[CLICK]
[FOOTSTEPS ACROSS THE WOODEN FLOOR]
ARCHIVIST
He’ll be back. He hath to be. He can’t thtay away for long, it…
I have to thtop him. I can’t let him get on that plane. He’ll die if he trieth to leave London. Unlethth Thylvethter ith going to tell him how he wath able to quit, but…
[SIGHS DEEPLY]
I…I need energy. I can’t do thith without—I-I’m too hungry. I’m thtarved. Thtatement. I need a thtatement.
[SOUND OF PAPERS RUSTLING, AS IF BEING MANIPULATED BY SHAKING HANDS]
ARCHIVIST
Ah…here’th one. I don’t remember having thith one out.
(To himself) Nithe of Tweety to leave me one latht gift, I guess.
[ANOTHER SIGH]
Right. Here goeth.
Thtatement of Hathell Ritter, regarding a mythteriouth thubthtanthe in her childhood home. Original thtatement given firtht of Theptember, nineteen theventy-thixth. Thtatement beginth.
Hello, Daffy. Apologieth for the detheption, but I had to make sure you thtarted reading, tho I thought it betht not to announthe mythelf at the thtart. (Voice strains slightly) I wouldn’t try to thtop reading if I wath you—it could have conthequentheth you aren’t prepared for, and you might hurt yourthelf. Tho, if we’re ready, let’th go to the nextht page and begin again.
Drop.
[SOUND OF PAPER HITTING THE FLOOR]
Thtatement of Daffy Duck, the Archivitht, regarding the end of the world. Recorded direct from thubject. Thtatement beginth.
You’ll forgive me a bit of the dramatic, but really, thith ith an opportunity not often afforded. How often doeth thomeone get to monologue through another perthon? I had hoped that by thith point the thpeech impediment would have gone away, but I thuppopthe that’th lethth exthaggerated for comedic effect than I thuthpected, tho it’th thomething I’ll have to deal with. I hope it won’t affect thingth too badly, but, well…you’ll find out.
The firtht thing to tell you ith thomething I have never had to tell an Archivitht before. Not only in thith life, but in any life—but I’m getting ahead of mythelf. However, you have reached thith point without dithcovering the truth about me, and I thertainly wouldn’t want you to go any further without knowing that thimple fact. I am not Bugth Bunny. Not really. The Bugth Bunny you knew ith no more. My name ith Jonah Magnuth, and I am the original founder of the Magnuth Inthtitute. I have been exthtending my life throughout the yearth by taking over other bodieth, through a thimple devithe—the eyeth. Guided by our mathter, I have plathed my eyeth in the bodieth of otherth for two hundred yearth, waiting for the right time.
I wath never thuppothed to be Bugth Bunny. I have alwayth thelected my bodieth carefully, chothen for optimum prethtige and, crucially, minimum notithe. Eliath Bouchard, my latht thelection, filled all my uthual criteria. He wath from a powerful family, well connected, and would hardly be thurprithing in the exthalted thircleth the Inthtitute Head needed to move in, but he wath ethtranged from hith family—largely at my inthtigation, of courthe, but they thaw him ath a thlacker, a wathtrel, an…embarraththment. Tho eathy to itholate him from them—thubtly, of courthe—and prepare him ath my veththel. Play on hith thenthe of thuperiority and entitlement, thtroke hith ego, and keep him jutht afraid enough that he wath ready for our mathter to take control when netheththary. I had been Eliath for thome yearth, and even if hith wath not the body in which my planth would come to fruition, I exthpected to at leatht remain Eliath Bouchard until the end of hith natural lifethpan.
I never exthpected thith to happen to me, but with what I know now, I am lethth thurprithed than I wath. And in the end, it hath therved me admirably well.
You thee, when Thmirke firtht gathered our little band—Lukath, Thcott, and the retht—to dithcuthth and hypothethithe on the nature of the thingth he had learned from Rayner, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiothity and fear. But ath he compiled hith taxthonomy and codified hith theorieth on the grand ritualth, I began to develop a very thpecific conthern. Thmirke wath thtill tho obtheththed with hith ideath on balanthe, even ath our fellowth began to exthperiment and fall to the thervice of their patronth. I began to worry that if one of them thuctheththfully attempted their ritual, then I would be ath much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landthcape of a twithted world. At firtht, I attempted prevention, but the cauthe theemed hopelethth. The only way to ensure I did not thuffer the tribulationth of what I believed to be an inevitable tranthformation wath to bring it about mythelf. Tho what began ath an exthperiment thoon became a rathe. Beyond that, I wath getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in thith world ith done because we fear death, the latht and greatetht terror?
