---
layout:          post
title:           "MAGP 3 - Putting Down Roots"
date:            2024-01-25 16:00:00 # in UTC = GMT = London time
episode_type:      episode
tags:            []
voiced:          []
categories:			"tmagp"
podcasts: ["tmagp"]
title_prefix:	"MAGP"
prev_categories: ["tmagp"]
prev_prefixes: ["MAGP"]
prev_episode:	['002']
prev_episode_num:		['002']
prev_episode_title:		["Making Adjustments"]
next_categories: ["tmagp"]
next_prefixes: ["MAGP"]
next_episode:	['004']
next_episode_num:		['004']
next_episode_title:		["Taking Notes"]
episode_title:   'Putting Down Roots'
episode_number:  '003'
summary:         "CAT2C8175-03042009-22012024<br/>Infection (full body) -/- arboreal [journal entry]"
content_flags:   ["Temporal Distortion", "Compulsion/OCD", "Auditory Hallucinations", "Disorientation", "Hypochondria", "Paranoia", "Self-Injury", "Body Horror"]
acast_url:      https://shows.acast.com/themagnusarchives/episodes/the-magnus-protocol-3-putting-down-roots
formats:
    Official PDF: https://rustyquillcom.sharepoint.com/:f:/g/ElFMfJSzHzRMhhWGghFX8E8Bg27o0_Amiemvu0Hqq8D6Yg
official:        true
notes:          "Content warnings edited & invisible unicode characters removed with help from Anonymous(es)"
---

#### ANNOUNCER

This episode is dedicated to Elias Becher. They fear you, for your fangs are sharp, your talons are a vice, your many eyes gleam with malice, and your feathers glisten with the ink that flows ever freely.

##### [Intro theme]

#### ANNOUNCER

Rusty Quill Presents: The Magnus Protocol.

Episode Three -- Putting Down Roots. 

##### [Music]

------

<!-- ##### 1. OIAR OFFICE INT. NIGHT, CLEAR (COMPUTER)

COLIN is hunched over ALICE's console, struggling to bypass a failed login on Freddie. COLIN types rapidly, then jabs at the enter key. The computer, in return, blurts out a reel of rejections. Colin lets out an agonised groan of frustration.  -->

##### [An O.I.A.R. computer starts recording]

##### [Rapid typing on a keyboard, then a decisive jab]

##### [Error noise]

##### [Agonised groan of frustration]

#### COLIN

_(gritted teeth)_ Come *on*...

#### ALICE

What actually *is* a .jmj error? What does it mean? 

#### COLIN

Nothin'. It's just an excuse for the system to ruin my day, is what it is. 

#### ALICE

I could try another computer--? 

##### [Colin continues to type as he speaks]

#### COLIN

No. It's doing this on purpose and that will only encourage it. Nothing's wrong, it just won't accept commands. 

#### ALICE

I mean -- _(amused snort)_ same, but still... 

##### [Colin hits more keys]

##### [Error noise]

##### [He slaps the monitor's side, hard, several times]

#### ALICE

Do I need to call Lena before you break Freddie? This is bordering on abuse. 

#### COLIN

_(distracted concentration)_ For me or it? And what is Lena going to do, exactly? 

#### ALICE

I dunno. Could be useful to have another witness when this escalates to murder. 

##### [Typing. Error noise.]

#### COLIN

Some witness. She wouldn't know a DOS prompt if it bit her on the arse. Look, did you mess with the directory or something? 

#### ALICE

Of course not! Why would I pick a fight with Freddie? That's your job.

##### [More rapid typing from Colin] 

#### COLIN

_(begging)_ Just work, *please!*

##### [A single press of the enter key, as if defusing a bomb]

##### [Error noise]

#### COLIN

You utter bastard! _(typing)_ Just tell me what the error is! Do you need something? Should I get the boot disc? Do you need a goddamn massage? *WHAT?*

##### [Alice snickers]

##### [Typing. Another error noise] 

#### ALICE

Do you want to phone a friend? Maybe central IT? 

##### [Sounds of a swivel chair being moved]

#### COLIN

They are *not* my friend, nor yours. They'll bury you in red tape just to replace a mouse mat -- you know that.

