Historical Account of RPC-369:
The following are the compiled journal entries of an unnamed alchemist who was in close contact with John Damian during the time period in which RPC-369 was constructed. The author appeared to have been an alchemist themself and was involved in many of the secretive alchemist and esoteric groups active in Italy during the Renaissance. He also appeared to be at least an acquaintance of Leonardo da Vinci, as not only were his journal pages found in da Vinci's archives, but he is mentioned several times in the journal, referred to by a personalized nickname used only by those close to him.
Note: The entries included in the following have been carefully selected as to only include pieces relevant to RPC-369. The entries have also been heavily edited in translation in order to be readable, especially concerning Scottish terms such as "John Damian" and "Tongland" which were butchered in the original Italian. It must also be noted that the entries are categorized by the number of days since the start of the journal, rather than dates. This has made it difficult to develop a strict timeline of events.
Day Thirty-Two
Having come to Florence in order to study and work in the Medici's Academy, I have set up a small shop wherein I sell wares to travelers. This is to earn money to keep me fed while my Alchemy work with the Academy will satisfy my higher minded needs. I feel grateful to be here in this time, as I and my companions are able to witness a rebirth of knowledge thanks to the financial prosperity of this land. Today several fellow alchemists entered my business at midday, to inquire as to whether I would attend a secret meeting later tonight. I accepted though as I pen I have yet to attend.
To conduct such meetings in secret, in the middle of the night, is unbecoming of the profession of such ancient and sublime arts. However the Pope and his hounds the 'Auctoritas' are not kind to that which they do not comprehend. We are cursed to fester in secrecy and misunderstanding, though perhaps one day we will be free, and the seeds of knowledge will grow into great trees of enlightenment, from which all of humanity may partake fruit. Perhaps.
Day Fifty-Seven
Tensions relating to the Cambrai League have once again caused our small academy to move from our abodes. The Pope's hounds lap at our heels at a constant pace. There is little that can be done to cease their inquiries, or quell their hatred of our arts. We have taken residence in Venice now. Though it is closer to the town of my origin it is no less troubling that the Cambrai League and its allies are so willing to adhere to the arbitrary whims of their masters. So it is in Venice where the path to the Magnum Opus continues to cut through the plane of this world.
It is doubtful that the King of Venice will acknowledge the Academy, but it is our hope that the members of the Venetian court may become aware of our lodging in the territory. Perhaps if this becomes the case, one of them may even dain to acquire the services of our humble circle. This is very wishful thinking. For now my shop of wares occupies a new place, now along the streets of Venice.
I await there as I work to cultivate the seeds of knowledge.
Day Ninety-Four
A strange man has come to Venice.
He came into my shop in the early hours of this day, inquiring about the Academy and our experience with alchemical sciences. Odd that he discussed it so openly, as if he was unaware of the Papal laws.
The man is quite clearly an Italian, it is clear in his appearance, his mannerisms, his accent. He speaks the mother tongue fluently. But he introduced himself as 'John Damian' and claimed to have traveled to Venice from Scotland. He also claimed to have come under contract with the Scottish king, which I find doubtful. His inquiries were related to a project he claimed to have been developing using notes from Alderotti. Even if he has come into possession of Alderotti's notes, which is unlikely, it proves that he is of Italian origin. No such notes could be found in Scotland, it would be impossible. So I wonder why he lies. Why would he change his name? Why claim to be under order from royalty?
I awarded him the names of other Academy members to speak to, so that he would stop discussing such things openly in my shop.
Day Ninety-Five
I shall not bore with details of the shops daily operation.
What is important is the happenings of this night's meeting of the Academy. The strange man, Damian, attended. He presented to my contemporaries the project he was seeking assistance for. I am now less skeptical of his authenticity, as he seemed quite knowledgeable in the terms and operations of the arts. Though his project was almost preposterous at first impression. He explained to the Academy that while Alderotti's notes were rather vague, he had used them to craft a design for a grand device. The purpose of the device was to use the power of Alchemy to generate a simulacrum of a mind, one that through its complex design could be orders more intelligent than the human brain.
At the outset, this is a disturbing revelation. Such a device, were it even possible to construct, may violate the laws of nature itself. Laws even we who bend this plane should not contend to trifle with.
As well, I was informed after the meeting concluded that he was indeed truthful about his mission. That he had official papers, and was recorded as court alchemist for the King of Scotland. Though, this only deepens the mystery surrounding him. Usually when a Noble contracts an alchemist it is because they, not understanding the metaphorical nature of the practice, are hoping to have them transmute gold. Not to construct some fool device or grand false brain.
This man, Damian, is dubious.
Day Ninety-Six
Following his appearance at the Academy, the man Damian has been shopping around in Venice for materials. He has contracted many smiths and stoneworkers, as well as carpenters and jewelers. No doubt he does this with the coin of the crown of Scotland. After my shop had closed for a day, his figure appeared in my doorway once again. His purpose was to request a piece from me. In discussion with my contemporaries he had become aware of my background in divination, and asked me to create for him a scrying bowl, for a large fee. He relayed to me his specifications for the bowl's size and dimensions, as well as the special request of a sigil carved into the center of the bowl's underside.