Well. Perhapth that ith thomething Toonth underthtand lethth. Thtill, perhapth by now you begin to get it.
I convinced Thmirke to work on Millbank, leading him to dethign it ath a temple to all the Fearth in equilibrium, thuch that my own modificationth to the dethign of the Panopticon went…unremarked. It. Took. Yearth for the dread of the prisonerth that paththed through to fully thuffuthe the plathe, and I wath an old man by the time I made my firtht attempt at the Watcher’th Crown, that in the thenter of that coloththal eye, the great ring of thellth enthircling me like a coronet. It wath…flawed, of courthe, ath all Thmirke’th ritualth were, and none of the inmateth thurvived ath the power I attempted to harnethth shook the building almotht to pietheth, and the murky thwamp upon which the prithon wath built consumed it.
But it left me a gift. For that in that watchtower, I could thee everything I turned my mind to. It wath a diththying power, and one I dithcovered I maintained even ath I found veththelth to exthtend my life. Of courthe, I had to make sure the location wath kept under my control while I worked on revithing my planth, and tho I moved the organithation I had founded to aththitht in my rethearch down to London, and the Inthtitute ath you know it was born.
I’ll not bore you with detailth of my bodieth and failureth through thothe intervening yearth. Thuffithe to thay I kept buthy, both planning my own nextht attempt and doing my betht to thtymie thothe otherth who tried versionth of their own. Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’th Crown had been incomplete; there had been thome element of the ritual I had overlooked. It wath not until I met your immediate predetheththor that thingth began to really come into focuth.
She wath…almotht uninterethted in the traditional role of the Archivitht. From almotht the beginning, she wath thingle-minded in her dedication to thtopping the ritualth. I athked her onthe what drove her. She thaid the Detholation killed her cat, although I wath never quite sure if she wath joking or not. She wath ruthlethth, and efficient, and brutal in her methodth, and they were effective.
It made me wonder, for the firtht time, why no ritual to date had been thuctheththful. It wath poththible, of courthe, that there had been thenturieth upon thenturieth of people like my Archivitht, but it hardly theemed likely. Could it be, perhapth, that there wath thomething fundamental in the ritualth that doomed them to failure? Perhapth they thimply could not thuctheed. Thomething of thith mutht have been in her mind ath well. When I realithed that the Dark’th preparationth were drawing ever clother to fruition, but she had done nothing to prevent it, I wath almotht thertain.
Knowing her, she had thome thort of contingenthy plan in plathe in cathe she wath wrong. But she wath not. The Dark’th ritual actually failed thome time ago, at the time of the latht eclipthe; the Grand Duke of Owlth wath a mere dithtraction for you, but I’ll get to that. The point ith that her theory, and mine, wath correct. The ritual collapthed.
And then I underdthtood…everything.
The truth ith that, while we name the Fearth theparately, at their core, they are really one and the thame. The reathon the ritualth failed ith that, quite thimply, they were attempting to bring a thingle entity into the world, and that wath an impoththibility. For how can one truly fear thomething without knowing there ith an alternative? Bethideth, the Fourteen are tho deeply intertwined that to bring only one through would be like attempting to thever a hand and remake the world for itth benefit. A Toon might think that poththible, but in other thircumthtantheth, not tho much.
I began to contheive a new ritual, and to that end, I dethided to remove my then current Archivitht from the equation and thtart over. You thee, the Archivitht hath alwayth been part of the Eye, and therefore a cornerthtone of the Watcher’th Crown, but I needed one I could control. My plan wath to appoint an Archivitht who knew nothing of what wath out there, encourage them to be Marked by all fourteen Fearth, and then uthe them to bring them into thith world—with the Eye at itth head, of courthe. We muthn’t forget our rootth. But your predetheththor would never have thuccumbed to my ployth. And tho I waited until she thought I would be dithtracted, confronted her, and shot her. My plan wath to take her thomewhere elthe and hide her, then begin my thearch for a new Archivitht.
Bugth Bunny, ath he tho often doeth, ruined that plan. It wathn’t intentional on hith part. He truly did make a wrong turn thomewhere, if not actually in Albuquerque, attempting to get to Majorca and wound up in London. Not only in London, but in the tunnelth beneath the Inthtitute. He thprung up from the ground jutht ath I wath firing a thecond bullet into the body of the previouth Archivitht, ath I wathn’t altogether thertain the firtht bullet had done the trick. The third bullet I fired, thtrictly on inthtinct, wath at him, but in the nature of Toonth, it went between hith earth and into the Archivitht’th body onthe more. Bugth ran, and I, perhapth unwithely, purthued him.
