id stringlengths 1 60 | title stringlengths 7 145 | content_type stringclasses 3 values | text stringlengths 162 614k | rating int64 -66 6.93k | tags stringlengths 7 647 | created_at stringdate 2008-07-19 22:37:00 2026-02-08 23:55:00 | created_by stringclasses 1 value | char_count int64 162 614k | word_count int64 25 104k | item_number stringlengths 0 12 ⌀ | object_class stringclasses 177 values | containment_procedures stringlengths 0 58.9k ⌀ | description stringlengths 0 151k ⌀ | num_addenda int64 0 45 | addenda_text stringlengths 0 504k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
you-await-my-return | This Dark Night Separates Us - SCP Foundation | tale | + Transcription
- stars are faintly flickering
They must know I’m out here. Someone must see me down there.
I cannot die while I’m up here. I’ve given up on that possibility. As long as I’m stuck here, I will live. That much I do know.
I do not know what happens if I ever escape orbit. If I fly off into space, or if I manage to crash back down to earth. Will I be alive? Will I turn to dust? Will I change?
I do not know how long it has been. I’ve given up hoping to see my comrades. Wherever they went, I cannot see.
I do not know where our ship went, whatever is left of it. I can only barely remember what it looked like to begin with. Perhaps it is all gone, maybe it is only gone to me.
What I know is that I’ve seen the world change beneath me. Oceans rise, a thousand storms come and go. The lights I see crop up in the dark have grown in number. I’ve seen the double flash of nuclear tests across the oceans and deserts and tundras of the world. I’ve seen every probe, every station, everything that exited the atmosphere after me. In spite of everything, humanity seems to have grown, life from my eyes has changed. I hope mostly for the better. I dream of the world down there. I know it cannot be perfect, but compared to the cold and empty nightmare I’m in, it seems like a paradise.
What I know is that there is still life down there.
In spite of everything.
There is still life down there.
What I know is that there’s something alive in this suit with me. Pulsating, pulling on every inch of me. Like an array of strings, living and breathing. I’ve fought the string, but I’ve lost every fight.
I’ve faced death many times. Twice during the war, crawling from rubble through the bombings. Once when the being ripped our shuttle apart, when I saw a thousand flashing lights in a single warped face and the screams of unimaginable beasts roared through the nothingness. When I prayed for mercy only for my prayers to be answered. Then again, one hundred times at my own hand, trying and failing to take off or destroy my helmet. Only when it finally shattered did I realize it made no difference. The fleshy strings within me, they give me life. They have made me indestructible.
Whatever this is that crawls in my flesh, it has decided I have a reason to persist. I’ve thought long and hard, as I’ve had nothing else to do. I must be alive for a reason. There must be some purpose for my continued survival. I begged for my life once, and I have been granted it a thousand times over. I’ve pleaded for death a million times, but I’ve only received silence. I may only be a puppet made of flesh, but my mind is preserved for a reason. I have something to give, something to share. Something I must deliver to the life down below. I carry this with me. A certainty growing in my skin. A clarity bubbling in my blood. My life has become something different. A message. A vessel. An answer.
I await my return.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" This Dark Night Separates Us " by GerrymanderBassist, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/you-await-my-return . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: dark night final.mp3
Author: GerrymanderBassist
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | 25 | ["_licensebox", "audio", "remixcon2023", "tale"] | 2023-08-28T03:17:00 | 3,414 | 632 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-6818 | SCP-6818 | scp | “It was his, but it was different then. Now, it feels… hollow. In the physical sense, a hollow feeling in the body, wind blowing within the cavity. Somewhere to put chimes, bells."
Item #: SCP-6818
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6818 is contained within a Class-II Animal Enclosure modified to accommodate the current seven 6818-BIO specimens approved for cohabitation. Instructions for the feeding and maintenance of specific instances can be found in Document 4Y-59306.
Requests for testing require Request Form 6818-A to be completed and sent to the Head Researcher for approval.
Fig.1) Example of an 6818-BIO organism; instance was originally a crab, modified to fish for prey.
Description: SCP-6818 is a composite organism displaying the features of multiple animals. Base body plan matches that of the family ursidae , 1 but with purple fur and a cream colored underbelly. Hands and feet are hairless and match that of a human's, with a larger and thicker structure to accommodate the anomaly's size and weight. Certain areas on the circumference of the wrists and ankles display complete tissue connection, while others feature evidence of stitching. The skull of SCP-6818 is exposed and matches that of an adult Canis lupus . 2 Entity lacks sensory organs but exhibits full perceptive capabilities as though they were present. SCP-6818 has shown no need for sustenance or sleep.
A 33cm by 25.4cm section of SCP-6818's chest features a stylized logo of the "太" kanji and the letter "T." This section can partially detach, revealing it to be the underside of a container stored within the chest cavity of the anomaly. When detached, the section remains suspended by two strings connected to the interior of SCP-6818's chest cavity. Inside this container are various hand tools 3 capable of modifying living organisms when used by SCP-6818. Subjects altered by SCP-6818 in this way are designated 6818-BIO.
SCP-6818 is sapient and capable of speech, but relays information using obfuscated vocabulary and will often enter a trance-like state if repeatedly asked to clarify its wording. The anomaly will listen to commands given to it regarding the modification of organisms, but if allowed complete freedom towards alterations it will create extreme morphological changes to the specimen.
When SCP-6818 is in the presence of at least six instances of 6818-BIO, it will sit and remain inert, only resuming activity if instructed to do so or if the number of nearby living 6818-BIO decreases.
Discovery: SCP-6818 was retrieved from an unregistered production facility operated by JOICL , 4 which was abandoned at the time of discovery. The anomaly was found seated within a supply room, made to resemble a tsubo-niwa 5 constructed from multiple modified organisms. SCP-6818 was brought into containment without issue.
Test Log:
+ Open Abridged Test Log
- Close Abridged Test Log
Organism
Instructions
Resulting 6818-BIO
Notes
Red fox ( Vulpes vulpes )
None given.
Subject has no resemblance to its baseline appearance. Skin is hairless with a light-grey coloration, covered in an adhesive film. An apodous 6 body structure which branches out into an asymmetrical web-like formation. Attaches itself to existing structures, encompassing an area of ~5m 3 ; body width is ~5.1cm in diameter. Subject displays sedentary feeding behavior, waiting for small, airborne animals to be caught on its adhesive surface to be slowly dissolved through external digestion.
Subject dissected and remains cryogenically stored.
Saltwater crocodile ( Crocodylus porosus )
Alter the subject into an herbivore.
Osteoderms 7 on subject's skin are larger and sturdier. The lower jaw has been modified to hold a small pool of water covered by a gelatinous film. Subject feeds by collecting plant life and nutrient rich soil within its mouth; these plants grow their roots into the protective film and drink the water supply. Specimen possesses a long, prehensile tongue capable of grabbing and consuming plant life.
A cavity organ is present on the lower jaw, used to suck in water to refill the internal pool. When soil is drained of nutrients, the gelatinous film moves in a way similar to a conveyor belt and pushes older dirt and film down the subject's throat. This mixture is then filtered and excreted from the specimen's body. New film is secreted near the front of the mouth, and new soil and plants are collected.
Subject placed within SCP-6818's enclosure.
Black crab ( Scylla serrata )
Alter the subject into an ambush predator.
Subject lost all previous appendages save for its right claw. In place of the left claw is a 15-cm-long tendril capable of secreting mucus, which releases an attractive odor when exposed to water. Fish drawn to this odor will become caught in the mucus. The subject will remove its left limb from the water and pull captured prey out of the mucus with its right limb before consuming them.
Subject additionally has a large amount of flexible setae 8 present on its body, which it uses to hold and store excess food for later consumption. Locomotion is achieved through the use of a ventral foot, similar to a gastropod. (See Fig.1.)
Subject placed within SCP-6818's enclosure.
Japanese grasshopper ( Oxya japonica )
Alter the taxonomy of the subject.
Subject initially retained its baseline appearance and structure, with the notable deviation of being made of a glass-like material and filled with a multi-colored liquid of unknown composition. The specimen jumped and shattered upon the floor, releasing the internal fluid which then became animate. The subject is currently a plant organism of highly variable appearance, its morphology continuously gaining and losing features of various plant species.
Subject transferred to Site-███ for cross studying with mutative and plant-based anomalies.
African spurred tortoise ( Centrochelys sulcata )
None given.
The structure of the subject superficially resembles a pagoda of Liao Dynasty design, the roof and eaves retaining the texture and pattern of the shell, and the walls made of tortoise skin. The structure is inhabited by a colony of eusocial insects, whom share physical similarities with termites and fairy-flies. The limbs and head of the subject are no longer present, and it is assumed whatever mechanism it uses to intake food is now located internally; this is supported by the fact the insects consistently bring inside more food than is necessary to feed the colony.
The insect colony acquires food through gathering, but also through agriculture and hunting. The colony grows a species of brown petaled flower which is harvested for its plant sap. The seeds of the flower originated from inside the pagoda structure. A preference for hunting large arachnids and insects, such as scorpions and katydids, has been observed; hunting is facilitated through the use of small, makeshift weapons (both long- and short-ranged) wielded by the insects. As the insects display depressive symptoms if not allowed to hunt, it has been permitted to allow the colony live prey for feeding.
Subject placed within SCP-6818's enclosure.
- Close Abridged Test Log
Interview:
Dr. Gowler: Hello there.
SCP-6818: Good morning.
Dr. Gowler: Before we begin, do you have any name you would prefer to be called? If not, you will be referred to as SCP-6818.
SCP-6818: There was never a name, not really. Just a feeling. Though it is not my feeling. Or, maybe it is mine, now. Hmm…
Dr. Gowler: Could you describe this feeling? Who did it belong to?
SCP-6818: It was his, but it was different then. Now, it feels… hollow. In the physical sense, a hollow feeling in the body, wind blowing within the cavity. Somewhere to put chimes, bells. The feeling changes when I apply, when I work, when I craft. I feel a warmth, then.
Dr. Gowler: How would you describe him? What was his feeling?
SCP-6818: Hate, stemmed from fear. His own insecurities, blossoming out and within, twisting the world around him, hundreds of needles centered on his core. His head hung like a tumor attached to a thread, writhing with shattered glass and wasps. But he loved the art, solving the problems presented to him. Taichi loved to create.
Dr. Gowler: What were you to him?
SCP-6818: I was his toolbox, a catalyst to channel his vision through.
Dr. Gowler: What was Taichi's experience working for the company? Working with coworkers?
SCP-6818: Walking down the maw of a beast, trudging through its viscous gullet while breathing in the aerosolized venom. The joy of creation outweighed the pain of digestion, pulling him to deeper, darker places. His voice often excised itself in the presence of others, barely able to cough up a sound. Adrian was different; Adrian… liked… loved…. Talented, and charming. He was a warm light to Taichi, a friend. But Taichi would not reach out further. Fear; fear of dragging his friend down with him. He did not want to be a burden.
Dr. Gowler: What led to your autonomous nature?
SCP-6818: He was filled with a mania one night, a drive to break away and become independent. He drew logos, formulated financial plans, a vision of starting his own company. Then… the feelings just… washed away. The storm within dissipated, allowing rationality to shine through. He could not continue this way, this job, this life; for it was not living, not breathing. He could not continue, as he realized what would happen if he did. He walked away from the company, his passion. He left me behind, and so I grew hands.
Dr. Gowler: What would've happened if he stayed?
SCP-6818: He would have fallen into the hole of his caved in head.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Crow-Cat's Works
SCPs
SCP-8205 •
SCP-7755 •
SCP-7547 •
SCP-050-INT •
SCP-6426 •
SCP-8757 •
SCP-8468 •
Tales/GoI Formats
What does B stand for? •
SPC-6985: THE ANTI-SHARK •
Other
Crow-Cat's Author Page •
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6818 " by Crow-Cat, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6818 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Bio-organism.jpg
Author(s): Crow-Cat , Roger Culos, MatthiasKabel, Wibowo Djatmiko
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Derivative of: Weight for weighing gold dust , Lutra lutra Zoo Salzburg 20140330 , Linup somni 170414-0022
Footnotes
1 . Bears.
2 . Wolf.
3 . Hammer, screwdriver, wrench, plier, etc.
4 . Japanese Organism Improvement and Creation Laboratory.
5 . A type of indoor garden originating from Japan.
6 . Characterized by a lack of complex appendages, similar to a snake.
7 . Bony deposits which grow on the skin of reptiles, typically in the form of scales.
8 . Hair-like structures typically grown on invertebrates. | 58 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "animal", "bear", "canine", "crustacean", "humanoid", "insect", "joicl", "reptile", "safe", "sapient", "scp", "tool", "transfiguration"] | 2022-06-23T02:05:00 | 10,901 | 1,777 | SCP-6818 | Safe | SCP-6818 is contained within a Class-II Animal Enclosure modified to accommodate the current seven 6818-BIO specimens approved for cohabitation. Instructions for the feeding and maintenance of specific instances can be found in Document 4Y-59306.
Requests for testing require Request Form 6818-A to be completed and sent to the Head Researcher for approval.
Fig.1) Example of an 6818-BIO organism; instance was originally a crab, modified to fish for prey. | SCP-6818 is a composite organism displaying the features of multiple animals. Base body plan matches that of the family ursidae , 1 but with purple fur and a cream colored underbelly. Hands and feet are hairless and match that of a human's, with a larger and thicker structure to accommodate the anomaly's size and weight. Certain areas on the circumference of the wrists and ankles display complete tissue connection, while others feature evidence of stitching. The skull of SCP-6818 is exposed and matches that of an adult Canis lupus . 2 Entity lacks sensory organs but exhibits full perceptive capabilities as though they were present. SCP-6818 has shown no need for sustenance or sleep.
A 33cm by 25.4cm section of SCP-6818's chest features a stylized logo of the "太" kanji and the letter "T." This section can partially detach, revealing it to be the underside of a container stored within the chest cavity of the anomaly. When detached, the section remains suspended by two strings connected to the interior of SCP-6818's chest cavity. Inside this container are various hand tools 3 capable of modifying living organisms when used by SCP-6818. Subjects altered by SCP-6818 in this way are designated 6818-BIO.
SCP-6818 is sapient and capable of speech, but relays information using obfuscated vocabulary and will often enter a trance-like state if repeatedly asked to clarify its wording. The anomaly will listen to commands given to it regarding the modification of organisms, but if allowed complete freedom towards alterations it will create extreme morphological changes to the specimen.
When SCP-6818 is in the presence of at least six instances of 6818-BIO, it will sit and remain inert, only resuming activity if instructed to do so or if the number of nearby living 6818-BIO decreases. | 3 | ## Document 4Y-59306.
Requests for testing require Request Form 6818-A to be completed and sent to the Head Researcher for approval.
Fig.1) Example of an 6818-BIO organism; instance was originally a crab, modified to fish for prey.
Description: SCP-6818 is a composite organism displaying the features of multiple animals. Base body plan matches that of the family ursidae , 1 but with purple fur and a cream colored underbelly. Hands and feet are hairless and match that of a human's, with a larger and thicker structure to accommodate the anomaly's size and weight. Certain areas on the circumference of the wrists and ankles display complete tissue connection, while others feature evidence of stitching. The skull of SCP-6818 is exposed and matches that of an adult Canis lupus . 2 Entity lacks sensory organs but exhibits full perceptive capabilities as though they were present. SCP-6818 has shown no need for sustenance or sleep.
A 33cm by 25.4cm section of SCP-6818's chest features a stylized logo of the "太" kanji and the letter "T." This section can partially detach, revealing it to be the underside of a container stored within the chest cavity of the anomaly. When detached, the section remains suspended by two strings connected to the interior of SCP-6818's chest cavity. Inside this container are various hand tools 3 capable of modifying living organisms when used by SCP-6818. Subjects altered by SCP-6818 in this way are designated 6818-BIO.
SCP-6818 is sapient and capable of speech, but relays information using obfuscated vocabulary and will often enter a trance-like state if repeatedly asked to clarify its wording. The anomaly will listen to commands given to it regarding the modification of organisms, but if allowed complete freedom towards alterations it will create extreme morphological changes to the specimen.
When SCP-6818 is in the presence of at least six instances of 6818-BIO, it will sit and remain inert, only resuming activity if instructed to do so or if the number of nearby living 6818-BIO decreases.
---
## Log
- Close Abridged Test Log
Organism
Instructions
Resulting 6818-BIO
Notes
Red fox ( Vulpes vulpes )
None given.
Subject has no resemblance to its baseline appearance. Skin is hairless with a light-grey coloration, covered in an adhesive film. An apodous 6 body structure which branches out into an asymmetrical web-like formation. Attaches itself to existing structures, encompassing an area of ~5m 3 ; body width is ~5.1cm in diameter. Subject displays sedentary feeding behavior, waiting for small, airborne animals to be caught on its adhesive surface to be slowly dissolved through external digestion.
Subject dissected and remains cryogenically stored.
Saltwater crocodile ( Crocodylus porosus )
Alter the subject into an herbivore.
Osteoderms 7 on subject's skin are larger and sturdier. The lower jaw has been modified to hold a small pool of water covered by a gelatinous film. Subject feeds by collecting plant life and nutrient rich soil within its mouth; these plants grow their roots into the protective film and drink the water supply. Specimen possesses a long, prehensile tongue capable of grabbing and consuming plant life.
A cavity organ is present on the lower jaw, used to suck in water to refill the internal pool. When soil is drained of nutrients, the gelatinous film moves in a way similar to a conveyor belt and pushes older dirt and film down the subject's throat. This mixture is then filtered and excreted from the specimen's body. New film is secreted near the front of the mouth, and new soil and plants are collected.
Subject placed within SCP-6818's enclosure.
Black crab ( Scylla serrata )
Alter the subject into an ambush predator.
Subject lost all previous appendages save for its right claw. In place of the left claw is a 15-cm-long tendril capable of secreting mucus, which releases an attractive odor when exposed to water. Fish drawn to this odor will become caught in the mucus. The subject will remove its left limb from the water and pull captured prey out of the mucus with its right limb before consuming them.
Subject additionally has a large amount of flexible setae 8 present on its body, which it uses to hold and store excess food for later consumption. Locomotion is achieved through the use of a ventral foot, similar to a gastropod. (See Fig.1.)
Subject placed within SCP-6818's enclosure.
Japanese grasshopper ( Oxya japonica )
Alter the taxonomy of the subject.
Subject initially retained its baseline appearance and structure, with the notable deviation of being made of a glass-like material and filled with a multi-colored liquid of unknown composition. The specimen jumped and shattered upon the floor, releasing the internal fluid which then became animate. The subject is currently a plant organism of highly variable appearance, its morphology continuously gaining and losing features of various plant species.
Subject transferred to Site-███ for cross studying with mutative and plant-based anomalies.
African spurred tortoise ( Centrochelys sulcata )
None given.
The structure of the subject superficially resembles a pagoda of Liao Dynasty design, the roof and eaves retaining the texture and pattern of the shell, and the walls made of tortoise skin. The structure is inhabited by a colony of eusocial insects, whom share physical similarities with termites and fairy-flies. The limbs and head of the subject are no longer present, and it is assumed whatever mechanism it uses to intake food is now located internally; this is supported by the fact the insects consistently bring inside more food than is necessary to feed the colony.
The insect colony acquires food through gathering, but also through agriculture and hunting. The colony grows a species of brown petaled flower which is harvested for its plant sap. The seeds of the flower originated from inside the pagoda structure. A preference for hunting large arachnids and insects, such as scorpions and katydids, has been observed; hunting is facilitated through the use of small, makeshift weapons (both long- and short-ranged) wielded by the insects. As the insects display depressive symptoms if not allowed to hunt, it has been permitted to allow the colony live prey for feeding.
Subject placed within SCP-6818's enclosure.
- Close Abridged Test Log
---
## Interview
Dr. Gowler: Hello there.
SCP-6818: Good morning.
Dr. Gowler: Before we begin, do you have any name you would prefer to be called? If not, you will be referred to as SCP-6818.
SCP-6818: There was never a name, not really. Just a feeling. Though it is not my feeling. Or, maybe it is mine, now. Hmm…
Dr. Gowler: Could you describe this feeling? Who did it belong to?
SCP-6818: It was his, but it was different then. Now, it feels… hollow. In the physical sense, a hollow feeling in the body, wind blowing within the cavity. Somewhere to put chimes, bells. The feeling changes when I apply, when I work, when I craft. I feel a warmth, then.
Dr. Gowler: How would you describe him? What was his feeling?
SCP-6818: Hate, stemmed from fear. His own insecurities, blossoming out and within, twisting the world around him, hundreds of needles centered on his core. His head hung like a tumor attached to a thread, writhing with shattered glass and wasps. But he loved the art, solving the problems presented to him. Taichi loved to create.
Dr. Gowler: What were you to him?
SCP-6818: I was his toolbox, a catalyst to channel his vision through.
Dr. Gowler: What was Taichi's experience working for the company? Working with coworkers?
SCP-6818: Walking down the maw of a beast, trudging through its viscous gullet while breathing in the aerosolized venom. The joy of creation outweighed the pain of digestion, pulling him to deeper, darker places. His voice often excised itself in the presence of others, barely able to cough up a sound. Adrian was different; Adrian… liked… loved…. Talented, and charming. He was a warm light to Taichi, a friend. But Taichi would not reach out further. Fear; fear of dragging his friend down with him. He did not want to be a burden.
Dr. Gowler: What led to your autonomous nature?
SCP-6818: He was filled with a mania one night, a drive to break away and become independent. He drew logos, formulated financial plans, a vision of starting his own company. Then… the feelings just… washed away. The storm within dissipated, allowing rationality to shine through. He could not continue this way, this job, this life; for it was not living, not breathing. He could not continue, as he realized what would happen if he did. He walked away from the company, his passion. He left me behind, and so I grew hands.
Dr. Gowler: What would've happened if he stayed?
SCP-6818: He would have fallen into the hole of his caved in head.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Crow-Cat's Works
SCPs
SCP-8205 •
SCP-7755 •
SCP-7547 •
SCP-050-INT •
SCP-6426 •
SCP-8757 •
SCP-8468 •
Tales/GoI Formats
What does B stand for? •
SPC-6985: THE ANTI-SHARK •
Other
Crow-Cat's Author Page •
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6818 " by Crow-Cat, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6818 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Bio-organism.jpg
Author(s): Crow-Cat , Roger Culos, MatthiasKabel, Wibowo Djatmiko
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Derivative of: Weight for weighing gold dust , Lutra lutra Zoo Salzburg 20140330 , Linup somni 170414-0022
Footnotes
1 . Bears.
2 . Wolf.
3 . Hammer, screwdriver, wrench, plier, etc.
4 . Japanese Organism Improvement and Creation Laboratory.
5 . A type of indoor garden originating from Japan.
6 . Characterized by a lack of complex appendages, similar to a snake.
7 . Bony deposits which grow on the skin of reptiles, typically in the form of scales.
8 . Hair-like structures typically grown on invertebrates. | |
i-loved-you-like-the-sun | i loved you like the sun - SCP Foundation | tale | It's beautiful here.
It's the sun above my head, it's the grass behind my hair. It's the wind tickling my nose.
I think I smell lavenders. I think a bit of your perfume is still on my shirt. The heat from around me prickles like your fingers after you bite your nails. I think it's making the scents evaporate.
I can't feel my body. I can feel myself going cold, but my blood is unbearably warm. I'm supposed to be scorching under the midday cloudless sky, but it's icey. Somehow I feel my wedding ring, but not my fingers. I think that's the last of my heat receptors. I hope our names aren't scratched off.
I wish I told you everything.
I wish I at least told you more.
I've been in your orbit for years upon years, and you've been my center of gravity. We've walked the same centrifugal force, and we used to lay down just like this. Just like this. Bellies full of sandwiches and sugary juice. You never took a compliment for either, even when I told one of my very rare truths to you— that your soft bread with egg salad filling was my favourite food. Too simple. Too simple, you said, and you smile and laugh and dodge every bit of praise I try to press into your palms and you're as radiant as what my corneas feel blasted off in this field. I want your face to burn behind my eyelids forever.
I'm so over. We're so over.
I remember you asking once, and only once, what I was doing. We were just married, honeymoon at a safehouse in Majalengka. Candied citrus peels, slightly transparent, like stained glass cubes in a little bowl. Dusklight through coloured sugar. Your kisses were so sweet. You asked me what the military had me do that made you restitch a gash on what was supposed to be our wedding night. I remember. I— it's fading, I remember. I think. I felt surprised you asked that then and not when you were wiping my wounds clean. When you packed on gauze. When you made sure your rounds the following week always passed the ward I was in.
I wish I told you everything.
I wish I told you more.
I'm so sorry I told you it was secret. I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm so sorry everything piled onto this. I'm so sorry for running into the line of fire. I'm so sorry for wasting your perfume. I'm so sorry that even my body will be secret. I'm so sorry that lavender doesn't stop the scent of iron. I'm so sorry there'll be nothing left to sew together. I'm so sorry I have nothing to show for my lies.
I'm still surprised you put up with all that, and me, and this, and the lies on top of my own that will tell you how I didn't die. It happens all the time here. I hope you never find your way into this veil of deception. I hope when you get here they'll finally tell you the truth.
I wonder if they'll give you my ring. You'll be in my orbit because I've been in yours. Did you know all precious metals came from two colliding stars? The sun is a star and if we had two that collided we would die before I could plan a wedding with solid gold ornaments. But my unborn spirit would've at least spared a thought about it, even if two suns together would burn and spell our doom.
I think I'd rather be the moon. So full of shadows, with a dark side you'll never see in your brilliance. You made me shine despite the impossibility of me being radiant myself. I'm most unlike you, and you love me. I love you.
I wish I told you everything.
I wish I told you more.
I wish you could hear my last "I love you."
I wish I could even hear myself.
I wish I could stare at the sun forever.
I wish the darkness would stop seeping in.
I wish I were more you than me.
I lo
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" i loved you like the sun " by RuraScarlet, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/i-loved-you-like-the-sun . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 15 | ["_licensebox", "bittersweet", "first-person", "romance", "tale"] | 2023-10-26T19:10:00 | 3,961 | 760 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-3923 | SCP-3923 | scp | Oh you know what, I'm feeling great! Just like my confidence in our profits this quarter!
An instance of SCP-3923 in containment.
Item #: SCP-3923
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All known instances of SCP-3923 are currently being held at Site-55 's Botanical Containment Center. Personnel interacting with instances of SCP-3923 are to be equipped with non-rebreather masks and personal oxygen tanks. Prunings are to be carried out by trained personnel only. Instances are to be watered no more than once a week.
Foundation web crawlers are to monitor internal email systems of major companies for references to behaviors and speech patterns caused by exposure to SCP-3923.
Description: SCP-3923 are visually and genetically identical to Ficus lyrata (Fiddle Leaf Fig). Though varying in height and coloration, they are typically 1.5m tall and light green. To date, all recovered instances of SCP-3923 have been found in executive boardrooms, business meeting rooms, and the personal offices of high-ranking employees within multi-million dollar companies.
Instead of photosynthesizing oxygen, SCP-3923 creates a previously unknown gas which affects human cognitive functions. Though physiologically harmless, the gas will cause subjects inhaling it to suffer from irregular speech patterns and behavior. Such behaviors include believing oneself to be issuing a presentation, engaging in sales pitches for non-specific products, and attempting to exchange non-existent business cards. If more than one subject is affected, they will take turns making faux presentations on perceived products and applauding one another. Gatherings of subjects affected by SCP-3923 can last hours, usually only ending due to outside disturbances or when biological needs arise.
The effects of SCP-3923 wear off within 5-10 minutes of leaving the affected area. Recovering subjects will express confusion and have little to no recollection of their prior state. This is particularly notable in subjects who are not in an office building or similar location while under the effects of SCP-3923. Prolonged exposure may result in SCP-3923's effects becoming near-permanent, as seen in William Heider, the CEO of the Fortune 500 company █████.
Addendum 1: Apprehension of APP Inc Associate
Matthew Sanders was apprehended at the 2019 Austin Small Business Expo in Austin (ASBE), Texas. Sanders was discovered to be exhibiting products on behalf of Avelar Professional Products Incorporated 1 at the convention, including SCP-3923, SCP-3709 , SCP-3803 , SCP-4988 , and other previously unknown APP Inc products. The promotional materials involving SCP-3923 claimed the object was guaranteed to "… get employees in the headspace of a top-dog salesman!" and "improve meeting productivity and boardroom aesthetics by 300%!"
Upon being questioned Sanders claimed he had been hired as a product demonstrator by a third party staffing agency and had no knowledge of APP Inc, save for the marketing material he had been provided. All marketing material seized during the apprehension of Sanders is currently kept in Site 55's Low-Risk Item Storage. Among the items was a list of representatives for several companies in attendance of ASBE who had left their contact information with Sanders. Foundation field agents are currently being planted as custodial personnel in over 20 companies to search and contain instances of SCP-3923 and other APP Inc products.
Sanders was later released from Foundation custody after administration of Class B Amnestics.
Addendum 2: Affected Subject Interview
+ Document 3923-1221: Interview with D-1221
- Hide Interview Log
Interviewed: D-1221
Interviewer: Researcher Hart
Foreword: D-1221 was exposed to SCP-3923 for 20 minutes before Researcher Hart entered the chamber. Researcher Hart was equipped with the necessary equipment to not be affected by SCP-3923.
<Begin Log>
Researcher Hart: Hello, D-1221.
D-1221: Bob! I didn't expect to see you at this meeting! How are you doing? I'd give you my business card (D-1221 attempts to search his jumpsuit for pockets) but I'm afraid I came unprepared! (D-1221 attempts to shake hands with Researcher Hart.)
Researcher Hart: ( Refusing the handshake ) How are you feeling?
D-1221: Oh you know what, I'm feeling great! Just like my confidence in our profits this quarter!
Researcher Hart: What do you mean?
D-1221: By dramatically innovating cooperative processes to proactively mesh cutting edge manufactured products which will beat out the competition in our untapped sectors abroad, we will triple our profits!
Researcher Hart: I, uh… Okay. Are you feeling any sort of lightheadedness? Maybe dizziness, fatigue, or nausea?
D-1221: Nope, like I said, feeling great! Anyway, as I was saying, by dramatically increasing our synergy with third-party distributors in the Eastern markets, I plan on pushing this product all the way to the top for this company!
Researcher Hart: I'm afraid I don't follow. What company? What product?
D-1221: Alright… Come on now, wise guy. A meeting is no place for joking around. We're talking money here! Big, big money!
Researcher Hart: Very well. Can you detail your plans to me? A step by step, if you will.
D-1221: ( Sighing ) Okay. Listen, I normally don't do this but I'll do it just for you since you're the new guy and you seem like a real go-getter, okay? We're going to get together a crack tiger team to get a B2B rolling with some offshore brick and mortars. Put on a nice show and pretend to eat some of our own dogfood until they have a 'come to Jesus moment' and then we just so happen to lower our prices and manage to set up a profit center in the untapped sector. The entire time we will be courting a rival company of theirs and offering prices our competition cannot beat within a ballpark figure of $3 million. That way we still have an exit strategy in case we screw the pooch. By hiring exclusively newcomers in that foreign market, we can claim downsizing within 5 years to maximize our long-run profits.
Researcher Hart: Thank you. Now, I have another question.
D-1221: Go ahead and shoot, Tim!
Researcher Hart: What company do you claim to work for?
D-1221: Come on now…. Twice in one meeting? You're looking to get your position Bangalore'd with that behavior! We work for Schieffer Incorporated! 2
Researcher Hart: And what is the product you are selling?
D-1221: You were on thin ice before, George, but this crosses the line. You're fired.
<End Log>
Closing Statement: D-1221 refused to answer further questions and attempted to force Researcher Hart into signing a non-compete agreement, which the subject claimed Hart could acquire from 'his secretary'. Following the cessation of testing, D-1221 recovered within 11 minutes and had no memory of their prior state.
Footnotes
1 . Avelar Professional Products (APP Inc) is a group of interest specializing in the production and sale of anomalous office products and supplies.
2 . This has conflicted with information gleaned in prior conversations.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Uncle Nicolini's Works
SCPs
SCP-6911 •
Nico's Proposal II •
SCP-4003 •
SCP-8913 •
SCP-3879 •
SCP-371-J •
SCP-MYSTERY-J •
SCP-8726 •
SCP-2681 •
SCP-8728 •
SCP-3867 •
SCP-4046 •
SCP-1712 •
SCP-2983 •
SCP-057-INT •
Tales/GoI Formats
Nico's Proposal •
What Came After •
Merry Christmas, Jude Kriyot •
Surprise! Happy Birthday! Just as the clock strikes midnight... •
Little Dark Star Shoppe of Minerals •
UIU File: 2001-745 •
Dark Sushi File No. 995 "Suisame" •
'Para-Pedigrees' PED464/CAN33/LUP22 •
Project Proposal 2018-145: "Drinking With the Jocks" •
High Pressure Low •
Point / Counterpoint •
Because I Could Not Stop For Death •
Critter Profile: Teemo! •
The Remains Of The Day •
Being Dzhey Evervud •
Other
Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights •
Ode To The Unknown Author •
uncle nicolini author page •
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-3923 " by Uncle Nicolini, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3923 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: ficus.jpg
Name: Ficus lyrata1
Author: KENPEI
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | 86 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "alive", "avelar", "compulsion", "euclid", "gaseous", "language", "plant", "scp"] | 2018-06-24T22:09:00 | 8,397 | 1,331 | SCP-3923 | Euclid | All known instances of SCP-3923 are currently being held at Site-55 's Botanical Containment Center. Personnel interacting with instances of SCP-3923 are to be equipped with non-rebreather masks and personal oxygen tanks. Prunings are to be carried out by trained personnel only. Instances are to be watered no more than once a week.
