TNT Opening theme begins

Leanne:

Wasting Company Time presents Tell No Tales, Episode Twenty-Five: The Lonely Scientist

TNT Opening theme ends

[SFX: Recording Begins]

Leo:

So are you going to start with the whole the spirit plane is crumbling thing or?

Frank:

No. Aren’t you going to start with your usual?

Leo:

My… Usual?

Frank:

(CLEARS THROAT) Audio diary of Leo Quinn—

Leo:

(SQUEAKS) y- you- sh- she was right then. You did have the office bugged?

Frank:

Of course. I thought you’d accepted this some time ago. Now.

[SFX: Mouse clicks, and classical music begins playing]

Frank:

You usually begin with asking questions about who the spirit was in life, do you not? So why not start there.

Leo:

Sure, why not? (THROUGH GRITTED TEETH) Tell me about yourself, Frank.

Frank:

Well, as you know, I’m… (AUDIBLY SMILING) Frank Williamson, Director of Better Place.

Leo:

(GROANS)

Frank:

But, as you also know, I was born with a different name. I was Richard Whitley, my father was the director of Mortui Non Morden until 1936. But, as the youngest of three sons, I had almost no hope of ever inheriting the title of director myself in my life-time. Which might have been devastating for some. Especially since, back then, inheriting the company was something of a badge of honour. Those who passed the company on to protégées or right-hand men did so either because they had no children, or as a public condemnation of their own. But with the fear of whether I might ever be found worthy of such an inheritance lifted by the existence of my two older brothers, I found myself in the somewhat luxurious situation of graduating from university with an almost obscene amount of wealth and next to nothing to occupy my time.

Leo:

(SCOFFS)

Frank:

Something to add, Leonardo?

Leo:

Nope. No. Mm-mm. Carry on.

Frank:

Quite. Well. I was a naive boy. Early twenties, future stretching out ahead of me. And next to no responsibilities. I was barely even recognised in society. My father took great pride in Edgar, the eldest. And Colin only two years younger was never far from Edgar’s heels. But I did very well at going unnoticed, and after a while people began to expect very little of me. I’m not too proud to say I was a little… lonely, perhaps, back then. But it was that loneliness that allowed me to pursue my own interests. Science, Leonardo. The bold, noble endeavours of inter-planar physics. Or paranormal theology, as it was known then. Experiments and trials that so few had either the time or the funding to bother with, I was able to explore. I burned so brightly, Leonardo. Worked myself late into the night, isolated myself almost entirely, buzzed with the knowledge that I was so often on the cusp of some new discovery, some breakthrough or other. It was electrifying. And I was doing so much good. Not just for the purposes of my father’s company, but for the whole scientific community. Knowledge, regardless of who finds it, benefits the whole world. And I believed that for a time.

But I had been raised with the blood of Mortui Non Morden running through my veins. Fed profit margins at the dinner table and stories of company pride to help me grow big and strong. So, as I said, I was naive. Naive to think that I was just making new discoveries for discovery’s sake. That I was somehow making the world a… (LAUGHS DRILY) A better place. I think a small part of me had hoped, somehow, that my scientific accomplishments might supersede age when it came to deciding which son would next inherit the title of director. I was, of course, wrong. When my father retired due to ill health in 1936, and Edgar, only four years older than myself, was made director, I knew that both myself and our middle-brother Colin would both be close to retirement ourselves by the time Edgar retired, and that the next director would likely be some future son of Edgar’s. The realisation stung. The final acceptance that my years of loneliness, my hard work, my isolation, had given me nothing. Science had advanced, Mortui Non Morden had benefited, profited from my discoveries, but what had I gained from any of it? So, I began to put my attentions towards scientific endeavours that were perhaps less noble, but certainly more revolutionary than anything I had tried before. I began to harness the power of spirits. I found a way to control the uncontrollable. It was magnificent. A serum of sorts. Entirely unheard of. And, like any self-respecting scientist, I tested the formula out on none other than myself.

Leo:

Serum. ‘Cause that sounds totally above board and not at all super-villain-y. Go on, let me have it, what did the formula do, Frank?

Frank:

Well, the end goal was, of course, immortality. What else?

Leo:

(PITCHILY) Of course, what else?

Frank:

If our spirits can exist, in stasis, unmoved by the passing of time, for decades, centuries, then why not our bodies too, in life? Having access to spirits through my family’s connection to Mortui Non Morden was a large contributor to my success. But the formula wasn’t perfect. It slowed or halted the signs of ageing for a time, it was difficult to tell decisively which, but it wore off, eventually. And it is difficult to tell when one is ageing, what with it being such a gradual process. Several times the formula wore off, much more quickly than expected, and by the time my brothers were approaching their sixties, my body had, over time, aged to what I would hazard a guess at being roughly my mid-thirties. I knew that if I didn’t act soon, I could reach old age so gradually that I wouldn’t even notice it happening.

Leo:

Kinda like everyone else in the world does?