##### [Colin starts climbing under the desk]

I know this system better than anyone alive and I *still* don't understand how it works! So I can guarantee you that none of those mouth-breathers would even know where to begin with this steaming pile of sh--

#### ALICE

_(to the computer)_ It's okay, Freddie-baby. _(She pats it:)_ We're figuring it out, cutie. 

#### COLIN

Don't hit on the computer while I'm working on it. 

#### ALICE

Hey, I'm not the one on all fours... 

#### COLIN

_(emerging from under the desk)_ I'm serious. Don't give it a personality. We shouldn't even be calling it "Freddie." 

#### ALICE

Uh-*huh.* Because FR3-D1 just rolls so smoothly off the tongue. 

#### COLIN

Making friends with this godawful program that tries to throw itself into oblivion every time I turn on a console is not "cute." It's hard enough using every nanosecond of my waking life just to keep this byzantine mess from crapping the bed without you taking the piss.

#### ALICE

Oh come on, it's not that bad. 

#### COLIN

Do you have any idea what will happen if this *thing* finally managed to extinct itself?

#### ALICE

_(flat)_ ...We'd go home early?

##### [Colin gives an irritated growl]

##### [Typing]

#### ALICE

Maybe he just needs some positive reinforcement. 

#### COLIN

Or maybe it just needs a good kick in the b--

##### [Garbled low white noise sparks into audio.]

#### COMPUTER VOICE (NORRIS)

Case: Homicide  
Date: ...  

#### COLIN

Thank *Christ* for that!

##### [Colin slaps at the space bar to pause it]

##### [The recording is cut off]

#### ALICE

Hey, you fixed him! Heeeeere's Freddie! 

#### COLIN

Wrong movie.

#### ALICE

Meh, we both know Robert Englund would have done it better. Cheers, Colin, you're a star.

##### [She shifts and pats him on the back]

I've got stacks to clear tonight, so just let it play and I'll go put the kettle on! You want anything?

#### COLIN

Double scotch. 

#### ALICE

2 day old black coffee it is. 

#### COLIN

_(head in hands)_ Eurgh.

##### [Colin aggressively jabs the spacebar again]

##### [Footsteps as he heads off]

##### [The computer starts speaking alone:]

#### COMPUTER VOICE (NORRIS)

....oh-three, oh-four, two thousand nine. 8:45 a.m.

##### [Norris, as before, sounds human but with a robotic rhythm to it]

Collection: Kent CID Repository.

Item: Journal of Dr. Samuel Webber, age 46. Issued by grief counselor Harriot Manning. Found within a water-damaged black briefcase, partially buried, penetrated by mouldy roots.

Additional Contents: Water-damaged smartphone. Wallet with Dr. Webber's ID and visa card. Keys on a gold chain for 13 Marigold Drive. Partial medical files on Gerald Andrews -- age 37, of 12 Castlehill Avenue -- and Maddie Webber -- age 39, deceased.

Case: 1201/19

Serial No: 72003210

Collector: Special Constable Caroline Jennings, 2911

Routing to: South-East Evidence Storage -- Lewisham

Relevant journal entries as follows:

*Date: 07-12-09. 10:03 p.m.*

##### [Norris's voice goes entirely human as soon as the journal entry begins]

Today was bedlam. I had it all planned out, all of it! And then a panic attack just choked the nerve out of me. It was so humiliating! Felt like the ground was going to swallow me whole with everyone staring at me, only to roll their eyes at my "hysterics," as the paramedic put it. They don't understand. I was so close to getting caught... But it's done. All I need to do now is disappear.

I can't go home. Not for a few days at least. And I'll have to avoid the usual haunts until they forget about me again. That won't be difficult, what's one more stressed doctor. Just a grey man in the crowd, unnoticed until I'm useful.

One man kept staring at me on the tube. He looked like he was connecting the dots... I'm paranoid, I know, lying low amongst wildflowers in an overgrown garden. The mud has ruined my shoes.

There's not much in my briefcase. Still, listing helps keep it all straight: 

- Files on "the star-crossed couple"
- Monday morning's rounds -- I hope Mrs. Campbell's op went okay
- Nine Werther's Originals (because at some point I became an old man and didn't notice)
- Pens, prescription pads
- Oyster card -- still valid
- 23-pounds-22 cash -- thought it was 24, but one of the coins was a worn-down euro. Not sure what the exchange rate is...
- This journal, obviously. Thank you, counselor -- I'm more likely to use it for kindling than "expressing my feelings"
- And my phone. 43% battery, 1 bar. ...They can track SIM cards, can't they? I should probably destroy it. Better cut off than caught.

