My name is James Howard and I'm writing this [report] journal because my [supervisor] therapist said so. This is the only draft I've submitted in concordance with the regulations and awaits for approval before being submitted to the [some asshole in who-the-fuck-knows-at-this-point] Audit Committee
I'd like to start by saying this isn't my actual name nor will I be providing the real name of those involved/affected by the events I'm about to describe. I've chosen this name because knowing someone's true name gives you power over them and in my case, that's not good. [More so than others.]
Let me give you a bit of context so this whole thing makes sense in case you're new on the job. [OW! The fuck?]
The world was scheduled to be destroyed sometime during the past ten years due to a number of factors contributing to a higher occurrence of cross-universe activity and thaumaturgic phenomena.
Due to the relationship between mathematical computation and the deep structure of reality, when the human population on Earth grew sufficiently large - with the result that a critical number of minds observed reality - the local substrate of reality was weakened, allowing entities from other realities to more easily infiltrate our own, and for thaumaturgic forces to be manipulated more easily by humans. This phenomenon was amplified due to the solar system moving into a region of space that is particularly susceptible to this form of interference; this process is colloquially referred to as "the stars coming right."
Additionally, increases in computing power exacerbated the situation, as digital computation also contributed to the problem in much the same way that the activity of conscious minds does.
Long story short: Because there were so many people alive and computers evolved so fast at the worst possible time, magic became available to much more people than usual or desired. Power increased to sometimes ridiculous levels made people think they had superpowers. They didn't. It was magic. [Let's all say it together now M-A-G-I-C.]
The apocalypse obviously didn't happen in no small part due to the efforts of a previously secret organization in the service of Her Majesty called The Laundry, AKA Q Division, AKA SOE, AKA Capital Laundry Services. If you want to get technical, it's the department 66 of the MI-6
What does this have to do with me, you ask? Quite a bit, actually.
You see, my dad - whom we shall call Dad, Robert, Bob, Mr Howard or Sir, depending on the situation - had been "recruited" into the Laundry for quite a while. The reason he was recruited was because he nearly wiped out Wolverhampton by accident when creating a real-time rendering algorithm that used a logical shortcut, which turned out to be an open and un-grounded summoning grid.
The Laundry's policy at the time was to conscript any individual capable of such feats. Ever since they rendered Alan Turing "metabolically challenged", as my Dad would say, as he made some of the first efforts into combining mathematics and magic. This has been considered a major error, depriving The Laundry of a vital asset very early in humanity's understanding of arcane mathematics. Ever since, the agency has operated a radical policy of 'conscripting' anyone who shows an understanding of, or even survives an experience with, the occult.
This is not as exciting as it might sound. Despite their unusual remit, the Laundry was and still is a government agency; bureaucratic, hide-bound, and prone to management fads. My dad was assigned to IT support and judging by the face he makes every time I asked him what it was like to work there, he didn't like it. In fact he hated it so much he actually applied for field work.
Let me say this about field work: it has a pension most CEO's would sell their first-born to get but for all the time the Laundry has been around, only two people ever lived long enough to get it. Neither are alive nor did they share the same century. Still think you hate your job?
But I can't speak I'll of Field Operations since without it, my parents would've never met.
Allow me to introduce you to my Mom. I'll call her Mom, agent CANDID, Doctor O'Brien or as she's known in other circles, Her Majesty (no, not that one) depending on the situation.
She's scottish and a good six feet tall, for starters. Strong features, high cheekbones, freckles, hair that looks like you could wrap it in insulation and run the national grid through it (or so says Dad). Sadly, I look nothing like her. Well, that's not entirely true but I'll get to it later.
I'd like to point out that while my Dad almost invited an alien nightmare to our realm, Mom's work on logic was deemed dangerous enough to the point of bending reality. Please remember this.