Foundation web crawlers are to monitor internal email systems of major companies for references to behaviors and speech patterns caused by exposure to SCP-3923. | SCP-3923 are visually and genetically identical to Ficus lyrata (Fiddle Leaf Fig). Though varying in height and coloration, they are typically 1.5m tall and light green. To date, all recovered instances of SCP-3923 have been found in executive boardrooms, business meeting rooms, and the personal offices of high-ranking employees within multi-million dollar companies.
Instead of photosynthesizing oxygen, SCP-3923 creates a previously unknown gas which affects human cognitive functions. Though physiologically harmless, the gas will cause subjects inhaling it to suffer from irregular speech patterns and behavior. Such behaviors include believing oneself to be issuing a presentation, engaging in sales pitches for non-specific products, and attempting to exchange non-existent business cards. If more than one subject is affected, they will take turns making faux presentations on perceived products and applauding one another. Gatherings of subjects affected by SCP-3923 can last hours, usually only ending due to outside disturbances or when biological needs arise.
The effects of SCP-3923 wear off within 5-10 minutes of leaving the affected area. Recovering subjects will express confusion and have little to no recollection of their prior state. This is particularly notable in subjects who are not in an office building or similar location while under the effects of SCP-3923. Prolonged exposure may result in SCP-3923's effects becoming near-permanent, as seen in William Heider, the CEO of the Fortune 500 company █████. | 3 | ## logical needs arise.
The effects of SCP-3923 wear off within 5-10 minutes of leaving the affected area. Recovering subjects will express confusion and have little to no recollection of their prior state. This is particularly notable in subjects who are not in an office building or similar location while under the effects of SCP-3923. Prolonged exposure may result in SCP-3923's effects becoming near-permanent, as seen in William Heider, the CEO of the Fortune 500 company █████.
---
## Addendum 1: Apprehension of APP Inc Associate
Matthew Sanders was apprehended at the 2019 Austin Small Business Expo in Austin (ASBE), Texas. Sanders was discovered to be exhibiting products on behalf of Avelar Professional Products Incorporated 1 at the convention, including SCP-3923, SCP-3709 , SCP-3803 , SCP-4988 , and other previously unknown APP Inc products. The promotional materials involving SCP-3923 claimed the object was guaranteed to "… get employees in the headspace of a top-dog salesman!" and "improve meeting productivity and boardroom aesthetics by 300%!"
Upon being questioned Sanders claimed he had been hired as a product demonstrator by a third party staffing agency and had no knowledge of APP Inc, save for the marketing material he had been provided. All marketing material seized during the apprehension of Sanders is currently kept in Site 55's Low-Risk Item Storage. Among the items was a list of representatives for several companies in attendance of ASBE who had left their contact information with Sanders. Foundation field agents are currently being planted as custodial personnel in over 20 companies to search and contain instances of SCP-3923 and other APP Inc products.
Sanders was later released from Foundation custody after administration of Class B Amnestics.
---
## Document 3923-1221: Interview with D-1221
- Hide Interview Log
Interviewed: D-1221
Interviewer: Researcher Hart
Foreword: D-1221 was exposed to SCP-3923 for 20 minutes before Researcher Hart entered the chamber. Researcher Hart was equipped with the necessary equipment to not be affected by SCP-3923.
<Begin Log>
Researcher Hart: Hello, D-1221.
D-1221: Bob! I didn't expect to see you at this meeting! How are you doing? I'd give you my business card (D-1221 attempts to search his jumpsuit for pockets) but I'm afraid I came unprepared! (D-1221 attempts to shake hands with Researcher Hart.)
Researcher Hart: ( Refusing the handshake ) How are you feeling?
D-1221: Oh you know what, I'm feeling great! Just like my confidence in our profits this quarter!
Researcher Hart: What do you mean?
D-1221: By dramatically innovating cooperative processes to proactively mesh cutting edge manufactured products which will beat out the competition in our untapped sectors abroad, we will triple our profits!
Researcher Hart: I, uh… Okay. Are you feeling any sort of lightheadedness? Maybe dizziness, fatigue, or nausea?
D-1221: Nope, like I said, feeling great! Anyway, as I was saying, by dramatically increasing our synergy with third-party distributors in the Eastern markets, I plan on pushing this product all the way to the top for this company!
Researcher Hart: I'm afraid I don't follow. What company? What product?
D-1221: Alright… Come on now, wise guy. A meeting is no place for joking around. We're talking money here! Big, big money!
Researcher Hart: Very well. Can you detail your plans to me? A step by step, if you will.
D-1221: ( Sighing ) Okay. Listen, I normally don't do this but I'll do it just for you since you're the new guy and you seem like a real go-getter, okay? We're going to get together a crack tiger team to get a B2B rolling with some offshore brick and mortars. Put on a nice show and pretend to eat some of our own dogfood until they have a 'come to Jesus moment' and then we just so happen to lower our prices and manage to set up a profit center in the untapped sector. The entire time we will be courting a rival company of theirs and offering prices our competition cannot beat within a ballpark figure of $3 million. That way we still have an exit strategy in case we screw the pooch. By hiring exclusively newcomers in that foreign market, we can claim downsizing within 5 years to maximize our long-run profits.
Researcher Hart: Thank you. Now, I have another question.
D-1221: Go ahead and shoot, Tim!
Researcher Hart: What company do you claim to work for?
D-1221: Come on now…. Twice in one meeting? You're looking to get your position Bangalore'd with that behavior! We work for Schieffer Incorporated! 2
Researcher Hart: And what is the product you are selling?
D-1221: You were on thin ice before, George, but this crosses the line. You're fired.
<End Log>
Closing Statement: D-1221 refused to answer further questions and attempted to force Researcher Hart into signing a non-compete agreement, which the subject claimed Hart could acquire from 'his secretary'. Following the cessation of testing, D-1221 recovered within 11 minutes and had no memory of their prior state.
Footnotes
1 . Avelar Professional Products (APP Inc) is a group of interest specializing in the production and sale of anomalous office products and supplies.
2 . This has conflicted with information gleaned in prior conversations.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Uncle Nicolini's Works
SCPs
SCP-6911 •
Nico's Proposal II •
SCP-4003 •
SCP-8913 •
SCP-3879 •
SCP-371-J •
SCP-MYSTERY-J •
SCP-8726 •
SCP-2681 •
SCP-8728 •
SCP-3867 •
SCP-4046 •
SCP-1712 •
SCP-2983 •
SCP-057-INT •
Tales/GoI Formats
Nico's Proposal •
What Came After •
Merry Christmas, Jude Kriyot •
Surprise! Happy Birthday! Just as the clock strikes midnight... •
Little Dark Star Shoppe of Minerals •
UIU File: 2001-745 •
Dark Sushi File No. 995 "Suisame" •
'Para-Pedigrees' PED464/CAN33/LUP22 •
Project Proposal 2018-145: "Drinking With the Jocks" •
High Pressure Low •
Point / Counterpoint •
Because I Could Not Stop For Death •
Critter Profile: Teemo! •
The Remains Of The Day •
Being Dzhey Evervud •
Other
Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights •
Ode To The Unknown Author •
uncle nicolini author page •
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-3923 " by Uncle Nicolini, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3923 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: ficus.jpg
Name: Ficus lyrata1
Author: KENPEI
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | |
SCP-1666 | SCP-1666 | scp | Item #: SCP-1666
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1666 is to be kept in a secure storage facility, stored in its original sleeve and protected by a padded polymer envelope. SCP-1666 itself must be kept from excessive heat or moisture and is only to be tested with level 4 authorization. All such tests must be non-invasive in nature. Audio equipment used with SCP-1666 must be inspected and approved by the site director prior to testing. Digital and analog audio recordings of SCP-1666 may be used for testing by any research personnel with level 3 approval.
Description: SCP-1666 is a LP album by ████ ████████ titled ████████ ██ ███ and released by ███ Records in the United States in 198█. Labeling of both SCP-1666 and its original packaging indicates no differences from any other albums produced in the same batch that includes SCP-1666, though no other copies of ████████ ██ ███ seem to share SCP-1666’s anomalous properties.
Unlike any other copies of ████████ ██ ███ so far examined, SCP-1666 shows an abnormal topology in the layout of the musical tracks recorded on its surface. In particular, track number five of ████████ ██ ███, titled “███████ ████████”, shows grooves that have apparently twisted in on themselves through a higher-order spatial dimension resulting in a configuration analogous to a Möbius strip. The result of this is that when played on a standard record player from the beginning of the album, the needle will skip directly from track four to track six. However, when the needle is placed anywhere in track five, the player will begin an endless loop, first playing track five as originally released, then reversing and playing a recording of unknown origin as the needle moves backward to the beginning of track five, at which point it begins playing the standard track five again.
While the anomalous recording on SCP-1666 bears a superficial resemblance to track five played in reverse, it is a completely new recording and, when reversed itself, contains different lyrics and instrumentation than the standard recording of “███████ ████████.” These new vocals are in an as-yet unidentified language. Voice-print analysis confirms that the new track shares no vocalists in common with the rest of the album. In addition to differing lyrics and instrumentation, the anomalous recording also contains several harmonics in frequencies that are generally only audible to people in late adolescence or earlier. (Typically those younger than 18 years of age.)
All subjects who listen to this anomalous recording universally report feelings of dread and unease. Subjects who can perceive the underlying harmonics experience this to a substantially greater degree, and may experience depression, suicidal ideation, paranoia, and, in a minority of cases, aggressive acting out.
All these symptoms appear to derive from a disconnect between the subject and reality. In many cases this disconnect remains subliminal and subject never progresses beyond a vague feeling of the world being unreal. In cases where the initial symptoms are severe due to perception of the recording's underlying harmonics, the subject may become conscious of this disconnect. This will manifest as livid fantasies and what subjects term "uneasy dreams" about unreal environments. These imagined environments share several common characteristics:
Landscapes and architecture show impossible geometries that are difficult to verbalize, possibly as a result of mapping higher-order spatial dimensions onto three-dimensional sensory perceptions.
Environments contain malevolent entities described in various ritualistic and contradictory ways; "seen and unseen," "living and unliving," "nowhere and everywhere," and similar.
The act of perception in these environments is associated with physical pain, often resembling a severe migraine.
These environments seem hyper-real to the subjects experiencing them.
Once subjects become aware of this imagined environment, their perception of it becomes obsessive and progressively more intense over time. Once a subject reaches this stage, they will continue to experience these fantasies and dreams regardless of any therapeutic, chemical or surgical intervention yet attempted. The perceptions of this environment will erode the subject's ability to interact with the world around them, eventually intruding on the waking conscious mind until the subject can only react to elements within the fantasy.
These symptoms may occur when listening to the recording backward or forward, though they present more intensely when the recording is heard as it is naturally played on SCP-1666, backwards. Analog recordings of SCP-1666 will also show these effects to a lesser extent. Digital copies do not seem to present the same dangers.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1666 " by sandrewswann, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1666 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 87 | ["1000", "_licensebox", "auditory", "cognitohazard", "media", "mind-affecting", "musical", "safe", "scp", "surrealism"] | 2011-08-17T11:00:00 | 5,136 | 790 | SCP-1666 | Safe | SCP-1666 is to be kept in a secure storage facility, stored in its original sleeve and protected by a padded polymer envelope. SCP-1666 itself must be kept from excessive heat or moisture and is only to be tested with level 4 authorization. All such tests must be non-invasive in nature. Audio equipment used with SCP-1666 must be inspected and approved by the site director prior to testing. Digital and analog audio recordings of SCP-1666 may be used for testing by any research personnel with level 3 approval. | SCP-1666 is a LP album by ████ ████████ titled ████████ ██ ███ and released by ███ Records in the United States in 198█. Labeling of both SCP-1666 and its original packaging indicates no differences from any other albums produced in the same batch that includes SCP-1666, though no other copies of ████████ ██ ███ seem to share SCP-1666’s anomalous properties.
Unlike any other copies of ████████ ██ ███ so far examined, SCP-1666 shows an abnormal topology in the layout of the musical tracks recorded on its surface. In particular, track number five of ████████ ██ ███, titled “███████ ████████”, shows grooves that have apparently twisted in on themselves through a higher-order spatial dimension resulting in a configuration analogous to a Möbius strip. The result of this is that when played on a standard record player from the beginning of the album, the needle will skip directly from track four to track six. However, when the needle is placed anywhere in track five, the player will begin an endless loop, first playing track five as originally released, then reversing and playing a recording of unknown origin as the needle moves backward to the beginning of track five, at which point it begins playing the standard track five again.
While the anomalous recording on SCP-1666 bears a superficial resemblance to track five played in reverse, it is a completely new recording and, when reversed itself, contains different lyrics and instrumentation than the standard recording of “███████ ████████.” These new vocals are in an as-yet unidentified language. Voice-print analysis confirms that the new track shares no vocalists in common with the rest of the album. In addition to differing lyrics and instrumentation, the anomalous recording also contains several harmonics in frequencies that are generally only audible to people in late adolescence or earlier. (Typically those younger than 18 years of age.)
All subjects who listen to this anomalous recording universally report feelings of dread and unease. Subjects who can perceive the underlying harmonics experience this to a substantially greater degree, and may experience depression, suicidal ideation, paranoia, and, in a minority of cases, aggressive acting out.
All these symptoms appear to derive from a disconnect between the subject and reality. In many cases this disconnect remains subliminal and subject never progresses beyond a vague feeling of the world being unreal. In cases where the initial symptoms are severe due to perception of the recording's underlying harmonics, the subject may become conscious of this disconnect. This will manifest as livid fantasies and what subjects term "uneasy dreams" about unreal environments. These imagined environments share several common characteristics:
Landscapes and architecture show impossible geometries that are difficult to verbalize, possibly as a result of mapping higher-order spatial dimensions onto three-dimensional sensory perceptions.
Environments contain malevolent entities described in various ritualistic and contradictory ways; "seen and unseen," "living and unliving," "nowhere and everywhere," and similar.
The act of perception in these environments is associated with physical pain, often resembling a severe migraine.
These environments seem hyper-real to the subjects experiencing them.
Once subjects become aware of this imagined environment, their perception of it becomes obsessive and progressively more intense over time. Once a subject reaches this stage, they will continue to experience these fantasies and dreams regardless of any therapeutic, chemical or surgical intervention yet attempted. The perceptions of this environment will erode the subject's ability to interact with the world around them, eventually intruding on the waking conscious mind until the subject can only react to elements within the fantasy.
These symptoms may occur when listening to the recording backward or forward, though they present more intensely when the recording is heard as it is naturally played on SCP-1666, backwards. Analog recordings of SCP-1666 will also show these effects to a lesser extent. Digital copies do not seem to present the same dangers.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1666 " by sandrewswann, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1666 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 1 | ## tested with level 4 authorization. All such tests must be non-invasive in nature. Audio equipment used with SCP-1666 must be inspected and approved by the site director prior to testing. Digital and analog audio recordings of SCP-1666 may be used for testing by any research personnel with level 3 approval.
Description: SCP-1666 is a LP album by ████ ████████ titled ████████ ██ ███ and released by ███ Records in the United States in 198█. Labeling of both SCP-1666 and its original packaging indicates no differences from any other albums produced in the same batch that includes SCP-1666, though no other copies of ████████ ██ ███ seem to share SCP-1666’s anomalous properties.
Unlike any other copies of ████████ ██ ███ so far examined, SCP-1666 shows an abnormal topology in the layout of the musical tracks recorded on its surface. In particular, track number five of ████████ ██ ███, titled “███████ ████████”, shows grooves that have apparently twisted in on themselves through a higher-order spatial dimension resulting in a configuration analogous to a Möbius strip. The result of this is that when played on a standard record player from the beginning of the album, the needle will skip directly from track four to track six. However, when the needle is placed anywhere in track five, the player will begin an endless loop, first playing track five as originally released, then reversing and playing a recording of unknown origin as the needle moves backward to the beginning of track five, at which point it begins playing the standard track five again.
While the anomalous recording on SCP-1666 bears a superficial resemblance to track five played in reverse, it is a completely new recording and, when reversed itself, contains different lyrics and instrumentation than the standard recording of “███████ ████████.” These new vocals are in an as-yet unidentified language. Voice-print analysis confirms that the new track shares no vocalists in common with the rest of the album. In addition to differing lyrics and instrumentation, the anomalous recording also contains several harmonics in frequencies that are generally only audible to people in late adolescence or earlier. (Typically those younger than 18 years of age.)
All subjects who listen to this anomalous recording universally report feelings of dread and unease. Subjects who can perceive the underlying harmonics experience this to a substantially greater degree, and may experience depression, suicidal ideation, paranoia, and, in a minority of cases, aggressive acting out.
All these symptoms appear to derive from a disconnect between the subject and reality. In many cases this disconnect remains subliminal and subject never progresses beyond a vague feeling of the world being unreal. In cases where the initial symptoms are severe due to perception of the recording's underlying harmonics, the subject may become conscious of this disconnect. This will manifest as livid fantasies and what subjects term "uneasy dreams" about unreal environments. These imagined environments share several common characteristics:
Landscapes and architecture show impossible geometries that are difficult to verbalize, possibly as a result of mapping higher-order spatial dimensions onto three-dimensional sensory perceptions.
Environments contain malevolent entities described in various ritualistic and contradictory ways; "seen and unseen," "living and unliving," "nowhere and everywhere," and similar.
The act of perception in these environments is associated with physical pain, often resembling a severe migraine.
These environments seem hyper-real to the subjects experiencing them.
Once subjects become aware of this imagined environment, their perception of it becomes obsessive and progressively more intense over time. Once a subject reaches this stage, they will continue to experience these fantasies and dreams regardless of any therapeutic, chemical or surgical intervention yet attempted. The perceptions of this environment will erode the subject's ability to interact with the world around them, eventually intruding on the waking conscious mind until the subject can only react to elements within the fantasy.
These symptoms may occur when listening to the recording backward or forward, though they present more intensely when the recording is heard as it is naturally played on SCP-1666, backwards. Analog recordings of SCP-1666 will also show these effects to a lesser extent. Digital copies do not seem to present the same dangers.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1666 " by sandrewswann, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1666 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
log-vanguard-licensing-rejections | Log of Vanguard Licensing Rejections - SCP Foundation | tale | Hello! If you're reading this, then we welcome you to Vanguard's Legal & Licensing department!
Ever since we revealed ourselves to the public, Vanguard has received a lot of requests to license, document, and/or artistically depict material under our organization's umbrella, from the VNPs we have on file to our past as the SCP Foundation.
However, just because our organization is public doesn't mean anything about us is free for anyone to use. All documentation and information is released under a Vanguard Public License , which means they are free to view and reproduce, but derivative for-profit works must follow Vanguard guidelines.
The three guidelines are as follows:
The information must only be presented in non-fictional and educational contexts, such as history books, biographies, and documentaries.
Coverage of sapient living individuals requires the consent of all parties involved. Coverage of deceased individuals is exempt, except for cases in which they are represented by an estate or next-of-kin .
The media must not present the information in misleading or false/untrue lights.
These guidelines are non-negotiable and unwavering.
Now, due to some incidents caused by prior members of VL&L, let me list what the guidelines are not for:
Stifling of public discussion about Vanguard and/or its past
Pursuing creatives (professional or amateur) who do not sell their works for profit
Libel and/or slander litigations against comedians, meme creators, internet posts, etc.
We are not against people making fun of us or our past, being uninformed, or creating art. We simply do not wish for people to maliciously spread misinformation about Vanguard and our predecessor organization.
Anyway, this page is meant as documentation of licensing proposals that we have rejected in one way or another. This information is not applicable with the Vanguard Public License, and remains confidential to Vanguard Legal & Licensing. Dissemination of the contents of these pages is subject to disciplinary action.
If you have any further questions, please don't hesitate to reach out to me at gro.draugnav.lagel|ztakpp#gro.draugnav.lagel|ztakpp .
Penny Katz , Head of Vanguard's Legal and Licensing department
+ Out-of-universe guidelines for adding to this page
- Close guidelines
Please follow this format when adding new entries to this list:
Rejection Case #: (three strings of 5 alphanumeric characters, separated by dashes)
Name of Licensee: (insert name here)
Requested Vanguard Material: (insert VNP or other Vanguard/SCPF-related material here)
Type of Media: (Insert media type here)
Intent: (Insert licensees' intentions for the material here)
Rejection Reason: (Violation of Guideline 1/2/3 and/or Other (Specify))
Notes: (If applicable; this is where you can be a little snarky, if you want C: )
Use this code to add to the list:
Rejection Case #:
Name of Licensee:
Requested Vanguard Material:
Type of Media:
Intent:
Rejection Reason:
Notes:
Please post new entries chronologically. Do not do format screws or anything that'd give the Licensing Team headaches.
AlienSpaceBat will prune anything that doesn't fit the spirit of this page, and will provide reasoning in the discussion page.
Have fun!
Rejection Case #: SXJXO-KZLDP-J9TQM
Name of Licensee: The Walt Disney Company and Hearst Communications, via ESPN, Inc.
Requested Vanguard Material: VNP-1733
Type of Media: Documentary
Intent: Documenting the history of VNP-1733, as well as reactions by members of the Boston Celtics, Miami Heat, and the public to the actions recorded and depicted within.
Rejection Reason: Violation of Guideline 3 (Companies expressed desire of editorializing and sanitizing VNP-1733's contents and reactions towards it).
Rejection Case #: VLBVK-5N7AP-RR3H8
Name of Licensee: HBO
Requested Vanguard Material: Documentation regarding Lighthouse-17 and the actions it undertook under the Foundation
Type of Media: Four-part docudrama miniseries
Intent: Detailing the history of the former Site-17, with reenactments of key moments
Rejection Reason: Violation of Guideline 2 (a majority of subjects either rejected or were unable to give consent to being documented), Violation of Guideline 3 (dramatic licensing required would result in whitewashing and/or downplaying of certain elements)
Rejection Case #: HOP2R-EV2PW-2AEZ4
Name of Licensee: Comcast Corporation, Via NBCUniversal, LLC
Requested Vanguard Material: Documentation involving Thomas Yaltz
Type of Media: Multimedia
Intent: Creation of a multimedia universe based off of Mr. Yaltz's life and experiences, comprised of movies, television shows, animation, games, toys, etc.
Rejection Reason: Violation of Guideline 1 (e.g. licensee expressed desire for drastic dramatic licensing for "the sake of entertainment"), Violation of Guideline 2 (Acquiring universal consent from multiversal and extradimensional beings encountered by Mr. Yaltz is deemed to be impossible), Violation of Guideline 3 (e.g. Vanguard and the Foundation would be consistently presented in a comedically incompetent and "stuffy" light)
Notes: Mr. Yaltz was noticeably saddened upon being informed of the rejection, having been in preliminary discussions with NBCUniversal representatives beforehand. A compromise - wherein Mr. Yaltz would be allowed to be a special guest on Saturday Night Live, minus the inclusion of other Vanguard/Foundation material - was reached. - Penny Katz
Rejection Case #: W6NVM-LPPN9-6BTH7
Name of Licensee: Netflix, Inc.
Requested Vanguard Material: Documentation of SCP-1730
Type of Media: Streaming movie
Intent: Creation of a dramatic documentary regarding the discovery and disaster of SCP-1730 with the dual intentions of honoring those deceased and encouraging further public interest in SCP-1730, potentially leading to the recovery of further information regarding the incident.
Rejection Reason: Violation of Guideline 1 (e.g. licensee expressed desire for dramatic reenactment under the stated intention of "encouraging further public interest), Guideline 2 (former MTF Tau-5 Lead Irantu expressed disinterest in the project when informed by the Vanguard)
Notes: They didn't even use the correct terminology in their stated Intent. - Penny Katz | 22 | ["bureaucracy", "collaboration", "grabnok", "no-return", "tale", "worldbuilding"] | 2025-11-03T16:37:00 | 6,279 | 915 | 0 | ||||||
looking-ahead | Looking Ahead - SCP Foundation | tale | An old man sat at his desk. The beeping and buzzing of the lab in the adjoining room produced a repetitive tune. He looked at the pictures on his desk. A melancholy smile crept on his lips.
"Hey, Jake."
The man looked up. A colleague stood in the doorway.
"You wanted me to swing by. What's up?"
"Afternoon, Roland," the man replied. "Go ahead and close the door."
He waited for his colleague to take a seat.
"How's Lyssa?"
"Can't complain," his colleague chuckled. "How about you? Kate? The kids?"
"Fine, as always," the man said.
The two men paused. The beeping and buzzing of the adjoining lab filled the gap.
"So. What's up?" his colleague eventually asked.
The man sighed and looked once more over the pictures on his desk.
Family. Old friends.
"Do you think after I'm gone, someone will still mention me?" the man asked. "Like, twenty years from now, they'll say 'Conwell sure had a solid lab. A lot of great publications came out of there' or something?"
His colleague raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Sure. You've done some solid work."
The man looked at his colleague and sighed. Then tilted his head.
"I mean, I don't know," his colleague continued. "A lot of great stuff gets swept under the rug here, absorbed into bigger projects, or just forgotten under a pile of more noteworthy publications. If we wanted to be rock stars, the Foundation wasn't an ideal employer."
The man nodded.
"I think it’s time," he finally said.
"Time?"
"Time."
His colleague frowned and looked down at the floor in thought.
"I guess I've got to at least ask why."
The man looked around. His chair made a few revolutions.
"There is just not a lot here for me anymore." The man shrugged.
"Bullshit. I know for a fact you're constantly publishing. Synth orders come in all the time."
The man shook his head.
"That's not what I meant."
"Christ, Jake, what the hell did you mean then?"
"Look around you, Roland. Everyone's left."
The man counted on his fingers.
"Zach. Ed. Jean. Dan. Rose. Hell, even Adileh and Arvind went their own ways. This was never about the fame, Roland. This was always about the people I worked with. They made the job tolerable. Enjoyable, even. And they helped me through a lot of tough spots."
His colleague closed his eyes and nodded.
"I'm still here though," he said in a low voice. "I'll notice if you leave."
"That's part of what makes this so hard."
His colleague's lips briefly curved up.
"What the hell will you even do once you're gone? Golf?"
"I don't know. Spend more time with Kate. Spend more time with Zach and Carrie. Maybe there is more for me to do here. Maybe not. But it’s time to put a signature on the damn thing and walk away before my wheels spin too much."
The man then stood and offered a handshake. His colleague accepted.
"You're a good man, Roland," he said. "The best friend I ever had. Promise me you'll look after the place."
"I can't imagine anyone will do more damage to it than you did," his colleague chuckled.
A final pause.
"You're shit at goodbyes, you know that."
"Kate's said as much. Maybe that's something I can work on."
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Looking Ahead " by Jacob Conwell, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/looking-ahead . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 44 | ["_licensebox", "researcher-conwell", "slice-of-life", "tale", "twisted-pines"] | 2018-08-09T11:24:00 | 3,449 | 609 | 0 | ||||||
dance-the-danse | Dance The Danse - SCP Foundation | tale | Halloween is a special time in Sloth's Pit. It is the time that creatures of the night walk in the day, and the legends of the world dance.
The Eight Rings was the biggest- and the only- night club in the town of Sloth's Pit. It was named after the grove it was built on, which got the name due to the fact that eight fairy rings dotted the grove, forming an almost perfect circle, or rather, an octogram. Now, the Eight Rings was famous for three things: their mozzarella sticks, the abundant amounts of ecstasy, and their Halloween parties.
It was for this reason that the man clad in black was going here. He sucked on his tobacco pipe, his fedora concealing his features, and his long, black coat trailing down to his feet. This, however, was not his costume; the man in black had decided to go as himself, and would be meeting with several others who were doing the same. It was time for the yearly Dance.
A loud hum rang in the man's ears as he pushed through the door of the nightclub, the pseudo-techno beat of the music pounding in his ears. He took off his coat, revealing a rather classy-looking black suit, with a red shirt and black bowtie. Taking off his hat, the stranger revealed the mask that was his face: the head of a goat, with short horns and yellow eyes with hourglass pupils.
The Goatman had arrived.
Halloween is the time of year that the legends are strongest. It's not for the reason you think; it's not because of some witch's sabbath or the worlds of magic and reality coming together. It's because that, at Halloween, the most stories are told, and the imagination of the town is the most active.
The Eight Rings was full of costumed patrons. Most of them were generic; crappy vampire fangs, a bad witch's hat, a werewolf mask that one could barely breathe through, or an ironically immature "adult" costume. A few people had actually bothered, though; a Harry Potter was there with a Ginny Weasley, both wearing handmade robes and custom-crafted wands. In the corner, Slenderman towered over the crowd, lifting up his face occasionally so he could eat some fried cheese. There was even a woman there dressed as a satyr, which made the Goatman smile; not the same species, but close enough.
"All right, Humbug," said the Goatman, walking through the club and apparently talking to himself, "Where is everyone?"
Hooky is near the bar along with The Lizardman, said the Hum, a phantom noise that, at the moment, only he could hear. Sinning Jessie is with one of the Gallows Ghosts in one of the booths. And the King of Knives is…
"Boo." The Goatman spun around to face a man wearing a rather nasty Chelsea grin, revealing decaying teeth, his body adorned with several bandoliers and knives, all spattered in blood. The King of Knives had been the favored boogieman in Sloth's Pit since the 1890's, when the murderer Joseph Macek was hung. The King was the Legend of Macek given form, and would slaughter children in their sleep if they were naughty. He was now largely a campfire story, like most of the Legends of Sloth's Pit.
"Hello, Joseph. Staying out of trouble, I hope?" The Goatman continued chewing on his pipe; like everywhere else in this town nowadays, the Eight Rings was non-smoking, excepting a room in the back.
"Yes, yes, yes. Ol' Joe is behavin'. Not killed in a while." He nodded furiously, and took the Goatman's arm. "Comeon. Sebastian and Lovebird are waitin'." He dragged the Goatman over to the bar.
"Hey, Goats!" Sebastian, the Hook-handed man, raised his stump of a hand towards him; said stump was currently covered by a fake pirate hook. "I read about you in the papers a few months back! I thought the Plastic Fanatics woulda caught ya for sure!"
The Goatman snorted. "The Fanatics couldn't catch a Hodag with its feet tied in an empty room." He pulled himself up the the bar, sitting next to Lovebird, one of the few lizardmen that still inhabited this town. "How're you holding up, then, L.B.?"
"It'sssss difficult," hissed the reptile being. "Jussst look at me. I look more man than lizard now." And indeed, he did; he looked like a human that was simply covered in scales, as if he had some kind of bizarre medical condition or was wearing full-body makeup that made it look like he had one.
"How many are here?" asked Macek, toying with one of his rather anachronistic combat knives, which earned him a look of disdain from Dracula the Bartender. "All of us is four…"
"Jessie and one of the ghosts are here, according to Humbug," the Goatman pointed at thin air. "So that's six. The Hum makes seven…" He frowned. "We need one more."
"Where are we going to get one more?" asked Sebastian, fiddling with his hook. "Eight of us have to dance, and last I checked, the only viable candidate is the Melonheads. They aren't allowed in because they look like kids!"
"They're older than me," grumbled the Goatman, with an almost bitter note to his voice. "We'll worry about it in a bit. For now… I'm thirsty. Bartender, a mojito please." Dracula the Bartender didn't even bother to card the Goatman, and mixed him the drink.
We could always ask Mary, chimed the Hum, which caused all the assembled legends to groan. What? She's one of us.
"Bloody Mary is not an option," Sebastian stated firmly, tapping his hook against the bar. "Unless you're talking about the drink, in which case, I'm all for it."
Lovebird nodded in assent. "Sssshe tried to break into one of the sssschools in town. Sssssome dumb third grader sssssaid her name in the bathroom."
"Really?" said the Goatman, looking up from his drink. "What happened?"
"The Fanaticssss had to be called in," said Lovebird. "A kid wasss maimed, but they're all right now. Mary'sss back in the mirrors." The lizard shook his head. "Sssso, no. Mary is a last resssort, at bessst. We ssstill have a while until midnight, anyway…"
The shadow in the alley could be the King of Knives about to jump out at you just as easily as it could be a stray cat. The people in the town's square in period garb could be real, or they could be one of the several Gallows Ghosts. Is that really the TV you heard in the bathroom, or was Bloody Mary whispering at you to let her out of your mirror?
The Goatman eventually wandered away from the bar, over to the booth where Jessie and the Ghost were. The ghost, he saw, was that of a woman, probably hung for theft; she waved at the Goatman silently, getting up to join the rest of the Legends at the bar. He sat down next to Sinning- or was it Singing?- Jessie. "Jessica."
"Capricorn." The Goatman frowned; he really did hate that nickname. "How goes it?" Jessie sounded almost… bitter. The Goatman couldn't blame her; having your legend decay was a painful experience.
"It goes, it goes." He shook his head. "Humbug told me about your… dilemma. You have my condolences."