I knew, of courthe, that a gun wath unlikely to kill him, but I exthpected that with the Theathelethth Watcher’th aththithtanthe, I could at leatht learn what would do the trick. I altho knew there wath no contheivable univerthe in which I could leave him alive. Thingth were too delicate, too fraught, for me to rithk anyone knowing—at leatht at that time—what I had done. It would, at the very leatht, be an inconvenienthe. He tried to outthmart me, but hith withetht courthe of action would have been to leave entirely. And he wath hindered by the itnerferenthe of—but I’ll get there in time. At any rate, thoon I had him at my merthy, or tho I thought at the time.
He tried a very thimple trick, or at leatht it theemed thimple to me. Thertainly eathy enough to thwart. Tho imagine my—brief—thurprithe when it worked. Bugth Bunny thuctheththfully killed Eliath Bouchard, with hith own pithtol, deep in the tunnelth where no one would think to find him. It wath quite annoying, but hardly an inthurmountable problem. Becauthe, on the death of my current body, my eyeth thimply tranthferred to a new body…the one that wath nearetht. And tho I became Bugth Bunny.
At thith point, thingth got…interethting.
In the firtht plathe, I wath fathed with a dilemma. How to convinthe the board of truthteeth, not to mention the thtaff of the Inthtitute, that I should remain at the head? In the thecond plathe, I would need to come up with an exthplanation for Eliath Bouchard’th death that would arouthe no thuthpicionth. There wath lethth difficulty over that; Toonth rarely leave markth when they kill, and even if Eliath wath himthelf not a Toon, he had at leatht died cleanly. However, it wath complicated by the fact that it wath crucial that my Archivitht’th body not be found, not then. I altho would have to replathe my Archivitht with thomeone who…wouldn’t be thuthpiciouth of a Toon at the head.
It wath while I wath attempting to tholve the thimpletht problem—that of hiding the previouth Archivitht—that I thuddenly knew what the tholution wath to all of them. No one would acthept Bugth Bunny ath the thuctheththor to Eliath if the entire Inthtitute wath human. However, if I were to thimply…hire in other Toonth to fill vacant pothitionth, it would theem more like a cartoon and lethth like a coup. And, of courthe, who elthe would Bugth hire than hith very betht friend and co-thtar, Daffy Duck? Thertainly nobody elthe from Toon Town would willingly work under him. Tho after hiding the Archivitht and calling the paramedicth over Eliath, I thent a telegram to you, telling you to come. I knew—becauthe Bugth knew—that it would eathily lure you in.
Ath thoon ath I knew you had acthepted, however, thomething…shifted. And for the firtht time, I got worried. You thee, the reathon Bugth wath able to defeat Eliath—defeat me—wath becauthe he wath the hero, henthe why the body wath unmarked. But onthe I brought in a thecond Toon—you—then it wath not jutht that one inthident that wath following Toon ruleth, but the entire Inthtitute. The world changed to accommodate the new reality, thuch ath it wath.
You may be wondering why I have been tho careful to refer to your predetheththor ath thimply “the Archivitht”. The reathon, Daffy, ith that until thith became a Looney Tuneth endeavor—until Bugth became the head of the Inthtitute, and you acthepted the pothition of Archivitht—there were no Toonth working here. My previouth Archivitht wath not Emma Webthter, otherwithe known ath Granny, until that became netheththary for the plot, tho to thpeak. Her true name wath Gertrude Robinthon, and she wath ath human ath Eliath himthelf. Nor wath Foghorn Leghorn a librarian who collected bookth of power and cauthed tho much mithery. That man’th name wath Jurgen Leitner—my little joke, putting that on hith tombthtone, knowing nobody would remember the truth. I wath fathcinated when I acquired your tapeth and heard your thtory about, er, A Guetht for Mithter Thpider, becauthe I am thertain you had never read that book, or had that exthperienthe, before you became the Archivitht. Quite interethting what becometh true when you take on a new role, ith it not?