Frank:

Exactly. But I was not everyone else. You can raise your eyebrows at me all you like, call it conceited or egocentric, but you cannot call it untrue. Within a decade, I’d solved it. A permanent solution to the mortality problem. As with all permanent solutions, it was, perhaps, a little drastic, but I was hoping for fairly drastic results, so I expected nothing less from the process. Edgar was still director by then, though rumour was spreading of his becoming a little senile. Perhaps there was truth in it, but it didn’t matter. Rumour was all it took, to lose the respect of his employees. We all knew he would retire soon. With no sons it was likely that he would pass the position on to his right-hand man, and if I were to avoid losing my claim to the Director position forever, I had to act before that happened. Meaning I had little time to dwell on qualms over drastic measures. It seems contradictory, but to put an end to my mortality, I would need to take my own life. In a controlled environment, of course. And with Edgar there to help. I believe the process was all the more effective for our shared genetics.

Leo:

You… You used your brother? To become…

Frank:

Yes. Him along with several other nameless spirits. I do not feel ashamed. They live on too, in a sense, through me.

Leo:

So when you said, back there, that you consume the spirits. Is that part of… That’s… Oh of course. Like with the amalgamation in the warehouse. The fusing together of the spirits, concentrating them, makes them somehow more tactile, visible. So, consuming spirits through, I assume through something similar to your anti-ageing serum, it’s what makes you able to function like a living person! It’s what makes you so much more than just a ghost.

Frank:

Precisely, Leonardo. Precisely. A brilliant mind, just as I told you. After Edgar went missing, his adult son, calling himself Edward Whitley, arrived to oversee the investigation, then when he was presumed dead, to claim his inheritance. Any doubts of the lineage were quickly dispelled by the unmistakable resemblance between myself, and the man I claimed was my father. That and the birth certificate I successfully forged. The timing worked out. By all appearances I looked to be a young man in my early forties, Edgar would have been in his thirties at the time of my apparent birth, around the time he married his wife, who had already passed by the time Edgar disappeared. Though I can’t take credit for those timings. That part was all just good fortune. I spun the tale that I had been away in Europe for most of my life. A science prodigy, studying in the best schools on the continent in preparation for this day. I was never recognised as myself. As the youngest son, I’d never been paid much attention by society, and in recent years I had taken to my studies too often to be particularly recognisable. So, you see, the character I played as Edward Whitley wasn’t so far from my own truth. It was likely that which made it so believable.

Leo:

So you just step into the role of the Marvellous Mr. Corporate Casper, then? Wait a few years, gain everyone’s trust, then facilitate the rebranding of Mortui Non Morden into Better Place. (TENTATIVELY, AS IF WORKING SOMETHING OUT) Bigger both in scale and in profits. More innocent spirits at your disposal to consume to keep your life extended, to keep yourself physical. And after a while the company got so big you had more than you could possibly eat, so you carried on with your twisted little experiments, to pass the time, because, after all, you’ve got eternity and nothing to fill it with. Is that it?

Frank:

(CHUCKLING) Surprisingly close, Leonardo. Though I do not like the judgment in your tone. My reasons, though, you have misinterpreted. My experiments, in recent years, have become vital. I’ve already informed you of the stakes.

Leo:

So we’re finally getting to the juicy bit about the whole spirit plane apparently crumbling. Want to expand on that?

Frank:

Overpopulation, Leonardo. The world has changed. It has grown. When my father ran Mortui Non Morden, they handled a few hundred cases a year. Now Better Place removes thousands of spirits annually and growing every year. The spirit world is bursting at the seams.

Leo:

Because you store them all! Why not just get rid of them? Surely you don’t need every single spirit for your experiments, getting rid of a chunk of these would be a start, right?

Frank:

Well I certainly won’t be giving you every detail of the situation just yet, all great scientists must have their secrets.

Leo:

(UNDER THEIR BREATH) Guess nobody’s told you about the great Open Science Movement of the 21st century yet.

Frank:

But I can tell you that you’ve gotten to the crux of the issue. It isn’t that simple. And it’s why I need your help. Your technology, your mind. You’ve essentially thrown away your job as my assistant, for, I’m sure, a charming and noble cause, but it’s time you come to your senses now and join the adults. Sign a new contract. A promotion. You won’t be working in admin any more, you’ll be my lead scientist. Finally working in a role you’ve always dreamed about. It may be your only chance.

[SFX: Classical music ends]

Frank:

You dropped out of university, didn’t you? When your brother first fell ill? But I can see past that. I know a formal education means nothing compared to raw intelligence, burning curiosity, a passion for discovery bordering on the reckless. You’d do great things for me, Leonardo. You’d live up to the greatness you have within you.

Leo:

I- No. No I- why would I do that? Why would I keep working for you? After everything you’ve— you’re a monster.

Frank:

I may present a cool and collected front Leonardo, but it is possible to hurt my feelings.

Leo:

Sorry, I just- wait no, I don’t care! I shouldn’t care! You’re selfish! You consume spirits just extend your own life!

Frank:

Maybe so, but what I am asking you to do is not selfish. I’m asking you to work with me to save the spirit plane. If the lives of these spirits I consume are so important to you then this should be too. My reasons are selfish of course — my existence relies on the stability of this plane — but yours don’t need to be. Though if you’d prefer, I can help to make your reasons selfish.