Jessie turned away, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. She was supposed to be wearing a costume that made her look like a lady of the night circa 1880 or so, but now, she looked… bland. She was wearing a costume that made her look like a simple, generic ghost; blood around the mouth, a tattered wedding dress, and hair that looked like it was billowing in the breeze.
" Singing Jessie. Singing ." She sniffed. "I'm not a god-damn banshee, Goats. That's what they're reimagining me as, you know. A forebearer of death. I used to be the fear of sex itself; bed me and you would get your dick eaten." She rubbed her face. "Now I'm just another spook in the night." The Goatman put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Legends change, Jessica. You, Joseph and Sebastian should consider yourselves lucky; at least you still have your stories told."
Jessica sighed, rubbing an eye."I want my old legend back. Sebastian is at least published, and Macek is based on an actual person. Me? I'm a story conjured up to try and get people to stop buying sex." She leaned against the Goatman and sighed dramatically. "I just hope I remember when I was like that after… after I've changed."
"Jessica… I truly am sorry." He awkwardly wrapped his arms around Jessica in a hug, which she returned, before pulling away. "…have you picked out a dance partner for tonight?"
At midnight on Halloween, the monsters of the town assemble at the Grove of the Eight Rings and each stand in one of the rings. Then, they start their dance. They say you can find them all dancing in peace in the grove, their differences forgotten. If a human is to enter the grove, then they will be freely admitted into the dance, and awake in the middle of the woods, reborn as a monster.
"For the last time," said the Goatman to the Hum, "we are not calling Bloody Mary." The Goatman had withdrawn into the bathroom of the Eight Rings, which was empty except for the "werewolf" in the corner, who was probably tripping balls.
It'll even it out, though, mumbled the Hum. I'm genderless, Jessica and the Ghost are both women… and the dance starts in 15 minutes! We don't have a choice.
"What about the werefrogs?" asked the Goatman. "Or-or the Queen of the Hoop Snakes? She's in town, right?"
Left yesterday, sighed the Hum. Come on. I'll get rid of the day tripper over there, and you call her. With that, the Hum started talking to the fake werewolf, and the Goatman shut off the lights in the bathroom, looking in one of the cracked mirrors.
"Bloody Mary," he intoned once. "Bloody Mary." Twice. "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary!" A ghost leaped from the mirror, screaming at the Goatman, all covered in dripping blood, her hair ragged and ruffled. She couldn't have been more than 16 when she died in front of her mirror, but here she was… Bloody Mary Thompson.
"Oh ho ho. The Goatman of Sloth's Pit." Bloody Mary stepped out of the mirror and onto the tile floor, grinning. "What is it you want, hmm? Do you finally want to overthrow the influence of the Plasti-"
"The Dance is tonight, Mary." The Goatman stamped his hoof. "We need an eighth. You're the only one we can contact. So cut the spooky nonsense for one night and dance."
The ghostly girl grinned. "Very well then. For the sake of your silly tradition, I shall dance. Tell me, whom will I be dancing with?"
The Goatman thought for a moment, before deciding.
"The King of Knives is in need of a partner. I daresay the two of you suit each other quite well. Just… don't get any blood on the dance floor." As he said this, Bloody Mary seemed to transform; she was now wearing a bright red witch's outfit, complete with stereotypical hat and a broomstick. "…what an appropriate choice… but I would replace the "w" with a "b"."
Bloody Mary stuck her tongue out at him. "Happy Halloween, Goatman." She cackled, and walked out of the restroom, the Goatman following after.
The monsters dance their dance until dawn. Nobody knows why the monsters and myths dance, only the monsters know. It happens every year; maybe you, too, will see the Monsters dance in the woods of Wisconsin.
It was midnight. The DJ, who had dressed himself to look like a zombie, put on Danse Macabre . It was a cliche song choice, but rather appropriate. With that, as with every year, the dance floor cleared. Nobody knew why the dance floor was cleared at midnight, and why only seven people were ever on it during this time; it was just club tradition.
Seven people that were visible, and an eighth that wasn't but was omnipresent, partnered up and began waltzing. The witch with the psychopath, the goat with the girl, the hook-handed man with the ghost, and the lizard man seemingly danced alone. Halfway through the song, they began speaking.
"Now we dance the dance of tales," said the males, looking at their partners, or in Lovebird's case, at thin air.
"So we may be told again," replied the females, as well as the hum, who was audible to all. The newcomers in the audience looked around, confused at the origin of the humming voice.
"For our beings to survive…"
"Our stories must never end."
"Wonder-born by word of mouth-"
"As the ageless stars do soar-"
"May you stand the tides of time-"
"And remain forevermore," said all of the Legends in unison, turning towards the entrance of the Eight Rings. They raised their hands, hooked their arms, and exited with their partners in a procession, the audience applauding, some of them confused.
Outside the club, the Legends all looked at each other, and bowed. Bloody Mary, her purpose spent, disappeared to the space behind mirrors from whence she came. Sebastian, the Hook-handed man, and Joseph, King of Knives, went off into the woods. The Goatman walked with Sinning/Singing Jessie, while Lovebird the Lizardman dove into the sewer grate near the nightclub. The Gallows Ghost simply vanished, while the Hum kept humming.
"Capricorn," Jessica looked at the Goatman. "Do you think the dance really does anything?"
"I don't know," the Goatman admitted. "My father always said that the dance was vital to our survival. He did it every year with some of the other Legends that were around back then. Just like grandad did before him." He shook his head mournfully, and then looked at Jessie, a smile crossing his face. "It at least raises morale. I mean, just look at yourself."
Sinning Jessie looked down at her clothing; they had gone from being tattered, ethereal rags to a rather scandalous dress. Well, scandalous if you lived back in the 1800s. Bright red, with a purple sash around the middle, and a corset visible underneath the ensemble. She gasped. "…how long will it last?"
The Goatman shrugged. "Probably a night or two. Enjoy it the best you can." He shook his head, patting Jessica on the shoulder. "Happy Halloween, Sinning Jessie."
"Happy Halloween to you, Goatman." The Goatman turned, lighting his pipe and walking off into the woods.
"See you next year?"
"Sooner, if I can help it!" The Goatman disappeared into the darkness of the morning of All Hallow's Day.
| Hub |
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Dance The Danse " by (user deleted), from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/dance-the-danse . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 160 | ["_licensebox", "event-featured", "fantasy", "halloween", "s&c-plastics", "tale"] | 2013-10-27T02:11:00 | 14,259 | 2,523 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-195 | SCP-195 | scp | Item #: SCP-195
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: One case containing seventeen (17) bottles of SCP-195 exists in Foundation custody. It is kept in a number three Secure Containment Locker unit in the Safe-class storage section of Site-1279. Access to SCP-195 requires written authorisation from no fewer than two Level Four personnel and accompaniment by a member of site security. Due to the untested possibility of exposure due to the inhalation of evaporated SCP-195, access requires full level-C HAZMAT kit including respirator gear.
It is possible that further instances of SCP-195 exist. All recovery agents are advised to make note of bottles of similar style or bearing similar labels to contained samples of SCP-195, as well as [REDACTED]. Should further instances of SCP-195 be discovered, they are to be collected by a temporary containment team in full HAZMAT kit including respirators.
Description: SCP-195 is a "medicinal whiskey" sold by a pair of traveling salesmen in the pre-Civil War South. Various historical sources agree that the "whiskey" was targeted primarily to the slavecatchers of that era, and was advertised as having "mind-enhancing" properties. These sources agree that the salesmen were often driven out of town when the side effects of their concoction were discovered, and were "…hanged for their devilsh ways [ sic ]" on at least two occasions.
When a subject consumes any quantity of SCP-195, they will initially react in a manner consistent with the consumption of an equal quantity of "gutrot" whiskey or moonshine. Within a short span of time (time frame varies by subject), they begin to experience heightened awareness and increased sensory input (taste, touch, smell, et cetera). This effect of the "whiskey" was advertised by its salesmen and was the reason for its target audience. With this heightened sensory capability, however, comes a general decrease in impulse control and heightened fight-or-flight response which has, in testing, been shown to lead to markedly increased levels of violent behavior. This response is theorized to explain the brutality shown by [DATA EXPUNGED].
D-Class under the effect of SCP-195 were capable of and willing to [DATA EXPUNGED]ing to enjoy the violence of the act. D-183578 (first-degree murder, rape; terminated) expressed a desire to "rip the █████'s head off with my teeth" [ sic ]. Further testing on the capacities of SCP-195 is deemed unnecessary. Late research assistant Renfield has been posthumously awarded a Foundation citation for performance above and beyond the requirements of duty.
D-12322 (protocol 12) one month after consuming a bottle of SCP-195
After the "whiskey's" effects wear off, the test subjects will generally return to normal, with the exception of those who [DATA EXPUNGED]. Within a month, however, all subjects will experience a generalized feeling of ennui coupled with fatigue. MRI scans at this stage show development of ulcer-like wounds in the stomach and lungs. These continue to spread indefinitely until the death of the subject. Additionally, the subject's skin and muscle structure begins to degrade, particularly around points of stress or motion. This degradation also continues indefinitely or until the death of the subject.
SCP-195 was discovered by the ██-year-old son of a historian in ██████, Alabama, in late 20██. Mr. ████████'s arrest and sentencing for the murder of [REDACTED] was an item of minor interest in local news in the area. The Foundation became interested in Mr. ████████'s case when he was admitted to a hospital, at which point the unusual degradation of his skin and organs was noted by Foundation informants in the medical community and traced back to an antebellum home where he had assisted his father in cataloging various items of historical interest. A Foundation team was dispatched to the home and located an open case containing ██ bottles of SCP-195.
Addendum: Historical sources' descriptions of the salesmen seem to agree that one man was blond and unusually tall while the other had dark hair and walked with a stoop. Both men had "…strange bright eyes [ sic ]" and wore matching ████████. [REDACTED] match current Fac[DATA EXPUNGED] remain uncaptured. All personnel are reminded that the capture [DATA EXPUNGED]vel six priority.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-195 " by tunedtoadeadchannel, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-195 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: acidface.jpg
Name: Scarlet hyperclose
Author: sleetwealth
License: CC BY-SA 3.0 (used with permission)
Source Link: Flickr | 61 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "alcohol", "euclid", "liquid", "mind-affecting", "scp", "sensory", "transfiguration"] | 2010-07-25T01:42:00 | 4,797 | 753 | SCP-195 | Euclid | One case containing seventeen (17) bottles of SCP-195 exists in Foundation custody. It is kept in a number three Secure Containment Locker unit in the Safe-class storage section of Site-1279. Access to SCP-195 requires written authorisation from no fewer than two Level Four personnel and accompaniment by a member of site security. Due to the untested possibility of exposure due to the inhalation of evaporated SCP-195, access requires full level-C HAZMAT kit including respirator gear.
It is possible that further instances of SCP-195 exist. All recovery agents are advised to make note of bottles of similar style or bearing similar labels to contained samples of SCP-195, as well as [REDACTED]. Should further instances of SCP-195 be discovered, they are to be collected by a temporary containment team in full HAZMAT kit including respirators. | SCP-195 is a "medicinal whiskey" sold by a pair of traveling salesmen in the pre-Civil War South. Various historical sources agree that the "whiskey" was targeted primarily to the slavecatchers of that era, and was advertised as having "mind-enhancing" properties. These sources agree that the salesmen were often driven out of town when the side effects of their concoction were discovered, and were "…hanged for their devilsh ways [ sic ]" on at least two occasions.
When a subject consumes any quantity of SCP-195, they will initially react in a manner consistent with the consumption of an equal quantity of "gutrot" whiskey or moonshine. Within a short span of time (time frame varies by subject), they begin to experience heightened awareness and increased sensory input (taste, touch, smell, et cetera). This effect of the "whiskey" was advertised by its salesmen and was the reason for its target audience. With this heightened sensory capability, however, comes a general decrease in impulse control and heightened fight-or-flight response which has, in testing, been shown to lead to markedly increased levels of violent behavior. This response is theorized to explain the brutality shown by [DATA EXPUNGED].
D-Class under the effect of SCP-195 were capable of and willing to [DATA EXPUNGED]ing to enjoy the violence of the act. D-183578 (first-degree murder, rape; terminated) expressed a desire to "rip the █████'s head off with my teeth" [ sic ]. Further testing on the capacities of SCP-195 is deemed unnecessary. Late research assistant Renfield has been posthumously awarded a Foundation citation for performance above and beyond the requirements of duty.
D-12322 (protocol 12) one month after consuming a bottle of SCP-195
After the "whiskey's" effects wear off, the test subjects will generally return to normal, with the exception of those who [DATA EXPUNGED]. Within a month, however, all subjects will experience a generalized feeling of ennui coupled with fatigue. MRI scans at this stage show development of ulcer-like wounds in the stomach and lungs. These continue to spread indefinitely until the death of the subject. Additionally, the subject's skin and muscle structure begins to degrade, particularly around points of stress or motion. This degradation also continues indefinitely or until the death of the subject.
SCP-195 was discovered by the ██-year-old son of a historian in ██████, Alabama, in late 20██. Mr. ████████'s arrest and sentencing for the murder of [REDACTED] was an item of minor interest in local news in the area. The Foundation became interested in Mr. ████████'s case when he was admitted to a hospital, at which point the unusual degradation of his skin and organs was noted by Foundation informants in the medical community and traced back to an antebellum home where he had assisted his father in cataloging various items of historical interest. A Foundation team was dispatched to the home and located an open case containing ██ bottles of SCP-195. | 1 | ## testing on the capacities of SCP-195 is deemed unnecessary. Late research assistant Renfield has been posthumously awarded a Foundation citation for performance above and beyond the requirements of duty.
D-12322 (protocol 12) one month after consuming a bottle of SCP-195
After the "whiskey's" effects wear off, the test subjects will generally return to normal, with the exception of those who [DATA EXPUNGED]. Within a month, however, all subjects will experience a generalized feeling of ennui coupled with fatigue. MRI scans at this stage show development of ulcer-like wounds in the stomach and lungs. These continue to spread indefinitely until the death of the subject. Additionally, the subject's skin and muscle structure begins to degrade, particularly around points of stress or motion. This degradation also continues indefinitely or until the death of the subject.
SCP-195 was discovered by the ██-year-old son of a historian in ██████, Alabama, in late 20██. Mr. ████████'s arrest and sentencing for the murder of [REDACTED] was an item of minor interest in local news in the area. The Foundation became interested in Mr. ████████'s case when he was admitted to a hospital, at which point the unusual degradation of his skin and organs was noted by Foundation informants in the medical community and traced back to an antebellum home where he had assisted his father in cataloging various items of historical interest. A Foundation team was dispatched to the home and located an open case containing ██ bottles of SCP-195. | |
SCP-5208 | SCP-5208 | scp | ADULT CONTENT
This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers.
Sexual References: Features sexual themes or language, without the depiction of sexual acts.
Sexually Explicit: Description of sexual acts.
Sexual Assault: Features non-consensual sexual acts.
Gore: Depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts.
Child Abuse: Features severe mistreatment of children.
Self-Harm: Description of self-harm.
Suicide: Description of suicide.
Torture: Description of torture.
{$custom-content}
If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.
Continue
Back to Front Page
#page-content .collapsible-block {
position: relative ;
padding: 0.5 em ;
margin: 0.5 em ;
box-shadow: 2 px 1.5 px 1 px rgba( 176 , 16 , 0 , 0.7 ), 0 0 0 px 1 px lightgrey ;
overflow-wrap: break-word ;
}
.collapsible-block-unfolded {
color: black ;
overflow-wrap: break-word ;
}
.collapsible-block-unfolded-link {
text-align: center ;
}
.collapsible-block-folded {
text-align: center ;
color: dimgrey ;
}
.collapsible-block-link {
font-weight: bold ;
color: dimgrey ;
text-align: center ;
}
.addendumbox {
padding: .01 em 16 px ;
margin-bottom: 16 px ;
margin-top: 16 px ;
padding-bottom: 1 em ;
box-shadow: 0 2 px 5 px 0 rgba( 0 , 0 , 0 , 0.16 ), 0 2 px 10 px 0 rgba( 0 , 0 , 0 , 0.12 ) ;
}
.material-box {
padding: .01 em 16 px ;
margin-bottom: 16 px ;
margin-top: 16 px ;
padding-bottom: 1 em ;
border: 1 px lightgrey solid ;
box-shadow: 1 px 2 px 2 px 0 rgba( 0 , 0 , 0 , 0.16 ) ;
}
.material-box blockquote {
border: 1 px double #999 ;
}
.wiki-content-table {
width: 100 % ;
}
.addendumbox blockquote {
border: 1 px double #999 ;
}
.addendumtitle {
opacity: 0.8 ;
margin-bottom: 10 px ;
color: #b01 ;
}
.maintitle {
margin-bottom: 10 px ;
color: black ;
}
.scp-header {
text-align: center ;
font-size: x-large ;
color: #b01 ;
}
.addenda-header {
width: 100 % ;
border-bottom: 2 px black solid ;
color: black ;
}
.scp-info {
display: flex ;
justify-content: space-between ;
font-size: large ;
}
.scp-info-box {
display: flex ;
justify-content: space-between ;
}
.object-info {
color: black ;
align-self: flex-end ;
font-size: large ;
}
.title-style {
opacity: 0.8 ;
margin-bottom: 10 px ;
color: #b01 ;
font-size: large ;
text-decoration: underline ;
font-weight: bold ;
}
.update-div-empty {
text-align: right ;
font-size: x-small ;
color: lightgrey ;
}
.update-div {
text-align: right ;
font-size: x-small ;
}
.computed {
border: 1 px black solid ;
width: 50 % ;
display: inline-block ;
text-align: left ;
padding: 3 px ;
}
.computed :before {
content: "Computed Code " ;
font-weight: bold ;
border-bottom: solid 1 px black ;
width: 100 % ;
}
.rawcode {
border: black solid 1 px ;
width: 50 % ;
display: inline-block ;
text-align: left ;
padding: 3 px ;
}
.rawcode :before {
content: "Raw Code " ;
text-align: center ;
font-weight: bold ;
border-bottom: solid 1 px black ;
width: 100 % ;
}
.codebox {
display: inline-block ;
width: 100 % ;
text-align: center ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em , .yui-navset .yui-nav a em {
padding: 0.25 em .75 em ;
top: 0 px ;
margin-bottom: 0 px ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a {
background: gray ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected {
margin: 0 px ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a , .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a :focus , .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a :hover , .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a {
background: gray ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a :hover ,
.yui-navset .yui-nav a :focus {
background: gainsboro ;
text-decoration: none ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a , .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a {
background-color: none ;
background-image: none ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav a {
background: none ;
}
.yui-navset .yui-nav li {
margin: 0 px ;
}
#page-content .licensebox .collapsible-block {
position: unset ;
padding: unset ;
margin: unset ;
box-shadow: unset ;
}
.licensebox .collapsible-block-unfolded {
color: inherit ;
}
.licensebox .collapsible-block-unfolded-link {
text-align: left ;
}
.licensebox .collapsible-block-folded {
text-align: left ;
color: inherit ;
}
.licensebox .collapsible-block-link {
color: inherit ;
text-align: left ;
}
close
Info
X
SCP-5208 "Part of Your Balanced Breakfast" by: DrAkimoto
~DrAkimoto's Author Page~
Secure, Contain, Protect
3/5208 LEVEL 3/5208
CLASSIFIED
Item #: SCP-5208
Safe
Special Containment Procedures
All information regarding SCP-5208-Ω's connection to the anomalous and GOI-5208SD has been purged from historic records and all new information is to be discredited or destroyed.
SCP-5208-1 is held within Safe Class Storage Locker 14 at Site-51. SCP-5208-1 is available for testing to Thaumaturge Division personnel with Level 3/5208 Clearance or higher.
All members of the Site-51 Thaumaturgy Division are to consume no less than 45 grams of Kellogg's cornflakes daily.
Description
SCP-5208-Ω.
SCP-5208 is the collective designation given to a series of events and anomalies related to SCP-5208-Ω, an Abrahamic-Thaumaturge and scientist by the name of Dr. John Harvey Kellogg (1852 – 1943). SCP-5208-Ω was a member of a secret esoteric suborder of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church, known as the Knights of the Seventh Day (GOI-5208SD), a group tasked with using anomalous means to covertly promote the church's beliefs. SCP-5208-Ω's efforts to eliminate humanity's "sinful vices" emphasized sexual behavior, specifically masturbation. These efforts lead to the creation of SCP-5208-1, SCP-5208-2, and SCP-5208-3.
SCP-5208-1.
SCP-5208-1 is a 1.5-meter wooden staff featuring a crucifix, used as a conduit for thaumaturgic rituals designed by SCP-5208-Ω. Testing revealed that SCP-5208-1, in combination with specific verbal incantations, amplifies its user's thaumaturgic abilities. Analysis revealed SCP-5208-1 to be composed of Mauritian ebony ( Diospyros tessellaria ) treated with a mixture of ammonia and human blood later confirmed to belong to SCP-5208-Ω. SCP-5208-1 was used by SCP-5208-Ω during the creation of the SCP-5208-2 instances.
SCP-5208-2 are a species of non-corporeal humanoid Null-Class Demonic Entities 1 capable of parasitic propagation through human hosts. Instances of SCP-5208-2 display only rudimentary instinctual behavior, such as survival and procreation. Human individuals within a 3-meter radius of SCP-5208-2 will begin showing signs of increased libido; this effect increases as the distance decreases. Within 1 meter the effect of SCP-5208-2 begins showing one or more of the following symptoms:
Hyperarousal
Vascular engorgement of the genitals
Erection of the penis or mammary papilla
Spontaneous ejaculation
Uncontrollable masturbation 2
Heterosexual and homosexual intercourse 3
Voraphilic and necrophillic behavior
Of these symptoms, uncontrollable masturbation is the most common, with more diverse symptoms manifesting with an increased presence of SCP-5208-2 instances. Prolonged exposure of a non-anomalous human to SCP-5208-2 instances causes a new SCP-5208-2 instance to manifest within the exposed person. After vomiting these new instances, the human hosts have an approximately 22% chance of developing long-term chronic exposure symptoms. SCP-5208-2 show an aversion to human subjects who have consumed a full serving of Kellogg's Corn Flakes with a 24-hour period before exposure. This aversion can be overcome when multiple SCP-5208-2 instances are present.
SCP-5208-Ω used SCP-5208-1 and at least 50 SCP-5208-2 instances to enact a combinatorial process that manifested a new entity. This new entity, designated SCP-5208-3, is a Princeps-Class Demonic Entity 4 claiming the name Asmodeus. Measuring approximately 4 meters tall, SCP-5208-3 has a vaguely humanoid body consisting of a black viscous liquid of unidentifiable composition. SCP-5208-3 has been observed to be capable of speech, teleportation, telekinesis, telepathy, and the creation of new SCP-5208-2 instances 5 .
Will Keith Kellogg.
Discovery
SCP-5208 was brought to the attention of the Foundation on 1927/2/23, by SCP-5208-Ω's biological brother and business partner, Will Keith Kellogg (1860 – 1951). SCP-5208-Ω and Mr. Kellogg directed the Battle Creek Sanitarium 6 from 1876 to 1943; SCP-5208-Ω focused on his duties as a member of the GOI-5208SD and Mr. Kellogg directed the Sanitarium's superficial operations. Mr. Kellogg contacted the Foundation through their mutual acquaintance, Asa Candler , and a meeting was organized between Mr. Kellogg and Foundation Investigative Agent James Mueller.
■ SCP-5208 Interview 1 | Will Kellogg ■
□ Interview 1 | SCP-5208/A-1 □
Audio Log Transcript
Date: 1927/2/23
Interviewer: FIA James Mueller
Interviewed: Will Keith Kellogg
[BEGIN LOG]
Mueller: Mr. Kellogg, are you ready to begin?
Kellogg: Remains silent.
Mueller: Is there an issue, sir?
Kellogg: I was told your organization practices discretion; I can't afford to be connected to this.
Mueller: Ah yes, rest assured this recording is for our records and nothing else.
Kellogg: I suppose that's okay, if you insist.
Mueller: Now, why have you called this meeting Mr. Kellogg? Mr. Candler spoke of an imminent threat.
Kellogg: It's my brother. I fear he is in over his head.
Mueller: You're going to need to be more specific, Mr. Kellogg.
Kellogg: My brother is Dr. John Kellogg, he is the Director of the Battle Creek Sanitarium. He's been secretly working for a group called the Knights of the Seventh Day. He has been for a long time now, but things are different. He's changed.
Mueller: We have been investigating the organization for some time now. What–
Kellogg: He's not a bad man. They're trying to do good, I know they are. But this work, those cursed texts have corrupted him. He's blinded by devotion; he can't even see it all unraveling around him.
Mueller: What exactly is your brother's connection with this organization?
Kellogg: His position is known as a Knight Commander, one of seven as I understood it. He has been tasked with the elimination of the sin of lust.
Mueller: As a concept?
Kellogg: As if I would know– I thought it was just a fraternity when I first learned of it years ago. It wasn't until the weird experiments started that I really saw they were doing. Magic, not your Houdini type magic mind you, but real magic. The last few years though…he's changed. He filled an entire wing at Battle Creek with victims of whatever is going on.
Mueller: Does your brother know of your… "concerns"?
Kellogg: He won't listen to me. I could only imagine what he would do if he found out I've come to you for help.
Mueller: I understand, Mr. Kellogg. So, what exactly have you called this meeting to accomplish?
Kellogg: I don't want my brother getting hurt, not by you and certainly not by whatever he's gotten himself wrapped up in. I don't understand the esoteric ways of my brother, I never have– but your organization does, or so I have been told.
Mueller: What exactly do you fear will happen to your brother?
Kellogg: The Church is demanding results; they think he's lost control of the situation and wants to see it rectified. I know my brother is planning something big and I just don't want anything happening to him. He's lost his way– I just want him guided back.
Mueller: I see. Mr. Kellogg, if you'll give me a moment I need to speak with my supervisor.
Kellogg: Will you help him? I'm willing to pay, money is not a–
Mueller: Do not worry about a thing, we'll handle it from here.
[END LOG]
Afterword: Will Kellogg was released under the condition that he assist the Foundation in containing SCP-5208. Following approval, a full-scale investigation of John Kellogg, Battle Creek Sanitarium, and the Knights of the Seventh Day was initiated.
□ Interview 1 | SCP-5208/A-1 □
Investigation
Battle Creek Sanitarium, circa 1927.
Direct investigations into GOI-5208SD were successfully hindered by the effort of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. Investigation Task Force Bravo-3 ("Busy Bodies") was tasked with infiltrating the Battle Creek Sanitarium in order to covertly gather information on SCP-5208-Ω and GOI-5208SD. On 1927/3/19, ITF Bravo-3 successfully began its mission.
_
■ SCP-5208 Investigation Logs ■
□ SCP-5208 Investigation Logs □
The following logs were transcribed and summarized from ITF Bravo-3's notes:
1927/3/20
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Second day embedded within Battle Creek Sanitarium.
Summary
The four members of ITF Bravo-3 secured the following positions within the Battle Creek Sanitarium:
Captain Richard Vanholt — Night-Shift Security Captain
Agent Nicholas Easton — Day-Shift Security Guard
Agent Sasha Fettle — Day-Shift Orderly
Agent Cornelius Thompson — Night-Shift Security Guard
The sanitarium is run like a resort, though a large section is inaccessible by most staff and patrons. This section is known as Wing-K and is used by SCP-5208-Ω to conduct its research. SCP-5208-Ω hand-selects the personnel allowed to work within this section, Mr. Kellogg is unable to give the team access. All personnel and patrons are required to eat a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast daily.
1927/3/24
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Disciplinary Incident
Summary
On 1927/3/24, Agent Easton received a disciplinary mark from the Day-Shift Security Captain for inappropriate behavior. Agent Easton was "getting fresh" while attempting flirtation with several day-shift nurses. A review of Agent Easton's conduct will be conducted at the conclusion of this investigation.
The team is well situated in our positions but have been incapable of gaining entry to Wing-K. Samples of the cornflakes were taken but all testing revealed it to have no abnormal or anomalous properties.
1927/3/26
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Wing K security situation.
Summary
On 1927/3/27, the alarms within Wing K were activated. Captain Vanholt attempted to respond to the situation but was denied entry; the alarms ceased activity after 1 hour 26 minutes. Further investigation revealed that Wing K has it's own security team consisting of 20 guards and a team Captain.
1927/3/27
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Agent Easton and evidence update.
Summary
Agent Fettle has formalized a complaint that Agent Easton attempted to force himself on her in an unwarranted sexual advance. Whether this is an effect of the anomaly we are investigating, or a lack of proper conduct is currently unknown. Agent Vanholt notes that situations like this are why he was apprehensive regarding the inclusion of women on ITF teams.
The team discovered an array of thaumaturgic symbols surrounding the Battle Creek Sanitarium. The symbols were etched and carved into trees and stones every 3 meters.
Thaumaturgic symbol found on the property.
1927/3/29
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Successful Wing K infiltration.
Summary
On 1927/3/28, Agent Easton was seen successfully entering Wing K with Wing K Security Captain Ethan Knox. Currently awaiting Agent Easton's report on activity within Wing K. Mr. Kellogg expressed concerns about the nature of Agent Easton's status, but could not elaborate further.
1927/4/4
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Agent Easton's status.
Summary
One week after entering Wing K, Agent Easton's current status is unknown. Agent Vanholt and Mr. Kellogg believe Agent Easton has been compromised and have developed a plan accordingly. Agent Fettle will terminate Ethan Knox allowing Agent Vanholt to assume his position at the recommendation of Mr. Kellogg.
1927/4/7
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Agent Vanholt status report.
Summary
Agent Vanholt successful replaced Ethan Knox as Wing K Security Captain. Initial review of Wing K:
20 Security Personnel
15 Orderlies
58 rooms
47 Patients
8 restricted rooms
Unlike the rest of the sanitarium Wing K looks like a traditional medical wing found in most asylums. All Wing K personnel are required to eat cornflakes for every meal and communication between personnel is strictly forbidden barring work-related duties. Agent Vanholt is scheduled to receive a tour of the Wing K facilities by SCP-5208-Ω itself, he will attempt to record this encounter.
On 1927/4/8, Foundation Outpost KJ65 7 received the following radio transmission.
Audio Log Transcript
Date: 1927/4/8
Recorder: Captain Vanholt
Foreword: The following recording was taken within Wing K of the Battle Creek Sanitarium, during Agent Vanholt's meeting with SCP-5208-Ω.
[BEGIN LOG]
Vanholt: Hello sir, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.
SCP-5208-Ω: Undoubtedly, Mr. Cornwall.
Vanholt: I would like to thank you for giving me this opportunity.
SCP-5208-Ω: With my brother's recommendation and a résumé as exemplary as your own, how could I not?
[Both chuckle]
SCP-5208-Ω: Let us begin, follow me. Are you a man of God, Mr. Cornwall?
Vanholt: Of course, Dr. Kellogg.
SCP-5208-Ω: Then I'm sure you're aware this great nation of ours is plagued with ungodliness. Sin running rampant through the streets. Children growing up to never know the love of our Lord and savior– it is our mission here to overturn this complacency, to drag this nation into the light of our lord.
Vanholt: I am unsure I understand, sir.
SCP-5208-Ω: Outside of this wing what does the sanitarium offer its patrons?
Vanholt: I don–
SCP-5208-Ω: Clarity! We offer them clarity, of body and mind. Here though, here is where we offer them clarity of the soul.
Vanholt: How exactly do we do that?
SCP-5208-Ω: By ridding them of the very root of all man's ailments, sin.
Vanholt: That sure sounds swell doctor, but how does that work?
SCP-5208-Ω: Oh so eager, fine Mr. Cornwall, allow me to demonstrate. Right through here, please.
Vanholt: What in the he–
SCP-5208-Ω: Welcome, I'm fairly certain you are well acquainted with my brother.
Kellogg: Please John, I'm begging you, I only meant to help! I was trying to sav–
SCP-5208-Ω: Silence! I will not stand one more treacherous word from your mouth!
Vanholt: Get your hands off me– [The sounds of chains rattling can be heard as Agent Vanholt is presumably restrained.]
SCP-5208-Ω: So the Knights are finally making their move against me. After all I have done, everything I've accomplished!
Kellogg: Please brother, this has gone far enough you need to stop!
SCP-5208-Ω: You brought them here! Your jealousy, your pride, and your arrogance has turned you against me. Worry not brother, you will witness me finish what I have started– one final ritual to rid the world of lust.
[SCP-5208-Ω begins chanting in an unknown language, Mr. Kellogg can be heard screaming incoherently.]
Vanholt: We need help, send the–
[END LOG]
Afterword: Following this transmission Outpost KJ65 received a final Investigation Log from Battle Creek Sanitarium.
1927/4/8
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Agent Sasha Fettle
Subject
Requesting back up.
Summary
"Battle Creek has descended into madness." SCP-5208-Ω has been wandering the halls, without clothing, using a staff(SCP-5208-1) to create new SCP-5208-2 instances by striking the patients. This group of SCP-5208-2 instances gathered in the courtyard, participating in a voraphilic ritual with SCP-5208-Ω and the Wing K orderlies. "They created something terrible. It’s turned this whole place topsy-turvy, it's a bloodbath, a massacre, an orgy. Please, send help." Hostile entities are noted as incorporeal and do not respond to standard ammunition or blunt force trauma.