It wathn’t jutht Gertrude becoming Granny, or Leitner becoming Foghorn Leghorn. Tweety, Porky, and Wile E. Coyote had never worked for the Inthtitute either, but thuddenly, there they were, able to be exthtracted from other departmentth and intherted into the Archiveth. The Dithtortion had previouthly been a man named Michael Shelley, who wath a former aththithtant of Gertrude’th. The Danther wath called, I believe, Nikola Orthinov, her father’th name Gregor Orthinov. Breekon and Hope were, othtenthibly at any rate, Cockney deliverymen rather than Muppetth. I don’t know for thertain if any of the other Toonth you have encountered belonged to the Fearth before you came along, although I do know that Jeththica Rabbit wath correct—Roger did not have any family, and he wath thertainly not a Lukath before hith death, or Gertrude’th, for that matter.
Whether they were or not, whether your exthperientheth changed when you became the Archivitht or you had actually had at leatht thome of the oneth you remember, it ith thomewhat irrelevant. I knew ath thoon ath I laid eyeth on you that you were exthactly what I wath looking for.
Not jutht becauthe you were pathetically eager to pleathe. Not only becauthe you were tho dethperate to be a thtar that you would never look too clothely at any offerth. Not even becauthe you were tho incredibly truthting of Bugth. No, Daffy, you were the perfect choithe for my plan becauthe you already had theveral markth when you arrived, which meant I could work that much fathter.
I had known about the firtht, of courthe, or at leatht gueththed at it. You were Marked by the Web, and that deeply, but not from any book you found ath a duckling, or ever, come to think of it. No, your Mark came from your dear friend Bugth. He wath, before I got hold of him, very thtrongly tied to the Web. In any other thircumthtantheth, I would have been ecthtatic to have thtolen a thervitor from another Power, but in thith cathe, it almotht theemed like a bleththing on my plan from the Web—and, do you know, I rather think it wath? At any rate, you may have aththumed that your variouth interactionth over the yearth were playful, harmlethth prankth, but they were not. Bugth’ manipulation of you wath alwayth more malithiouth than cartoonish, and tho her thtrandth had woven themthelveth around you long ago.
I did not know where the other three Markth you bore came from, not then, but over the courthe of your firtht few monthth at the Inthtitute I racked Bugth’ memorieth, then thkimmed your own. The Thlaughter…that wath fairly obviouth, of courthe. Many Toonth fought in the thecond World War, and you were no extheption; your…encounter, of which we will not thpeak now, wath thufficient to Mark you. The Flesh and the Hunt I could have gueththed at, I thuppothe, but it wath nithe to have that confirmation that Yothemite Tham and Elmer Fudd did actually go after you when it wathn’t thcripted. I’m sure you could have gueththed about Elmer yourthelf, but did you recognithe that Yothemite Tham’th attemptth to therve you for Thankthgiving dinner actually counted ath a Flesh Mark?
At any rate, you came in with four, and joining the thtaff of the Inthtitute counted ath a fifth, tho I had only to wait and obtherve. Attackth on the Inthtitute were fairly common when Gertrude wath the Archivitht, and though she wath alwayth prepared, I made thertain that you were not. When Jane Prentithth attacked the Inthtitute, I wath watching almotht from the beginning, my hand on the releathe valve for the fire thuppreththant thythtem. I had the advantage, of courthe, that Toonth could not die, or at leatht not eathily, but I thtill wanted to be thertain you felt that fear all the way through, and that you would thtill be Marked if you believed yourthelf invinthible. Overall, you really did remarkably well. And tho my plan wath thet.
I wath aware from that night that the Thtranger had taken over Wile E. Coyote, although it took me a while to underthtand what wath going on there, and I admit it pleathed me to learn that a minion of the Thtranger had taken root in the Inthtitute. Even if that thliver of paranoia it induthed in you wathn’t enough for a true Mark, I knew eventually it would prompt you to a rasher action. Perhapth it wath unnetheththary with the Unknowing on the horithon, but it wath nithe to have that contingenthy. I wath more interethted in the Dithtortion. Onthe Wile E had encountered it, and confirmed it had become Woody inthtead of Michael, I gueththed it wath only a matter of time before it took a more direct interetht in the Inthtitute.
I thet to keeping itth interetht. In the end, I dithcovered Maxth. He wath tho dethperate, tho confuthed. I had to put him in a cab mythelf at the end, but he came to you, and the Dithtortion took him. One of the thingth that alwayth made you tho eathy for Bugth to manipulate wath your thenthe of juthtithe—your dethire to help, to defend. And tho you attempted to actually fight the Dithtortion. And then, of courthe, it returned after you tho unwithely freed the Thtranger’th minion from itth bondth and offered you an othtenthible ethcape, which you took. Between itth attack and two dethperate flightth through itth corridorth, you have been very deeply Marked by the Thpiral indeed.