Leo:

What do you—

Frank:

Stephen Pritchard. His family in Islington. If the spirit plane collapses, oh how Kara and Lynne and the poor children will mourn.

Leo:

How dare—

Frank:

Edna Miller, in her cat sanctuary up in Watford. Whatever would Rita and Peggy do without her? You don’t suspect that perhaps their spirits would like to stay behind with her when they pass too? You’d rob them of the chance at eternity together?

Leo:

Okay I get your poi—

Frank:

Lilian Daniels. Dear to not just a few people but a whole parish, a whole community who love her. What will that do to the parish at St. Joseph’s if the plane crumbles and she’s torn away from them? What will that do to their faith? Their understanding of their God, their souls?

Leo:

Okay, stop it, please—

Frank:

Noah Quinn. Sweet, sweet Noah Quinn. Too good, too young. His spirit has been sitting in my warehouse for only… What, a year?

Leo:

(LONG PAUSE, THEN THROUGH GRITTED TEETH) Ten months.

Frank:

Yes, of course. You never wanted this for him, did you? You wanted him to stay, but your mother, your dear mother couldn’t handle it. After all of those prayers to St. Joseph, your brother’s soul had not been guided to an afterlife but was stuck, in his childhood bedroom. You asked me to help only as a favour to her. And you hated yourself for it. I suspect it’s the real reason you started this little project of yours. Or, if not the sole reason then at least the final push you needed. Not so selfless, after all.

Oh, don’t look at me like that, Leonardo, I would never have harmed him. I knew what he was to you. I kept him safe all these months. But you asked me to remove him and I made it happen, free of charge, because despite the fact that you were obviously lying, you told me it was what you wanted. I could hand him over, if you agreed. If you joined me in my work here. But if you didn’t agree, if you left me to stop this alone, I couldn’t possibly in good conscience reunite you with your brother only to watch you be ripped apart again when I’m unable to stop the collapse of the spirit plane alone—

Leo:

Stop it. Shut up. Stop it.

Frank:

Our goals align, here, Leonardo. I’m not asking anything of you that you wouldn’t have done for noble reasons if you’d found out about this problem on your own.

Leo:

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

[SFX: Recording Ends]

Frank:

(LONG PAUSE) That’s interesting.

Leo:

What would the contract entail?

Frank:

You’ve stopped recording.

Leo:

Besides working with you, I mean.

Frank:

Why on earth would you stop recording?

Leo:

Damnit Frank listen to me! I know there’s more to it than this. What would the contract ask of me?

Frank:

Well, primarily it would function the same as the standard promotional contract. It would dictate an amendment to your original employment terms, job description, salary, the like. It would give you access to my labs. The labs, the files, the workspaces, you barely touched the surface down there, Leonardo. The things you’ve achieved in your own front room, think what you could do with access to my resources—

Leo:

And the catch?

Frank:

Well, the catch, of course, is that the contract comes with a non-disclosure agreement. A fairly rigorous one, at that. You are unable to publicly disclose any information about your work, myself, or Better Place, to anybody outside of your immediate team.

Leo:

My audio diaries—

Frank:

Are included in that, yes. Any plans to take down Better Place would be in the past. But you would be working to save spirits. Wasn’t that the goal all along? Mx. Matkins and Ms. Wilde will of course be offered similar contracts, meaning you would still be able to disclose

Leo:

No.

Frank:

I beg your pardon?

Leo:

No. Don’t offer them the contract. And don’t tell them anything about this.

Frank:

I see. This is why you stopped recording, isn’t it? You’re ashamed. Ashamed to be giving up your principles? Very well, though you do understand that if they are not on your team, then you’ll be unable to discuss any aspect of your work with them as per the non disclosu—

Leo:

And Noah?

Frank:

Your brother’s stasis capsule will be given to you if you agree. You’ll need to find a way to ensure his spirit stays stable outside of his tether, if you’d like to release him from the capsule, but you’ll be free to research this alongside your work.

Leo:

And if I sign, if I agree, you’ll stop being so vague? You’ve got more information about the problem with the spirit plane, you’ll actually be upfront about it?

Frank:

Of course. You’ll have access to all of my resources. That means my knowledge too. But this isn’t something I feel comfortable discussing until—

Leo:

I’ll do it.

Frank:

Good. And you’re certain about your friends?

Leo:

Yes. I couldn’t face them, and admit that I’m throwing away everything we’ve— yes. I’m certain.

Frank:

Very well. Let’s get started then.

Closing theme begins

Leanne:

Episode Twenty-Five of Tell No Tales, The Lonely Scientist, was written and performed by Leanne Egan. You also heard the voice of Asher Amor-Train as Frank Williamson. So we’ve reached the end of season one. Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck with us for this season. Season two might take a while, but it is in the works. In the meantime, keep an eye on this feed for updates and bonus content, and stick around for a trailer for The Attic Monologues, another queer audio drama that I love, and is just perfect for the spooky season.For those listening to this on the day of release, happy Hallowe’en, and I hope to be speaking to you again soon with news for season two. Thank you for listening, and remember: the dead don’t bite.

Closing theme ends