It's almost midnight. (Why isn't it *darker?*) I didn't pack a lunch, I didn't expect I'd need one. Didn't expect to get this far. I wonder how long I'll have to stay here before they stop looking. I should probably eat a Werther's. Just the one though. Christ, I'm reduced to rationing sweets.

I need to find somewhere dry. (Why did I choose to hide here anyway?) I could try a hostel? Would I need to show ID for that? I could lie, use a false name. 

I could be Gerald Andrews. I'm sure Maddie would have loved that.

I remember now. It was the jasmine. That perfume in the drizzling rain that drew me in. It reminds me so much of her.

##### [Very faint music begins to rise]

Maddie loved the scent of jasmine. Loved to garden. She would have adored this place, tucked away amongst the ugly brick backstreets.

She would have quizzed me about the plants, and I would have told her I didn't know. I didn't even know gardens could bloom this late in the year.

I wasn't really thinking when I pushed my way through the gates. Just following my nose to memories of happier times, I suppose. The scent is much more pungent here than it was outside, an almost overwhelming sickly-sweet rot amongst the bushes. Maddie would know what it was. But it's dark and quiet, that's the main thing.

The garden seems unmanaged, which suits me fine. It's growing wild around the ruins of some bombed-out church. Nice to see nature, healing old wounds.

I scratched up my hands and face fighting past the bushes beneath one of the old arches. I'm cold but it's worth it; no one will find me here.

It is so *quiet.* The dense foliage deadens the city noise to a whisper. I can barely make out the sirens. I doubt they are for me, but I'm staying put anyway.

I don't have much choice; where would I go? I can't go home, that's the first place they'd look. Besides, too many memories there, and -- _(inhales)_ there are the neighbours... Always snooping around with their community watch flyers. I won't miss parking scheme meetings, that's for sure.

List of alternative boltholes:

- Uncle T's allotment. Safe, but about 9 miles away -- too far. Daily chicken eggs are a plus, but not exactly private. Besides, the rooster would be a problem.
- The hospital basement. This would have been the best solution, but getting there unseen is a problem and all, and no easy way to get food. It definitely would have been warmer and drier, though, with the boiler on all day.

I'm safer here in my little sanctuary. Sodden and sore, but safe.

I suppose there is one other possibility. 

- The lock-up.

I still have a key. My name isn't on the lease anymore, and it's secure and dry, but... Maddie stored her stuff there after she moved out. I'm not sure I could face being surrounded by all that history, even if it would be more comfy. 

I can't sleep. This itch is *killing* me! Even the numbing cold from lying on the ground doesn't dull it. It must be an anaphylactic response to something. The rash runs up my entire left side. I'll try and find a better spot when the sun's up.

Thought I heard someone calling my name. No flashlight though, no movement, just the voice. Sounds like Maddie. My hands won't stop shaking.

It's well after midnight. It -- should be pitch black, but I can still make out grey shapes in the gloom. The voice is still calling for me. I've got to stay still even though my heart is *racing.* I think there were some branches cracking but I can't tell from where.

Morning soon, but I can still hear her out there, moving around in the garden. I almost called back as I dozed.

My phone died. Just my luck. I can see enough to write, so it must be just before dawn... God knows I need the warmth.

The rash is getting worse and my scratches will get infected if I don't clean them. I examined one on my forearm and it seems to be secreting something full of coiled, translucent strands. Hair thin, their roots broke away easily when I pulled with a dull tear I could feel as much as hear. I've never seen anything like this before, but I was never great at dermatology. 

If I had the proper tools, this would be far simpler. Must get a scalpel and a mirror. I've cleaned the scratches as best I can, but there's now a stabbing pain in my abdomen if I move.

Current condition:
- I taste aniseed.
- My nose is running. Normal mucus, thank god.
- The rash has spread across the whole of my back now, and if I move, I can feel the toughened area split and weep like a scab.
- Feeling very lethargic. Probably hypothermia. Not good.
- My fingernails are black with dirt, although I don't remember digging...
- The scratches are all weeping now.
- Struggling not to fall back into vivid dreams.

