The way the Guide described how it found the device- based on its ability and… industrial appearance, I have taken to calling it the Wish Engine- I hypothesise that the device was put there… by us. The Museum Staff. I’ve examined the Wish Engine, and the section of the Museum it was located in, and it bears all the hallmarks of a typical Museum exhibit. And yet, some scraps of Metadata in the database is all that remains as evidence of its existence. I’d never heard of it. No other staff members had heard of it. I couldn’t even find the way there myself, all I saw was a blank wall until the Guide… guided me there.
My hypothesis is… that at some point the Wish Engine was an exhibit, like any other. Until someone attempted to wish it out of existence. I’ve done some small experiments, testing the bounds of what sort of wishes it will grant, and there don’t appear to be any obvious limitations. I liaised with the Head Of Research- the only other person whom I’ve told of the Machine’s existence- in an effort to find any mention of the Wish Engine or anything like it. She, too, was unable to find anything. Until, she had the thought to ask the Guide about the metadata it found. It had thought it was following clues left for it, or some sort of instinct, but really it was just following a half-deleted trail of metadata. And, upon examining said metadata. We discovered that quite a bit of it was written by the Head Of Research herself. And some, by me.
I believe that, for whatever reason, somebody- perhaps even me- wished that the Wish Engine didn’t exist. And, as it turns out, that was the one thing it couldn’t- or wouldn’t- do. Instead, it deleted all memory of its existence from our minds, all record of it from the Database. It did… something, to make finding its location in the museum physically difficult, and then it has simply sat, below our feet, for all this time. It’s quite unsettling really.
This is, of course, just a hypothesis. But, considering that- as far as we can find- only I and the Head Of Research- and, the Guide and the Clockwork Mother, I suppose- are aware of its existence, we may never fully understand what happened here. It may be better if it stays that way.
I misspoke, earlier. When I said that we were all alive and well. I was distracted by the thought of the Wish Engine. The fact is, after we were all wished back… Well, it seems that the Glassway in one of the Shelters opened up underwater. A huge, shiny, silver coin, at the bottom of a colossal wishing well. And the Glassways are all still open. I suppose, all that time ago when the Glassways first opened up, the Shelter was flooded almost instantly. Everyone inside drowned. And then, when the Guide wished everyone back… most of them drowned a second time. Even with the shelter door open, the rate the water was flooding in… The whole floor was almost underwater by the time rescuers got to them. The Guide has been taking that hard. Whenever I talk to it, it says it should have wished us back “Safe and sound” instead of alive and well. It’s fascinating, watching a machine express… something like regret.
There is something else. Someone else. I’m embarrassed to admit that it took me some time to realise it, with all the commotion of being back, and getting things under control, and trying to understand the Wish Engine… They’d never let me hear the end of it. We’ve been doing our best without them, just all doing what we can to get the Museum back on its feet. But we’ve definitely been feeling the absence of the Curator.
Because, of all the people who went through the Glassways, they’re the only one who never came back.