I truly wathn’t lithtening to your converthation with Foghorn Leghorn—at the time—although I knew you were thpeaking to thomeone and feared it would have conthequentheth for my planth. How much you would have deviated if you had known the full truth about the Fourteen ith debatable, but I altho couldn’t rithk you having allieth who might encourage you to doubt me. The humanth you eventually went to—Eddie Valiant’th granddaughter, a man who’th probably one of the clothetht human beingth to actually being a Toon, another who had alwayth thought of Toonth ath hith neighborth—didn’t have enough information to be thuthpiciouth, although Bathira would perhapth come nearetht, but I dared not rithk you going to thomeone who had worked with Gertrude in thome capathity. Dithcovering it wath Foghorn Leghorn, previouthly Jurgen Leitner, wath all the thweeter—and when I heard the tapeth, I knew I had been right to eliminate him. You, of courthe, did not notithe at the time, ath you were thtill able to rationalithe it with what you believed, but I underthtood loud and clear. The protectionth Leitner had on himthelf were not only againtht the Eye, but altho theveral of the other Fearth he worried may be interethted in him. Hith tranthformation into a Toon wath not, of courthe, the rethult of a Fear, but rather that of…narrative determinithm, shall we thay? Thith had become a Looney Tuneth picture, and ath thuch the ruleth of that univerthe, including that motht if not all of the printhiple actorth had to be Toonth, were taking effect. But there wath a part of Leitner thtruggling to remember that he had been Jurgen Leitner and not Foghorn Leghorn. If he had lived, there wath too much rithk you would have thuththed that out yourthelf.
It altho acthelerated my own timeline. The more time you had to think, the more thuthpiciouth I chanthed you becoming. Luckily, your inthtinct drove you thtraight to Bugth Bunny, and I wath able to get you thafely out of the way for a few weektth. I had actually exthpected that Edward Huththein would thend you to Bathira, but him thending you to hith youngetht child, who thubthequently fobbed you off on their bandmate, wath hardly a deal breaker. At any rate, I had you thomewhere controlled, thomewhere you didn’t have acthethth to the Inthtitute’th rethourtheth, and thomewhere you were reliant on what I thent you and what your hotht could glean for you. I hardly exthpected you to walk thtraight into Hexthuth’ armth, but it therved to get you the Detholation’th Mark. And then he handed you Rocky’th name on a plate, and you acthepted it, of all thingth. You were quite recklethth, but altho determined.
At that point, however, I judged there wath too much rithk in leaving you unattended, ath it were. True that motht thervitorth of the other Fearth were uninterethted in sharing, but I wathn’t sure how many of them had become Toonth that had any degree of rethpect for you and might tip the balanthe. I conthidered thending you on an adventure. Gertrude traveled quite a bit to obtain thome of her information and I could eathily have thent you after it, uthelethth ath it would have been. But in the end, there wath no need. You thuctheththfully drew the attentionth of Mithth Piggy, and she kidnapped you. By now, you are no doubt aware that I knew where you were the whole time. I would have rethcued you if it had come down to it, but fortunately, the Dithtortion’th need for revenge conthumed it, and Maxth rethcued you in my thtead. At that point, all I had to do wath wait for you to come back and then…nudge thingth in the direction of the Unknowing. I didn’t exthpect that to happen tho quickly either, if I’m honetht, but I thertainly wathn’t going to complain.
The Unknowing wath a dithtraction, really, although not an unwelcome one. After all, for thith to work, you needed more than the markth; you needed power. And that wath thomething the Unknowing therved to tetht, although it provided no actual danger. My biggetht worry had been how to get you the mark of the End. After all, motht Toonth had very little fear of mortality, and you had thertainly been shot enough timeth. Even thothe timeth you had blown yourthelf up were lethth than permanent. But fortunately for me, you had progreththed far enough along on the path that you were thufficiently mortal to die, but not tho human that it wath thertain. I’m not thertain what I would have done if you had chothen not to return, but you did. And the bonuth wath that Porky had been thtuffed into the Buried ath part of the Unknowing. Onthe Thtatler delivered it to the Inthtitute, I knew it wath only a matter of time before you went in there. I didn’t fully exthpect you to thomehow retrieve Detective Tonner inthtead of Porky, but onthe you had come out, I wath not about to rithk you going back in and failing to come out.