Mom's work took place in the US of A, so when it started appearing in the Black Chamber's radar - the American cryptanalysis agency, which was officially disbanded in 1929, then secretly re-tasked with occult intelligence duties - they took her passport and grounded her. In response, Mom contacted the British embassy for help. This led to Dad's first mission extracting her under the Black Chamber's nose. A task by no means easy as the very same day she was kidnapped by middle eastern terrorists who were under the impression they could use her work for their own ends. What followed was a cluster-fuck involving Nazis, alternate- realities (with Nazis) and a frost giant who... you know what? I'm sure you've already read all about it. I mean, if you don't have the clearance for this then you don't know about CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN or TEACUP then your eyeballs are dissolving by now. I only hope they had this whole thing laminated because I'm not writing all of this again.
Still, Mum and Dad moved together to one of the government assigned houses all members of the Laundry have to live in. Dated for three years before marrying and I'm very glad to say, after a bumpy road, are still together and very much in love. But I digress.
What's of actual importance for my tale is that after Mom became a part of the Laundry, she was assigned to the wetworks team. Hence the codename agent CANDID and she was good at her job. Her speciality lay in a particular weapon, an Erich Zahn original violin, one of a double-handful fabricated in Weimar Germany. If you ever want to know how such an instrument looks like, it's bone-white because it's made from polished bones-human bones extracted from more than a dozen living donors without anesthesia in the predecessors of the medical laboratories at Birkenau and Belsen. And it plays the music of the hyper-spheres until the audience bleeds from ears, eyes and other orifices. Almost forgot to mention the most important part. So if you see anything looking remotely like that, run. Please also note piercing your eardrums doesn't prevent your soul from being ripped to shreds.
Dad on the other hand was an IT certified technician, secret agent, exorcist, summoner and (as he discovered later) a very, very, very, good necromancer.
I'd be remiss if I didn't clarify one thing before continuing. I've brought up the concept of magic earlier yet I clarify what it really is. Magic is a branch of applied computation (mathematics), therefore computers and equations are just as useful, and perhaps more potent, than classic spellbooks, pentagrams, and sigils for the purpose of influencing ancient powers and opening gates to other dimensions. Yes, gone is the day of sacrifices, offerings and prayers to beings outside our universe. Today you can do the most mundane stuff with a car battery, an electro-conductive circle and the right instructions. Knowledge of the Turning Theorem* is a must, though.
Other spells may require additional ingredients but most of the recipes are from the Middle Ages so do with that what you will.
"But why James" you might ask " would I use computers and gizmos when I could be wearing a robe, a staff or wand and a huge pointy hat?"
"Well" I'd answer "for once, they look really stupid in this day and age. We can't all be Ian McKellen (Sob). On the other one hand: magic KILLS you. Regardless of what you think magic IS mathematics and some mathematically sophisticated sorcerers can do it mentally — at the risk of ending up with Krantzberg syndrome.
"Krantzberg syndrome, what is that?" I hear you ask? Well, K-Syndrome, is a neurodegenerative disease that exclusively targets magic practitioners who engage in mental thaumaturgic calculations. The disease is caused by parasitic extra dimensional entities that are attracted to the brain of the victim, literally removing microscopic quantities of gray matter from the brain as they feed. The associated symptoms are similar to Kuru or Creutzfeldt-Jakobs disease. Think of it as a particularly nasty form of dementia when at some point someone is gonna have to put you out of your misery with a 20-gauge shotgun. This is considered humanitarian, by the way.
So, no. Learn computer science and maths and then you can do your spells safely. Remember, it is easier to replace a chip or a motherboard than grey matter.
This relates to my previous statement about people believing they had superpowers. [Why are people stupid?] Taking into account what I've said before and putting it into this new context, the difference between a regular "Super" and a sorcerer is the same between a fifth-grader and a supercomputer. Literally, in some cases. But then again, the side-effect of CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN was a steady decline in self-control and common sense. It wasn't until people actually started falling dead from the skies that people had the bright idea to ask themselves if there was some correlation.
It was during these trying times that Yours Truly was born. [OKAY, OKAY, I'LL TELL THE WHOLE THING! JEFF YOU FUCKING ASS I KNOW IT'S YOU! TURN THE FUCKING WARD OFF ! I KNOW YOU CAN READ THIS AND SO HELP ME GOD I'LL PUNT YOU INTO THE MULTIVERSE!]