I need to get up, get out of here for treatment. I'll have to chance the pharmacist, at least. I saw one a few streets away. I'm not local, so I doubt they'd recognise me. I do still have my prescription pad with me, but using my own paperwork would be incredibly foolish.

This place is far bigger than I thought. Followed the birch trees and the canopies over that cobbled path near the close. Lined with moss. There's a dense wall of thickets overwhelming the boundary fence. I know it, I -- *remember* that. I can't hear the traffic at all now. It's hard to keep moving.

I can't find an entrance. I resorted to shouldering my way out through the tangled bushes like before. It hurt so much, but I made it. Only to find more garden on the other side. It looks the same. I think Maddie's still here too.

Jasmine everywhere. The smell stings where it touches me, but -- that doesn't make sense. I wonder if it's psychosomatic? A guilty conscience with comorbid pneumonia...

I'm back in the undergrowth. I'm not sure if I ever got up at all. I don't remember coming back -- my feet have swollen.

Something is very wrong. If I don't get to the pharmacy now I doubt I ever will. I've managed to push my feet back into my shoes with some pruning, but... I'm struggling to stand.

Maddie makes a good point, though. Doctors do make the worst patients. We are always self-diagnosing, and it's always doom and gloom. She's offered to go and get my supplies herself. She always was kind.

I'll just try to keep warm and sleep until the sun comes out. I so much want to see it again. This night seems endless. I want to be warm again. 

I am terribly afraid. Thank god for Maddie. I need to treat her better. She'll be back soon with medicine.

Condition update:
- Dry mouth and swollen tongue. Tasting burnt aniseed now.
- The fingers of my left hand are nearly immobile. Right is not much better. _(click of a pen)_ I don't know how much longer I'll be able to write.
- The pain in my abdomen has passed and the seeping has mostly stopped, but my back aches.
- I definitely have an infection. The scratches are budding some kind of polyps and the *slightest* touch feels like jabbing an exposed nerve.
- I stink of jasmine. At least I think I do.

I just need to rest, and it's safe enough here. Maddie still hasn't returned though. I hope she's okay. I miss her laughter. And that smile.

I worry when she is out alone. She'll talk to anyone, like *Gerald.* I never liked him. I should make more time for her; I'm too busy and work far too much. I get home and just -- go to sleep! I need to be careful or we'll drift apart. I don't know what I would do if I thought I had lost her.

But I'm not alone here. I'm covered in insects. They seem to enjoy feasting on my wounds, so I let them. Besides, they scratch the itches. 

My left arm is now completely numb and the skin is splitting down to the bone. I removed the phalanges -- tugging them out like stones from a peach. I planted them deep. Flies swarm the wound, and soon there will be maggots eating only the dead flesh and leaving the living. Nature is so wonderful, so *efficient;* nothing is wasted in the garden.

I can see my bones are tangled with the same fine strands as my wounds. It's fascinating to see. I should write a paper. Of course if the infection reaches the marrow there could be complications. I could take more drastic measures, but I would need something to cut with. Something strong and heavy. A rock perhaps? Could I? Should I?

I can't tell how long I slept. Still no sun.

Maddie, is that you?

You're right. I should stay.

She has come back to me! Just a whisper but it is her! I knew she would never leave me. She says there is a spot where I can sit out in the sun and feel the wind on my face. What would I do without her?

We have decided not to remove any more of me as my condition develops. Maddie feels it isn't *prudent,* now that the vomiting has passed. It was touch-and-go there for a while, but I think I've gotten most of the rot out, and made enough room to grow. 

We'll monitor the progression, of course, with a strict regimen of fresh air, sunshine, and rest. _(smiling)_ The polyps should be blooming soon.

Condition update:
- I've gained some good weight and my skin is pulling away nicely, like blanched tomatoes.
- My legs will be nonresponsive soon. I need to finalise my position before then, but there are *many* variables to consider. Maddie is advising.
- The roots have freed themselves from the weight of my meat, as it sags from my bones and drops to the dirt.
- No greenfly or other parasites. I remain quite healthy.