Photograph of multiple SCP-5208-2 instances participating in group sex.
□ SCP-5208 Investigation Logs □
Recovery
On 1927/4/10, the Foundation dispatched Mobile Strike Force Zulu-1 ("Holy Rollers") 8 and the Site-51 Concealment Team to contain or eliminate the threat.
■ SCP-5208 Response Log ■
□ SCP-5208 Response Log □
Date: 1927/4/10
Response Team: MSF Zulu-1
Subject: Battle Creek Sanitarium
Squad Leads: Z1/1 - Captain Rochne Callahan, Z1/2 - Lieutenant Michael Johnson
Foreword: MSF Zulu-1 consists of two 5-man squads each tasked with a different objective. Squad 1 is tasked with the containment/eradication of anomalies and apprehending SCP-5208-Ω; Squad 2 is to extract surviving members of ITF Bravo-3. The following is an audio transcription of the event.
Squad 1
[BEGIN LOG]
Z1/1: Entering the eastern wing now.
z1/2: Copy that, entering Southwest wing– switching channels.
[A cacophony of screams and moans can be heard as Squad 1 enters the sanitarium]
Z1/1: Alright folks, we have an unknown amount of hostile entities and about 300 civilians. Call out your targets– we don't want any unnecessary casualties.
[Squad 1 can be heard giving various affirmations.]
Z1/3: [Sound of a wooden door scraping open] This way, Wing K should be at the end of this corridor.
Z1/1: Three and Six, you take the lead. Four and Five, cover the rear.
Z1/3: Look alive, we have company.
Z1/6: This broad isn't wearing any clothes.
Z1/1: Leave her, concealment will take care of the civilians once we've cleared the area.
Civilian: You want a lick, daddy?
Z1/3: Hey hands off lady, the fuck is wrong with you.
Z1/1: Just keep it moving.
[Civilian can be heard screaming incoherently.]
Z1/2: Made contact with hostiles. Thaumic rounds work swell, just don't stand too close when you shoot them– might get a little heated.
Z1/1: Copy that. Good to know, Two.
Z1/5: Hostile incoming, six o'clock.
[Gunshots can be heard followed by the roar of a flame.]
Z1/6: Well ain't that the bee's knees. This is going to be a cakewalk.
Z1/1: Let's not start counting our chickens just yet. How much further Three?
Z1/3: That door right up there should be Wing K.
Squad 2 :
Z1/2: Keep an eye out, we should be getting close.
Z1/7: One more broad asks to touch my johnson and I'll be half inclined to let 'em.
Z1/10: About the only way you'll see any action at all.
[Laughter.]
Z1/8: Woah, hold it guys– we're here. See, "Female Staff Dormitories." Fettle should be through here.
Z1/2: Nine, Ten you stay here and guard the door. Everyone else on me.
[Moaning and the sound of bed frames squeezing can be heard.]
Z1/8: We got 3 civilia– Christ. We got 2 civilians 3 hostiles, and a– corpse.
[Sound of a door breaking down followed by 3 gunshots.]
Z1/7: We don't have time for gawking Eight.
Z1/2: Let's keep moving, put 'em down as you see 'em.
Z1/8: Look, there's a field code on this door.
Z1/2: [Sound of a door creaking open.] Agent Fettle, are you in here?
Fettle: What're the safe words?
Z1/2: Orange, Centipede, West.
[Sound of a door unlocking and quickly swinging open.]
Fettle: Well it's about time. Wait– this isn't the whole response team, is it?
Z1/2: No– we're Squad 2, Squad 1 is handling Wing K.
Fettle: Wing K? Please tell me there's more than 3 of them.
Z1/7: 5-man squad, just like us.
Fettle: That's not enough– they've got to get out of there!
Z1/7: Don't worry sweetheart, they're well trained. Besides, these shadow entities are a cakewalk.
Fettle: They're not the only thing here, you have to warn them!
Z1/2: Squad 1, do you copy? Squad 1, come in. Captain? Shit.
Fettle: It's already too late, isn't it?
Z1/2: We need to stay on task, Squad 1 has their mission and we have ours. Do you have any idea where the rest of your team is, Agent Fettle?
Fettle: Thompson's out. Dead. Vanholt and Easton's last known location was… Wing K.
Z1/2: Eight, give Agent Fettle your sidearm and some ammunition. Let's pay Squad 1 a visit.
Squad 1
Z1/2: Squad 1, [Static] copy? [Static] 6, come in. Captain?
Z1/1: There's interference, Two. Can you repeat?
Z1/3: Cap, come look.
Z1/4: Looks like some sort of containment room, it's got to be.
[An airlock release can be heard as Squad 1 enters the room.]
Z1/6: Hands up! Turn around slowly.
Vanholt: Gosh am I glad to see you, boys.
Z1/1: Guns down– he's one of ours. Captain, it's swell to see you've made it.
Vanholt: As I'm sure you've seen, this place has gone to hell in a handbag.
Z1/1: Where is the rest of your team?
Vanholt: A few of the orderlies… Th–they ate Easton. I… I don't know what happened to Fettle or Thompson.
Z1/1: Okay. We should keep moving.
Vanholt: Wait Captain, how much of the situation are you aware of?
Z1/1: We've seen hostile entities, taken them out. Thaumic rounds work wonders.
Vanholt: Have you seen it? The big one?
Z1/1: We have not. We are to capture the main anomaly and Dr. Kellogg.
Vanholt: So before Kellogg created those things, he had a plan. As far as I can tell from his notes, this room was meant to contain the entity.
Z1/1: If you're saying Kellogg meant to capture the entity, why hasn't he?
Vanholt: He doesn't have the presence of mind left to tie his shoelaces, let alone fight that thing. It's been parading him around on a leash.
Z1/1: Last known location?
Vanholt: The chapel, it's just down the hall.
Z1/1: Okay– tell us everything you know about this room and the entity.
Squad 2
Fettle: Okay, this is it– Wing K.
Z1/2: Right, look alive.
[Shouting can be heard from down the corridor, followed by gunshots.]
Z1/7: Looks like Squad 1 has already engaged the entity.
Z1/2: Nine and Ten, scrawl out an 8 Trigram Seal on this door. I don't want anything in or out.
Z1/9: You got it, boss.
Z1/2: Seven and Eight, rendezvous with Squad 1. Agent Fettle, you're with me, let's see if we can find your team.
SCP-5208-3: You dare disturb Asmodeus!
[A loud crashing noise followed by shouting can be heard.]
Z1/8: Holy fuck, what is that?
Squad 1 & Squad 2
[The sound of running can be heard.]
Z1/3: Captain look, it's Squad 2.
Z1/1: Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes.
Z1/2: The doors sealed behind us. What's the plan?
Z1/1: We need to get it inside this room.
Z1/2: How do you– [Z1/2 is interrupted by a loud crunching noise, followed by a thud as his body hits the ground.]
SCP-5208-3: I found you. [Inhuman laughter]
Z1/4: [Screaming] It’s in my head– I can't– I– [Unknown] .
[Indistinguishable shouting can be heard. The laughter continues followed by several wet popping sounds.]
Z1/1: Everyone in this room, now!
SCP-5208-3: You can't hide from me! I am inside your heads, inside your hearts, inside your coc–
Z1/1: Flip the fucking switch Vanholt! What are you wai– [Z1/1 is interrupted by a loud buzzing noise followed by inhuman screaming]
[The roar of a large fire can be heard.]
[END LOG]
□ SCP-5208 Response Log □
Battle Creek Sanitarium during response conclusion.
Two-hours after MSF Zulu-1 entered the Battle Creek Sanitarium, several fires broke out across the facility as all SCP-5208-2 instances erupted into flames. Of the 286 civilians within the sanitarium, 192 survived with 161 listed as injured casualties. Amongst the survivors both SCP-5208-Ω and Mr. Kellogg survived, with SCP-5208-Ω sustaining irreparable brain damage during the event. MSF Zulu-1 was able to recover Captain Vanholt, Agent Fettle, SCP-5208-1, and several documents relating to GOI-5208SD 9 . All survivors and civilian witnesses were amnestisized and Cover Story-BK79 (Faulty Gas Valve) was enacted.
Due to SCP-5208-Ω's brain damage and in accordance with the Foundation agreement with Mr. Kellogg, SCP-5208-Ω was administered YM-Grade amnestics and released into the custody of Mr. Kellogg. All public information pertaining to SCP-5208-Ω's involvement with GOI-5208SD was destroyed or confiscated. In return, Mr. Kellogg transferred a 10% holding of The Kellogg Company to the Foundation.
Footnotes
1 . According to the Glymen Demonology Index, Null-Class Demonic entities are low-tier extra-spatial entities with various anomalous capabilities. Common abilities include telekinesis and cognitive influence. Most notably, these entities are usually given further abilities and augmentations through their commanding Marquis-Class or Princeps-Class Demonic Entities. Due to to the lack of ability to possesses hosts, Dux-Class Entities are typically non-corporeal.
2 . Including masturbation with external objects.
3 . This can occur regardless of sexual orientation.
4 . According to the Glymen Demonology Index, Princeps-Class Demonic entities are high-tier extra-spatial entities with various anomalous capabilities. Notably common abilities include telekinesis, divination, compulsion, perception manipulation, and realty bending. Princeps-Class entities are typically in control of large groups of Marquis-Class and Dux-Class Demonic Entities.
5 . SCP-5208-2 instances created in this way will spontaneously erupt from within a nearby human, killing them in the process.
6 . A famous health resort in Battle Creek, Michigan, affiliated with the Seventh-Day Adventist Church.
7 . Located 25 miles from the Battle Creek Sanitarium.
8 . MSF Zulu-1 is a specialized strike force trained in the handling of thaumic/ethereal situations.
9 . These documents are available to personnel with Level/5 Clearance at Site-51's Archive. | 82 | ["_adult", "_cc", "artifact", "demon", "fantasy", "historical", "period-piece", "religious", "religious-fiction", "ritual", "safe", "scp", "sexual"] | 2020-03-05T20:34:00 | 29,414 | 4,675 | SCP-5208 | null | null | null | 4 | ## logg.
Discovery
SCP-5208 was brought to the attention of the Foundation on 1927/2/23, by SCP-5208-Ω's biological brother and business partner, Will Keith Kellogg (1860 – 1951). SCP-5208-Ω and Mr. Kellogg directed the Battle Creek Sanitarium 6 from 1876 to 1943; SCP-5208-Ω focused on his duties as a member of the GOI-5208SD and Mr. Kellogg directed the Sanitarium's superficial operations. Mr. Kellogg contacted the Foundation through their mutual acquaintance, Asa Candler , and a meeting was organized between Mr. Kellogg and Foundation Investigative Agent James Mueller.
■ SCP-5208
---
## Log Transcript
Date: 1927/2/23
Interviewer: FIA James Mueller
Interviewed: Will Keith Kellogg
[BEGIN LOG]
Mueller: Mr. Kellogg, are you ready to begin?
Kellogg: Remains silent.
Mueller: Is there an issue, sir?
Kellogg: I was told your organization practices discretion; I can't afford to be connected to this.
Mueller: Ah yes, rest assured this recording is for our records and nothing else.
Kellogg: I suppose that's okay, if you insist.
Mueller: Now, why have you called this meeting Mr. Kellogg? Mr. Candler spoke of an imminent threat.
Kellogg: It's my brother. I fear he is in over his head.
Mueller: You're going to need to be more specific, Mr. Kellogg.
Kellogg: My brother is Dr. John Kellogg, he is the Director of the Battle Creek Sanitarium. He's been secretly working for a group called the Knights of the Seventh Day. He has been for a long time now, but things are different. He's changed.
Mueller: We have been investigating the organization for some time now. What–
Kellogg: He's not a bad man. They're trying to do good, I know they are. But this work, those cursed texts have corrupted him. He's blinded by devotion; he can't even see it all unraveling around him.
Mueller: What exactly is your brother's connection with this organization?
Kellogg: His position is known as a Knight Commander, one of seven as I understood it. He has been tasked with the elimination of the sin of lust.
Mueller: As a concept?
Kellogg: As if I would know– I thought it was just a fraternity when I first learned of it years ago. It wasn't until the weird experiments started that I really saw they were doing. Magic, not your Houdini type magic mind you, but real magic. The last few years though…he's changed. He filled an entire wing at Battle Creek with victims of whatever is going on.
Mueller: Does your brother know of your… "concerns"?
Kellogg: He won't listen to me. I could only imagine what he would do if he found out I've come to you for help.
Mueller: I understand, Mr. Kellogg. So, what exactly have you called this meeting to accomplish?
Kellogg: I don't want my brother getting hurt, not by you and certainly not by whatever he's gotten himself wrapped up in. I don't understand the esoteric ways of my brother, I never have– but your organization does, or so I have been told.
Mueller: What exactly do you fear will happen to your brother?
Kellogg: The Church is demanding results; they think he's lost control of the situation and wants to see it rectified. I know my brother is planning something big and I just don't want anything happening to him. He's lost his way– I just want him guided back.
Mueller: I see. Mr. Kellogg, if you'll give me a moment I need to speak with my supervisor.
Kellogg: Will you help him? I'm willing to pay, money is not a–
Mueller: Do not worry about a thing, we'll handle it from here.
[END LOG]
Afterword: Will Kellogg was released under the condition that he assist the Foundation in containing SCP-5208. Following approval, a full-scale investigation of John Kellogg, Battle Creek Sanitarium, and the Knights of the Seventh Day was initiated.
□
---
## Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Second day embedded within Battle Creek Sanitarium.
Summary
The four members of ITF Bravo-3 secured the following positions within the Battle Creek Sanitarium:
Captain Richard Vanholt — Night-Shift Security Captain
Agent Nicholas Easton — Day-Shift Security Guard
Agent Sasha Fettle — Day-Shift Orderly
Agent Cornelius Thompson — Night-Shift Security Guard
The sanitarium is run like a resort, though a large section is inaccessible by most staff and patrons. This section is known as Wing-K and is used by SCP-5208-Ω to conduct its research. SCP-5208-Ω hand-selects the personnel allowed to work within this section, Mr. Kellogg is unable to give the team access. All personnel and patrons are required to eat a bowl of cornflakes for breakfast daily.
1927/3/24
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Disciplinary Incident
Summary
On 1927/3/24, Agent Easton received a disciplinary mark from the Day-Shift Security Captain for inappropriate behavior. Agent Easton was "getting fresh" while attempting flirtation with several day-shift nurses. A review of Agent Easton's conduct will be conducted at the conclusion of this investigation.
The team is well situated in our positions but have been incapable of gaining entry to Wing-K. Samples of the cornflakes were taken but all testing revealed it to have no abnormal or anomalous properties.
1927/3/26
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Wing K security situation.
Summary
On 1927/3/27, the alarms within Wing K were activated. Captain Vanholt attempted to respond to the situation but was denied entry; the alarms ceased activity after 1 hour 26 minutes. Further investigation revealed that Wing K has it's own security team consisting of 20 guards and a team Captain.
1927/3/27
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Agent Easton and evidence
---
## update.
Summary
Agent Fettle has formalized a complaint that Agent Easton attempted to force himself on her in an unwarranted sexual advance. Whether this is an effect of the anomaly we are investigating, or a lack of proper conduct is currently unknown. Agent Vanholt notes that situations like this are why he was apprehensive regarding the inclusion of women on ITF teams.
The team discovered an array of thaumaturgic symbols surrounding the Battle Creek Sanitarium. The symbols were etched and carved into trees and stones every 3 meters.
Thaumaturgic symbol found on the property.
1927/3/29
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Successful Wing K infiltration.
Summary
On 1927/3/28, Agent Easton was seen successfully entering Wing K with Wing K Security Captain Ethan Knox. Currently awaiting Agent Easton's report on activity within Wing K. Mr. Kellogg expressed concerns about the nature of Agent Easton's status, but could not elaborate further.
1927/4/4
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Agent Easton's status.
Summary
One week after entering Wing K, Agent Easton's current status is unknown. Agent Vanholt and Mr. Kellogg believe Agent Easton has been compromised and have developed a plan accordingly. Agent Fettle will terminate Ethan Knox allowing Agent Vanholt to assume his position at the recommendation of Mr. Kellogg.
1927/4/7
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Captain Richard Vanholt
Subject
Agent Vanholt status report.
Summary
Agent Vanholt successful replaced Ethan Knox as Wing K Security Captain. Initial review of Wing K:
20 Security Personnel
15 Orderlies
58 rooms
47 Patients
8 restricted rooms
Unlike the rest of the sanitarium Wing K looks like a traditional medical wing found in most asylums. All Wing K personnel are required to eat cornflakes for every meal and communication between personnel is strictly forbidden barring work-related duties. Agent Vanholt is scheduled to receive a tour of the Wing K facilities by SCP-5208-Ω itself, he will attempt to record this encounter.
On 1927/4/8, Foundation Outpost KJ65 7 received the following radio transmission.
Audio Log Transcript
Date: 1927/4/8
Recorder: Captain Vanholt
Foreword: The following recording was taken within Wing K of the Battle Creek Sanitarium, during Agent Vanholt's meeting with SCP-5208-Ω.
[BEGIN LOG]
Vanholt: Hello sir, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.
SCP-5208-Ω: Undoubtedly, Mr. Cornwall.
Vanholt: I would like to thank you for giving me this opportunity.
SCP-5208-Ω: With my brother's recommendation and a résumé as exemplary as your own, how could I not?
[Both chuckle]
SCP-5208-Ω: Let us begin, follow me. Are you a man of God, Mr. Cornwall?
Vanholt: Of course, Dr. Kellogg.
SCP-5208-Ω: Then I'm sure you're aware this great nation of ours is plagued with ungodliness. Sin running rampant through the streets. Children growing up to never know the love of our Lord and savior– it is our mission here to overturn this complacency, to drag this nation into the light of our lord.
Vanholt: I am unsure I understand, sir.
SCP-5208-Ω: Outside of this wing what does the sanitarium offer its patrons?
Vanholt: I don–
SCP-5208-Ω: Clarity! We offer them clarity, of body and mind. Here though, here is where we offer them clarity of the soul.
Vanholt: How exactly do we do that?
SCP-5208-Ω: By ridding them of the very root of all man's ailments, sin.
Vanholt: That sure sounds swell doctor, but how does that work?
SCP-5208-Ω: Oh so eager, fine Mr. Cornwall, allow me to demonstrate. Right through here, please.
Vanholt: What in the he–
SCP-5208-Ω: Welcome, I'm fairly certain you are well acquainted with my brother.
Kellogg: Please John, I'm begging you, I only meant to help! I was trying to sav–
SCP-5208-Ω: Silence! I will not stand one more treacherous word from your mouth!
Vanholt: Get your hands off me– [The sounds of chains rattling can be heard as Agent Vanholt is presumably restrained.]
SCP-5208-Ω: So the Knights are finally making their move against me. After all I have done, everything I've accomplished!
Kellogg: Please brother, this has gone far enough you need to stop!
SCP-5208-Ω: You brought them here! Your jealousy, your pride, and your arrogance has turned you against me. Worry not brother, you will witness me finish what I have started– one final ritual to rid the world of lust.
[SCP-5208-Ω begins chanting in an unknown language, Mr. Kellogg can be heard screaming incoherently.]
Vanholt: We need help, send the–
[END LOG]
Afterword: Following this transmission Outpost KJ65 received a final Investigation Log from Battle Creek Sanitarium.
1927/4/8
SCP-5208 Investigation Notes Log
Recorded
ITF Bravo-3 | Agent Sasha Fettle
Subject
Requesting back up.
Summary
"Battle Creek has descended into madness." SCP-5208-Ω has been wandering the halls, without clothing, using a staff(SCP-5208-1) to create new SCP-5208-2 instances by striking the patients. This group of SCP-5208-2 instances gathered in the courtyard, participating in a voraphilic ritual with SCP-5208-Ω and the Wing K orderlies. "They created something terrible. It’s turned this whole place topsy-turvy, it's a bloodbath, a massacre, an orgy. Please, send help." Hostile entities are noted as incorporeal and do not respond to standard ammunition or blunt force trauma.
Photograph of multiple SCP-5208-2 instances participating in group sex.
□ SCP-5208 Investigation Logs □
Recovery
On 1927/4/10, the Foundation dispatched Mobile Strike Force Zulu-1 ("Holy Rollers") 8 and the Site-51 Concealment Team to contain or eliminate the threat.
■ SCP-5208 Response Log ■
□ SCP-5208 Response Log □
Date: 1927/4/10
Response Team: MSF Zulu-1
Subject: Battle Creek Sanitarium
Squad Leads: Z1/1 - Captain Rochne Callahan, Z1/2 - Lieutenant Michael Johnson
Foreword: MSF Zulu-1 consists of two 5-man squads each tasked with a different objective. Squad 1 is tasked with the containment/eradication of anomalies and apprehending SCP-5208-Ω; Squad 2 is to extract surviving members of ITF Bravo-3. The following is an audio transcription of the event.
Squad 1
[BEGIN LOG]
Z1/1: Entering the eastern wing now.
z1/2: Copy that, entering Southwest wing– switching channels.
[A cacophony of screams and moans can be heard as Squad 1 enters the sanitarium]
Z1/1: Alright folks, we have an unknown amount of hostile entities and about 300 civilians. Call out your targets– we don't want any unnecessary casualties.
[Squad 1 can be heard giving various affirmations.]
Z1/3: [Sound of a wooden door scraping open] This way, Wing K should be at the end of this corridor.
Z1/1: Three and Six, you take the lead. Four and Five, cover the rear.
Z1/3: Look alive, we have company.
Z1/6: This broad isn't wearing any clothes.
Z1/1: Leave her, concealment will take care of the civilians once we've cleared the area.
Civilian: You want a lick, daddy?
Z1/3: Hey hands off lady, the fuck is wrong with you.
Z1/1: Just keep it moving.
[Civilian can be heard screaming incoherently.]
Z1/2: Made contact with hostiles. Thaumic rounds work swell, just don't stand too close when you shoot them– might get a little heated.
Z1/1: Copy that. Good to know, Two.
Z1/5: Hostile incoming, six o'clock.
[Gunshots can be heard followed by the roar of a flame.]
Z1/6: Well ain't that the bee's knees. This is going to be a cakewalk.
Z1/1: Let's not start counting our chickens just yet. How much further Three?
Z1/3: That door right up there should be Wing K.
Squad 2 :
Z1/2: Keep an eye out, we should be getting close.
Z1/7: One more broad asks to touch my johnson and I'll be half inclined to let 'em.
Z1/10: About the only way you'll see any action at all.
[Laughter.]
Z1/8: Woah, hold it guys– we're here. See, "Female Staff Dormitories." Fettle should be through here.
Z1/2: Nine, Ten you stay here and guard the door. Everyone else on me.
[Moaning and the sound of bed frames squeezing can be heard.]
Z1/8: We got 3 civilia– Christ. We got 2 civilians 3 hostiles, and a– corpse.
[Sound of a door breaking down followed by 3 gunshots.]
Z1/7: We don't have time for gawking Eight.
Z1/2: Let's keep moving, put 'em down as you see 'em.
Z1/8: Look, there's a field code on this door.
Z1/2: [Sound of a door creaking open.] Agent Fettle, are you in here?
Fettle: What're the safe words?
Z1/2: Orange, Centipede, West.
[Sound of a door unlocking and quickly swinging open.]
Fettle: Well it's about time. Wait– this isn't the whole response team, is it?
Z1/2: No– we're Squad 2, Squad 1 is handling Wing K.
Fettle: Wing K? Please tell me there's more than 3 of them.
Z1/7: 5-man squad, just like us.
Fettle: That's not enough– they've got to get out of there!
Z1/7: Don't worry sweetheart, they're well trained. Besides, these shadow entities are a cakewalk.
Fettle: They're not the only thing here, you have to warn them!
Z1/2: Squad 1, do you copy? Squad 1, come in. Captain? Shit.
Fettle: It's already too late, isn't it?
Z1/2: We need to stay on task, Squad 1 has their mission and we have ours. Do you have any idea where the rest of your team is, Agent Fettle?
Fettle: Thompson's out. Dead. Vanholt and Easton's last known location was… Wing K.
Z1/2: Eight, give Agent Fettle your sidearm and some ammunition. Let's pay Squad 1 a visit.
Squad 1
Z1/2: Squad 1, [Static] copy? [Static] 6, come in. Captain?
Z1/1: There's interference, Two. Can you repeat?
Z1/3: Cap, come look.
Z1/4: Looks like some sort of containment room, it's got to be.
[An airlock release can be heard as Squad 1 enters the room.]
Z1/6: Hands up! Turn around slowly.
Vanholt: Gosh am I glad to see you, boys.
Z1/1: Guns down– he's one of ours. Captain, it's swell to see you've made it.
Vanholt: As I'm sure you've seen, this place has gone to hell in a handbag.
Z1/1: Where is the rest of your team?
Vanholt: A few of the orderlies… Th–they ate Easton. I… I don't know what happened to Fettle or Thompson.
Z1/1: Okay. We should keep moving.
Vanholt: Wait Captain, how much of the situation are you aware of?
Z1/1: We've seen hostile entities, taken them out. Thaumic rounds work wonders.
Vanholt: Have you seen it? The big one?
Z1/1: We have not. We are to capture the main anomaly and Dr. Kellogg.
Vanholt: So before Kellogg created those things, he had a plan. As far as I can tell from his notes, this room was meant to contain the entity.
Z1/1: If you're saying Kellogg meant to capture the entity, why hasn't he?
Vanholt: He doesn't have the presence of mind left to tie his shoelaces, let alone fight that thing. It's been parading him around on a leash.
Z1/1: Last known location?
Vanholt: The chapel, it's just down the hall.
Z1/1: Okay– tell us everything you know about this room and the entity.
Squad 2
Fettle: Okay, this is it– Wing K.
Z1/2: Right, look alive.
[Shouting can be heard from down the corridor, followed by gunshots.]
Z1/7: Looks like Squad 1 has already engaged the entity.
Z1/2: Nine and Ten, scrawl out an 8 Trigram Seal on this door. I don't want anything in or out.
Z1/9: You got it, boss.
Z1/2: Seven and Eight, rendezvous with Squad 1. Agent Fettle, you're with me, let's see if we can find your team.
SCP-5208-3: You dare disturb Asmodeus!
[A loud crashing noise followed by shouting can be heard.]
Z1/8: Holy fuck, what is that?
Squad 1 & Squad 2
[The sound of running can be heard.]
Z1/3: Captain look, it's Squad 2.
Z1/1: Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes.
Z1/2: The doors sealed behind us. What's the plan?
Z1/1: We need to get it inside this room.
Z1/2: How do you– [Z1/2 is interrupted by a loud crunching noise, followed by a thud as his body hits the ground.]
SCP-5208-3: I found you. [Inhuman laughter]
Z1/4: [Screaming] It’s in my head– I can't– I– [Unknown] .
[Indistinguishable shouting can be heard. The laughter continues followed by several wet popping sounds.]
Z1/1: Everyone in this room, now!
SCP-5208-3: You can't hide from me! I am inside your heads, inside your hearts, inside your coc–
Z1/1: Flip the fucking switch Vanholt! What are you wai– [Z1/1 is interrupted by a loud buzzing noise followed by inhuman screaming]
[The roar of a large fire can be heard.]
[END LOG]
□ SCP-5208 Response Log □
Battle Creek Sanitarium during response conclusion.
Two-hours after MSF Zulu-1 entered the Battle Creek Sanitarium, several fires broke out across the facility as all SCP-5208-2 instances erupted into flames. Of the 286 civilians within the sanitarium, 192 survived with 161 listed as injured casualties. Amongst the survivors both SCP-5208-Ω and Mr. Kellogg survived, with SCP-5208-Ω sustaining irreparable brain damage during the event. MSF Zulu-1 was able to recover Captain Vanholt, Agent Fettle, SCP-5208-1, and several documents relating to GOI-5208SD 9 . All survivors and civilian witnesses were amnestisized and Cover Story-BK79 (Faulty Gas Valve) was enacted.
Due to SCP-5208-Ω's brain damage and in accordance with the Foundation agreement with Mr. Kellogg, SCP-5208-Ω was administered YM-Grade amnestics and released into the custody of Mr. Kellogg. All public information pertaining to SCP-5208-Ω's involvement with GOI-5208SD was destroyed or confiscated. In return, Mr. Kellogg transferred a 10% holding of The Kellogg Company to the Foundation.
Footnotes
1 . According to the Glymen Demonology Index, Null-Class Demonic entities are low-tier extra-spatial entities with various anomalous capabilities. Common abilities include telekinesis and cognitive influence. Most notably, these entities are usually given further abilities and augmentations through their commanding Marquis-Class or Princeps-Class Demonic Entities. Due to to the lack of ability to possesses hosts, Dux-Class Entities are typically non-corporeal.
2 . Including masturbation with external objects.
3 . This can occur regardless of sexual orientation.
4 . According to the Glymen Demonology Index, Princeps-Class Demonic entities are high-tier extra-spatial entities with various anomalous capabilities. Notably common abilities include telekinesis, divination, compulsion, perception manipulation, and realty bending. Princeps-Class entities are typically in control of large groups of Marquis-Class and Dux-Class Demonic Entities.
5 . SCP-5208-2 instances created in this way will spontaneously erupt from within a nearby human, killing them in the process.
6 . A famous health resort in Battle Creek, Michigan, affiliated with the Seventh-Day Adventist Church.
7 . Located 25 miles from the Battle Creek Sanitarium.
8 . MSF Zulu-1 is a specialized strike force trained in the handling of thaumic/ethereal situations.
9 . These documents are available to personnel with Level/5 Clearance at Site-51's Archive. | |
SCP-3602 | SCP-3602 | scp | SCP-3602-A-9 with one of its young.
Item #: SCP-3602
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Site-220 is to retain at least one Mandarin-speaking parazoologist specializing in primate behavior and psychology. This researcher, which since 1968 has been Dr. Shufan Shen, is to serve as a liaison to SCP-3602. At least twice weekly, Dr. Shen must conduct visits for the purposes of observation, information gathering, and diplomatic relations. Following Incident-SCP-3602-01, a Mandarin-speaking psychiatrist must also be retained to conduct bi-monthly therapy sessions with each instance of SCP-3602-A.
All instances of SCP-3602-A and SCP-3602-B are to be contained within a secluded region of Site-220's Parazoology Reserve , known publicly as the Baihe Natural Reserve. 1 Each instance is to be fitted with a remote tracking device, with newborn SCP-3602-B instances receiving one at 6 months of age. Remote surveillance of SCP-3602 is to be maintained at all times, with the recording of SCP-3602-A instances prioritized. Any attempt by an SCP-3602 instance to leave the Parazoology reserve is to be punished by 1 week of confinement within Site-220's holding cells. Repeat offenses are to be punished by confinement periods with lengths escalated accordingly.
Description: SCP-3602 is a community of approximately 400 Rhinopithecus roxellana , more commonly known as the Golden snub-nosed monkey. All instances of SCP-3602 are sapient and capable of human speech. Mandarin serves as the primary means of communication, with several local dialects spoken less commonly by older members of the community. Instances have no physiological deviations from non-anomalous specimens, and, with the exception of SCP-3602-A instances, have identical sustenance needs and lifespans. How SCP-3602 instances are capable of human vocalization despite the lack of morphological deviation is unknown. The community makes regular use of simple tools, and is able to utilize fire as a source of warmth.
The SCP-3602 population is divided into two distinct groups, SCP-3602-A and SCP-3602-B. SCP-3602-A is a group of 18 specimens that are biologically immortal, with an estimated age of 1800-2200 years. SCP-3602-A serve as the leaders of the community, with roles analogous to that of tribal elders in many human societies. SCP-3602-A instances are incapable of sustaining serious injury regardless of circumstance, and appear to display a high degree of metaphysical permanence. SCP-3602-B instances form the remainder of the community, and are all descended directly or indirectly from the 18 instances of SCP-3602-A.
SCP-3602-A claim to be followers of the Chinese deity Sun Wukong, who they credit for their sapience and immortality. 2 The oral history of the community is primarily based on Wukong and his exploits. Particular emphasis is placed on his rebellion against the Jade Emperor and the defacement of the register of death, the latter of which is claimed to be the reason SCP-3602-A are unable to die. Tales often end with an instance of SCP-3602-A informing the assembled SCP-3602-B instances that Wukong will someday return to lead them to glory. Multiple instances of SCP-3602-A have confided to Dr. Shen that the storytelling is intended to motivate SCP-3602-B towards ambition and self improvement.
SCP-3602-B display noticeably lower intelligence than their immortal forebears, with most having comparable intelligence to Human children aged 5 to 9. Subjects are generally cheerful, easily amused, and have a low attention span. On three occasions between 1968 and 1981, Dr. Shen observed a large scale effort by SCP-3602-A to educate SCP-3602-B on the use of more complex tools. Most notably, in 1975 SCP-3602-A attempted to convince SCP-3602-B to construct and reside in permanent structures. These attempts have failed without exception due to lack of interest on the part of SCP-3602-B, who often mollify their elders by displaying usage of more simple tools instead.
Incident SCP-3602-01: On 04/04/1984, SCP-3602-A-9 attempted suicide via self immolation, but was unsuccessful due to its anomalous qualities. Instance was then taken to Site-220 for interrogation regarding the incident.