He mentions in our conversation that this is one of the most important components of his project, as scrying will serve as the form of communication with the brain. At one point I offhandedly mention that scrying is not exact compared to contemporary forms of alchemy, and that while the bowl could be of perfect proportions, the scrying liquid used was also incredibly important.
At this point he produced a small vial filled with a black, oily liquid. He told me that he had access to a large amount of extremely viable scrying fluid.
It would appear to me that mysteries follow John Damian as the moon follows the sun.
Day One-Hundred and Twelve
Another day at the shop in Venice, very little money was made.
John Damian, the mysterious figure, has also returned after a long absence in Scotland. He came back to our academy with a working model of what he refers to as the "thinking disk", a small circular device inscribed with mechanisms to store and process information. His demonstration was intriguing, it was now undeniable that Damian's project is viable, though its implications are troubling.
I have yet to begin work on the scrying bowl for his device, I am apprehensive to assist in its creation to any capacity. I worry that by idly allowing him to continue, I may be allowing an atrocity to form, slowly, in the belly of the earth.
He described that he planned to construct four thinking disks of ample size, several meters in length. Though many other disks of other sizes will be incorporated, the four large ones will serve as the "central brains" for the device, where all information is processed and stored, as though in the memories of a man. He spoke on how he wanted these central brains to represent the base elements of the earth, and that the journey of thoughts through them would simulate the creation of the Magnum Opus. He hoped that through this metaphorical process the brain will achieve individuation and develop a persona.
I pondered shortly on what the persona of a false mind may be like. What would inform the thoughts of one which has none to begin with? From this, in the back of my mind I am reminded of an adage told to me by my old master. I cannot quite recall it, but am sure it is related to the situation. I will think on it, and hope it returns to me.
Damian smiles to us when his presentation is over, so full of satisfaction. I wondered, idly, if he even understood that which he meddles with.
Day One-Hundred and Twenty-Six
Today in the shop I received a small grant from a Venetian noble. He commissioned me to build a toy for his daughter, one with specified features to appeal to her disposition. I wondered why it was that he asked me, and not LeVi given his prowess in the construction of smaller machines. He answered this query as he mentioned he asked LeVi but his commission was rejected.
I decided to build her a marionette. It will be made to be a little girl like herself. And with enough practice she'll be able to move it to make it seem real.
John Damian has acquired a permanent residence in Venice, in order to make his traveling between Scotland and the city more convenient. Many of our contemporaries, even LeVi supposedly, have been assisting him in creating components for his brain. He has taken all these components and materials back to Scotland intermittently. This implies to me that he is indeed constructing the device, though I am forced to wonder what crypt in that far off land is being used for such a project.
He has tried to meet with me several times, to ask about the scrying bowl. I have begun its construction, but it is not to his specifications yet. He stressed its importance at the previous night's meeting of the Academy, telling me that his method of communication with it is currently extremely rudimentary, the scrying bowl he was using of inferior design.
I resolved to meet with him tomorrow to discuss the matter.
Day One-Hundred and Twenty-Seven
Work on the Nobleman's marionette is almost complete. I finished the string and handle structure, only cosmetic adjustments remain. It should be ready by next morning.
My meeting with John Damian was disconcerting to be brief.
In this meeting I realized what it was that afforded him the energy to continue his project, that mysterious substance which has allowed him to act in the way does. This substance is ambition, and John Damian's ambition is so great that it perhaps surpasses his common sense. Many things were confirmed to me over the course of our short conversation. It is indeed true that the king of Scotland brought Damian into his court for the purposes of transmuting gold, and he has been secretly redirecting the guts of the king's coffers to fund the creation of his brain.
His unchecked optimism has allowed Damian to justify this trickery to himself. He explained to me that the sheer intelligence of the brain will afford him the knowledge to do anything, even transmute gold, and as such his use of the royal funds was a half-truthful affair. I pressed him further on his intended purpose for the brain, and he responded distantly. He explained to me that throughout his life he had tried and failed at many things, each the fault of his own lack of competence. He hoped that he could bypass his own shortcomings by designing a mind smarter than his own, an intelligence more competent that himself. With this, he told me, he could finally succeed. This endeared me to his plight greatly, but I once again expressed to him my existential concerns.
In response he reminded me that one of the goals of the alchemist is to understand the mind of God. It should not surprise that this disturbs me greatly. Was his ambition truly to reconstruct the mind of God itself? A travesty on par with Babel, I would assume. Before I could scold him, he once again expressed the importance of the bowl I was to construct.
Since he had already paid me, I could not refuse him. I relayed to him that because I had taken on another project, it would be several days before his bowl was completed. Our meeting ended on this strange note, and he left me without another word.
I fear that in my indignation I may have only encouraged him to work harder.
Day One-Hundred Thirty-Three
This morning while i was opening the shop the Nobleman came to me. He told me that he greatly appreciated the work I had done on the doll, but his daughter had died of scarlet fever shortly before I delivered it to his estate.
I decided to keep the shop closed for the day. I took the opportunity to work more on the bowl for Damian.