_(joyous)_ The clouds have finally broken and the azure skies are so bright, almost blinding! We are blessed with such a radiant joy of warmth and love sitting within our garden together. The thought of all those years behind me, toiling in the dark, ignoring nourishment for myself *and* others, so withdrawn... But no longer. I have so much time now, out in the light. But -- strangely, deep inside me, beneath the roots, there is something that still shakes with terror.

I don't see why. The sun is bright, my roots run deep, and the breeze is fresh and clear. _(voice slowing, becoming more robotic)_ I think I shall stay here for a good long while. 

##### [The computer powers down with a beep and reeling sounds]

------

##### [CCTV noises of a new recording]

##### [The coffee machine starts up]

<!-- SAM enters the breakroom finding ALICE already there. He starts to make the coffee.  -->

##### [Sam sighs a little]

##### [Pouring noises]

#### ALICE

Pour us one, would you? 

#### SAM

Sure.

##### [More pouring noises]

##### [Sam sighs again, sounding bothered]

#### ALICE

Yeah. I didn't catch all of it, but that one sounded fun. 

#### SAM

What do I even file that as? I doubt there's a code for "parasitic-garden-that-whispers-with-the-voice-of-the-woman-he-clearly-murdered-and-sort-of-turns-you-into-a-tree." 

#### ALICE

"Infection" comma "arboreal"? Cross-link it with "guilt" if you're feeling fancy. 

#### SAM

_(amused)_ Of course.

##### [Sam pours the coffee]

##### [Footsteps as he brings it over]

#### ALICE

Cheers.

##### [They sip.] 

#### SAM

_(spotting the look on her face)_ ...What? 

#### ALICE

I'm just thinking. Would you fancy doing me a favour? 

#### SAM

Depends. 

#### ALICE

Nothing sordid --

#### SAM

Oh good. 

#### ALICE

-- it's just...

Would you call central IT for me? 

#### SAM

I thought Colin fixed your computer. 

#### ALICE

He did, with a lecture on top, and quite frankly I'm sick of getting it in the neck every time Freddie throws a wobbly. We all know the system's a mess, Colin's told us like a __billion times,__ but he's the one always fiddling with the system, and, *well*... 

#### SAM

You think he's causing the issues? 

#### ALICE

I'm just beginning to wonder if he knows what he's doing with all that -- spaghetti code. I'd check with central myself, but if Colin catches me, he'll pitch a fit!

#### SAM

_(sarcastically)_ Oh right, but he and I are just *so* close right now after your stunt on my first night?

#### ALICE

Ahhh, but you're *new.* You can just claim ignorance! God knows *that's* believable. You're basically an ickle baby foal wobbling around the paddock with your little stick legs. 

#### SAM

Well, thanks for that. 

#### ALICE

_(teasing)_ You're welcome. 

#### SAM

Look, Alice -- I really don't want to rock the boat right now, everyone seems pretty tense as it is. 

#### ALICE

All I'm saying is that Colin tinkers with this system all the time, and I don't see any oversight.

If you queried upstairs asking about it, all Bambi-eyed and innocent, some alarms might go off! They might even come down and do a refresh or reboot, or whatever.

#### SAM

Hmmmmmm. You give a pretty convincing argument...

#### ALICE

Thank you. 

#### SAM

But it's a no from me, I'm afraid. 

##### [Beat.]

#### ALICE

_(jokingly dark)_ You've made a powerful enemy tonight. 

#### SAM

_(sipping)_ Better than being force-fed my own keyboard by Colin.

##### [Footsteps as Gwen enters]

#### ALICE

_(snorts)_ Fair point. 

#### GWEN

Are you working on the 27th, Alice? I've got a thing, and you know what Lena's like. 

#### ALICE

_(posh, grand)_ Good evening, *Gwendolyn!* 

#### GWEN

Must we do this every time? 

#### ALICE

_(regular accent)_ Fine. What's the "thing"? 

#### GWEN

It's really not your concern. Just, are you working or not? 

#### ALICE

See, now I *really* need to know. What do you reckon, Sam? 

#### SAM

I'm not getting dragged into this. 

#### GWEN

Alice, I don't have time for this. It's simple: yes or no. 

#### ALICE

It would be such a shame for you to miss out just because you wouldn't tell me. Sounds rather petty, doesn't it, Sam? 