+ Show Interview Log
- Hide Interview
Interviewed: SCP-3602-A-9. Subject is among the primary matriarchs of the community, and responds to the name Sun Daiyu.
Interviewer: Dr. Shufan Shen
Foreword: Subject was in considerable emotional distress during transport to Site 220, and 2 days elapsed before subject was considered calm enough to be interviewed. Interview is translated from the original Mandarin.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Shen: "Daiyu, what happened? You've never shown suicidal urges before, why did you try to kill yourself?"
SCP-3602-A-9: "Oh tall one 3 , you've walked among us for more than ten years and yet know so little. This isn't the first time I've tried, nor will it be the last. All among the elders have tried at least once."
Dr. Shen: "…Why? You all have your children, your family, your history. I just don't understand."
SCP-3602-A-9: "I have lived for two thousand winters. In that time I have birthed, raised, and outlived countless numbers of my children. I have watched our home disappear and the brief glory of our past be forgotten. Sun Wukong raised us up, made us immortal, and together we challenged the gods themselves. How could we ever be satisfied living like the animals we once were? We saw the sun and now walk in the mud for years unending. And wherever our Father is, he has forgotten us."
SCP-3602-A-9: "Our children don't understand us. They live brief lives and are content to be mere animals. I am not. I wish I had died when I had the chance. I wish that Wukong had never hatched from the stone egg. I wish that he had remained trapped beneath the mountain, burned by Laozi's fire for all time. It would have been a kinder fate than the one he forced upon us."
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Dr. Shen submitted a proposal to utilize anomalous means to terminate SCP-3602-A instances should they request euthanasia. Proposal was considered by the regional ethics committee, and denied in a 5 to 4 vote.
Footnotes
1 . Founded in 1963, Site-220 serves as one of two headquarters of the Foundation's Parazoology Division (the other being Area-12). 48 of the more docile anomalous fauna species are contained within its 163 sq. km reserve.
2 . Wukong is also known as Son Goku, the Monkey King, and the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.
3 . Approximate English rendering of the Mandarin 高个子. General term used by SCP-3602 to describe humans. | 170 | ["_cc", "alive", "animal", "euclid", "primate", "sapient", "scp"] | 2017-07-06T01:27:00 | 6,605 | 1,044 | SCP-3602 | Euclid | Site-220 is to retain at least one Mandarin-speaking parazoologist specializing in primate behavior and psychology. This researcher, which since 1968 has been Dr. Shufan Shen, is to serve as a liaison to SCP-3602. At least twice weekly, Dr. Shen must conduct visits for the purposes of observation, information gathering, and diplomatic relations. Following Incident-SCP-3602-01, a Mandarin-speaking psychiatrist must also be retained to conduct bi-monthly therapy sessions with each instance of SCP-3602-A.
All instances of SCP-3602-A and SCP-3602-B are to be contained within a secluded region of Site-220's Parazoology Reserve , known publicly as the Baihe Natural Reserve. 1 Each instance is to be fitted with a remote tracking device, with newborn SCP-3602-B instances receiving one at 6 months of age. Remote surveillance of SCP-3602 is to be maintained at all times, with the recording of SCP-3602-A instances prioritized. Any attempt by an SCP-3602 instance to leave the Parazoology reserve is to be punished by 1 week of confinement within Site-220's holding cells. Repeat offenses are to be punished by confinement periods with lengths escalated accordingly. | SCP-3602 is a community of approximately 400 Rhinopithecus roxellana , more commonly known as the Golden snub-nosed monkey. All instances of SCP-3602 are sapient and capable of human speech. Mandarin serves as the primary means of communication, with several local dialects spoken less commonly by older members of the community. Instances have no physiological deviations from non-anomalous specimens, and, with the exception of SCP-3602-A instances, have identical sustenance needs and lifespans. How SCP-3602 instances are capable of human vocalization despite the lack of morphological deviation is unknown. The community makes regular use of simple tools, and is able to utilize fire as a source of warmth.
The SCP-3602 population is divided into two distinct groups, SCP-3602-A and SCP-3602-B. SCP-3602-A is a group of 18 specimens that are biologically immortal, with an estimated age of 1800-2200 years. SCP-3602-A serve as the leaders of the community, with roles analogous to that of tribal elders in many human societies. SCP-3602-A instances are incapable of sustaining serious injury regardless of circumstance, and appear to display a high degree of metaphysical permanence. SCP-3602-B instances form the remainder of the community, and are all descended directly or indirectly from the 18 instances of SCP-3602-A.
SCP-3602-A claim to be followers of the Chinese deity Sun Wukong, who they credit for their sapience and immortality. 2 The oral history of the community is primarily based on Wukong and his exploits. Particular emphasis is placed on his rebellion against the Jade Emperor and the defacement of the register of death, the latter of which is claimed to be the reason SCP-3602-A are unable to die. Tales often end with an instance of SCP-3602-A informing the assembled SCP-3602-B instances that Wukong will someday return to lead them to glory. Multiple instances of SCP-3602-A have confided to Dr. Shen that the storytelling is intended to motivate SCP-3602-B towards ambition and self improvement.
SCP-3602-B display noticeably lower intelligence than their immortal forebears, with most having comparable intelligence to Human children aged 5 to 9. Subjects are generally cheerful, easily amused, and have a low attention span. On three occasions between 1968 and 1981, Dr. Shen observed a large scale effort by SCP-3602-A to educate SCP-3602-B on the use of more complex tools. Most notably, in 1975 SCP-3602-A attempted to convince SCP-3602-B to construct and reside in permanent structures. These attempts have failed without exception due to lack of interest on the part of SCP-3602-B, who often mollify their elders by displaying usage of more simple tools instead.
Incident SCP-3602-01: On 04/04/1984, SCP-3602-A-9 attempted suicide via self immolation, but was unsuccessful due to its anomalous qualities. Instance was then taken to Site-220 for interrogation regarding the incident.
+ Show Interview Log
- Hide Interview
Interviewed: SCP-3602-A-9. Subject is among the primary matriarchs of the community, and responds to the name Sun Daiyu.
Interviewer: Dr. Shufan Shen
Foreword: Subject was in considerable emotional distress during transport to Site 220, and 2 days elapsed before subject was considered calm enough to be interviewed. Interview is translated from the original Mandarin.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Shen: "Daiyu, what happened? You've never shown suicidal urges before, why did you try to kill yourself?"
SCP-3602-A-9: "Oh tall one 3 , you've walked among us for more than ten years and yet know so little. This isn't the first time I've tried, nor will it be the last. All among the elders have tried at least once."
Dr. Shen: "…Why? You all have your children, your family, your history. I just don't understand."
SCP-3602-A-9: "I have lived for two thousand winters. In that time I have birthed, raised, and outlived countless numbers of my children. I have watched our home disappear and the brief glory of our past be forgotten. Sun Wukong raised us up, made us immortal, and together we challenged the gods themselves. How could we ever be satisfied living like the animals we once were? We saw the sun and now walk in the mud for years unending. And wherever our Father is, he has forgotten us."
SCP-3602-A-9: "Our children don't understand us. They live brief lives and are content to be mere animals. I am not. I wish I had died when I had the chance. I wish that Wukong had never hatched from the stone egg. I wish that he had remained trapped beneath the mountain, burned by Laozi's fire for all time. It would have been a kinder fate than the one he forced upon us."
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Dr. Shen submitted a proposal to utilize anomalous means to terminate SCP-3602-A instances should they request euthanasia. Proposal was considered by the regional ethics committee, and denied in a 5 to 4 vote.
Footnotes
1 . Founded in 1963, Site-220 serves as one of two headquarters of the Foundation's Parazoology Division (the other being Area-12). 48 of the more docile anomalous fauna species are contained within its 163 sq. km reserve.
2 . Wukong is also known as Son Goku, the Monkey King, and the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.
3 . Approximate English rendering of the Mandarin 高个子. General term used by SCP-3602 to describe humans. | 1 | ## Log
- Hide Interview
Interviewed: SCP-3602-A-9. Subject is among the primary matriarchs of the community, and responds to the name Sun Daiyu.
Interviewer: Dr. Shufan Shen
Foreword: Subject was in considerable emotional distress during transport to Site 220, and 2 days elapsed before subject was considered calm enough to be interviewed. Interview is translated from the original Mandarin.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Shen: "Daiyu, what happened? You've never shown suicidal urges before, why did you try to kill yourself?"
SCP-3602-A-9: "Oh tall one 3 , you've walked among us for more than ten years and yet know so little. This isn't the first time I've tried, nor will it be the last. All among the elders have tried at least once."
Dr. Shen: "…Why? You all have your children, your family, your history. I just don't understand."
SCP-3602-A-9: "I have lived for two thousand winters. In that time I have birthed, raised, and outlived countless numbers of my children. I have watched our home disappear and the brief glory of our past be forgotten. Sun Wukong raised us up, made us immortal, and together we challenged the gods themselves. How could we ever be satisfied living like the animals we once were? We saw the sun and now walk in the mud for years unending. And wherever our Father is, he has forgotten us."
SCP-3602-A-9: "Our children don't understand us. They live brief lives and are content to be mere animals. I am not. I wish I had died when I had the chance. I wish that Wukong had never hatched from the stone egg. I wish that he had remained trapped beneath the mountain, burned by Laozi's fire for all time. It would have been a kinder fate than the one he forced upon us."
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Dr. Shen submitted a proposal to utilize anomalous means to terminate SCP-3602-A instances should they request euthanasia. Proposal was considered by the regional ethics committee, and denied in a 5 to 4 vote.
Footnotes
1 . Founded in 1963, Site-220 serves as one of two headquarters of the Foundation's Parazoology Division (the other being Area-12). 48 of the more docile anomalous fauna species are contained within its 163 sq. km reserve.
2 . Wukong is also known as Son Goku, the Monkey King, and the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.
3 . Approximate English rendering of the Mandarin 高个子. General term used by SCP-3602 to describe humans. | |
SCP-7910 | SCP-7910 | scp | Item#: 7910
Level2
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
none
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
warning
link to memo
Special Containment Procedures:
SCP-7910 is to be kept within a standard humanoid containment cell. The walls of the containment cell are to be lined with foam padding to deter self injury.
Due to the observed correlation between SCP-7910's emotional state and anomalous properties, SCP-7910 should be continually monitored by camera and microphone and at least one researcher should be present at all times. SCP-7910's behavior should be logged every 15 minutes and any major changes or concerns should be reported to the appropriate staff member. 1 Verbal explanations of procedures are to be given to the entity as they're performed. Any form of restraint should only be used with authorization from a senior researcher.
Under the crisis plan implemented by Doctor Porter, SCP-7910 should be examined at least every 24 hours for self-inflicted injury. The entity's nails should be cut every three days. A standing authorization is in place for use of double-padded restraint mitts at the discretion of supervising staff. Up-to-date details of the crisis plan may be obtained from Doctor Porter. 2
If an energy release cannot be avoided, personnel should take cover behind walls or solid objects. When moving SCP-7910 to or from its cell, staff should always be aware of what can be used as cover. Commonly used routes with marked areas, including to and from the secure medical wing, can be obtained by speaking to lead researcher Yu or the site security chief. 3
The containment cell must be inspected for any visible damage at the first available opportunity after an energy release from the entity. Pressure sensors should be installed within the walls of the containment cell. A full inspection of structural integrity must be performed if more than 3 pressure sensors register a change in atmospheric pressure greater than or equal to 5 psi.
Description:
SCP-7910, former legal name Delilah ███████ 4 , is a female human measuring 173 cm 5 in height and weighing 57 kg 6 . Birth date is 3/10/████ (27 years old at time of acquisition). The entity's overall skin pigmentation is light, but blood vessels with black coloration are visible from mid-upper-arm to the entity's wrists in spiderweb patterns. This is constant in the aforementioned areas, but coloration may spread to SCP-7910's hands, neck, torso, and may appear in other places, correlating with its anomaly as described below. The coloration affects the blood vessels, but not the blood itself; blood drawn from affected vessels is normal in appearance and shows no differences in lab testing.
The entity is able to project kinetic waves similar to shock waves created by explosive detonations. No source of this energy has been identified. SCP-7910's clothing and any objects it is holding are unaffected. Average overpressures 7 of 20-30 psi have been recorded by sensors within the containment cell. Despite the high force of these shock waves, no structural damage to SCP-7910's cell has been observed. The pressure appears to dissipate when contacting surfaces rather than transferring energy through them, resulting in objects being thrown and potentially fragile materials being broken, but without the catastrophic damage the overpressure would normally cause.
A resistance to physical harm has been observed, though with no consistent pattern. The mechanism has yet to be directly observed, but when triggered, patterns of dark blood vessels appear at sites of injury in place of bruises or scrapes. Needles and injections used during medical exams and the entity's self-harm have not been observed to trigger this.
SCP-7910 also displays extrasensory perception. Further testing is needed to determine the precise nature and limitations. Comparison of the containment team's movements with notes taken by SCP-7910 before retrieval, show that it was able to identify all four members of the primary containment team and their rough locations without line of sight and through crowded public areas. Additionally, it recorded that it "had a feeling" that it was being watched, estimated to have begun within 2 hours of when the containment team began their monitoring.
Intense pain, myoclonic muscle spasms in its hands and arms, dizziness, and vertigo have also been observed. The severity of these symptoms correlates with both its emotional state and intensity of anomalous properties.
No conscious control has been observed over any of the anomalous properties. They have a strong correlation with SCP-7910's emotional state, becoming more frequent as the entity experiences anxiety or distress. Several mental health issues have been diagnosed 8 . EEG tests display patterns consistent with epilepsy and the entity may experience tonic-clonic seizures immediately before or following an energy release. The shock waves projected by the entity make treatment these seizures potentially difficult. Uncontrolled seizures may then lead to further shock waves, breaches of containment, and/or permanent brain damage or death.
Because of the comorbidity of SCP-7910's mental health issues and epilepsy with its anomalous properties, care should be taken to avoid triggering any issues as much as possible. SCP-7910 has shown significant distress since entering containment and has presented with panic attacks, heightened anxiety, disassociation, hyper vigilance, lack of appetite, and a multitude of other psychiatric symptoms. The scratches visible on SCP-7910's arms are self-inflicted; any new injuries should be reported to research staff immediately. Therapy sessions are to be conducted four times a week by Doctor Porter. Further socialization efforts are currently being discussed.
Discovery:
The Foundation was alerted to SCP-7910's existence by Agent Mercer, currently undercover in Denver, Colorado as a photographer employed by a major news publication. SCP-7910 was a non-anomalous asset of both Agent Mercer and his partner, Agent Grey. Agent Mercer invited SCP-7910 to have coffee on 02/11/████. He reported that SCP-7910 appeared agitated, was reluctant to share why, but eventually confided in Agent Mercer about its anomalous properties and showed him the pattern of blood vessels on its arms.
Agent Mercer submitted a report early the next morning. 9 A containment team began monitoring SCP-7910 approximately 7 hours after the report was submitted. Agent Grey was unaware of the meeting until the report was filed, but provided supplementary information about SCP-7910 to the containment team. SCP-7910 was not aware of the Foundation's existence before retrieval and remains unaware that either agent is employed by the Foundation.
On the afternoon of 13/11/████, the containment team approached SCP-7910 at its apartment. The entity expressed concern about unintentionally harming them. The containment team was able to convince SCP-7910 that they wanted and were equipped to help, providing a basic explanation of the Foundation. The entity voluntarily accompanied the team back to Site-93 where an intake interview and examination was conducted by Doctor Yu. No anomalous events were reported during retrieval and no use of amnestic treatment was required.
Preliminary Psychiatric Evaluation:
Interview for initial psychiatric evaluation of SCP-7910, 16/11/████
Doctor Porter enters SCP-7910's cell and takes a seat at the table across from where SCP-7910 is sitting.
Dr. Porter: Good afternoon, Delilah. I'm-
SCP-7910: It's Seven-nine-ten now, isn't it?
Dr. Porter: Officially yes, but that doesn't erase who you are. It's just a designation.
SCP-7910: They're both made up. A rose by any other name. Does it really matter?
Doctor Porter hesitates.
Dr. Porter: I'm happy to use whatever makes you most comfortable.
SCP-7910: Seven-nine-ten.
Dr. Porter: Okay, Seven-nine-ten, then. it's lovely to finally meet you. I'm Doctor Porter, I'm the psychologist assigned to your case. How have you been settling in?
SCP-7910 shrugs and looks away.
Dr. Porter: You haven't been eating much. Has the food been okay?
There's a long pause before SCP-7910 answers.
SCP-7910: It's just the altitude 10 . We're in Rocky Mountain National Forest 11 , right? Or at least close?
Doctor Porter Nods
Dr. Porter: We are, but I'm more concerned about-
SCP-7910: Headache, nausea, fatigue, dizziness, on top of-
SCP-7910 turns its arm and pulls up its sleeve. Black blood vessels in a spider web pattern are visible at the wrist and continue upward.
SCP-7910: -whatever's wrong with me. It's gonna be a few more days before my head stops spinning.
Dr. Porter: Right, of course. That's-that's understandable. What about your anxiety levels? You've had a few panic attacks and… energy releases since arriving, but you haven't reported-
SCP-7910: ( Interrupting ) I've answered everything you've asked, filled out all of the forms you've given me. Do you think I'm lying?
Dr. Porter: No. I didn't-I'm not accusing you of anything. It's important for us to understand how you feel, and not everything can be quantified.
SCP-7910 looks away again.
SCP-7910: It's… just… a lot to process. I've learned all the positive coping strategies, interrupting negative thought patterns, that kind of stuff. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to. What do you want me to say?
Dr. Porter: It's not about what I want, it's about what you're feeling. You're still scratching your arms.
SCP-7910 doesn't respond.
Dr. Porter: It's good that you're doing those things. The coping strategies, I mean I know how frustrating it can be to be doing the right things, but not seeing the changes you'd like. But it's still good, it just takes time. What can I do to help?
SCP-7910 still doesn't respond. There's a long pause before Doctor Porter looks down at the folder in front of her and starts looking through the contents.
Dr. Porter: Maybe… let's try something different. You haven't made many requests. Mostly necessities… a few novels… obviously I can't give you a cellphone or let you check your Instagram, but you aren't a prisoner. You are allowed to have things. Maybe there's something that might help?
SCP-7910: I asked for, like, an iPad or something, with stuff downloaded on it. Having background noise helps me a lot. I don't know if that works or…
SCP-7910 trails off and shrugs.
Dr. Porter: It's certainly possible, though it likely won't be immediate. I'd like at least another few days to see how you're adjusting before introducing something like that
Doctor Porter makes a few notes without looking up.
Dr. Porter: Maybe something else?
SCP-7910: Um, okay, um.
SCP-7910 rubs the sleeve of its jacket between its thumb and forefinger.
SCP-7910: Can I… can I go for a walk? It doesn't have to be long, especially since it's freezing, but a little breathing room would help.
Dr. Porter: That… hmm… I'll put in the request, but it's likely too much of a risk, at the moment. Maybe we can re-evaluate as we learn more about what triggers your anomaly, but that would be up to Doctor Yu.
SCP-7910: ( whispering ) Too dangerous… yeah. I'm sorry.
Dr. Porter: There's nothing to apologize for. That's why you're here. What about some plants for your room, in the mean time? Some flowers, maybe, something vibrant. It might help give you something to focus on, too, and a bit more to do. Oh, and we could do some art therapy with decorating the pots, too! There have been numerous studies citing the positive benefits of-
Doctor Porter stops. SCP-7910 is pale and its right hand is clenched in a muscle spasm.
SCP-7910: No, I-I'd just break them.
SCP-7910 pulls its legs onto the chair and wraps its arms around its knees.
Dr. Porter: …I'm sorry, I-I should have considered that. We have quite a few botanists at Site-93, I'm sure they could suggest more… durable solutions. We have plenty of time, at least.
Doctor Porter smiles. SCP-7910 still does not look at her.
SCP-7910: …Can I have my blanket?
Dr. Porter: Your- oh, oh yes! You requested that during your intake, the light blue one you brought with you, right? You mentioned it being a comfort object for you.
SCP-7910 nods.
Dr. Porter: I can absolutely approve that. It may be another day or two for the request to be processed, but I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have it. See? I knew we would find something.
SCP-7910 shrugs.
Dr. Porter: Is there anything else you'd like to talk about, before I go? I know this has been short, but I'd like to have a full therapy session tomorrow, and we can discuss further care from there. Does that sound okay?
SCP-7910 shrugs.
Dr. Porter: Excellent. Keep working on coping strategies, focus on what's helping, okay? And if you need anything, or you start feeling worse, please let someone know so we can help. And please try to eat something.
Initial Psychiatric Evaluation - 16/11/████
I spoke briefly with SCP-7910 this afternoon and plan to have a full session with her tomorrow. My initial impressions are that she's a young woman dealing with extraordinary circumstances, but she's coping with them as well as anyone in her position could be expected to. Documentation from her past councilors and inpatient hospitalizations show that she's been a model patient. It matches everything we've seen over the past few days. It's clear she's struggling to process so many life changes in such a short time, but she's cooperative, good about communicating her needs, and working to be her best despite the situation.
My biggest concern is making sure that her mental health, especially her anxiety, doesn't get worse. SCP-7910 stated during her intake interview that she scratches her arms because of her anomaly-especially the pain but that still doesn't make it a healthy coping strategy. She reports heightened anxiety in the inventories she's completed, as expected, and seemed a bit withdrawn while we spoke. I don't know if we can avoid those feelings completely, but whatever we can do to build trust and help her work through things will be beneficial to everyone.
I'll have a more complete write up after tomorrow's session, but I think starting off with two sessions per week until she seems less overwhelmed will be good. I recommend holding off on her request for an iPad or other media device, but providing her with the blanket she's requested. I noticed her stimming during our conversation- using specific stimuli to focus thoughts and block out more overwhelming stimuli- by rubbing her fingers against her sleeve. I'm sure the blanket will be better for that. I don't want to add quite as much stimulation as movies or music would create until I'm comfortable that it won't be too overwhelming.
Just to make sure it's noted: She requested to be called 7910 instead of Delilah. I'll cover that our session tomorrow, but it may be a sign that she's starting to see her self as an object, not a person. It's not uncommon for humanoid SCP objects but again, something best to avoid. I also saw she barely ate dinner tonight. I realize we can only do so much to encourage her, but she's borderline underweight already and I'd rather avoid less pleasant options for as long as we can.
Catherine Porter, PhD
Lead Psychologist - SCP-7910
Addendum: Incident Report 17/11/████ - Containment Breach - SCP-7910
On 17/11/████ at 0211, a containment breach was reported by Lead Researcher Yu. Emergency medical assistance was requested.
At 0123, SCP-7910 awoke and had difficulty falling back asleep. Doctor Yu was observing and noted heightened anxiety as well as several panic attacks.
At 0211, immediately following a panic attack, SCP-7910 screamed and began scratching its right arm. A shock wave was recorded at 40 psi of overpressure seconds later. Medical assistance was requested as the entity fell from the bed and experienced a tonic-clonic seizure
Four security personnel assisted Doctor Yu in moving SCP-7910 to secure medical lab 237. SCP-7910 does not regain consciousness after the seizure ended. Medical personnel immediately begin administering care upon arriving at the lab.
Doctor Yu and one security officer took cover behind lab counters as the entity has a second seizure. The remaining personnel were incapacitated after colliding with walls and counters after release of a second shock wave.
Doctor Yu ordered the remaining officer to hold SCP-7910's arm and administered a dose of lorazepam 12 intravenously. The seizure ends approx. 50 second later.
The breach was ended at 0228, after SCP-7910 was stabilized and a response team moved in to provide support. The entity was returned to its cell after an additional hour of monitoring by Doctor Yu.
Injured personnel were taken to Site-93's medical center for treatment. Two will need longer term recovery while three are expected to return to duty after 48 hours of rest. They all experienced with blunt force trauma after being thrown by the shock wave, but no primary injuries consistent with explosive force or rapid pressure changes were present.
No structural damage to the medical lab or the containment cell was found.
Post Incident Medical Evaluation
Patient: SCP-7910
17/11/████, 0346
SCP-7910 initially showed signs of a heightened anxiety and intermittent panic attacks, beginning at 0123 and continuing until 0211. The first seizure occurred immediately following a panic attack and lasted 4 minutes 24 seconds. A second seizure, lasting 2 minute 7 seconds, occurred about three minutes after the first ended. The patient did not regain consciousness between the seizures. Patterns of black coloration in blood vessels were observed spreading across the patient's upper torso, neck, and hands, consistent with previous observations about the patient's anomalous properties.
4mg of intravenous lorazepam was administered during the second seizure and was effective in suppressing it. Patient briefly regained consciousness just over 2 minutes later, then fell asleep almost immediately. Supplementary oxygen and intravenous fluids were given. EEG, pulse, and blood oxygen monitoring were established. Patient was returned to her containment cell after no abnormalities were recorded within 60 minutes after the second seizure ended. EEG monitoring should continue for an additional 24 hours.
Two seizures closely together and without the patient regaining consciousness between them meets the criteria for convulsive status epilepticus. a condition with a high mortality rate. As noted in the Incident Report, the second energy emission also occurred after the onset of the second seizure. The patient responded well to standard first line treatments, but further care, including general anesthetics to suppress a seizure, may be dangerous or impossible in a similar situation.
Autoinjectors w/ 10mg of midazolam 13 should be made available as an alternative if other treatment can't be provided. From observations tonight, the energy released by SCP-7910 does not travel *through* solid objects. Assisting medical personnel were incapacitated when trying to render care- I was the only one unaffected after taking cover behind a lab counter. All staff working with SCP-7910 in the future should be mindful of this; in an emergency situation it won't negate the difficulties I've mentioned, but providing any care is better than nothing.
Further seizures may be unavoidable but reducing their severity and taking precautions to avoid them is a priority for containment. It's possible that the patient's anxiety and distress may be directly contributing to this, creating a positive feedback loop with her anomalous effects and emotional state. The seizure occurred after a panic attack, one of many experienced over the course of about 50 minutes. Despite the patient's attempts to comfort and distract herself, SCP-7910's anxiety seemed to intensify rather than improve during this episode.
SCP-7910's care plan and containment procedures will be updated as necessary. A full review of SCP-7910's psychiatric history will also be conducted. Further planning for preventative psychiatric treatment will be prepared by Doctor Porter.
Morgan Yu, MD, PhD
Lead Researcher - SCP-7910
Neurology / Neurobiology
Addendum: Epileptic patterns confirmed from EEG data.
Date: 17/11/████, 0837
From: Doctor Porter
To: SCP-7910 research team
Subject: Updated Containment Procedures and Crisis Plan
I'm unfortunately not feeling well today and won't be able to attend this morning's meeting. I'll send out more detailed reports tomorrow and meet with all of you as soon as I'm able.
We'll be implementing a crisis plan for SCP-7910 and containment procedures will be updated accordingly.
I concur with Doctor Yu's hypothesis about an emotional component to her anomaly. Right now she's facing a massive amount of environmental stressors as she acclimates to containment. A near death experience and diagnosis of a serious medical condition are only going to compound that. I realize that there's not much we can do to make that better, but we can at least try not to make things worse for her. If there is a trigger related to fear, anxiety, or any other kind of distress and she starts to feel afraid of us…
Let's try not to let that happen, any more than it already has. She may not be able to fully process what's going on, even after the sedatives wear off. It's likely that she was hiding her true levels of distress, but it's our responsibility to take care of her, not hers to cooperate. In hindsight, I should have have been watching for this, and I sincerely apologize for letting this happen.
Right now, try to be gentle with her, no matter what state she's in. Explain what and why you're doing things. Talk to her, distract her, give her something to focus on so she doesn't feel overwhelmed by everything all at once.
Longer term, we should explore socialization, to keep SCP-7910 from feeling isolated as much as possible. Some normality, in this very abnormal situation, would be beneficial. I know some researchers at Site-17 have explored socialization programs between humanoid SCPs and staff, with staff either being assigned or volunteering to participate in social activities. Something similar here might be beneficial, but I'm not quite sure what it that would look like, yet. Board games, maybe? Several were recovered from her apartment. I suppose we could do a sort of movie night, too. Maybe. And knowing that the shock waves she releases don't travel through solid objects, safety should be something we can actually plan for, now.
I'll speak to SCP-7910 as soon as I can and start writing up formal proposals for some of this. Likely tomorrow, hopefully I'll feel better by then. If anyone else has suggestions, especially for socialization, please pass them on to Doctor Yu in the mean time.
Catherine Porter, PhD
Lead Psychologist & Senior Researcher - SCP-7910
Date: 17/11/████, 0900
From: Doctor Stoner
To: Doctor Porter
Subject: Re: Request for removal from SCP-7910
Doctor Porter,
I'm happy you felt comfortable enough to reach out. I know how scary it can be to ask for help.
I read over your assessments and your personnel file. Humanoid containment is a very difficult thing at the best of times, especially as a psychologist. Feeling overwhelmed is normal; It's okay not to always know what to do or have all the answers.
I think, at most, you may have misread or overlooked some things in your assessment. I certainly don't think that what happened with SCP-7910 was your fault, or that you could have prevented it. As you said in your assessment, SCP-7910 is a young woman experiencing extraordinary circumstances. It's hard to overstate the stress of so many life changes in such a brief period even before considering her mental health history. Right now, what matters is that she's alive, she's safe, and she has people who are trying to help her.
I'll send along some resources on humanoid containment and mental health care, and make sure one of our therapists talks to her in the next few days. I'm more concerned with how you're feeling. This is going to require a lot of compassion and patience, and I think you're absolutely capable of being the one to provide that. But it's just as important that you're paying attention to your own mental health.
Your absence today will be cleared as medical, if anyone has questions. My schedule is clear, so please come see me in my office as soon as you feel up to it. I know how dire things must feel right now, but this isn't something you have to feel on your own.
Best,
Jeremiah Stoner, PsyD
Site-93 Ethics Committee liason
Footnotes
1 . A senior researcher, ranking security officer, or Lead Researcher Yu, depending on severity.
2 . Standard safety precautions for SCP objects may vary from site to site in detail but never in intent. Speak to an on-site psychologist or your site's ethics committee representative if you have questions or concerns about behavioral and mental health care for humanoids in containment.
3 . Level 3 clearance and a formal, written request are required for any non-Site-93 personnel, in accordance with Foundation security protocols regarding site security procedures.
4 . SCP-7910 was previously working as a free-lance journalist and has written several articles for notable publications. Identifying information has been redacted per Foundation infosec protocols. An unredacted version of this documentation requires level 3 clearance and a written request to Doctor Yu to access.
5 . 5'8"
6 . 125 lbs
7 . The pressure created by an explosive shock wave, measured in pounds per square inch (psi). Structural damage can be caused by overpressure as little as 2-3 psi. Lung damage begins to occur at 15 psi.
8 . Panic disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, avoidant personality disorder, attention deficit hyperactive disorder. SCP-7910 has been admitted to inpatient psychiatric care several times, has not had consistent treatment outside of inpatient settings.
9 . After careful review, no disciplinary actions will be taken against Agent Mercer for delay of his initial report. Agent Grey reports finding him intoxicated and distraught shortly after submitting it. There is no reason to believe that Agent Mercer acted negligently or that he intentionally delayed reporting. Agent Grey has testified that Agent Mercer and SCP-7910 were very close friends and have known each other for several years. Both agents have been given two weeks of paid leave and are required to attend four individual and two couple's therapy sessions to assist in adequately processing these events before returning to duty.
10 . Site-93 is about 10,000 ft above sea level. At time of interview, symptoms of mild altitude sickness had been recorded in SCP-7910.
11 . Site-93 officially exists as a research station contracted with the Department of the Interior. Though its true purpose is highly classified, its location is not.
12 . Ativan, effective as a first line treatment for seizures. Standard dose is 4mg given slowly over 2 minutes.
13 . Versed, can be injected intramuscularly to treat uncontrolled seizures.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7910 " by Celeste Etoile, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7910 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 36 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "ectoentropic", "euclid", "humanoid", "sapient", "scp", "thermodynamic"] | 2022-11-11T07:41:00 | 27,604 | 4,439 | null | null | SCP-7910 is to be kept within a standard humanoid containment cell. The walls of the containment cell are to be lined with foam padding to deter self injury.
Due to the observed correlation between SCP-7910's emotional state and anomalous properties, SCP-7910 should be continually monitored by camera and microphone and at least one researcher should be present at all times. SCP-7910's behavior should be logged every 15 minutes and any major changes or concerns should be reported to the appropriate staff member. 1 Verbal explanations of procedures are to be given to the entity as they're performed. Any form of restraint should only be used with authorization from a senior researcher.
