The next even of note occurred after the previously described “typical day” in my life. To clarify, this even was still within the scope of my fall semester, still studying the depths of Renaissance art. We had just gotten to Hieronymus Bosch’s famous tryptic, the one that includes The Garden of Earthly Delights. I must say, it’s a pretty out-there work. The whole lecture period was spent on discussing this work and all the scholarly analysis of it that has been done throughout the ages. While the overall theme is rather clear, with the usual “sinners reaping their just deserts in Hell after a life of pleasure-seeking,” the busy composition filled with bizarre shapes and figures has fascinated historians for centuries.
While a lot of supposedly smart people have a lot of supposedly smart things to day about these unusual shapes used, there really is not much of a consensus outside of the more overarching archetypes that are already found in other works of the period. The general message is clearly understood, but “the artists cook accidentally fed him some weird mushrooms” is likely as good of an explanation as any to explain how just downright weird this painting is. And I’ve seen some weird shit in my time; I guess you could say I’ve done some weird shit too. I was almost completely engrossed in the lecture, but I still kept an eye out on the girl who so bluntly accused me of using magic.
Well, while she didn’t directly say she thought I was hexing and curing people, the implications last time I had talked to her were pretty clear. And she still seemed to be keeping a close eye on me. I noticed her looking my direction several times over the course of the past several lectures. Though the only reason I really noticed was from me doing the same. I don’t think she actually had any proof, but someone who had looked at my previous actions and immediately thought “magic” probably is worth keeping an eye on.
Not that I had used any sort of spell at school since the experiment with using evil eye. I mean, I kept up with researching grimoires at work, and tried out a few more spells since then with mixed success. And I might have used the evil eye on some asshole who cut me off in traffic, but if this girl was going to keep such a close eye on me then I’d need to be careful about using any sort of supernatural skills when in her presence. Which unfortunately meant having to sit there and deal with the fact that the same clique was going around besmirching my good name, and for the moment I could do nothing about it. At least I have my job as a distraction from it all.
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Upon my arrival at work I was not, as I had gotten used to, immediately told to work on my tasks writing up reports and filing new acquisitions. Rather, I was pointed towards the same conference room that my final job interview had been conducted in. Waiting for me in this room was the same woman who had conducted my job interview, my boss Mrs. S. I’m still not sure if this is her actual name, though from the impression I’ve gotten from the past half a year working her this is likely not her actual name.
At the same time I’m more than sure this isn’t any sort of official code name. The letter seems completely arbitrary, or at least I pray it’s completely made up on the spot. Despite the super hush-hush nature of our facility and what it stores, things like “code names” for workers just seems melodramatic and impractical. Using them for projects, sure, that’s normal. And I guess there are plenty of other cases where “code names” are used, although I can’t really go into detail on the topic here. But at the end of the day, we’re mostly just archivists, glorified librarians, although librarians would likely strongly object to my wording. I guess both professions have their place.
While a vastly underappreciated field, it’s even more sedentary than much of the curatorial work you’d find in the less spook-filled public world of museums and galleries. While I’m sure some of the worker’s here on some level wish they could be as cool as Indiana Jones or other fictional adventurer-academics, I mean, that has to be why Rob wears that stupid fedora, we pretty much just spend our time organizing books in a dark, windowless room full of shelves. We don’t even have the convenience of computers on the main floor, which is odd in its own way.
In theory the texts in this building shouldn’t even be causing the electrical interference that we experience. From all that the top government researchers can tell, magic is a natural phenomena of this world, so there should be no reason that it would interact with other natural phenomena of the world. The same should go for the sanity of the employees.
While magic should in theory not alter the mental states of those who work with it, many in the more “mundane” sections of the government point to the mental state of our employees as examples of the corrupting effects on sanity that the supernatural possesses. It’s kind of ironic, considering how much attention and loving funding a certain other group gets despite half their employees being so caught up in mathematics and computers that they fall clearly into the categories set in the DSM-5. I’ve heard the rumors, of some of them being so socially reclusive they roam the halls looking at the floor so as to avoid making eye contact. But while that behavior is somehow acceptable, people get weirded out by a few eccentric behaviors from those working with supernatural texts. A senator who toured our facility a while back even said so himself, to the assembled staff at the time.
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My thoughts on the specific elected official who stated this to my face are my own, as yet another visit from individuals who take their positions of agents of this government far more seriously than I take my own does not appeal to me much. Let it be said that I do not keep a written list, although I’m sure I already appear on several lists already. Turn about’s fair play, I suppose. But cursing elected officials would likely end badly. I don’t even care that I agree with his platform, I just hate the fucker for calling me weird.