Day One-Hundred and Forty
Over the course of my many meetings with John Damian I believe to have an understanding of his character. I think it would be inaccurate to refer to us as 'friends' but I feel the two of us have reached a level of association beyond that I have found with many of my other contemporaries in the Academy. While I have enjoyed their work, and they are clearly more self aware and cautious than Damian, his ambition is refreshing. Many of the more experienced members of these circles will often be apprehensive as a result of their experience, but John Damian is interesting in that he does not care to abide by such restrictions. There are times I worry that this will lead to his downfall.
I ponder this because I was informed to day that while back in Scotland Damian has been winning large sums in games of cards and matches with the King. There is no doubt in my mind that he has been using his alchemical brain to formulate strategies that have allowed him to win these games. This use of the brain only confirms for me my worst fears about it.
That it is almost complete.
Day One-Hundred and Forty-Three
The scrying bowl is complete.
However I have been thinking deeply on John Damian's man-made intelligence. I fear that in completing it Damian will have violated a natural law of this world, the trinity of the individual. This trinity, reflecting the elements and the holy trinity, is a sacred form. The triad of body, soul, and mind is something that is essential to the individuation of the form. By creating a free intelligence as Damian has, is this equality made void?
While true that the mind or intelligence is a divine gift from God himself, if born without a mortal soul or a body to occupy, what could become of it? The abominations that could be made flesh from this perversion of form are staggering to contemplate. It is possible this inherent lack of a fulfilled existence would cause in the mind an insatiable need to complete itself? What kind of lengths would such a powerful intelligence go to form itself a body? What depths of strange and dark realms would it dredge to craft itself a makeshift soul?
These concerns are consuming me, but alas I have tried to make Damian aware of these existential flaws. He has never acknowledged them. I remembered, finally, the adage of the old mystics. "Nothing from nothing comes." I believe the only way to make Damian truly aware of my apprehension is to make it an element of the design itself. Along the underside of the bowl I engraved the phrase, to perhaps make him understand. With this, I complete the component.
May God have mercy on John Damian.
Day One-Hundred and Forty-Nine
Despite having given word to Damian of the completion of his scrying bowl, he has yet to retrieve it after several days. I know he is here in Venice and not in Scotland, so his absence is rather unusual.
Damian has always been somewhat eccentric, but he has always made appointments.
After asking around my contemporaries, I have acquired the location of Damian's residence in Venice. I've resolved to deliver his bowl to him tomorrow.
Day One-Hundred and Fifty
I will record the day's happening here, so that it may persist as history.
After operating the shop for the day, I closed and set out to the Venetian residence of John Damian, carrying with me a scrying bowl he has commissioned me to construct for him. Having acquired the location of his residence through word of mouth, it was difficult to find.
Upon arriving at his residence after much searching, I was perplexed that the door to his abode was not locked in any fashion. However being somewhat close to him, I attempted to make my presence known and waited for a significant portion of time. He never came to his door, so I resolved to enter and leave the bowl for him. However once inside I heard a soft sound in another room, and followed it.
The moment I entered the bowl dropped from my hands as the sight shocked me to my very core.
There was John Damian, lifeless and naked, floating in a large bath filled with pitch black scrying fluid. His eyes were covered in a white fog and stared forward, still like glass spheres. His body was covered in strange symbols, some familiar to me while others were not, that had been carved deeply into his skin. Stains on his skin implied the cuts had been bleeding a substantial amount but now there was no blood flowing from the carvings. In my surprise I was frozen, staring at the body of the man I once knew. It was then, after standing in shock for what seemed to be forever, that the body turned to look at me.
Damian, or what used to be Damian, spoke in a way that shook me to my core. Whatever was speaking was using Damian's vocal chords, but it was clear to me that it was not him.
"I am in the very air you breathe."
This is all it said to me before lunging at me quickly, a violent urge in its movements. A guttural sound escaped me as I ran from it, out of Damian's abode and into the street. Though in the night the streets were empty I attempted to scream for help as the thing made chase. I ran for several minutes, until finding a place to hide from it in a small space between buildings. I hid there for a long time before checking if it was still out and after me. It appeared to have gone. I returned to the residence shortly after, to perhaps confront the thing.
It appeared to have abandoned the residence. There was no trace of it aside from the bath filled with fluid. The scrying bowl had also been taken.
It would seem the device will very soon be complete.
I have resolved to leave this journal with LeVi. He is experienced at keeping such things. For some time I had nowhere to look for Damian, until word reached me that the King of Scotland had made his court alchemist the Abbot of Tongland, as the Scots call it. I am certain this place is where Damian was constructing it. This place is the home of the infernal device.
Following my encounter with what became of Damian, I collected a group of able men from the Academy. We have combined our coffers in order to finance an expedition to Scotland. Whatever we may find deep beneath that place, Tongland, it is doubtful we will return. But something must be done.
My own complacency allowed Damian, my friend, to be consumed by that which lies there. I cannot allow such complacency to endanger more. Damian must not have been destroyed in vain.
We will depart the coming morning, at daybreak.
Perhaps the rising sun will give us the strength to confront the consequences of our hubris. Pray for us, as I once prayed for Damian. Pray for us.