Under the crisis plan implemented by Doctor Porter, SCP-7910 should be examined at least every 24 hours for self-inflicted injury. The entity's nails should be cut every three days. A standing authorization is in place for use of double-padded restraint mitts at the discretion of supervising staff. Up-to-date details of the crisis plan may be obtained from Doctor Porter. 2
If an energy release cannot be avoided, personnel should take cover behind walls or solid objects. When moving SCP-7910 to or from its cell, staff should always be aware of what can be used as cover. Commonly used routes with marked areas, including to and from the secure medical wing, can be obtained by speaking to lead researcher Yu or the site security chief. 3
The containment cell must be inspected for any visible damage at the first available opportunity after an energy release from the entity. Pressure sensors should be installed within the walls of the containment cell. A full inspection of structural integrity must be performed if more than 3 pressure sensors register a change in atmospheric pressure greater than or equal to 5 psi. | SCP-7910, former legal name Delilah ███████ 4 , is a female human measuring 173 cm 5 in height and weighing 57 kg 6 . Birth date is 3/10/████ (27 years old at time of acquisition). The entity's overall skin pigmentation is light, but blood vessels with black coloration are visible from mid-upper-arm to the entity's wrists in spiderweb patterns. This is constant in the aforementioned areas, but coloration may spread to SCP-7910's hands, neck, torso, and may appear in other places, correlating with its anomaly as described below. The coloration affects the blood vessels, but not the blood itself; blood drawn from affected vessels is normal in appearance and shows no differences in lab testing.
The entity is able to project kinetic waves similar to shock waves created by explosive detonations. No source of this energy has been identified. SCP-7910's clothing and any objects it is holding are unaffected. Average overpressures 7 of 20-30 psi have been recorded by sensors within the containment cell. Despite the high force of these shock waves, no structural damage to SCP-7910's cell has been observed. The pressure appears to dissipate when contacting surfaces rather than transferring energy through them, resulting in objects being thrown and potentially fragile materials being broken, but without the catastrophic damage the overpressure would normally cause.
A resistance to physical harm has been observed, though with no consistent pattern. The mechanism has yet to be directly observed, but when triggered, patterns of dark blood vessels appear at sites of injury in place of bruises or scrapes. Needles and injections used during medical exams and the entity's self-harm have not been observed to trigger this.
SCP-7910 also displays extrasensory perception. Further testing is needed to determine the precise nature and limitations. Comparison of the containment team's movements with notes taken by SCP-7910 before retrieval, show that it was able to identify all four members of the primary containment team and their rough locations without line of sight and through crowded public areas. Additionally, it recorded that it "had a feeling" that it was being watched, estimated to have begun within 2 hours of when the containment team began their monitoring.
Intense pain, myoclonic muscle spasms in its hands and arms, dizziness, and vertigo have also been observed. The severity of these symptoms correlates with both its emotional state and intensity of anomalous properties.
No conscious control has been observed over any of the anomalous properties. They have a strong correlation with SCP-7910's emotional state, becoming more frequent as the entity experiences anxiety or distress. Several mental health issues have been diagnosed 8 . EEG tests display patterns consistent with epilepsy and the entity may experience tonic-clonic seizures immediately before or following an energy release. The shock waves projected by the entity make treatment these seizures potentially difficult. Uncontrolled seizures may then lead to further shock waves, breaches of containment, and/or permanent brain damage or death.
Because of the comorbidity of SCP-7910's mental health issues and epilepsy with its anomalous properties, care should be taken to avoid triggering any issues as much as possible. SCP-7910 has shown significant distress since entering containment and has presented with panic attacks, heightened anxiety, disassociation, hyper vigilance, lack of appetite, and a multitude of other psychiatric symptoms. The scratches visible on SCP-7910's arms are self-inflicted; any new injuries should be reported to research staff immediately. Therapy sessions are to be conducted four times a week by Doctor Porter. Further socialization efforts are currently being discussed. | 4 | ## testing.
The entity is able to project kinetic waves similar to shock waves created by explosive detonations. No source of this energy has been identified. SCP-7910's clothing and any objects it is holding are unaffected. Average overpressures 7 of 20-30 psi have been recorded by sensors within the containment cell. Despite the high force of these shock waves, no structural damage to SCP-7910's cell has been observed. The pressure appears to dissipate when contacting surfaces rather than transferring energy through them, resulting in objects being thrown and potentially fragile materials being broken, but without the catastrophic damage the overpressure would normally cause.
A resistance to physical harm has been observed, though with no consistent pattern. The mechanism has yet to be directly observed, but when triggered, patterns of dark blood vessels appear at sites of injury in place of bruises or scrapes. Needles and injections used during medical exams and the entity's self-harm have not been observed to trigger this.
SCP-7910 also displays extrasensory perception. Further testing is needed to determine the precise nature and limitations. Comparison of the containment team's movements with notes taken by SCP-7910 before retrieval, show that it was able to identify all four members of the primary containment team and their rough locations without line of sight and through crowded public areas. Additionally, it recorded that it "had a feeling" that it was being watched, estimated to have begun within 2 hours of when the containment team began their monitoring.
Intense pain, myoclonic muscle spasms in its hands and arms, dizziness, and vertigo have also been observed. The severity of these symptoms correlates with both its emotional state and intensity of anomalous properties.
No conscious control has been observed over any of the anomalous properties. They have a strong correlation with SCP-7910's emotional state, becoming more frequent as the entity experiences anxiety or distress. Several mental health issues have been diagnosed 8 . EEG tests display patterns consistent with epilepsy and the entity may experience tonic-clonic seizures immediately before or following an energy release. The shock waves projected by the entity make treatment these seizures potentially difficult. Uncontrolled seizures may then lead to further shock waves, breaches of containment, and/or permanent brain damage or death.
Because of the comorbidity of SCP-7910's mental health issues and epilepsy with its anomalous properties, care should be taken to avoid triggering any issues as much as possible. SCP-7910 has shown significant distress since entering containment and has presented with panic attacks, heightened anxiety, disassociation, hyper vigilance, lack of appetite, and a multitude of other psychiatric symptoms. The scratches visible on SCP-7910's arms are self-inflicted; any new injuries should be reported to research staff immediately. Therapy sessions are to be conducted four times a week by Doctor Porter. Further socialization efforts are currently being discussed.
---
## Discovery
The Foundation was alerted to SCP-7910's existence by Agent Mercer, currently undercover in Denver, Colorado as a photographer employed by a major news publication. SCP-7910 was a non-anomalous asset of both Agent Mercer and his partner, Agent Grey. Agent Mercer invited SCP-7910 to have coffee on 02/11/████. He reported that SCP-7910 appeared agitated, was reluctant to share why, but eventually confided in Agent Mercer about its anomalous properties and showed him the pattern of blood vessels on its arms.
Agent Mercer submitted a report early the next morning. 9 A containment team began monitoring SCP-7910 approximately 7 hours after the report was submitted. Agent Grey was unaware of the meeting until the report was filed, but provided supplementary information about SCP-7910 to the containment team. SCP-7910 was not aware of the Foundation's existence before retrieval and remains unaware that either agent is employed by the Foundation.
On the afternoon of 13/11/████, the containment team approached SCP-7910 at its apartment. The entity expressed concern about unintentionally harming them. The containment team was able to convince SCP-7910 that they wanted and were equipped to help, providing a basic explanation of the Foundation. The entity voluntarily accompanied the team back to Site-93 where an intake interview and examination was conducted by Doctor Yu. No anomalous events were reported during retrieval and no use of amnestic treatment was required.
Preliminary Psychiatric Evaluation:
Interview for initial psychiatric evaluation of SCP-7910, 16/11/████
Doctor Porter enters SCP-7910's cell and takes a seat at the table across from where SCP-7910 is sitting.
Dr. Porter: Good afternoon, Delilah. I'm-
SCP-7910: It's Seven-nine-ten now, isn't it?
Dr. Porter: Officially yes, but that doesn't erase who you are. It's just a designation.
SCP-7910: They're both made up. A rose by any other name. Does it really matter?
Doctor Porter hesitates.
Dr. Porter: I'm happy to use whatever makes you most comfortable.
SCP-7910: Seven-nine-ten.
Dr. Porter: Okay, Seven-nine-ten, then. it's lovely to finally meet you. I'm Doctor Porter, I'm the psychologist assigned to your case. How have you been settling in?
SCP-7910 shrugs and looks away.
Dr. Porter: You haven't been eating much. Has the food been okay?
There's a long pause before SCP-7910 answers.
SCP-7910: It's just the altitude 10 . We're in Rocky Mountain National Forest 11 , right? Or at least close?
Doctor Porter Nods
Dr. Porter: We are, but I'm more concerned about-
SCP-7910: Headache, nausea, fatigue, dizziness, on top of-
SCP-7910 turns its arm and pulls up its sleeve. Black blood vessels in a spider web pattern are visible at the wrist and continue upward.
SCP-7910: -whatever's wrong with me. It's gonna be a few more days before my head stops spinning.
Dr. Porter: Right, of course. That's-that's understandable. What about your anxiety levels? You've had a few panic attacks and… energy releases since arriving, but you haven't reported-
SCP-7910: ( Interrupting ) I've answered everything you've asked, filled out all of the forms you've given me. Do you think I'm lying?
Dr. Porter: No. I didn't-I'm not accusing you of anything. It's important for us to understand how you feel, and not everything can be quantified.
SCP-7910 looks away again.
SCP-7910: It's… just… a lot to process. I've learned all the positive coping strategies, interrupting negative thought patterns, that kind of stuff. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to. What do you want me to say?
Dr. Porter: It's not about what I want, it's about what you're feeling. You're still scratching your arms.
SCP-7910 doesn't respond.
Dr. Porter: It's good that you're doing those things. The coping strategies, I mean I know how frustrating it can be to be doing the right things, but not seeing the changes you'd like. But it's still good, it just takes time. What can I do to help?
SCP-7910 still doesn't respond. There's a long pause before Doctor Porter looks down at the folder in front of her and starts looking through the contents.
Dr. Porter: Maybe… let's try something different. You haven't made many requests. Mostly necessities… a few novels… obviously I can't give you a cellphone or let you check your Instagram, but you aren't a prisoner. You are allowed to have things. Maybe there's something that might help?
SCP-7910: I asked for, like, an iPad or something, with stuff downloaded on it. Having background noise helps me a lot. I don't know if that works or…
SCP-7910 trails off and shrugs.
Dr. Porter: It's certainly possible, though it likely won't be immediate. I'd like at least another few days to see how you're adjusting before introducing something like that
Doctor Porter makes a few notes without looking up.
Dr. Porter: Maybe something else?
SCP-7910: Um, okay, um.
SCP-7910 rubs the sleeve of its jacket between its thumb and forefinger.
SCP-7910: Can I… can I go for a walk? It doesn't have to be long, especially since it's freezing, but a little breathing room would help.
Dr. Porter: That… hmm… I'll put in the request, but it's likely too much of a risk, at the moment. Maybe we can re-evaluate as we learn more about what triggers your anomaly, but that would be up to Doctor Yu.
SCP-7910: ( whispering ) Too dangerous… yeah. I'm sorry.
Dr. Porter: There's nothing to apologize for. That's why you're here. What about some plants for your room, in the mean time? Some flowers, maybe, something vibrant. It might help give you something to focus on, too, and a bit more to do. Oh, and we could do some art therapy with decorating the pots, too! There have been numerous studies citing the positive benefits of-
Doctor Porter stops. SCP-7910 is pale and its right hand is clenched in a muscle spasm.
SCP-7910: No, I-I'd just break them.
SCP-7910 pulls its legs onto the chair and wraps its arms around its knees.
Dr. Porter: …I'm sorry, I-I should have considered that. We have quite a few botanists at Site-93, I'm sure they could suggest more… durable solutions. We have plenty of time, at least.
Doctor Porter smiles. SCP-7910 still does not look at her.
SCP-7910: …Can I have my blanket?
Dr. Porter: Your- oh, oh yes! You requested that during your intake, the light blue one you brought with you, right? You mentioned it being a comfort object for you.
SCP-7910 nods.
Dr. Porter: I can absolutely approve that. It may be another day or two for the request to be processed, but I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have it. See? I knew we would find something.
SCP-7910 shrugs.
Dr. Porter: Is there anything else you'd like to talk about, before I go? I know this has been short, but I'd like to have a full therapy session tomorrow, and we can discuss further care from there. Does that sound okay?
SCP-7910 shrugs.
Dr. Porter: Excellent. Keep working on coping strategies, focus on what's helping, okay? And if you need anything, or you start feeling worse, please let someone know so we can help. And please try to eat something.
Initial Psychiatric Evaluation - 16/11/████
I spoke briefly with SCP-7910 this afternoon and plan to have a full session with her tomorrow. My initial impressions are that she's a young woman dealing with extraordinary circumstances, but she's coping with them as well as anyone in her position could be expected to. Documentation from her past councilors and inpatient hospitalizations show that she's been a model patient. It matches everything we've seen over the past few days. It's clear she's struggling to process so many life changes in such a short time, but she's cooperative, good about communicating her needs, and working to be her best despite the situation.
My biggest concern is making sure that her mental health, especially her anxiety, doesn't get worse. SCP-7910 stated during her intake interview that she scratches her arms because of her anomaly-especially the pain but that still doesn't make it a healthy coping strategy. She reports heightened anxiety in the inventories she's completed, as expected, and seemed a bit withdrawn while we spoke. I don't know if we can avoid those feelings completely, but whatever we can do to build trust and help her work through things will be beneficial to everyone.
I'll have a more complete write up after tomorrow's session, but I think starting off with two sessions per week until she seems less overwhelmed will be good. I recommend holding off on her request for an iPad or other media device, but providing her with the blanket she's requested. I noticed her stimming during our conversation- using specific stimuli to focus thoughts and block out more overwhelming stimuli- by rubbing her fingers against her sleeve. I'm sure the blanket will be better for that. I don't want to add quite as much stimulation as movies or music would create until I'm comfortable that it won't be too overwhelming.
Just to make sure it's noted: She requested to be called 7910 instead of Delilah. I'll cover that our session tomorrow, but it may be a sign that she's starting to see her self as an object, not a person. It's not uncommon for humanoid SCP objects but again, something best to avoid. I also saw she barely ate dinner tonight. I realize we can only do so much to encourage her, but she's borderline underweight already and I'd rather avoid less pleasant options for as long as we can.
Catherine Porter, PhD
Lead Psychologist - SCP-7910
---
## Incident Medical Evaluation
Patient: SCP-7910
17/11/████, 0346
SCP-7910 initially showed signs of a heightened anxiety and intermittent panic attacks, beginning at 0123 and continuing until 0211. The first seizure occurred immediately following a panic attack and lasted 4 minutes 24 seconds. A second seizure, lasting 2 minute 7 seconds, occurred about three minutes after the first ended. The patient did not regain consciousness between the seizures. Patterns of black coloration in blood vessels were observed spreading across the patient's upper torso, neck, and hands, consistent with previous observations about the patient's anomalous properties.
4mg of intravenous lorazepam was administered during the second seizure and was effective in suppressing it. Patient briefly regained consciousness just over 2 minutes later, then fell asleep almost immediately. Supplementary oxygen and intravenous fluids were given. EEG, pulse, and blood oxygen monitoring were established. Patient was returned to her containment cell after no abnormalities were recorded within 60 minutes after the second seizure ended. EEG monitoring should continue for an additional 24 hours.
Two seizures closely together and without the patient regaining consciousness between them meets the criteria for convulsive status epilepticus. a condition with a high mortality rate. As noted in the Incident Report, the second energy emission also occurred after the onset of the second seizure. The patient responded well to standard first line treatments, but further care, including general anesthetics to suppress a seizure, may be dangerous or impossible in a similar situation.
Autoinjectors w/ 10mg of midazolam 13 should be made available as an alternative if other treatment can't be provided. From observations tonight, the energy released by SCP-7910 does not travel *through* solid objects. Assisting medical personnel were incapacitated when trying to render care- I was the only one unaffected after taking cover behind a lab counter. All staff working with SCP-7910 in the future should be mindful of this; in an emergency situation it won't negate the difficulties I've mentioned, but providing any care is better than nothing.
Further seizures may be unavoidable but reducing their severity and taking precautions to avoid them is a priority for containment. It's possible that the patient's anxiety and distress may be directly contributing to this, creating a positive feedback loop with her anomalous effects and emotional state. The seizure occurred after a panic attack, one of many experienced over the course of about 50 minutes. Despite the patient's attempts to comfort and distract herself, SCP-7910's anxiety seemed to intensify rather than improve during this episode.
SCP-7910's care plan and containment procedures will be updated as necessary. A full review of SCP-7910's psychiatric history will also be conducted. Further planning for preventative psychiatric treatment will be prepared by Doctor Porter.
Morgan Yu, MD, PhD
Lead Researcher - SCP-7910
Neurology / Neurobiology
---
## Addendum: Epileptic patterns confirmed from EEG data.
Date: 17/11/████, 0837
From: Doctor Porter
To: SCP-7910 research team
Subject: Updated Containment Procedures and Crisis Plan
I'm unfortunately not feeling well today and won't be able to attend this morning's meeting. I'll send out more detailed reports tomorrow and meet with all of you as soon as I'm able.
We'll be implementing a crisis plan for SCP-7910 and containment procedures will be updated accordingly.
I concur with Doctor Yu's hypothesis about an emotional component to her anomaly. Right now she's facing a massive amount of environmental stressors as she acclimates to containment. A near death experience and diagnosis of a serious medical condition are only going to compound that. I realize that there's not much we can do to make that better, but we can at least try not to make things worse for her. If there is a trigger related to fear, anxiety, or any other kind of distress and she starts to feel afraid of us…
Let's try not to let that happen, any more than it already has. She may not be able to fully process what's going on, even after the sedatives wear off. It's likely that she was hiding her true levels of distress, but it's our responsibility to take care of her, not hers to cooperate. In hindsight, I should have have been watching for this, and I sincerely apologize for letting this happen.
Right now, try to be gentle with her, no matter what state she's in. Explain what and why you're doing things. Talk to her, distract her, give her something to focus on so she doesn't feel overwhelmed by everything all at once.
Longer term, we should explore socialization, to keep SCP-7910 from feeling isolated as much as possible. Some normality, in this very abnormal situation, would be beneficial. I know some researchers at Site-17 have explored socialization programs between humanoid SCPs and staff, with staff either being assigned or volunteering to participate in social activities. Something similar here might be beneficial, but I'm not quite sure what it that would look like, yet. Board games, maybe? Several were recovered from her apartment. I suppose we could do a sort of movie night, too. Maybe. And knowing that the shock waves she releases don't travel through solid objects, safety should be something we can actually plan for, now.
I'll speak to SCP-7910 as soon as I can and start writing up formal proposals for some of this. Likely tomorrow, hopefully I'll feel better by then. If anyone else has suggestions, especially for socialization, please pass them on to Doctor Yu in the mean time.
Catherine Porter, PhD
Lead Psychologist & Senior Researcher - SCP-7910
Date: 17/11/████, 0900
From: Doctor Stoner
To: Doctor Porter
Subject: Re: Request for removal from SCP-7910
Doctor Porter,
I'm happy you felt comfortable enough to reach out. I know how scary it can be to ask for help.
I read over your assessments and your personnel file. Humanoid containment is a very difficult thing at the best of times, especially as a psychologist. Feeling overwhelmed is normal; It's okay not to always know what to do or have all the answers.
I think, at most, you may have misread or overlooked some things in your assessment. I certainly don't think that what happened with SCP-7910 was your fault, or that you could have prevented it. As you said in your assessment, SCP-7910 is a young woman experiencing extraordinary circumstances. It's hard to overstate the stress of so many life changes in such a brief period even before considering her mental health history. Right now, what matters is that she's alive, she's safe, and she has people who are trying to help her.
I'll send along some resources on humanoid containment and mental health care, and make sure one of our therapists talks to her in the next few days. I'm more concerned with how you're feeling. This is going to require a lot of compassion and patience, and I think you're absolutely capable of being the one to provide that. But it's just as important that you're paying attention to your own mental health.
Your absence today will be cleared as medical, if anyone has questions. My schedule is clear, so please come see me in my office as soon as you feel up to it. I know how dire things must feel right now, but this isn't something you have to feel on your own.
Best,
Jeremiah Stoner, PsyD
Site-93 Ethics Committee liason
Footnotes
1 . A senior researcher, ranking security officer, or Lead Researcher Yu, depending on severity.
2 . Standard safety precautions for SCP objects may vary from site to site in detail but never in intent. Speak to an on-site psychologist or your site's ethics committee representative if you have questions or concerns about behavioral and mental health care for humanoids in containment.
3 . Level 3 clearance and a formal, written request are required for any non-Site-93 personnel, in accordance with Foundation security protocols regarding site security procedures.
4 . SCP-7910 was previously working as a free-lance journalist and has written several articles for notable publications. Identifying information has been redacted per Foundation infosec protocols. An unredacted version of this documentation requires level 3 clearance and a written request to Doctor Yu to access.
5 . 5'8"
6 . 125 lbs
7 . The pressure created by an explosive shock wave, measured in pounds per square inch (psi). Structural damage can be caused by overpressure as little as 2-3 psi. Lung damage begins to occur at 15 psi.
8 . Panic disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, avoidant personality disorder, attention deficit hyperactive disorder. SCP-7910 has been admitted to inpatient psychiatric care several times, has not had consistent treatment outside of inpatient settings.
9 . After careful review, no disciplinary actions will be taken against Agent Mercer for delay of his initial report. Agent Grey reports finding him intoxicated and distraught shortly after submitting it. There is no reason to believe that Agent Mercer acted negligently or that he intentionally delayed reporting. Agent Grey has testified that Agent Mercer and SCP-7910 were very close friends and have known each other for several years. Both agents have been given two weeks of paid leave and are required to attend four individual and two couple's therapy sessions to assist in adequately processing these events before returning to duty.
10 . Site-93 is about 10,000 ft above sea level. At time of interview, symptoms of mild altitude sickness had been recorded in SCP-7910.
11 . Site-93 officially exists as a research station contracted with the Department of the Interior. Though its true purpose is highly classified, its location is not.
12 . Ativan, effective as a first line treatment for seizures. Standard dose is 4mg given slowly over 2 minutes.
13 . Versed, can be injected intramuscularly to treat uncontrolled seizures.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7910 " by Celeste Etoile, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7910 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-6529 | SCP-6529 | scp | ITEM #:
6529
CONTAINMENT CLASS:
SAFE
SCP-6529 in containment.
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6529 is to remain within Site-184 's Anomalous Art and Artifacts Secure Storage Wing. Under no circumstance is the central compartment of SCP-6529 to be opened. A Foundation-Certified, Class C1-Zosimos Thaumaturge is to examine the binding seals and protective runes inscribed upon SCP-6529 bi-annually: occurring on both the Summer and Winter Solstices. Should any degradation of the aforementioned thaumaturgic wardings be detected, the existing inscriptions are to be repaired or bolstered as necessary.
Description: SCP-6529 is an ornate box initially designed to contain a variety of writing and art supplies. It is composed of a series of auxiliary drawers located around a central compartment. These drawers have been thaumaturgically enhanced to possess significantly larger interior dimensions than the outward appearance would suggest. The central compartment of SCP-6529 is mechanically and thaumaturgically locked, preventing access to its interior space.
Items recovered from SCP-6529 suggest that a conceptual entity - suspected to embody or represent notions of 'lengthening' and/or 'elongating' - is currently tethered to a physical totemic body, contained within the sealed central compartment of SCP-6529. 1
Addendum - 6529_A1: Primary Documents Recovered from SCP-6529.
The following documents were recovered from the auxiliary compartments of SCP-6529. They appear to be written by Magnus Kinslow, a recorded thaumaturgical practitioner employed by the The Commission on Unusual Cargo during the late 18 th to early 19 th century. The recovered documents are presented in presumed chronological order:
Dear Jonathan,
My sincerest apologies that I have not written you sooner. You, more than most, know the challenges one encounters in our line of work. I also apologize that I cannot respond properly to your inquiry into my current location; suffice to say I am making ample use of the scarf your dear Mary gifted me before my departure.
On the note of kind gifts, I must thank you again for lending me Valdemar's Chest. It is a beautiful piece and more useful than I could possibly have imagined. I ensured it was well stocked before I departed. I intended to deepen certain artistic skills upon my voyage as well as continuing my research (which, I might add, would not be possible without the extra storage you have provided to me! My crewmates would be hard-pressed to see value in such books, or anything heavy they could not eat, drink, or smoke!).
One particularly hefty tome, whose accompaniment you have helped secure upon this journey, is a chronicle of old Norse legends and arcana, compiled by the Icelandic poet and naturalist Jonas Palmason. His writings are extraordinary. He weaves a yarn that draws together teachings on rune-crafting, fabulamancy, and their Gods that is both educative and thrilling. So far my reading eye has been more taxed than my artistic one.
Alas, so far there is little to sketch here aside from the ship, its crew, our cargo - so neatly stored in bland wooden boxes, and the passing ice float. Of these subjects, Joséphine is the most patient. She appears to have become quite taken with me, or at least some of the herbs I use to freshen my small quarters aboard the ship. When not mousing, she sits upon my bed and has become an affectionate companion. Indeed, she possesses a few notable traits I've become quite fond of - including one missing amongst a great number of my fondest friends (you included!): she is content to listen to my musings, rather than interrupt!
Fondly,
Magnus Kinslow
John,
I'm more likely to burn this than send it, but I feel as though someone should know of our ill luck - at the very least, writing may free it from my thoughts before rest.
We had adjusted our course Northward. An item of cargo is kept subdued by the cold, and it appeared to be getting active. We plotted a course along the ice and kept pace for most of the day. That was until my late supper was interrupted by a groaning reverberation that pitched us forward and to the side. The rest of my day soon followed the course of that meal: ruined.
I was tasked to examine the cargo, while the ship hands worked to free us of our predicament. Hours of methodical examination followed as I poured over each lock: mechanical and arcane, and double-checked the location and condition of each item. After several exhausting hours, I fled the darkness of the cargo hold to assess our predicament beyond. What I encountered has given me no cause for hopefulness. The men endeavoured to free the ship, to seemingly no avail. I was resolved to document this Sisyphean effort until its completion, or the lack of light rendered my vision insufficient. Alas, I forgot that the sun never dips below the horizon in this cursed place, and it was the aching of my blue fingers that drove me to shelter.
The bed calls to me. I hope for better news ahead.
I woke today to a nightmare.
An unearthly wind echoed through the ship and stirred me from my slumber. I dressed quickly and called out. None answered me below. I climbed the steps above, losing count at how many times I stepped upwards, before being met with a haunting sight. The masts towered above me, vanishing to imperceptible points in the white sky. As I brought my gaze down across the ship, I saw impossible forms scattered about me. Like dolls with wooden legs, extended to long points. Each form stretched beyond my fearful eyes, receding into the series of lines. Only when I focused on them closely could I identify the twisted human shape of my shipmates. Their bodies switched in focus, between here and there, present and infinite. I was driven back into the darkness below deck.
As I caught my breath, I felt a nudge against my thigh. Joséphine, looking towards me with saucer eyes. I was resolved, I must take us from this place. Within my room I gathered my things, stuffing the enchanted compartments of Valdemar's chest full of all I could reach: ink, quills, charcoal, and foodstuffs; Only half-aware, I grabbed several unappealing meals of dried meat, pickled fish, and cheese. I found some piece of splintered wood to lean upon, and a sack to store the rest in. I scooped Joséphine under my arm and went upwards, keeping my eyes trained downwards upon the deck.
I stumbled over something: one of the men, fallen and slashed along the shoulder to neck. The wound did not flow or pool, it congealed. I realized it was not the wind I had woken to, but his inhuman shrieking, drawn-out and unbroken.
I blundered off the boat, onto the drifts and the ice. I have been walking. I have not dared to stop for some time.
Although I have not yet suffered these effects, I cannot say why - whether some arcane warding has buffered it, or I am the recipient of divine luck. I fear I am the cause, that it radiates from me.
The ground is treacherous: slick and uneven. Joséphine pads along behind me; our pace along the ice seems not to bother her so much as I.
Looking behind, at her and the ship in the distance, hurts my eyes. There's a stretching of space between myself and the wreck that causes the head to throb. The distance is collapsed, squeezed. I can still see those masts, extending into the horizon.
I am the center of this circle; the effect extends away from me, distorting shapes into jagged lines retreating from my view, beyond my capacity of knowing. I hope that distance will dull its grasp and give those on the ship another chance.
Looking ahead is easier, the lines are less fierce. The even landscape is broken only by a snowy rise or icy protrusion. It took me some time before I realized what was wrong with it. I cannot see the sea, just this brumal expanse.
Occasionally I will stop and sit for a moment, searching for some landmark before me, to know if we have drawn nearer. The water in the canteen has frozen, but I've yet to grow thirsty or hungry. Perhaps that is for the best. The chest, wrapped in a canvas sack, sits heavily upon my shoulders. Regardless, I do not wish to discard it. Even though our food supplies do not dwindle as I expected them to, its contents offer a welcome distraction on break such as these. I read to my feline friend today from Palmason's mythos.
I do not know how long I have walked along the slick, uneven ice. I feel myself move forward with each step but grow no closer to the uncertain horizon before me.
All those cues that once marked the passage of hours and days have abandoned me; their meaning dragged apart to insignificance. The sun circles like a vulture overhead, never letting me slip from its predatory gaze. I crave no food or rest. My body draws substance to carry onward from what? My fallible will itself?
Time does not keep us bound, it serves us. We did not yield to it - we broke it to suit our needs, and now I am without it and all company, save for the cat. She follows, dutifully, step by step with me. Us two marching our steady pace across this wasteland. I can see her face but looking beyond her shoulders hurts. A tethering extension, an impossible distortion, binds her to the ice-clad wreck. To think about it, to see it, seems to close the distance, yank us backwards, and so I focus on her whisker-clad face and forepaws.
God deliver us from this.
I saw a corpse in the ice: a withered, wind-blasted thing. I did not know it was myself for some time. I put its semblance to paper; I don't want to forget again.
There are many kinds of sacrifice. I've seen a man aflame leap from a tall building, choosing one death over another. I watched a woman shove her child from beneath a chunk of falling masonry, saving the girl but not herself. I have no one to save but myself and the cat.
The Codex , as I have grown accustomed to thinking of that Icelander's musings, weighs heavy on my thoughts. It talks to me of heroes, beasts, strange magics, the wills and conflicts of gods. It whispers to me, through the sealed, arcane wood of the chest I carry, of Óðinn's sacrifice for knowledge. My life has been an engagement in the frantic pursuit of power through truth, I have learned little, only enough to bring me to this biter end.
A different understanding is needed. I shall walk the elder paths, trodden through the snow by those before me, to the same or disparate ends, to power or death. I have no spear but this penknife, no tree but this staff, no noose but this scarf. They shall do.
I am not dead.
Beneath the orbiting sun, on what I told myself was morning, I carved my eye from its socket with my knife. There was red against the white of the snow as the warm trickle upon my face froze fast, mingled with my anguished tears. The howling cries were torn from me by the chilling wind.
I tightened my scarf, tied it to the walking stick, and planted it in the ground. Already it lurched upwards, growing above me, from me, into the infinite sky. I could feel the fabrics stiffening against my neck as I was dragged after it. The cold aches that plagued my legs subsided as I left the ground, replaced by burning panic and fear. I could not breathe. My vision clouded as the pressure built and the trickle of blood from my eye became a torrent. Pain wracked my body, as Joséphine's mewling cries grew fainter.
I do not know for how long I hanged. I watched the glacial expanse below me spread across the horizon as that pale sun spun, its baleful light reflected from glowing towers of ice that pierced the sky. I felt myself come apart and spread across a quiet world of white expanse. An eternal world, still and unmoving, until that star itself faltered, and cast all into darkness.
In that eternal night, I felt a presence - constricting itself around me, to me, through me, winding across time and space. It was a comforting warmth, there at the empty culmination of all things. The cat, Joséphine, was with me. From behind her shoulders stretched infinity, expanding continuously into the abyss beyond thought. But there, before me, was she: purring, alive, and warm.
Look to the center, I had been taught. 'See from whence it radiates.' Foolish man. I had always been self-centered.
With that revelation it collapses, this vision. I found myself sprawled upon the ice. The scarf was torn asunder, one half rippling in the breeze upon the stick. Joséphine nudged my face and licked the blood from my cheek.
I knew then what I was to do.
The undertaking is complete. Wielding an unreal blade of thought, honed to a razor's edge, I cut through the abdomen - leaving no trace of my incision but a void. I had prepared Valdemar's Chest ahead of time: turned its center in upon itself. I formed from it, with magics I had not known, a boundless cavity hungering for matter. To that suckling abyss I brought the incised back end of my companion. There was a great flash and folding of space across the landscape. At that moment, I sealed that distortion: the extending of all things that infected my friend, within the chest I had carried.
When I looked downward, Joséphine was beside me, her frontward half steady upon two legs. She seemed content, or at least balanced well enough to follow me to the ship. It did not take us long to reach it. The crew were dazed, but alive. Their gazes slid away from me, and none inquired about the appearance of myself or my companion. We have both lost something from this, but I do not intend to be parted from her.
I have seen this world's end: an empty, abandoned wasteland littered with the ice-white bones of that which once was. I will not let this come to pass.
We shall need something new, beginning with names. I myself am no longer the man I was, and 'Joséphine' seems overly long to me now.
Addendum - 6529_A2: Additional Documents Recovered from SCP-6529 - Context Unclear.
The following additional items were also recovered from SCP-6529. They have been identified as belonging to Lauron William De Laurence's The Illustrated Key to the Tarot published in 1918. It is unclear as to how and when these items were added to SCP-6529.
The additional detail included in the center-left item: 'The Hermit,' mirrors iconography employed by Jean & Jean Transtemporal Shipping . An investigation into the connection between this now-defunct organization and SCP-6529 is pending approval.