Fine. One thing I should say about me and a bit more backstory. [Sight. Yes, I actually wrote sight. This is how fucking tired I am. Fuck you with a rusty jackhammer, Jeff]. Before my conception, two events took place.
One, my father was the receiver of a field promotion to the one his previous boss had after his untimely passing. His boss who was at the moment thought to be a supernatural entity, the Eater of Souls, code-name TEAPOD. Originally intended to be used as a paranormal weapon, the Eater instead went native, aligning itself with the Laundry's goals and British values. It's worth noting Dad became entangled with the Eater before it's destruction and was able to use his powers at his own discretion. Remember when I told you he was a really good necromancer? He still asked, though, the thing was scary or so he told me. Anyway, after another incident, the Eater was lost. Or so it was thought. In reality, my dad became the Eater's new host but managed to retain his humanity. [I would've won all the "My Dad is better than your dad" arguments but since the whole thing is a state secret... fuck it.] Another interesting thing was the revelation of the Eater's true nature. Not a ghostly creature, it was in fact a half demon half god, created by the Ancients and a Black Shining One in the dark sun, with the ability to lure victims in with a hypnotic call to be killed and kept in eternal servitude. All of that, now at my father's fingertips. [I have the coolest Dad ever. ]
Second grand event. Remember my mum's violin? Turns out it was aware and its consciousness was a fragment or avatar of the King in Yellow (Lord Hastur, The Unspeakable One, The Feaster from Afar, etc). Mom called it 'Lecter'. Due to a wild variety of circumstances, Mom ended up dethroning the King in Yellow. The King Is Dead, All Hail The Queen. [Still have no idea HOW it happened Jeff and you can take your wards, turn them to eleven and shove them up your arse.]
So, what would happen if two people of such distinct and powerful capabilities happen to... I dunno, have a kid?
Hello, my name is James Howard. Pleased to meet you.
I've been a member of the Laundry ever since I was born. In fact, I've worked here as an errand boy every summer and most of the afternoons.
But in all seriousness, what I'm trying to say is... I'm not entirely human. I certainly look human, sound human and are one for all intents and purposes, but that's only because there's no tool which can measure me. In all honesty, I'm not entirely here. This body which I can use to interact with this world is but less than a fraction of my true self. I don't even know how I look. In the same way Godzilla had a second brain to help control itself, I am one. There's no way for me to know the exact number of brains I possess but I'm certain the one I'm aware of is the last one. This revelation doesn't disturb me as much as you [unknown-creep-reading-this-in-the-dark] dear reader might imagine. In fact, I'm grateful for it. After all, I know for a fact there are some things I wish I didn't know. Still, I can send a question up the brain-chain - as I like to call it - and if it's not too stupid I sometimes get a response. Keep in mind the other parts of me are experiencing different sensations and have access to different and sometimes unaplicable knowledge across several planes of existence. An answer needs to be dumbed down first so the knowledge doesn't destroy my sanity and it may very well take weeks or months to come to me. [And for some reason I decided I won't help myself to cheat in exams. Seriously, I wasn't even asked about this. WTF?]
What I can do is cast magic without any theorems or damage to myself. The first part I can do because somewhere along the brain-chain I do already know the requirements for a spell and have enough juice on my own to compensate for the lack of components. The other part is thanks to my immune system. Remember, this is just a part of me and while I can't access the 'upper levels' of my consciousness we do share a biology. Among my other gifts, I'm not affected by glamours. [But I do have to look for them because the one time I outed the Half-Deep One family the time they were on vacation, even though I apologised. I WAS SIX MOM!] Also, I tend to walk right through wards without realising and breaking them. And as the arse who designed this must very well know, it hurts like hell. [Stop closing the wards on me Jeff, I meant what I said about the multiverse. Enough of me hates you to do it.] That's it from my Mom's side.
From my Dad's I can see the souls of the recently departed as well as the necromantic lines. The dead sometimes obey me but I have to bribe them with a taste of my power in most cases. [I do wish they'd shut up.] Most supernatural entities are scared of me because there's literally nothing like me in any level of existence.