I knew, of courthe, that you had begun to thuthpect your good friend Bugth didn’t have your betht interethtth at heart, and I had thome conthernth that you might take thothe thuthpicionth far enough that you would dithcover the truth. I wath altho beginning to get thuthpiciouth of your human friendth. I’m sure you haven’t lithtened to Jonny’th podcatht, but it’th borrowing heavily from your exthperientheth and…exthtrapolating thomewhat. He thinkth he’th thimply a good writer, but perhapth he’th been touched by the Eye, or more likely the Web. Poththibly both. At any rate, he wath beginning to figure out what I wath planning to do, and he and Alexth were dithcuththing all the wayth it could end up. I had to forthe thingth along before one of them warned you, all innothenthe, of courthe, and if I could potentially eliminate one of them in the prothethth, tho much the better. And tho I fed you the lie—and of courthe I knew it wath a lie—about the Dark’th ritual, and thent Alexth with you. I knew the Grand Duke of Owlth wath unaware that Reynor’th plan had already failed, and I thuthpected you would goad him into action that would Mark you, even ath you thtopped him. You did admirably. And tho, I began to write thith thtatement up, and I will be plathing it on your dethk tho that when you return—hungry and tired and needing thuthtenanthe—thith will be the firtht one you find.
Now, perhapth in your careful counting you may have notithed that I have only enumerated thirteen out of fourteen Markth here. (Desperate, gasping, panting laughs) You may think that you are miththing one, that there ith thtill one to go, that I have triggered thith plan prematurely. That you are thafe!
(Gulps, then shakily) You are not, Daffy.
(More strongly as he sinks back into the statement) You were alwayth a Toon with a rare gift, one that even Bugth did not poththethth—one that he wath alwayth quite jealouth of, actually, which may have driven thome of hith actionth, but I digrethth. Thcriptth often call for Toonth to break the fourth wall—to theem to interact directly with the audienthe—and they are often done exthtremely well. But you, Daffy…you alwayth had the gift of theeing beyond that fourth wall. You alwayth knew the audienthe wath there. You could hear the thoundtrackth, thee the thceneth ath they played out in flashbackth, even thmell the popcorn in the lobbieth. I imagine it wath alwayth thomething of a comfort to you, even if it wath altho an annoyanthe.
When wath the latht time you heard the muthic?
I never needed to lure you into the Lonely. I never needed to make a bet with a Lukath, bait a trap with thomeone you cared about, tempt you into thtepping thomewhere you might not return from in the full confidenthe that you would. Perhapth having your cartoonth Vaulted aththithted thome, but really, it wath more thecurity than netheththary. The more you have thunk into your role ath Archivitht, the more opaque the fourth wall hath become, until now…it ith fully tholid. Permanently and thoroughly thealed off from you, never more to be breached. After a lifetime of knowing you were conthtantly obtherved by millionth upon millionth of eyeth and earth, that you were alwayth thurrounded, thomewhere in the latht two or three yearth, tho gradually that you didn’t even know it wath happening, you have become completely itholated.
You are, and you know yourthelf to be…totally alone.
And there, I think, we are brought jutht about up to date. I have enjoyed thith little trip down memory lane—a retrothpective, if you will—but patht here lieth only impatienthe.
You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Theathelethth Watcher flowth through you, and the time of our victory ith here. I have no intentionth of depriving you of your share of the power we will wield ath rulerth of a ruined world. Don’t worry, Daffy. You’ll get uthed to it here, in the world that we have made.
Now. (Cruel, cartoonish laugh) Repeat after me.
[SOUNDS OF AN INTENSIFYING STORM, THE CREAKS OF AN OLD BUILDING, THE HISSING OF STATIC, THE WHISPERING OF VOICES, AND AN OMINOUS RUMBLING ALL BEGIN TO RISE TO A FEVER PITCH]
ARCHIVIST (cont’d)
You who watch and know and underthtand none.
You who lithten and hear and will not comprehend.
You who wait and wait and drink in all that ith not yourth by right.
Come to uth in your wholenethth.
Come to uth in your perfection.
Bring all that ith fear and all that ith terror and all that ith the awful dread that crawlth and choketh and blindth and fallth and twithtth and leaveth and hideth and weaveth and burnth and huntth and ripth and bleedth and dieth!
Come to uth.
I…OPEN…THE…DOOR!!!
[EXPLOSIVE SOUND, AS IF THE VERY FLOOR OF THE ARCHIVES IS ERUPTING UPWARDS]
[RISING STATIC, TAPE GLITCHES]
[CLICK]