#### SAM

Stoooop. 

#### GWEN

_(restraining herself)_ It is dinner with friends, if you must know. That's all. 

#### ALICE

Let me guess. _(putting on a posh accent)_ Fancy gowns, champagne, bathing in the blood of the poor -- that sort of thing? 

#### GWEN

_(firm, neutral)_ You know we make the same, Alice. An old friend just made partner at her law firm. She wants to celebrate. 

#### ALICE

You sound thrilled. 

#### GWEN

Oh, I can't *wait* to catch up and tell them I'm still working in the same __cesspit__ I was last time they asked. 

#### ALICE

Oh come on, it's not that bad. 

#### GWEN

Are you working or not? The 27th, yes or no? 

#### ALICE

_(flat)_ Fine. Yes, I'm working that night. I'm working every night. I was born down here and I'll die down here. Happy?

#### GWEN

_(sighing)_ Are any of us? 

#### SAM

Yikes. 

##### [The CCTV cuts out.]

------

##### [Music]

#### ANNOUNCER

The Magnus Protocol is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share-alike 4.0 International License. The series is created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall, and directed by Alexander J Newall.

This episode was written by Graeme Patrick and edited with additional material by Jonathan Sims, Alexander J Newall, with vocal edits by Nico Vettese, soundscaping by Meg McKellar, and masting by Catherine Rinella, with music by Sam Jones.

It featured Billie Hindle as Alice Dyer, Shahan Hamza as Samama Khalid, Anusia Battersby as Gwen Bouchard, Ryan Hopevere-Anderson as Colin Becher, with additional voices from Alexander J Newall.

The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner, with executive producers Alexander J Newall, Dani McDonough, Linn Ci, and Samantha F.G. Hamilton, and associate producers Jordan L. Hawk, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius d'Raven, and Megan Nice.

Thanks for listening.

<!-- The Magnus Protocol 3 -- Putting Down Roots 

#### CAT2C8175-03042009-22012024

Infection (full body) --/- arboreal [journal entry] Incident Elements:  Temporal Distortion  Compulsion/OCD  Auditory Hallucinations  Disorientation  Hypochondria  Paranoia  Self-Injury Transcripts: https://shorturl.at/gzF15 This Episode is dedicated to Elias Becker thank you for your generous support! You can a complete list of our Kickstarter backers https://rustyquill.com/the-magnus-protocolsupporter-wall/ Created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall Directed by Alexander J Newall Written by Graeme Patrick (for more of his work, visit https://www.aintslayednobody.com/) Script Editing with Additional Materials by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall Executive Producers April Sumner, Alexander J Newall, Jonathan Sims, Dani McDonough, Linn Ci, and Samantha F.G. Hamilton Associate Producers Jordan L. Hawk, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius d'Raven, and Megan Nice Produced by April Sumner Featuring (in order of appearance) Ryan Hopevere-Anderson as Colin Becher Billie Hindle as Alice Dyer Alexander J Newall as Norris Shahan Hamza as Samama Khalid Anusia Battersby as Gwendolyn Bouchard Dialogue Editor -- Nico Vettese Sound Designer -- Meg McKellar Mastering Editor -- Catherine Rinella Music by Sam Jones (orchestral mix by Jake Jackson) Art by April Sumner SFX from Catherine Rinella, Soundly, Freesound (CCO): be_a_hero_not_a_patriot, Joao_Janz, hz37, sagetyrtle, kyles, SpliceSound, Timmeh515, sangtao, lamamakesmusic, phantastonia, aurelon, LaurenPonder, Akatukoaut, jodybruchon, squareal, marleneayni, lartti, PeteHaase, PuzzleAudio (CC-3.0): jomse, rhodesmas Support us on Patreon at https://patreon.com/rustyquill Check out our merchandise available at https://www.redbubble.com/people/RustyQuill/shop and https://www.teepublic.com/stores/rusty-quill Join our community: WEBSITE: rustyquill.com FACEBOOK: facebook.com/therustyquill TWITTER: @therustyquill REDDIT: reddit.com/r/RustyQuill EMAIL: mail@rustyquill.com The Magnus Protocol is a derivative product of the Magnus Archives, created by Rusty Quill Ltd. and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share alike 4.0 International Licence.  -->