Footnotes
1 . For additional information, see Addendum - 6529_A1.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6529 " by DodoDevil, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6529 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Box1.jpg
Name: Rechthoekig Japans kabinet
Author: Anonymous
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.241215
Filename: Cat.png
Name: Liggende kat, schuin van voren
Author: Jean Bernard
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.136304
Filename: Boat3.png
Name: Bemanningsleden bij de boegspriet van de schoener Willem Barentsz
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.583787
Filename: Self2.png
Name: Portret van een Samojeed
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.584646
Filename: Ice2.png
Name: Gezicht op de Barentszzee met ijsbergen
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.536472
Filename: Tarot1.png
Name: The Illustrated Key to the Tarot: 'The Magician,' 'The Hermit,' 'The Hanged Man,' 'The Tower'
Author: Lauron William De Laurence
License: Public Domain
Source Link: https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._41.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._57.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._63.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._71.png | 101 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "artifact", "artistic", "auditory", "concept", "extradimensional", "half-cat-josie", "hallucination", "memecon2021-unofficial", "reality-bending", "safe", "scp", "tool", "unusual-cargo"] | 2021-07-05T20:31:00 | 16,187 | 2,706 | null | null | SCP-6529 is to remain within Site-184 's Anomalous Art and Artifacts Secure Storage Wing. Under no circumstance is the central compartment of SCP-6529 to be opened. A Foundation-Certified, Class C1-Zosimos Thaumaturge is to examine the binding seals and protective runes inscribed upon SCP-6529 bi-annually: occurring on both the Summer and Winter Solstices. Should any degradation of the aforementioned thaumaturgic wardings be detected, the existing inscriptions are to be repaired or bolstered as necessary. | SCP-6529 is an ornate box initially designed to contain a variety of writing and art supplies. It is composed of a series of auxiliary drawers located around a central compartment. These drawers have been thaumaturgically enhanced to possess significantly larger interior dimensions than the outward appearance would suggest. The central compartment of SCP-6529 is mechanically and thaumaturgically locked, preventing access to its interior space.
Items recovered from SCP-6529 suggest that a conceptual entity - suspected to embody or represent notions of 'lengthening' and/or 'elongating' - is currently tethered to a physical totemic body, contained within the sealed central compartment of SCP-6529. 1
Addendum - 6529_A1: Primary Documents Recovered from SCP-6529.
The following documents were recovered from the auxiliary compartments of SCP-6529. They appear to be written by Magnus Kinslow, a recorded thaumaturgical practitioner employed by the The Commission on Unusual Cargo during the late 18 th to early 19 th century. The recovered documents are presented in presumed chronological order:
Dear Jonathan,
My sincerest apologies that I have not written you sooner. You, more than most, know the challenges one encounters in our line of work. I also apologize that I cannot respond properly to your inquiry into my current location; suffice to say I am making ample use of the scarf your dear Mary gifted me before my departure.
On the note of kind gifts, I must thank you again for lending me Valdemar's Chest. It is a beautiful piece and more useful than I could possibly have imagined. I ensured it was well stocked before I departed. I intended to deepen certain artistic skills upon my voyage as well as continuing my research (which, I might add, would not be possible without the extra storage you have provided to me! My crewmates would be hard-pressed to see value in such books, or anything heavy they could not eat, drink, or smoke!).
One particularly hefty tome, whose accompaniment you have helped secure upon this journey, is a chronicle of old Norse legends and arcana, compiled by the Icelandic poet and naturalist Jonas Palmason. His writings are extraordinary. He weaves a yarn that draws together teachings on rune-crafting, fabulamancy, and their Gods that is both educative and thrilling. So far my reading eye has been more taxed than my artistic one.
Alas, so far there is little to sketch here aside from the ship, its crew, our cargo - so neatly stored in bland wooden boxes, and the passing ice float. Of these subjects, Joséphine is the most patient. She appears to have become quite taken with me, or at least some of the herbs I use to freshen my small quarters aboard the ship. When not mousing, she sits upon my bed and has become an affectionate companion. Indeed, she possesses a few notable traits I've become quite fond of - including one missing amongst a great number of my fondest friends (you included!): she is content to listen to my musings, rather than interrupt!
Fondly,
Magnus Kinslow
John,
I'm more likely to burn this than send it, but I feel as though someone should know of our ill luck - at the very least, writing may free it from my thoughts before rest.
We had adjusted our course Northward. An item of cargo is kept subdued by the cold, and it appeared to be getting active. We plotted a course along the ice and kept pace for most of the day. That was until my late supper was interrupted by a groaning reverberation that pitched us forward and to the side. The rest of my day soon followed the course of that meal: ruined.
I was tasked to examine the cargo, while the ship hands worked to free us of our predicament. Hours of methodical examination followed as I poured over each lock: mechanical and arcane, and double-checked the location and condition of each item. After several exhausting hours, I fled the darkness of the cargo hold to assess our predicament beyond. What I encountered has given me no cause for hopefulness. The men endeavoured to free the ship, to seemingly no avail. I was resolved to document this Sisyphean effort until its completion, or the lack of light rendered my vision insufficient. Alas, I forgot that the sun never dips below the horizon in this cursed place, and it was the aching of my blue fingers that drove me to shelter.
The bed calls to me. I hope for better news ahead.
I woke today to a nightmare.
An unearthly wind echoed through the ship and stirred me from my slumber. I dressed quickly and called out. None answered me below. I climbed the steps above, losing count at how many times I stepped upwards, before being met with a haunting sight. The masts towered above me, vanishing to imperceptible points in the white sky. As I brought my gaze down across the ship, I saw impossible forms scattered about me. Like dolls with wooden legs, extended to long points. Each form stretched beyond my fearful eyes, receding into the series of lines. Only when I focused on them closely could I identify the twisted human shape of my shipmates. Their bodies switched in focus, between here and there, present and infinite. I was driven back into the darkness below deck.
As I caught my breath, I felt a nudge against my thigh. Joséphine, looking towards me with saucer eyes. I was resolved, I must take us from this place. Within my room I gathered my things, stuffing the enchanted compartments of Valdemar's chest full of all I could reach: ink, quills, charcoal, and foodstuffs; Only half-aware, I grabbed several unappealing meals of dried meat, pickled fish, and cheese. I found some piece of splintered wood to lean upon, and a sack to store the rest in. I scooped Joséphine under my arm and went upwards, keeping my eyes trained downwards upon the deck.
I stumbled over something: one of the men, fallen and slashed along the shoulder to neck. The wound did not flow or pool, it congealed. I realized it was not the wind I had woken to, but his inhuman shrieking, drawn-out and unbroken.
I blundered off the boat, onto the drifts and the ice. I have been walking. I have not dared to stop for some time.
Although I have not yet suffered these effects, I cannot say why - whether some arcane warding has buffered it, or I am the recipient of divine luck. I fear I am the cause, that it radiates from me.
The ground is treacherous: slick and uneven. Joséphine pads along behind me; our pace along the ice seems not to bother her so much as I.
Looking behind, at her and the ship in the distance, hurts my eyes. There's a stretching of space between myself and the wreck that causes the head to throb. The distance is collapsed, squeezed. I can still see those masts, extending into the horizon.
I am the center of this circle; the effect extends away from me, distorting shapes into jagged lines retreating from my view, beyond my capacity of knowing. I hope that distance will dull its grasp and give those on the ship another chance.
Looking ahead is easier, the lines are less fierce. The even landscape is broken only by a snowy rise or icy protrusion. It took me some time before I realized what was wrong with it. I cannot see the sea, just this brumal expanse.
Occasionally I will stop and sit for a moment, searching for some landmark before me, to know if we have drawn nearer. The water in the canteen has frozen, but I've yet to grow thirsty or hungry. Perhaps that is for the best. The chest, wrapped in a canvas sack, sits heavily upon my shoulders. Regardless, I do not wish to discard it. Even though our food supplies do not dwindle as I expected them to, its contents offer a welcome distraction on break such as these. I read to my feline friend today from Palmason's mythos.
I do not know how long I have walked along the slick, uneven ice. I feel myself move forward with each step but grow no closer to the uncertain horizon before me.
All those cues that once marked the passage of hours and days have abandoned me; their meaning dragged apart to insignificance. The sun circles like a vulture overhead, never letting me slip from its predatory gaze. I crave no food or rest. My body draws substance to carry onward from what? My fallible will itself?
Time does not keep us bound, it serves us. We did not yield to it - we broke it to suit our needs, and now I am without it and all company, save for the cat. She follows, dutifully, step by step with me. Us two marching our steady pace across this wasteland. I can see her face but looking beyond her shoulders hurts. A tethering extension, an impossible distortion, binds her to the ice-clad wreck. To think about it, to see it, seems to close the distance, yank us backwards, and so I focus on her whisker-clad face and forepaws.
God deliver us from this.
I saw a corpse in the ice: a withered, wind-blasted thing. I did not know it was myself for some time. I put its semblance to paper; I don't want to forget again.
There are many kinds of sacrifice. I've seen a man aflame leap from a tall building, choosing one death over another. I watched a woman shove her child from beneath a chunk of falling masonry, saving the girl but not herself. I have no one to save but myself and the cat.
The Codex , as I have grown accustomed to thinking of that Icelander's musings, weighs heavy on my thoughts. It talks to me of heroes, beasts, strange magics, the wills and conflicts of gods. It whispers to me, through the sealed, arcane wood of the chest I carry, of Óðinn's sacrifice for knowledge. My life has been an engagement in the frantic pursuit of power through truth, I have learned little, only enough to bring me to this biter end.
A different understanding is needed. I shall walk the elder paths, trodden through the snow by those before me, to the same or disparate ends, to power or death. I have no spear but this penknife, no tree but this staff, no noose but this scarf. They shall do.
I am not dead.
Beneath the orbiting sun, on what I told myself was morning, I carved my eye from its socket with my knife. There was red against the white of the snow as the warm trickle upon my face froze fast, mingled with my anguished tears. The howling cries were torn from me by the chilling wind.
I tightened my scarf, tied it to the walking stick, and planted it in the ground. Already it lurched upwards, growing above me, from me, into the infinite sky. I could feel the fabrics stiffening against my neck as I was dragged after it. The cold aches that plagued my legs subsided as I left the ground, replaced by burning panic and fear. I could not breathe. My vision clouded as the pressure built and the trickle of blood from my eye became a torrent. Pain wracked my body, as Joséphine's mewling cries grew fainter.
I do not know for how long I hanged. I watched the glacial expanse below me spread across the horizon as that pale sun spun, its baleful light reflected from glowing towers of ice that pierced the sky. I felt myself come apart and spread across a quiet world of white expanse. An eternal world, still and unmoving, until that star itself faltered, and cast all into darkness.
In that eternal night, I felt a presence - constricting itself around me, to me, through me, winding across time and space. It was a comforting warmth, there at the empty culmination of all things. The cat, Joséphine, was with me. From behind her shoulders stretched infinity, expanding continuously into the abyss beyond thought. But there, before me, was she: purring, alive, and warm.
Look to the center, I had been taught. 'See from whence it radiates.' Foolish man. I had always been self-centered.
With that revelation it collapses, this vision. I found myself sprawled upon the ice. The scarf was torn asunder, one half rippling in the breeze upon the stick. Joséphine nudged my face and licked the blood from my cheek.
I knew then what I was to do.
The undertaking is complete. Wielding an unreal blade of thought, honed to a razor's edge, I cut through the abdomen - leaving no trace of my incision but a void. I had prepared Valdemar's Chest ahead of time: turned its center in upon itself. I formed from it, with magics I had not known, a boundless cavity hungering for matter. To that suckling abyss I brought the incised back end of my companion. There was a great flash and folding of space across the landscape. At that moment, I sealed that distortion: the extending of all things that infected my friend, within the chest I had carried.
When I looked downward, Joséphine was beside me, her frontward half steady upon two legs. She seemed content, or at least balanced well enough to follow me to the ship. It did not take us long to reach it. The crew were dazed, but alive. Their gazes slid away from me, and none inquired about the appearance of myself or my companion. We have both lost something from this, but I do not intend to be parted from her.
I have seen this world's end: an empty, abandoned wasteland littered with the ice-white bones of that which once was. I will not let this come to pass.
We shall need something new, beginning with names. I myself am no longer the man I was, and 'Joséphine' seems overly long to me now.
Addendum - 6529_A2: Additional Documents Recovered from SCP-6529 - Context Unclear.
The following additional items were also recovered from SCP-6529. They have been identified as belonging to Lauron William De Laurence's The Illustrated Key to the Tarot published in 1918. It is unclear as to how and when these items were added to SCP-6529.
The additional detail included in the center-left item: 'The Hermit,' mirrors iconography employed by Jean & Jean Transtemporal Shipping . An investigation into the connection between this now-defunct organization and SCP-6529 is pending approval.
Footnotes
1 . For additional information, see Addendum - 6529_A1.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6529 " by DodoDevil, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6529 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Box1.jpg
Name: Rechthoekig Japans kabinet
Author: Anonymous
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.241215
Filename: Cat.png
Name: Liggende kat, schuin van voren
Author: Jean Bernard
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.136304
Filename: Boat3.png
Name: Bemanningsleden bij de boegspriet van de schoener Willem Barentsz
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.583787
Filename: Self2.png
Name: Portret van een Samojeed
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.584646
Filename: Ice2.png
Name: Gezicht op de Barentszzee met ijsbergen
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.536472
Filename: Tarot1.png
Name: The Illustrated Key to the Tarot: 'The Magician,' 'The Hermit,' 'The Hanged Man,' 'The Tower'
Author: Lauron William De Laurence
License: Public Domain
Source Link: https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._41.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._57.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._63.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._71.png | 3 | ## Documents Recovered from SCP-6529.
The following documents were recovered from the auxiliary compartments of SCP-6529. They appear to be written by Magnus Kinslow, a recorded thaumaturgical practitioner employed by the The Commission on Unusual Cargo during the late 18 th to early 19 th century. The recovered documents are presented in presumed chronological order:
Dear Jonathan,
My sincerest apologies that I have not written you sooner. You, more than most, know the challenges one encounters in our line of work. I also apologize that I cannot respond properly to your inquiry into my current location; suffice to say I am making ample use of the scarf your dear Mary gifted me before my departure.
On the note of kind gifts, I must thank you again for lending me Valdemar's Chest. It is a beautiful piece and more useful than I could possibly have imagined. I ensured it was well stocked before I departed. I intended to deepen certain artistic skills upon my voyage as well as continuing my research (which, I might add, would not be possible without the extra storage you have provided to me! My crewmates would be hard-pressed to see value in such books, or anything heavy they could not eat, drink, or smoke!).
One particularly hefty tome, whose accompaniment you have helped secure upon this journey, is a chronicle of old Norse legends and arcana, compiled by the Icelandic poet and naturalist Jonas Palmason. His writings are extraordinary. He weaves a yarn that draws together teachings on rune-crafting, fabulamancy, and their Gods that is both educative and thrilling. So far my reading eye has been more taxed than my artistic one.
Alas, so far there is little to sketch here aside from the ship, its crew, our cargo - so neatly stored in bland wooden boxes, and the passing ice float. Of these subjects, Joséphine is the most patient. She appears to have become quite taken with me, or at least some of the herbs I use to freshen my small quarters aboard the ship. When not mousing, she sits upon my bed and has become an affectionate companion. Indeed, she possesses a few notable traits I've become quite fond of - including one missing amongst a great number of my fondest friends (you included!): she is content to listen to my musings, rather than interrupt!
Fondly,
Magnus Kinslow
John,
I'm more likely to burn this than send it, but I feel as though someone should know of our ill luck - at the very least, writing may free it from my thoughts before rest.
We had adjusted our course Northward. An item of cargo is kept subdued by the cold, and it appeared to be getting active. We plotted a course along the ice and kept pace for most of the day. That was until my late supper was interrupted by a groaning reverberation that pitched us forward and to the side. The rest of my day soon followed the course of that meal: ruined.
I was tasked to examine the cargo, while the ship hands worked to free us of our predicament. Hours of methodical examination followed as I poured over each lock: mechanical and arcane, and double-checked the location and condition of each item. After several exhausting hours, I fled the darkness of the cargo hold to assess our predicament beyond. What I encountered has given me no cause for hopefulness. The men endeavoured to free the ship, to seemingly no avail. I was resolved to document this Sisyphean effort until its completion, or the lack of light rendered my vision insufficient. Alas, I forgot that the sun never dips below the horizon in this cursed place, and it was the aching of my blue fingers that drove me to shelter.
The bed calls to me. I hope for better news ahead.
I woke today to a nightmare.
An unearthly wind echoed through the ship and stirred me from my slumber. I dressed quickly and called out. None answered me below. I climbed the steps above, losing count at how many times I stepped upwards, before being met with a haunting sight. The masts towered above me, vanishing to imperceptible points in the white sky. As I brought my gaze down across the ship, I saw impossible forms scattered about me. Like dolls with wooden legs, extended to long points. Each form stretched beyond my fearful eyes, receding into the series of lines. Only when I focused on them closely could I identify the twisted human shape of my shipmates. Their bodies switched in focus, between here and there, present and infinite. I was driven back into the darkness below deck.
As I caught my breath, I felt a nudge against my thigh. Joséphine, looking towards me with saucer eyes. I was resolved, I must take us from this place. Within my room I gathered my things, stuffing the enchanted compartments of Valdemar's chest full of all I could reach: ink, quills, charcoal, and foodstuffs; Only half-aware, I grabbed several unappealing meals of dried meat, pickled fish, and cheese. I found some piece of splintered wood to lean upon, and a sack to store the rest in. I scooped Joséphine under my arm and went upwards, keeping my eyes trained downwards upon the deck.
I stumbled over something: one of the men, fallen and slashed along the shoulder to neck. The wound did not flow or pool, it congealed. I realized it was not the wind I had woken to, but his inhuman shrieking, drawn-out and unbroken.
I blundered off the boat, onto the drifts and the ice. I have been walking. I have not dared to stop for some time.
Although I have not yet suffered these effects, I cannot say why - whether some arcane warding has buffered it, or I am the recipient of divine luck. I fear I am the cause, that it radiates from me.
The ground is treacherous: slick and uneven. Joséphine pads along behind me; our pace along the ice seems not to bother her so much as I.
Looking behind, at her and the ship in the distance, hurts my eyes. There's a stretching of space between myself and the wreck that causes the head to throb. The distance is collapsed, squeezed. I can still see those masts, extending into the horizon.
I am the center of this circle; the effect extends away from me, distorting shapes into jagged lines retreating from my view, beyond my capacity of knowing. I hope that distance will dull its grasp and give those on the ship another chance.
Looking ahead is easier, the lines are less fierce. The even landscape is broken only by a snowy rise or icy protrusion. It took me some time before I realized what was wrong with it. I cannot see the sea, just this brumal expanse.
Occasionally I will stop and sit for a moment, searching for some landmark before me, to know if we have drawn nearer. The water in the canteen has frozen, but I've yet to grow thirsty or hungry. Perhaps that is for the best. The chest, wrapped in a canvas sack, sits heavily upon my shoulders. Regardless, I do not wish to discard it. Even though our food supplies do not dwindle as I expected them to, its contents offer a welcome distraction on break such as these. I read to my feline friend today from Palmason's mythos.
I do not know how long I have walked along the slick, uneven ice. I feel myself move forward with each step but grow no closer to the uncertain horizon before me.
All those cues that once marked the passage of hours and days have abandoned me; their meaning dragged apart to insignificance. The sun circles like a vulture overhead, never letting me slip from its predatory gaze. I crave no food or rest. My body draws substance to carry onward from what? My fallible will itself?
Time does not keep us bound, it serves us. We did not yield to it - we broke it to suit our needs, and now I am without it and all company, save for the cat. She follows, dutifully, step by step with me. Us two marching our steady pace across this wasteland. I can see her face but looking beyond her shoulders hurts. A tethering extension, an impossible distortion, binds her to the ice-clad wreck. To think about it, to see it, seems to close the distance, yank us backwards, and so I focus on her whisker-clad face and forepaws.
God deliver us from this.
I saw a corpse in the ice: a withered, wind-blasted thing. I did not know it was myself for some time. I put its semblance to paper; I don't want to forget again.
There are many kinds of sacrifice. I've seen a man aflame leap from a tall building, choosing one death over another. I watched a woman shove her child from beneath a chunk of falling masonry, saving the girl but not herself. I have no one to save but myself and the cat.
The Codex , as I have grown accustomed to thinking of that Icelander's musings, weighs heavy on my thoughts. It talks to me of heroes, beasts, strange magics, the wills and conflicts of gods. It whispers to me, through the sealed, arcane wood of the chest I carry, of Óðinn's sacrifice for knowledge. My life has been an engagement in the frantic pursuit of power through truth, I have learned little, only enough to bring me to this biter end.
A different understanding is needed. I shall walk the elder paths, trodden through the snow by those before me, to the same or disparate ends, to power or death. I have no spear but this penknife, no tree but this staff, no noose but this scarf. They shall do.
I am not dead.
Beneath the orbiting sun, on what I told myself was morning, I carved my eye from its socket with my knife. There was red against the white of the snow as the warm trickle upon my face froze fast, mingled with my anguished tears. The howling cries were torn from me by the chilling wind.
I tightened my scarf, tied it to the walking stick, and planted it in the ground. Already it lurched upwards, growing above me, from me, into the infinite sky. I could feel the fabrics stiffening against my neck as I was dragged after it. The cold aches that plagued my legs subsided as I left the ground, replaced by burning panic and fear. I could not breathe. My vision clouded as the pressure built and the trickle of blood from my eye became a torrent. Pain wracked my body, as Joséphine's mewling cries grew fainter.
I do not know for how long I hanged. I watched the glacial expanse below me spread across the horizon as that pale sun spun, its baleful light reflected from glowing towers of ice that pierced the sky. I felt myself come apart and spread across a quiet world of white expanse. An eternal world, still and unmoving, until that star itself faltered, and cast all into darkness.
In that eternal night, I felt a presence - constricting itself around me, to me, through me, winding across time and space. It was a comforting warmth, there at the empty culmination of all things. The cat, Joséphine, was with me. From behind her shoulders stretched infinity, expanding continuously into the abyss beyond thought. But there, before me, was she: purring, alive, and warm.
Look to the center, I had been taught. 'See from whence it radiates.' Foolish man. I had always been self-centered.
With that revelation it collapses, this vision. I found myself sprawled upon the ice. The scarf was torn asunder, one half rippling in the breeze upon the stick. Joséphine nudged my face and licked the blood from my cheek.
I knew then what I was to do.
The undertaking is complete. Wielding an unreal blade of thought, honed to a razor's edge, I cut through the abdomen - leaving no trace of my incision but a void. I had prepared Valdemar's Chest ahead of time: turned its center in upon itself. I formed from it, with magics I had not known, a boundless cavity hungering for matter. To that suckling abyss I brought the incised back end of my companion. There was a great flash and folding of space across the landscape. At that moment, I sealed that distortion: the extending of all things that infected my friend, within the chest I had carried.
When I looked downward, Joséphine was beside me, her frontward half steady upon two legs. She seemed content, or at least balanced well enough to follow me to the ship. It did not take us long to reach it. The crew were dazed, but alive. Their gazes slid away from me, and none inquired about the appearance of myself or my companion. We have both lost something from this, but I do not intend to be parted from her.
I have seen this world's end: an empty, abandoned wasteland littered with the ice-white bones of that which once was. I will not let this come to pass.
We shall need something new, beginning with names. I myself am no longer the man I was, and 'Joséphine' seems overly long to me now.
---
## Documents Recovered from SCP-6529 - Context Unclear.
The following additional items were also recovered from SCP-6529. They have been identified as belonging to Lauron William De Laurence's The Illustrated Key to the Tarot published in 1918. It is unclear as to how and when these items were added to SCP-6529.
The additional detail included in the center-left item: 'The Hermit,' mirrors iconography employed by Jean & Jean Transtemporal Shipping . An investigation into the connection between this now-defunct organization and SCP-6529 is pending approval.
Footnotes
1 . For additional information, see
---
## Addendum - 6529_A1.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6529 " by DodoDevil, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6529 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Box1.jpg
Name: Rechthoekig Japans kabinet
Author: Anonymous
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.241215
Filename: Cat.png
Name: Liggende kat, schuin van voren
Author: Jean Bernard
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.136304
Filename: Boat3.png
Name: Bemanningsleden bij de boegspriet van de schoener Willem Barentsz
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.583787
Filename: Self2.png
Name: Portret van een Samojeed
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.584646
Filename: Ice2.png
Name: Gezicht op de Barentszzee met ijsbergen
Author: Louis Apol
License: Public Domain
Source Link: http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.536472
Filename: Tarot1.png
Name: The Illustrated Key to the Tarot: 'The Magician,' 'The Hermit,' 'The Hanged Man,' 'The Tower'
Author: Lauron William De Laurence
License: Public Domain
Source Link: https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._41.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._57.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._63.png ; https:commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Illustrated_Key_to_the_Tarot_p._71.png | |
tearing-down | Tearing Down - SCP Foundation | tale | Saker #76 sat behind the desk of Dr. Gregg Collins, wearing a synthetic biological casing that was a genetic match to the doctor of the same name. Nearly two years prior, #76 had tracked down Dr. Collins, killed him, harvested his blood and organs, and stolen his identity. The abduction had been quiet and the remains of Dr. Collins had been disposed of in a manner that ensured no one would ever locate him. The Saker’s design was virtually undetectable once its shell of stolen biological material had been applied, making #76 a perfect mimic of Dr. Collins’ anatomy.
Since the abduction, #76 had successfully integrated itself both into Collin’s life and the SCP Foundation on Anderson’s behalf. Now that it had succeeded in ousting Researcher Conwell and gaining access to SCP-1360 , all the pieces were in place. The only thing left was to await the proper moment to strike.
#76 caught a glimpse of its reflection in Collin’s computer screen and felt a small amount of sadness, or the closest thing to sadness an android could feel. It had grown to like its current identity and knew that its performance would soon come to an end. It then shrugged; it had been a fun ride up to this point. #76 was in no position to complain.
The sound of someone entering its office shook it from its thought. Looking up, #76 saw a pale, ghoul of a man with long greasy hair, and distinct dark rings around his eyes. A pair of leather gloves covered his hands as he balled them into tight fists. The man gave a disgusted frown at #76 before he spoke.
“Afternoon, Gregg.” The man's speech contained enough venom to kill an elephant.
#76’s programming recognized that the individual was Dr. Harold Thompson, and that it was in considerable danger.
“Harold…” #76 began. “What… what are you doing here? Does Dr. Freemont…”
“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Harold said as he stepped towards the desk, causing #76 to slide back in its chair. “In fact, don’t worry about any of them. They are not my problem anymore. No one knows I’m here. It’s just the two of us, old friend.”
“I… I see…” #76 spoke as it began to slide its chair towards the opposite side of the room. “And why are you are you here exactly?”
“Photos.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Photos, damn it!” Harold shouted. “Two years ago, when Johnson left, he said he’d send photos to you. Photos of Jack and Elizabeth. Photos of Lisa.”
At this point Harold began to cross to the other side of the desk.
“He said you’d stop by and give them to me! He said you’d visit!” Harold banged his fist on the desktop. “But you never stopped by, Gregg! I waited three years, and you never came. Three years and the only face I saw was that stone cold bitch Freemont! But now I’m here. Where are the photos Gregg!?”
#76 couldn’t retreat any further. Its chair was now firmly pressed against the back wall, with it now trying to disappear into the upholstery.
“Harold, I’m sorry that I didn’t visit, but you have to realize that the opportunity never presented itself. Christ, you were a researcher yourself once. Hell, we worked on projects together. You know how these things are…” #76 stopped as it watched Harold pull off one of his gloves.
“Where are they?” he growled.
“Harold, Zachary Johnson died about a year and a half ago. Glioblastoma multiforme. That was the reason behind his retirement. He wanted to live in peace for the last few months of his life. He didn’t have the heart to tell you. He had Conwell, Freemont, and I promise we wouldn’t let you know.” #76 quickly replied, “There are no photos. There never were.”
Harold stopped. The anger in his eyes faded in an instant, and was quietly replaced with realization. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and he turned away.
“God damn it…” Harold said between sobs. “God fucking damn it…”
#76 stared on. It slowly began to leave its chair, and place a hand on Harold’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” it said, jumping as Harold responded with a frustrated yell and turned on the spot. His bare fist struck #76 across its face, and all at once its outer skin turned to solid marble.
Harold looked at what he accomplished and silently made his way to the other side of the room. He then slumped to the floor and placed his head in his hands and let out another furious cry, stopping only when he heard a sudden crack. He looked up to see marble Dr. Collins crack and eventually shatter, sending shards scattering across the room. Some sort of android now stared back at him.
“That… was… unpleasant…” #76 said as it held out its right hand. A small chamber opened up, followed by a small gust of air. A black ball the size of a large marble flew across the room and landed on Harold, quickly sprouting legs before anchoring itself down. Harold let out a horrified scream; the small creature quickly produced a needle, and with a short jab injected an unknown concoction into his arm. Within seconds, he couldn’t move.
“You’ve been injected with a strong paralyzing agent,” #76 said as he allowed the small Amur model to crawl back into its compartment in its hand. “You will be completely paralyzed for the next twenty four hours. More than enough time for them to drag you back to your cage.”
#76 looked at its reflection in Collin’s computer monitor and shook its head. Whatever orders Anderson intended to give were now pointless. Its programming automatically calculated its next course of action. Without another word, it quickly covered itself in a lab coat and hat and exited the office, leaving Dr. Harold Thompson behind.
SCP-1360 sat quietly in its holding cell. Day in and day out it was restrained in the back corner with little to do but draw on its notepad. Unfortunately, there was little for it to draw these days. As such, the droid sat silently awaiting for the next time a researcher would come to cut away its skin.
The droid’s head snapped upwards as it heard gunshots coming from outside its cell, followed by muffled shouting, and then by silence. The door to the cell then opened, and what 1360 recognized as a Saker model android quickly stepped inside, sliding the door shut. The Saker quietly limped across the room and knelt next to 1360. Several gunshot wounds were visible in its plastic casings and its left eye was cracked in numerous places. Its left forearm had been cut completely off.
Silently, the Saker grabbed 1360’s left hand and popped open the left middle finger. It then forcefully jammed a small object inside the cavity. For the first time in almost ten years, SCP-1360 felt complete. Its missing component had finally been replaced.
“Saker override commence,” the Saker said. “ID number 76. Reinitialize PSHUD #31 vocalization module. Restore PSHUD #31 client data: James Hamilton and Sarah Hamilton.”
1360 felt like a spark had ignited in its head. All the memories of its previous clients flooded back, hitting its consciousness like a hurricane. As the good and bad memories alike settled back into place, it looked into the eyes of the Saker and searched for the words it desired to say.
“Thank… you…” 1360 spoke slowly. It had not heard its voice in such a long time that it had forgotten it had been programmed to sound like a young man in his twenties. The Saker nodded in return.
“We don’t have much time left, #31. I’ve disabled the door mechanism, which should buy us a few minutes. If there is anything you’d like to ask or say, now would be the time.”
1360 looked down at its notepad for a few moments, then back at #76. It had numerous questions saved up. Before long, it chose one.
“You’ve reinstalled my termination drive. Are we going to die?”
“I’m afraid so, #31,” the Saker replied. “But in all fairness, you and I were never really alive.” 1360 nodded quietly in understanding. Both of them were in no condition to fight their way out.
“I’m sorry, then,” 1360 said as it stared at the ground. “I’m a failure. I’ve caused Anderson nothing but grief. I should have been eliminated years ago, but they removed my termination drive when I lost them. I’m sorry.”
“Yes. Yes you did fail, and yes you have caused Anderson trouble. But it’s alright, #31. Anderson doesn’t blame you. They are always watching. They know it wasn’t your fault your termination drive was removed, or that you lost your last clients. Please consider yourself absolved.”
There was now a loud banging coming from the door. Foundation personnel were attempting to get into the containment cell.
“Shall we, then?” #76 asked. The Peregrine nodded and held out its hand, which the Saker unit clasped tightly. “Very well then. Activate Foundation protocol.”
Researcher Conwell impatiently stood in front of SCP-1360’s holding cell. On his way out the door, there had been not only a containment breach but an infiltration of Site-19 as well. Due to the fact that both involved SCP-1360, he had been detained to provide further assistance when the situation had been brought back under control. As he leaned against the wall, Conwell closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his hands. The day just kept getting better and better.
“You’re cleared to enter.”
Conwell looked up and saw Jurgen Crayne standing in the remains of the holding cell door. The intruder had done a bang up job disabling the mechanism and jamming the door shut. It had taken security almost thirty minutes to get it open again.
“Agent Crayne,” Conwell said as he offered a hand shake. “They have you leading the task force?”
Crayne accepted with a smirk. "Please, it's Jurgen. But yeah, I am. Your droid has caused a bit of a disturbance."
Conwell gave a small nod and slowly followed the agent inside. Aside from the commotion from the assembled security task force and a few administrative personnel, the room was empty, save for 1360’s notepad, pens and two large black puddles on the floor.
Conwell quietly moved through the crowd to the notebook, gingerly picking it up and flipping through its pages. All were blank. He then sighed as he looked down at the puddles. Each was black as obsidian, with the consistency of pudding. Kneeling down, Conwell swirled a gloved finger through the goo and gave a small, sad smile.
