Chapter Text
"Testing, testing, 1 2 3... is this on? Am I doing this right? Okay. This should be fine.
"I'm Elias Bouchard, uh, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. I guess. Uh, should I explain what the Institute is? No, no, these tapes are for the Institute, anyone listening would know. Uh... but what about new employees...? Uh -- okay. I'll explain.
"This is... god, where do I even start? It's uh... we're like, professional ghost hunters, I guess? It's a pretty serious place, researching all sorts of supernatural bullshit. Ah, should I be cussing...? Probably not. I should be professional.
"I'm going to be honest, I don't know why I'm the Archivist. I was a filing clerk a few days ago. But, the last Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? She went missing. So, the Head of the Institute promoted me. Me. I'm not qualified for this! I know Research and, like, Artefact Storage are probably much harder jobs, but I can't do this!
"...sorry. I should calm down. This is meant to be professional. Uh, I think. Yeah, definitely.
"The last Archivist left this place a bit of a mess. So, my assistants and I have a lot of work to do. Oh, have I mentioned my assistants? There's Tim and Sasha from research, and... somebody new? I don't think I've seen him here before. He's pretty quiet. I didn't even learn his name until I signed the paper. I think it's Peter? Yeah. Can't remember the last name, though.
"We've been trying to digitize a lot of the Statements, to help organize the place, but some of them just... break the computer. Okay, well, not break, but I can't get this one on the laptop at all. None of us can. So, I'm recording these tapes to document the Statements in a different way. No idea whether it'll work, or who in the world this helps, but... I guess I'm doing it.
"This one is... uh... Nathan Watts, given the 22nd of April, 2012. Regarding 'an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh.' Specific.
"Statement begins."
When Elias finishes the Statement, and the notes afterward, he feels... incredibly exhausted. The kind of tired that sleep can't fix. He doesn't understand why, he'd felt fine, if anxious, before recording the thing. He sighs deeply, leaning back in the uncomfortable office chair. He could use some tea. Or a hit.
"Exhausted already?"
Elias jumps. That was the voice of his boss. He's certain he should've broken something with how fast he stands up to greet him. The Head of the Institute just smiles. Elias doesn't catch how it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Just a bit winded, I guess," Elias mutters, failing to project his voice to a respectable volume. He'd been projecting just fine while reading the Statement.
The other man just smiled, tilting his head. "I understand. This job can take a lot out of you."
Elias nodded his agreement, despite being quite confused by the choice of words. It's an archiving job. It shouldn't be that hard. Should it? Elias doesn't know anything about archiving. His boss strides calmly into the small office Elias has claimed, clearly inspecting the place. "I do hope you find your footing soon. I understand how stressful it must be, tending to the Archives in this condition. Gertrude was... perhaps not my best choice."
Elias nods nervously, hesitant to express any opinion. He's never been particularly religious, but his family had taught him never to speak ill of the dead. Far be it for him to argue with his boss, though. He needs this job. Besides, Gertrude Robinson hasn't even been confirmed to be dead. The search for her is still going on.
"Well, I suppose I'll let you get back to it," he says, adjusting one of the plants on Elias's desk. "I imagine you've got a lot of work to do."
Elias just nods, his entire body tense as he watches his boss retreat into the hallway. Tim catches him on his way out, having been on his way to the office himself. He attempts to greet him with a joke and a grin, but the Head merely hums in acknowledgement and keeps walking. Tim shrugs.
"Man, who pissed in his cornflakes?" Tim asks, setting a small handful of paperwork on Elias's desk. The latter just shrugs, nerves still ratcheted up to eleven. "Jon's been different ever since he got promoted, have you noticed?"
Elias doesn't respond. Can't. He's too busy failing to take deep breaths. Encounters with his boss always leave him trembling, adrenaline coursing through him for no good reason. Tim tilts his head, concerned. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm... fine," Elias mutters after a beat. "Just... a bit anxious, I guess. I'm not used to this job."
"Tell me about it," Tim replies, leaning casually against a filing cabinet. "He's so formal and stiff now. I mean, he's always had a stick up his arse, but this is new. I'm actually getting kind of concerned."
Elias nods. Yet again, he can't bring himself to agree or disagree. He hasn't known Jon for very long, hasn't really paid attention to anything around himself for quite a few years. No time like the present to start.
That decision proves to be a mistake sooner or later.
More and more Statements start refusing to be digitized. Several of them seem to be showing patterns, but it's the bug Statements that really get under Elias's skin. Somewhat literally, perhaps.
Well, his assistants seem to be doing well, anyway. Tim is seducing officers and filing clerks for information, which is only mildly alarming to Elias, who had been a filing clerk before and was likely very susceptible to this type of persuasion. Sasha is polite, focused, and... struggles to pronounce "calliope," which Elias must admit, did make him laugh after a rather harrowing Statement. And as for Peter... well, Elias doesn't really know what to make of him yet. Apparently the youngest of a very wealthy family, trying in earnest to prove himself. But here of all places? Elias isn't sure what to think about that. It's certainly weird, but in the past few months, Elias has heard weirder.
Peter hasn't been showing up to work lately, though. That's what's really concerning. The past few weeks, Peter has been texting Elias about staying home sick, first mysteriously, then with a stomach bug, and now he thinks he's come down with a parasite.
Elias sighs deeply as he awkwardly goes through the post-statement notes. His mind is clearly elsewhere, but even so, the sky eating somebody is a... pretty interesting Statement to commit to tape. The skydiving company doesn't even exist, and this "Fairchild" name seems to have shown up in Statements before. He's just beginning to discuss the possibility of this "Simon" character's significance, when--
The door bursts open. Standing on the threshold, clutching a jar full of small, squirming things, is Peter Lukas.