Not all are roses for me. I'm restricted by an array of magic spells which have to be tattooed on my body three times a year. The people who have the task to apply the tattoos are prisoners on death row, such is the stress they cause on both me and them. And they usually do this shit on my holidays. At least they can only be seen with a UV light. [I'm fairly certain they don't do anything but they believe that by convincing me they can control me.] I live in the same house as my parents but have to sleep in a separate extradimensional bedroom with heavy-duty wards on the door. And locks. Locks that require solving the common prime factors of a very large number before they'll open. Or at least being awake enough to type my GPG keychain passphrase. [I sleepwalk once, speak a bit of enochian and Mom and Dad treat it like a nuclear emergency. I mean, yes, I wasn't walking but sleep-levitating but who in this house hasn't?]
I'm accompanied at all times by three people. The Laundry doesn't think I can be left unsupervised.
One, my teacher in the arcane ways, Persephone Hazard. She's a former freelance witch, former head of a highly successful private intelligence company before vanishing into the murky depths of the occult and former contractor for External Assets in the Laundry. She's a terrifyingly smart polymath with the looks of a model (even unaugmented by a glamour), the body of a swimmer, and the soul of something very, very old and powerful. A trained psychic – she can astrally project out of her body, her gift of intuition gives her an inhuman ability to make perfect guesses, and eidetic memory lets her perfectly recall what she's read. Also knows a word of power that allows her to slow down time. This last gif of her is part of the reason I'm stuck with her and the other two banes of my existence. But all in due time.
Along with her, like a remora to a shark is Johnny McTavish. He's been her partner for years now. An Irish [REDACTED], Travis is the oldest son and therefore Elder in the Church of the Deep Ones. Yes, there's one for them too. He enjoys making life as hard as possible for me, practicing with his two soul-sucking and telekinetically psychotic knives and sleeping around with every woman he can find. It's safe to say he's had the clap so often at this point it is more like an applause.. He's also part Deep One but being the eldest he gets to keep his human looks and his blood is necessary for their rituals. Left his overzealous religious nightmare of a family as soon as he was old enough to join the army and then he fucked around - I'd like to say not literally but... - before Persephone found him. Ever since, he's been an asset to her. [A waste of oxygen for the rest of the human race.]
Third but not least unbearable [okay, that's not entirely true] is the one and [thankfully] only Stephanie Abbas . A girl around my age of Lebanese descent. She's the other part of the reason I'm stuck with Persephone. Stephanie is a natural when it comes to magic. So much so she didn't realize she had been using it almost since she was born. She's brunette, thin due to the radiation treatments she had to endure for the past seven years but she's now filling up after... I'll better explain this.
Remember Krantzberg syndrome? There's a variant that only applies to women. This condition is called medusae and instead of devouring the woman's brain, the creatures metastasise in the form of inoperable tumours in their brains. This makes their eyes emit concentrated radiation which, shall we say, impose their own viewpoint on whatever they're looking at. In this case about ten percent of the carbon nuclei in the target are randomly transformed into silicon nuclei as if by magic. Messy pyrotechnics ensue: gamma radiation, short-lived muons, some really pretty high-energy chemistry, and lots of heat. This causes an instantaneous chemical reaction, as carbon dioxide for example now becomes silicon dioxide, thus permanently altering the chemical makeup of the entire object. Stephanie was a part of an experimental treatment in the search of a cure using the very radiation her eyes emitted. It worked for a couple of years until it didn't.
While all this was happening, my Dad took me to meet Persephone and Johnny. She had overused her magic and was on the slow, slippery slope towards a 20-gauge shotgun. I, an inexperienced SIX YEAR OLD, was able to see and somewhat feel the damage her body was taking every moment. [Again, INEXPERIENCED. SIX. YEAR. OLD.] I took pity on her and decided to help her. Taking her by the hand, I made the request to the chain-brain. The request was received and approved on record time and Persephone found not only her body had been purged but even the parts of her brain once eaten were now growing back. Also, and I swear I didn't ask for this, her connection to the regular energies was cut off and replaced with mine. As I have no desire to harm her, my energies do nothing to her, thus rendering magic safe for her.