Anyways…I guess if there was such a thing as mental corruption for dealing with the texts we encounter during the courses of our job, most employee’s minds would jump to Mrs. S. Though, to be completely fair, she probably just has a law degree or something. The same lack of consideration towards others, the same dead-eye look in the eyes of the afflicted, it’s practically the same as someone who’d permanently sold their soul. She’s either on the side of the seller in a demonic contract, or a lawyer, not that there’s much of a difference. Though this is all speculation.
“Glad to see you’ve made it, Amy,” Mrs. S. says as I enter the room. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“Isn’t that why I’m already here, ma’am?”
“Oh, I don’t mean your usual job. This one’s a bit special.”
“What do you mean?”
“For specific reasons, we need to take custody of a particular document. But, being the stuck-up egg heads they are, our colleagues on the bright, public side of our organization refuse to hand it over. So we need your specific skill-set to ste- get this document into the safety of our archive. It’s already started to show signs of possessing magical properties, so it really should be with the side of the National Archives that knows how to deal with it.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, what kind of specific skillset are you talking about? I may have been in the military but it was only a desk job. Writing a PowerPoint probably won’t help you with whatever you need…”
“I’m saying I need you to use magic, you little witch!”
“Wi-witch? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me! We know all about that curse you placed on your classmate. And using the evil eye to spread malcontent among several classmates, multiple drivers on the beltway during rush hour, and at least two people who were taking too long to order at Chic-f*-a! All you’re lacking is a pointy hat and a broom, except the cosplay plans you posted on *nstagram show you even have those! That's textbook witch behavior!”
“…do you have a single fact to back that up?”
“May I ask why you’re buying seeds for plants such as A. belladonna?”
“…I thought they’d make good ornamentals for my garden…”
“We know you’re using the grimoires in the archive for a bit of ‘extra’ reading. Now, normally this could get you in all sorts of trouble, but if you agree to cooperate, we can work out a bit of a deal. Hell, I’ll even sweeten the pot for you a bit.”
“How so?”
“We’ll give you a promotion, and a bit of a raise. We’ll also be willing to help subsidize and reimburse any expenses you incur through your work. Assistance in locating spell components, greater access to research, tuition and pay for your familiar, immunity to anything extra you may choose to do, greater authority in our organization on matters related to magic, the possibility of getting to travel for work, the benefits are clearly worth it to you.”
Some of those benefits seem really odd, but I just can’t seem to argue with them. Having been called out on the whole “cursing people” thing might have a bit to do with it.
“So, what do you say?”
“I suppose I don’t have any other choice…”
“Great to hear it! Congrats on your promotion, Special Agent Thorne!”
“Sp-special Agent?”
“Of course. The item you need to retrieve is in DC after all, and it’d be downright foolhardy, if not against federal law, to have something of that importance be transported by someone who isn’t armed. And MD doesn’t have reciprocity with DC for concealed carry. Getting you under the umbrella of LEOSA really is the most convenient solution. And the added authority that title brings should be helpful in the worst case scenario that you get caught. Now, here’s your badge.”
“There isn’t any paperwork I need to do?”
“I took the liberty of already filling it out for you. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?”
“This is just…absurd.”
By giving me this title, she had effectively made me a federal law enforcement officer. While I should just be thankful that she wasn’t going to punish me for using magic in the frivolous manner I had recently started to take with casting spells, I got the feeling this promotion would in some ways be worse than any sort of official reprimand. And this really seems kind of impromptu. I want to question this whole thing, but the paperwork she’s currently handing over to me seems pretty official, and even states some of the specifics of my job, such as document recovery. Which makes the fact that she’s asking me to steal something from another part of the National Archives all the more absurd.
“So, what do you even need me to ‘recover,’ that makes it necessary to go through all this effort?”
“I’m glad you asked. I have the details on the object right here, as well as several recommended ways for you to carry out the operation.”
She handed over a dossier, which I quickly paged through.
This is just insane. This has to be a joke.
"Are you serious about this, ma’am?”
“Dead serious. The amount of faith and attention directed towards this document have caused it to start manifesting paranormal phenomena. When that many people are focusing on a specific object it can often warp it, and turn it into a document that’s one step away from magical. Which means this document now falls under our specific jurisdiction Keeping it where it’s at really does no one any good.”
“So…you need me to steal this document. Because it’s magical.”
“Yup.”
I’m really starting to think there might be something to everyone claiming this place drives our workers insane.