Work Text:
ARCHIVIST
[Almost wistfully] The domain of the Eye is the final place in a destroyed world full of fear, the very middle of everything that has existed and will exist in these hellish domains.
In the middle of this domain of glass houses and destruction there is a tower, the Panopticon, that watches and knows. The eyes that look in the sky are above this tower, surveying every nerve of its suffering. It is weaker now, the watcher, its eye unable to blink and unable to process anything that is actually happening other than the fear of the people.
[The Archivist chuckles]
ARCHIVIST
There is a scientist in this domain, watching as their experiments grow and they know that they cannot do anything. The scientist cannot do anything but watch as their hubris became a monster that infects and ravages everything they ever loved. They watch and they know that they will never be free of the guilt that crushes them horrible underfoot like a beast.
There are people who watch as their worst fears come after them and they are unable to move. They can scream and they can beg for everything to stop, but they cannot close their eyes.
Hubris leads fear to Jonah Magnus. Jonah Magnus sits in the panopticon, in the body of long dead Elias Bouchard. He watches and delights in his seat, as he thinks he got what he wanted. Immortality and power and a place at the throne of the destroyed world. A ruined world with a pompous king who does nothing but feast of the blood that others shed.
[Clothing rustles, the Archivist is standing alone, no one else in sight. He sighs, you can hear something like horrid screams from far away, almost imperceptible.]
Jonah Magnus watches everything. He sees a man far away watching and speaking. He is being viewed just as much as the man he stares at. He is confused, and there is a good reason. An eye cannot see inside of itself, but an eye can watch through a mirror, its own twisted reflection. There is something smug, as Jonah Magnus watches, the supposed king of a ruined world was proud of himself and the monster he thinks he created.
[Screaming is only slightly louder]
The Panopticon is taller than anyone would believe of it, stretched larger like a watchtower, which it had become.
[There is a chuckle, but there is a harsh quick scream. The chuckle does not stop until The Archivist clears his throat]
Jonah Magnus is not a stranger to fear. He is a stranger to feeling it though, years and years of making others feel certain ways, leaving others to die. All for the glory of a patron that can not care for him. The power is not worth it. He does not agree.
He is watching me as I walk closer to the ever tall tower.
He is not afraid.
He will be.
The eye is weak now, just as the world is. The ruined hellscape is nothing but ash and craters. All other fears are dead and dying.
[The archivist smears audibly. His voice is strangely smug] The first to go was The Lonely, which had died alone in smoke. All the avatars unaware of their imminent demise. All victims of the Lonely went the same way, peaceful as one might be as they are wiped from the face of the earth.
The Buried was dug up by explosives. There is no dirt left to bury anything in their domain, just unbreakable stone. All people were already in graves as something large dropped and tore at the earth like a clawing death. The sinkholes became level, because everything sunk to that level after the dust settled.
[He tries to tone down something like excitement]
The Desolation was quenched. It was fed for a while by the destruction of the other domains, but it too must go. It was covered in water, all explosions and fires and raging destruction were flooded away, leaving waterlogged dynamite and destroyed apartments, falling down from the ill advised fire damage and water sweeping away the foundation.
He sees now. Knowing that he is next. Jonah Magnus sees the destruction left, nothing and no one left alive and he will die. He Knows this now. Because it is true. And he is scared, choking terrified.
There is no dignity in how he will die. He will die terrified.
The Vast was covered in radiation. Avatars died unable to stop anything. Simon Fairchild could not even get away at Mach speed.
Now the eye will be blinded.
[The screaming gets louder. The tape recorder makes a noise as if it is struggling to continue working. There is a screeching of metal]
That is the way the Extinction works. Everything wiped away to make room for change, terrible change. Though is so terrible, for the ruined world to go?
MARTIN
Jon! [He sounds happy and a little bashful]
ARCHIVIST
[He hums, there is a rustling of fabric, most likely a hug]
Hello Martin, you’re doing well. [He sounds proud]
MARTIN
Are you ready? For the final? It’s almost poetic actually
ARCHIVIST
[Thoughtful] Yes I think I am actually. [Teasing] Of course you would make a poem of the world ending, no one is alive to hear them.
MARTIN
[Teasing] Why are you still recording the statements after everything? I mean no one else is alive to hear them
ARCHIVIST
[Deadpan] For a bedtime story.
[there is light laughter]
I don’t know actually. It's the only thing that wont go off around you. Radiation and technology never really gets along you know.
MARTIN
Yes I suppose. [Clothes rustle. They are holding hands.]
Well it’s here. This is it.
ARCHIVIST
[He hums, sounding happier than previous tapes] Yes I suppose it is.
[the sounds of explosions and screams. Something stone crumbles. Whistling missiles hit the ground with a deafening crack. The sounds go on for ages, days if anyone tried to tell. Finally the last few sounds of cracking parched ground stops. There are no more sounds, only soft breathing.]
ARCHIVIST
It’s over. What happens now?
MARTIN
[He gives a quiet snort] You think I would be the one asking that Mr. Post Apocalyptic Google. [He pauses, as if really thinking about it]
Really I don’t know. Do you think we die soon? There are no more people fearing the terrible change.
ARCHIVIST
[Thoughtful] I suppose we do. I’m.. [He pauses. It seems he still has trouble saying his emotions] I’m happy that I go down with you.
MARTIN
[Love filled] Yeah. I am too Jon.
[There is more clothes rustling, indistinct whispering. The tape recorder falls to the ground and the sound of happy laughter and footsteps pick up. There is a sob somewhere in between all of the joy. The laughter dissolves into crying. There is no fear in the sounds just bittersweet and lovestruck]
[The tape runs out and turns off]