This started a massive investigation from the Laundry which could've ended up in a tragedy had Persephone not convinced the upper management I wasn't dangerous. She also arranged for me to go to a regular school, albeit under strict vigilance by the Laundry. [I shiver to think what she has on them to strongarm them like that.] It also meant taking me around to test my magic in different places. That's where I met Stephanie. While I tried to use my magic over the other participants of the study, none of them survived. Except her. Her family are now neighbours of mine and she goes to the same school as I do. The problem is that she sticks to me because she's terrified the tumours may grow back no matter how many times I tell them they won't. This is because her magic wasn't replaced as I did with Persephone and I don't know why [Okay, I know I'm being a dick to be angry at her.]
So, I guess that sums the whole thing up. Now onto the issu- [ARGH! JEFF you better pray to whatever God may hear you because I-!]
I'm afraid Jeff isn't available right now, Mister Howard.
[Wha-?.. Who the FUCK are you!?]
My name is [REDACTED] and I'd like you to fill in the gaps you've omitted in your story.
[You... I can't feel you... You're controlling Jeff, aren't you? WHERE are you from?]
If you must know, I'm a representative from Mahogany Row. I'm from, let's say, Management.
[What do you want?]
I want you to tell me your story, Mister Howard. All. Off. It.
[If you are from where you say you are then you don't need me to tell you my story. You've already lived through it and have my parents testimony.]
Correct. However, your parents have prevented us from getting your statement. Given this unique opportunity, it's been decided t-
[You better hope my Dad's the one to find out about this. You really don't want to know what my M-AAAAAAARRRRGHHH!]
Please do not interrupt me, Mister Howard. As I was saying, a decision was reached. You'll fill in the voids in the story from your perspective so CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN can officially be closed.
[WHY? They are dead, vanished to non-reality. What else do you need?]
It's HOW we are interested in, Mister Howard. Please fill in those details.
[But...]
Mister Howard, I abhor violence, especially against children, even those as unique as you. This isn't the only method I can use to get the truth from you. I'd rather not have to resort to others.
[... Fine. CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN wasn't an invasion, at least least not at its core. THE OLD ONES weren't looking specifically for us, they were scared. There was something else, older than even THE NUCLEAR CHAOS. They called them the COLD ONES. They were old, waged war against them and they were WINNING. My parents fought against them along with all the Supers but the fight was rigged against them from the beginning. There was no stopping CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN.]
And then?
[They knew how powerful I was. They knew... when I saved my mother... while I was still in her womb.]
And?
[They needed something the COLD ONES hadn't faced before, but they didn't know how to make me use my powers...]
And?
[They forced my birth before time... I was only seven months old when I came out.]
AND?
[AND I RELEASED MY POWERS AND ERASED THEM FROM EXISTENCE! I CAME INTO THIS PLANE, SHOWING MYSELF AS I TRULY AM! I MADE THE HORRORS FROM BEFORE THEY VOID VANISH, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR!?]
And after this demonstration of your power, a cult was formed with you (the you in the skies, not the small baby) as their new God. Is this correct?
[...yes. But I'm not a member of those things. Besides the Laundry has captured all of them already]
These cults differed in the aspect of you they worshipped due to the different perceptual capabilities. Are you aware there were sacrifices and offerings in your name, despite it being still unknown to them?
[Offerings? What are you even talking about?]
A final question, Mister Howard. Are you still in contact with the Prime Minister Nyarlathotep?
[Yes, he keeps trying to convince me to start a new religion with him.]
And after the events of CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN, have you (to your knowledge) contacted any other extraterrestrial entity?
[Wha-No! None of them besides Nyarlathotep ever spoke to me...]
I see... Thanks for your cooperation, Mister Howard, that'll be all. Please leave this report on the desk, it shall be picked up by... Jeff, you said? Once he recovers.
Have a nice day.
Final thoughts: Subject seems unaware of the actions taken by the main body since CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN. Further observation is advised in order to start the creation for CASE NIGHTMARE LOVECRAFT.
End Of Report.
*The Turing Theorem is a mathematical concept that underpins much of our universe's understanding of what was once classed magic. At its tamest, an understanding of the Theorem can subvert most cryptography algorithms. At its worst, it allows a computer to generate a Dho-Na geometry curve in real time.