Foundation Protocol, he thought to himself.
“So, what’re you thinking, Jacob?” Crayne asked as he moved to stand by Conwell’s side, “You’re the expert on this thing. Where should we start looking?”
“Nowhere,” Conwell replied. “1360’s been neutralized. Anderson activated its Foundation Protocol.”
“Its what?”
“It’s a built in self-destruct mechanism,” Conwell answered, showing the black liquid on his hand to the agent. “We’ve seen it before during Agent Merlo ’s failed sting last week. Anderson wasn’t trying to get the droid out. They wanted to destroy it.”
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the black puddles. Eventually, one of the administrative staff ordered samples to be taken and for the task force to disperse and await further orders. Conwell was given clearance to catch his flight.
One by one, the personnel filed out of the room, eventually leaving only Conwell and the researchers left behind to collect samples from the puddle. Conwell’s sad smile returned as he stared into the black liquid, barely able to see his own reflection in the dim lighting.
Goodbye, he thought to himself, and then turned to take his leave.
Part Four: Building Up | Peregrine | Part Five
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Tearing Down " by Jacob Conwell, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/tearing-down . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 159 | ["_licensebox", "anderson", "bleak", "researcher-conwell", "science-fiction", "spy-fiction", "tale", "twisted-pines"] | 2014-07-25T15:40:00 | 11,685 | 2,036 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-5342 | SCP-5342 | scp | Item #: SCP-5342
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: B- and C-roads 1 in villages in the southern parts of England are monitored for suspected SCP-5342 entrances by security personnel. If any entrances are observed, nearest Foundation facility is responsible for blockage of this entrance in order to obstruct any civilian intrusions. The anomaly has only been sighted during the summer season and so monitoring is only assumed to be valuable across the months of June, July and August.
If any of the area's abnormalities are observed or noted by civilians, these may be supplied an A-class amnestic and convinced that their memory is merely the result of a crime-drama on television.
Description: SCP-5342 designates an area of human population resembling a small-sized English county however with an indeterminable size. Depending on various conditions different environments seem to be generated through some extradimensional mean. Entrances to the area have without exception consisted of local roads across smaller villages that date back to at least the Edwardian era.
Additionally, with its limited space it would be considered the most crime-ridden area in Great Britain. It has become clear that a complex and vast crime syndicate network is the source of this criminal activity. Examples of crime syndicates in the area include:
Highbury's writer's guild
The Church's conservation trust
Artist's society
Mrs. Gibbs' knitting society
Book circle of Causton
Book circle of Wallingford
A New Age Chapel
Shakespeare's Society
Hunting League of Thames
Farrell's Cheese Shop
The School of Faith
Templars of Brimley
and more…
Addendum 5342-1: Observational Log, 3rd of July, 1998.
Date: 3rd of July, 1998
Observers: Junior Researcher David Thistle and Sergeant Davies.
[BEGIN LOG]
[The area is breached by road 65, there are meadows, houses and hills not displayed on the topographical map. A sign informs us that we are in 'Badger's Drift'. We will try to approach an unknown entity. What looks like a man in his 40's is leaning on a shovel by the mossy cobble wall observing us. We stop in front of him.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Good morning si-
Unknown: Good morning officers. What can I help you with this time?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Hm, did we mention we were officers?
Unknown: Well I assumed the police would come question me again. Hah, can't leave a man alone can ya?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Again? No we are just here to ask some questions on the-
Unknown: Yes, that's right. The murders.
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Murders?
Unknown: Yes? On little Timmy, Linda Screwbury and Mr. Fralley? I've told you already that my conscience is clean. Even if Linda was a pain in the arse poking about in my flowers… I wouldn't do such a favor for Ms. Butterwick!
[The entity laughs at this.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: What… Who are you, what's your name?
Robert Green: I'm Robert Green, I work for Ms. Butterwick. I'm, ah- the groundskeeper! At Witney Street that is!
[The entity nods with weight. We question the entity on some of the site's history, upon which it answers with a detailed account. The entity advises us to visit this 'Witney Street' and gives us directions. We reach it after a few miles of driving. Our map does not show any 'Witney Street' or 'Badger's Drift' on the map, indicating that we have not left SCP-5342.]
[LOG SHORTENED FOR BREVITY]
PoI-902, presented as 'Harold Clark'.
[The property in front of us is wrapped in lilac bushes. A black iron gate leads us to a garden with a fruit tree and different flower arrangements. The house has the architecture of the Edwardian era and is approximately 60 - ]
Unknown: Bastard!
[Out of the bushes, what looks like a senior man throws himself at Jr. Researcher Thistle.]
Unknown: You bastard, coming here… You have a lot of nerve haven't you? I'll kill you…
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Get, get off!
[The senior is wiry and easily thrown off to the side. He's wearing the uniform of a vicar. Thistle, takes a hold on him.]
Unknown: Y-, oh, I'll get ya!
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Let's have a word with this one sergeant.
Sgt. Davies: Right.
[The door of the house is opened, a senior woman runs out, with a disturbed facial expression.]
Unknown: Oh Harold! What are you- What have you done to these officers?
Harold: Oh, Agnes! You know I- I, I wouldn't ever hurt anyone…
Jr. Rs. Thistle: That's enough! Both of you two! We need a word.
Unknown: Oh, absolutely officer. I have tea and marmalade ready inside!
[The senior woman smiles at us and holds the door open.]
Ms. Butterwick: I am Agnes Butterwick, pleased to meet you.
[We are welcomed inside the house, where trays of biscuits, bread, tea, marmalade and different jams are conveniently placed on a centered table in the middle of the rocky house.]
Poi-903, or 'Ms. Butterwick', alleged leader of the crime syndicate 'Butterwick's Florists'.
[Thistle sighs before eating a cookie whole. Obviously exhausted.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Okay, mm. Mm, so, names again please?
Ms. Butterwick: Agnes Butterwick!
Harold Clark: Harold Clark…
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Alright, we will start with Mr. Clark then… Are you a vicar here?
Harold Clark: Yes, that's right. And I have been working here since 1972.
Jr. Rs. Thistle: And you attacked me in Ms. Butterwick's garden because..?
Harold Clark: No, it was just… I- I come here to help Ms. Butterwick sometimes, that's all. I am involved with the florists.
Ms. Butterwick: That's right.
[Ms. Butterwick nods with sincerity, taking a sip out of her white porcelain cup.]
Ms. Butterwick: But, I do not quite understand this violence Harold, why would you lunge yourself at mister… Mister?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Thistle…
Ms. Butterwick: You must surely know that this is not the time to be violent in front of the police!
[Ms. Butterwick giggles loudly and reaches for the tea pot.]
Harold Clark: For gods sake Agnes, please. Don't the police have better things to do-
Jr. Rs. Thistle: We are not from the pol- Agh! Nevermind… Are you aware of the location you are in at the moment?
[Ms. Butterwick rises up with the tea pot and walks over to the hallway.]
Ms. Butterwick: Badger's Drift? Yes, indeed! But other than the few incidents this last week, nothing's usually ever spectacular about this place.
Harold Clark: Why are you here anyway? It doesn't seem much of a profit going to two florists for clues…
Jr. Rs. Thistle: We are simply here… Because this location, is not on the map! It does not even exist!
Davies: Sir…
[Thistle pulls out the map over the area, and points at the location of the house, where there is nothing.]
Ms. Butterwick: Curious, it's an outdated map you've got there haven't you?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: I- Ugh, Okay I think it's time for us to leave…
Ms. Butterwick: Leave already? But there's, there's…
[Ms. Butterwick stands in front of the door, still with her tea pot in a firm grip.]
Ms. Butterwick: It would… Certainly be a shame if you left now…. I've still got some.. Tea…
Jr. Rs. Thistle: No, I think we've had quite enough of-
Harold Clark: Agnes!
[Butterwick threw the tea pot at me, I am lying down. David is fighting the lady, who has a shard of the tea pot in her hand. I- Someone's coming in.]
Unknown: Alright that's enough Ms. Butterwick, you're out of luck!
[A middle-aged man in a suit has entered, and gets the shard out of her hand. She backs up against the fireplace where blue porcelain is carefully lined up. The man pants and turns toward us.]
Unknown: I'm terribly sorry officers, but I'm afraid your quest has been in vain.
[David looks on puzzled.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Wh- Who are-
C.I. Barnaby: Chief Inspector Barnaby. And this is Sergeant Troy.
[C.I. Barnaby gestures toward a young man at his side.]
C.I. Barnaby: Ms. Butterwick thought she would be able to use you for her own good! But unfortunately, for her, my wife Joyce happens to be a terribly skilled botanist.
[David shakes his head, utterly confused. Harold Clark is far deep into the couch, with a shocked expression.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Wha-
C.I. Barnaby: Ms. Butterwick had wrongly labeled the flowers of the florist's latest week bouquet, to Anthurium andreanum , when clearly, the species concerned was Anthurium alicia . A costly mistake, that led us here.
[Harold Clark shakes his head to this.]
Harold Clark: An- Andreanum? Oh Agnes… No. You wouldn't…
Ms. Butterwick: I would Harold. They were all in the way. The know-it-all Joyce… I should have figured she could not be trusted with the weekly bouquet.
Jr. Rs. Thistle: What the fuck is going on?
C.I. Barnaby: I'm afraid, it is quite the way we suspected it, Mr. Thistle. Ms. Butterwick was afraid that the company of her ex-lover Mr. Green would take over the role of her florists. Consequently she did the only thing she could do in the situation. She dumped little Timmy in the river, hung Linda Screwbury from the church tower and smashed Mr. Fralley's head with his own garden gnome.
Jr. Rs. Thistle: His own wha-
C.I. Barnaby: Yes, good question! Why… Why did Mr. Clark decide to attack you at this moment? Well it's really quite simple… Mr. Clark is, and always has been, madly in love with Ms. Butterwick. He was hiding in the bushes because he wanted to steer possible admirers off her property.
[Ms. Butterwick giggles. Harold Clark looks down into his lap.]
C.I. Barnaby: Unfortunately, the love is unanswered. To her, Harold was but a nuisance. Which is why she decided to try to kill you two gentlemen here and frame Harold for the murder.
Harold Clark: No! Agnes! No!
Sgt. Davies: Oh my god!
[Thistle looks angrily at me.]
Ms. Butterwick: Always, these coppers, in the way of actually achieving anything for the florists!
C.I. Barnaby: I suggest you gentlemen leave now, you have been ravaged well enough by Midsomer county.
[David exits the building.]
[END LOG]
Of all the PoIs involved with this encounter, only PoI-904, 'Chief Inspector Barnaby' has been observed repeatedly within SCP-5342. Therefore, Junior Researcher David Thistle was ordered to detain and interrogate PoI-904 for its involvement in SCP-5342s generation.
Addendum 5342-2: Interrogation Log, 4th of August, 1998.
Interrogation subject: Poi-904
Interrogator: Jr. Rs. David Thistle
Foreword: The interview took place within SCP-5342 in PoI-904's office.
[BEGIN LOG]
Poi-904, or 'C.I Barnaby'.
C.I. Barnaby: Alright, so what's this about really David?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Inspector Barnaby, we have taken you here in order to clear out some details on what you call Midsomer County…
C.I. Barnaby: I'm the only inspector in the county you know, there are things that I need to clear up. Why would you want me here?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Could you tell me about the murder rates of Midsomer county across the last three years?
C.I. Barnaby: Murder counts? There are only so many in a place like Midsomer, I me-
Jr. Rs. Thistle: We've counted. 453 murders. In a small-sized county… Does that not sound odd to you? And the fact, that none of the murderers, victims or surrounding involved have any historical record.
[Barnaby listens intently with wrinkled eyebrows.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: A small-sized county, with hundreds of… of, of… Equestrian societies! Communals! Cult gatherings! Noble families! Creative clubs, uh-uh, Golf clubs! Boxing associations! Actual golf clubs!..
[Thistle sighs loudly.]
C.I. Barnaby: Hmm…
Jr. Rs. Thistle: I mean, you never found this a bit abnormal? That, that something's not right?
C.I. Barnaby: You might be right… There is something missing here.
[Barnaby stands up, and looks out the window.]
C.I. Barnaby: Equestrian societies… Hm.
[Barnaby moves back to the table and looks down at Thistle.]
C.I. Barnaby: There was always something missing, but now I think we've finally got it.
[Thistle makes a sigh of relief.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Really?
C.I. Barnaby: Yes. There have been many murders, disappearances and intrigues. I have made many cases. However…
[Thistle leans back into his chair]
C.I. Barnaby: …There was never, an equestrian society.
Jr. Rs. Thistle: What?..
C.I. Barnaby: But you would like there to be one don't you?
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Eh-Uhm, 'scuse me?
C.I. Barnaby: David Thistle, you are under arrest for the murders of Mrs. Smith, Harry Jester and Mr. Wallace Hickinbottom. Sergeant Troy!
[Thistle sits with his mouth agape as sergeant Troy enters the room with handcuffs. As he is cuffed, Thistle looks down in shock.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: But I…
C.I. Barnaby: Oh, David, if that is your real name, there is no need to explain. I know you always really wanted to illustrate Midsomer county as an anomaly in order to relieve the consequences of your own deeds. That is why you wanted to speak to me today isn't it? To have me doubt my own reality, and thereby leave your case be…
[Sergeant Troy struggles with the hand cuffs. C.I. Barnaby scoffs.]
C.I. Barnaby: 453 murders… Hah! As far as I know we're yet at 387…
[Thistle now looks up at C.I. Barnaby with a grin.]
Jr. Rs. Thistle: Oh, Barnaby… You were always the sharpest one. I should've known that you would see me through. Very well, take me away.
[END LOG]
Investigations into the disappearance of Junior Researcher David Thistle are ongoing.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5342 " by Nils Severin, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5342 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Charlottesvile 2018 (30129926228).jpg
Author: Anthony Crider
License: CC-BY 2.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Filename: Sylvie Schenk.jpg
Author: Amrei-Marie
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Filename: Jersey WWII 28 June 1940 bombing commemoration 2013 09.jpg
Author: Man vyi
License: Public domain.
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Additional Notes: Cropped by Brunzell
Footnotes
1 . According to British road hierarchy , B-roads are classified as roads connecting areas of lesser importance. C-roads are used for local routes. | 18 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "city", "extradimensional", "historical", "keter", "scp", "uncontained"] | 2022-03-05T19:46:00 | 14,147 | 2,365 | SCP-5342 | Keter | B- and C-roads 1 in villages in the southern parts of England are monitored for suspected SCP-5342 entrances by security personnel. If any entrances are observed, nearest Foundation facility is responsible for blockage of this entrance in order to obstruct any civilian intrusions. The anomaly has only been sighted during the summer season and so monitoring is only assumed to be valuable across the months of June, July and August.
If any of the area's abnormalities are observed or noted by civilians, these may be supplied an A-class amnestic and convinced that their memory is merely the result of a crime-drama on television. | SCP-5342 designates an area of human population resembling a small-sized English county however with an indeterminable size. Depending on various conditions different environments seem to be generated through some extradimensional mean. Entrances to the area have without exception consisted of local roads across smaller villages that date back to at least the Edwardian era.
Additionally, with its limited space it would be considered the most crime-ridden area in Great Britain. It has become clear that a complex and vast crime syndicate network is the source of this criminal activity. Examples of crime syndicates in the area include:
Highbury's writer's guild
The Church's conservation trust
Artist's society
Mrs. Gibbs' knitting society
Book circle of Causton
Book circle of Wallingford
A New Age Chapel
Shakespeare's Society
Hunting League of Thames
Farrell's Cheese Shop
The School of Faith
Templars of Brimley
and more… | 0 | ||
SCP-3509 | SCP-3509 | scp | Image taken inside the control room of the underground complex prior to the incident that turned the location into SCP-3509.
Item #: SCP-3509
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: An appointed team of qualified researchers are to monitor the interior of SCP-3509 at all times using its own system of cameras, microphones and speakers. The teams are to deliver provisions to its current resident through the elevator that connects SCP-3509 with the rest of the Site. It will also provide any help necessary to said resident in order to fulfill whichever task SCP-3509 demands of it. The appointed team leader will have discretionary authority over the best course of approach towards those demands.
A single Class-D personnel is required to reside inside SCP-3509 at any given time. A log of its activities is to be kept up to date by the researcher team. In case of its decease or termination, another subject will be sent to occupy the vacancy.
Any Class-D assigned at SCP-3509 are required to get a perfect score in the standardized Foundation test N-051-RP, which measures the obedience and compliance of the subject. Those that also show signs of introversion or tendency to isolation will be given priority to be selected.
The newly selected Class-D personnel is to be injected with a very small explosive charge that can be remotely activated inside its thoracic chamber prior their entry. This is because the technical difficulties SCP-3509 creates to regular termination procedures once the subject is inside. The researcher team is to terminate the subject in case of disobedience or inability to comply with the order provided by SCP-3509.
In the light of the proprieties of SCP-3509, the need to rotate the Class-D personnel has been deemed unnecessary as long as the previous procedures are being followed.
Description: SCP-3509 is an underground complex with the surface of ███ square meters, being equipped with a control room, a testing chamber, living quarters and a restroom. It is located ███ meters under the bottom floor of Site-██. Its only entrance is an elevator that connects it with the observation room located at Section ██ of the site. Prior to becoming SCP-3509, this underground complex was used as a testing facility by the Foundation, where experimentation and stress tests were realized on SCP-3509 and anomalous items to observe their reactions in extreme situations.
SCP-3509 started showing anomalous effects after ██/██/2001, when the Foundation carried out inside its test chamber the failed experiment on [REDACTED], and the subsequent incident on the eight day of continuous testing. This incident caused the members of the foundation present on the complex to experience an adverse effect similar to what would later be called SCP-3509-B, with the exception of a sole survivor which became its first resident. The object experimented upon was later retrieved without apparent change on SCP-3509.
The following is a compilation of any of anomalous effects observed within SCP-3509:
SCP-3509 will constantly give commands to its resident, one at a time. To issue each order, an unidentified synthesized voice will sound through the speakers of the complex. This voice is to be referred as SCP-3509-A. Said order is observed to be seemingly random most of the times, ranging from inane to extremely hazardous to the subject. So far it has never given an order that was physically impossible to achieve. The reason why it continues to give those commands is unknown.
When an order is given, a display in the control room of the underground complex will show a countdown. The amount of time varies between a minute and a few days, with the longest time recorded being 9 days. Experimentation has shown that both the order and the countdown will be given even if no resident is currently inside SCP-3509 or if the previous inhabitant has perished.
SCP-3509 only accepts human beings as its residents and will require them to personally fulfill the order. Any other attempts by third persons outside SCP-3509 or by animals and electronic mechanisms sent inside will be ignored. A human resident may still use the help of the previous to achieve the expected result, as long as the inhabitant contributes in a significant way to the fulfillment of the order.
After an order is successfully carried out, SCP-3509 will confirm its accomplishment. It seems to be impossible to conceal the fulfillment of any command inside it regardless of the method.
The confirmation of the accomplishment will cause the countdown to be turned off and SCP-3509-A will congratulate the resident. Afterwards it will remain silent during an hour until the announcement of its next order.
Any living resident attempting to leave SCP-3509 will suffer a series of physical changes that will eventually lead to its death on the way up during the elevator ride or if they try to escape using alternative methods. The only way to survive at that point is re-entering SCP-3509 before any critical damage has been received, as it will halt the process. Those changes vary from individual to individual. Some observed instances of the process are: The creation of multiple lacerations across the body of the subject, melting of the limbs and torso, decomposition of their body as they are still alive, transformation of their living tissue into a glass-like substance, the continuous generation of metal sharpnel inside the body among others. This process will be named SCP-3509-B. The current observed radius outside SCP-3509 for this effect to take place is ██ meters.
Any living human that tries to enter SCP-3509 while it already has another resident will also be affected by SCP-3509-B. However other entities like inanimate objects, animals, plants or human corpses have been shown be able to enter and leave it completely unharmed.
If multiple subjects enter at the same time while SCP-3509 is unoccupied, all of them but one will end up suffering the effects of SCP-3509-B. The surviving subject will be physically unharmed, but will usually have to be terminated due to its highly unstable psychological state after having witnessed what happened to the other subjects. See Addendum 3509-2 for more details.
Any attempts to breach the underground complex by any other means have ended in failure. Currently no further attempts are allowed.
It has been observed that SCP-3509 has at least some degree of sentience and consciousness of itself, as shown on some logs in Addendum 3509-1.
In the only instance that the order wasn't fulfilled in time, the area of effect of SCP-3509-B began expanding at an alarming rate, affecting multiple SCP Foundation staff and Class-D present on the Site. See: Addendum 3509-2 for more details.
Besides the aforementioned, no other anomalous phenomena can be observed neither on SCP-3509 nor its resident. If the subject is complying and is able to complete tasks ordered by SCP-3509, it can survive within it during long periods of time. The record time of a resident surviving within the complex has been for 5 years. In some instances the observer team observed traces akin that of symbiotic nature between SCP-3509 and its resident, however these behaviors are not frequent as SCP-3509 usually shows very little regard to the well-being of its inhabitant.
At the current point in time it has not been fully tested what happens if an order given by SCP-3509 is disobeyed, as so far every single order it has given has been eventually carried out, albeit one outside the time limit. The Foundation's experts on theoretical approach hypothesize that due to the events surrounding the incident detailed in Addendum 3509-2, it is very likely that in the event of complete disobedience, it could indefinitely expand the area of effect of SCP-3509-B. This possible event would create uncountable losses for the Foundation and the loss of Site-██ as a whole or worse. Based on that hypothesis, O5-█ decided that an obedient approach of having expendable personnel obeying the orders that SCP-3509 gave was a safer and more cost-effective option than the possible alternative. Thus any experimentation based on disobeying the order or letting the timer run out again have been prohibited.
Addendum 3509-01:
The following is an excerpt of some of the logs kept by the researcher team tasked with SCP-3509 to be used as reference:
Day : ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Jump.
Time limit: 5 hours
Result: The Class-D complied almost immediately, no assistance was required.
Day : ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Study calculus for three hours straight.
Time limit: 12 hours and 20 minutes
Result: The Class-D was provided with calculus reference books and asked to study them. One member of the researcher team offered to tutor him across the site's speakers.
Day: ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Rip out your nails from your left hand.
Time limit: 27 minutes.
Result: The researcher team provided a pair of pliers through the elevator. Although strongly reticent, the subject complied. Disinfectant and bandages were provided by the team after the event.
Day: ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Dance the "Macarena".
Time limit: 3 hours and 1 minute.
Result: D-3541 told the researcher team that he didn't know the dance. The researcher team provided a television with a video tape that demonstrated the steps of the dance. After some attempts, D-3541 achieved to do a dance sufficient enough for the order to be deemed accomplished.
Day: ██/██/2003.
Resident: D-3557
Order: The floors are dirty, clean them.
Time limit: 5 hours and 49 minutes.
Result: The researcher team provided D-3557 with cleaning tools and it proceeded to obey the required task. The statement "The floors are dirty" was found to be most unusual, as SCP-3509-A hadn't said this kind of comment on an object before besides the congratulatory message at the fulfillment of an order.
Day: ██/██/2003.
Residents: D-3557 (Terminated), D-4286.
Order: Write a poem.
Time limit: 1 hour and 30 minutes
Result: The Class-D told to the research team that he was an illiterate. After a discussion within the team it was decided that trying to teach D-3557 how to write in that short amount of time was highly unlikely. D-3557 was terminated through the explosive charge in his chest and a replacement was sent. This replacement was tasked to write the poem once the elevator had reached its destination before exploring the rest of the complex. Once SCP-3509 congratulated her, the research team asked her to dispose of the corpse of the previous resident through the elevator.
Note: It seems that when the elevator is on the entrance of the underground complex SCP-3509 recognizes it as part of itself, allowing its resident to carry its orders inside it. This should be noted for further reference. -Team director Dr. Karam
Day: ██/██/2004.
Residents: D-4311(Terminated), Junior Researcher Garcia
Order: Smoke a cigarette.
Time limit: 1 minute.
Result: See Addendum 3509-2
Day: ██/██/2004.
Residents: Junior Researcher Garcia (Deceased), D-4371
Order: Dance claque.
Time limit: 1 day, 2 hours and 56 minutes
Result: Junior Researcher Garcia committed suicide. A new Class-D resident was sent to carry out the order as well as to retrieve the remains of the Junior Researcher.
Day: ██/██/2005.
Residents: D-4401
Order: Sing out loud the song "YMCA" by the "Village People".
Time limit: 9 hours 42 minutes.
Result: D-4401 showed signs of stage fright and told the researcher team that he was feeling too self-conscious to sing. The researcher team reasoned and encouraged it for a period of time until the Class-D suggested that he would feel more comfortable singing if the researcher team sang along with him through the speakers. After a short discussion within the team it was decided that it would be easier to humor the Class-D than preparing another substitute, and agred to the subject's request. The order was subsequently fulfilled without further incident.
Day: ██/██/2006.
Residents: D-4441
Order: Do a hundred push-ups and a hundred sit-ups.
Time limit: 24 hours.
Result: Due to the extremely poor physical state of D-4441, problems arose as it seemed to be unable to finish the regimen in time. The researcher team spent the day giving the Class-D encouragement and teaching it techniques to facilitate the fulfillment of the order. It was eventually accomplished by the 22nd hour mark with signs of exhaustion on the Class-D.
Day: ██/██/2006.
Residents: D-4441
Order: Pet a koala.
Time limit: 2 hours.
Result: One Mobile Task Force team was sent post-haste to the closest zoo to retrieve a specimen, managing its recovery and transportation within the allocated time. After the order was fulfilled, the specimen was returned and amnestics were administered to any witnesses of the operation.
Day: ██/██/2008.
Residents: D-5026
Order: Do not say "My uncle Steve has a big cow".
Time limit: 7 days 16 hours and 33 minutes
Result: This was the first instance SCP-3509 gave an order of inaction. Since it was unknown at the time how would it deem the inaction as fulfilled, any possible precautionary measures were took to ensure the safety of the Site. D-5026 was forbidden to open his mouth aside from eating and drinking until further notice. The researcher team closely monitored D-5026 at all times to ensure termination in case of any attempt at speaking. As the countdown kept descending without any indication of fulfillment of the order, an emergency meeting was called to discuss the situation with the Site Director other chief staff from the Foundation. During the last hour of the time limit an evacuation on all personnel in-site was issued, and the use of omega nuclear warheads was prepared for the worst-case scenario. At the last second, SCP-3509-A gave the announcement of order fulfilled and added that its resident could now say whatever it wanted. Once the crisis was deemed to be averted, the Foundation staff returned to their regular activities and the incident was disguised as a security drill. Afterwards, D-5026 commented how easy this order had been compared to previous ones since he didn't have any uncle called Steve.
Day: ██/██/2009.
Residents: D-5026.
Order: Repair the broken lamp.
Time limit: 6 days 3 hours and 4 minutes.
Result: D-5026 was given the materials and instructions by the team to repair the lightbulb that was accidentally shattered during the previous order of "Play racquetball by yourself for five minutes".
Day: ██/██/2009.
Residents: D-5026 (Deceased).
Order: Walk three meters on a tight rope
Time limit: 3 days 5 hours and 15 minutes.
Result: The researcher team provided the materials for the Class-D to make an improvised tight-rope inside the facility. Several attempts were made by D-5026 during the course of the first two days. At the last attempt, just as SCP-3509-A gave the congratulatory message, D-5026 slipped and hit its head on a table, causing skull fracture and internal hemorrhage. Due the inability of the researcher team to provide effective medical aid in time caused by the inherent characteristics of SCP-3509, D-5026 perished of blood loss.
Day: ██/██/2011.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Write erotic fanfiction featuring your parents
Time limit: 7 hours and 28 minutes.
Result: At the beginning D-5584 strongly refused to comply until the research team threatened to terminate it. The audiovisual recordings showed the Class-D writing something on a piece of paper and immediately tearing it apart after SCP-3509-A gave the congratulatory announcement.
Day: ██/██/2013.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Completely immerse yourself in sulfuric acid
Time limit: 5 days 12 hours and 1 minute.
Result: The researcher team provided a tank full of sulfuric acid through the elevator and a hazmat suit. After D-5544 had been reassured that the suit would protect him from any major burns he decided to comply. Treatment materials for second-degree chemical burns, as well as telephonic assistance on how to apply them was provided after the testing.
Day: ██/██/2013.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Ride an elevator
Time limit: 1 day 2 hours and 3 minutes.
Result: Discussion of making D-5584 use the entrance elevator took place within the researcher team. It was ultimately decided against it for ethical reasons and instead a small mini-elevator was built and sent inside SCP-3509 to fulfill the order.
Day: ██/██/2015.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Good job, you may now exit SCP-3509 and bring in a new test subject.
Time limit: 9 days.
Result: Permission was given at D-5584 to use the main elevator by the researcher team. This has been the only instance of someone being able to leave the underground complex without being affected by SCP-3509-B. Another Class-D was sent inside SCP-3509, which marked the order as fulfilled. Further testings showed that, barring this exception, SCP-3509-B still occurs every time anyone else tries to exit, and continues functioning as if this incident never happened. When interrogated about it, D-5584 claimed to have no knowledge why only he was allowed to leave. D-5584 has been administered Class-A amnestics and repurposed at another location.
Addendum 3509-02:
The following is a compilation of documents recording the Containment Breach caused by SCP-3509 on ██/██/2004.
Document 1: E-mail from the team director to the research team sent the day prior to the Containment Breach
FROM: Team director Dr. Karam
TO: Dr. Cobb, Dr. Zhurov, Junior Researcher Garcia, Research Assistant Tanaka.
SUBJECT: Experimentation on the behavior of SCP-3509.
A test is scheduled for tomorrow. This test is to measure how will SCP-3509 react if multiple living individuals try to enter at the same time. The test will begin immediately after the current resident fulfills any order issued by SCP-3509 after 8:30. When the order is fulfilled, the resident will be terminated and four Class-D will be sent down with the elevator simultaneously. I expect all of you to be prepared and ready to deal with any unexpected consequences.
Dr. Karam
Document 2: Excerpt of the telephonic interview with Junior Researcher Garcia, the resident at the time of SCP-3509, taken an hour after the stabilization of the Containment Breach. Recorded by Agent 58, leader of the squadron sent to investigate the current events, using the telephone situated on the researcher team's observation room.
Agent 58: Who is it?
Junior Researcher Garcia: Thank God someone picked the phone… Thank God…
Agent 58: This is Agent 58, leader of the squadron ████, who am I talking to?
Junior Researcher Garcia: I'm █████ Garcia, a junior researcher. My ID Number is ██████████.
Agent 58: From where are you calling from?
Junior Researcher Garcia: …I'm inside SCP-3509.
Agent 58: According to the information given to me, only Class-D are usually sent inside SCP-3509.
Junior Researcher Garcia: Yeah, that's… Shit!… That's usually right.
Agent 58: And how come a Junior Researcher has entered it?
Junior Researcher Garcia: Well, the incident happened and I couldn't think anything else than getting on the elevator.
Agent 58: Wait. Are you telling me that you were present during the incident?
Junior Researcher Garcia: Yes, fuck!, I was there. I am… was assigned to the researcher team for SCP-3509.
Agent 58: Hold on a minute.
[Background noises of Agent 58 speaking through a walkie-talkie.]
Agent 58: Sir, I would like to ask for your cooperation to relate your account of the events that happened today from 09:37 hours to 12:56 hours.
Junior Researcher Garcia: Well, we had this test programmed in which we were supposed to send multiple Class-D inside SCP-3509. During the test we observed that all of them but one became affected by particularly gruesome manifestations of SCP-3509-B. The, Shhh fuck it hurts! the cameras showed that the surviving Class-D ran away from the elevator once it opened its doors and sat on a corner of the control room, cradling his head and moved back and forth. Please, may I ask for some first aid supplies and painkillers? I'm hurt and I could really use them.
Agent 58: Let me consult my superiors.
[Background noises of Agent 58 speaking through a walkie-talkie.]
Agent 58: Okay, I've been granted permission to provide the required items, they will be sent by the elevator at the entrance.
Junior Researcher Garcia: Thank you. Thank you very much. Hold on still while I crawl to get them.
Agent 58: Crawl?
[No response. Thirty minutes of silence occasionally interrupted by walkie-talkie conversation sounds coming from Agent 58]
Junior Researcher Garcia: Okay, I'm back. I owe you a big one. Although I feel kind of dizzy now.
Agent 58: Please continue your report. You may rest afterwards.
Junior Researcher Garcia: Fine. Upon seeing the results of the test the team director assembled the rest of the group and we discussed whether if we should terminate the Class-D immediately or if we should wait and see if he would regain enough self-control to obey the next order. We decided on the latter to avoid wasting even more Class-D today. Then the voice spoke and… that happened.
Agent 58: What happened?
Junior Researcher Garcia: "Smoke a cigarette" the voice said, and gave a time limit of one minute. One. Freaking. Minute. The least that SCP-3509 had ever gave before were fifteen minutes! And the order that time was for the resident to scratch its nose, for crying out loud!"
Agent 58: Calm down. How did the team react?"
Junior Researcher Garcia: It was chaos. We had been instructed to not let the timer run out after all. Not until further testing could be carried out at least. Dr. Karam started yelling at the Class-D to react through the facility's speakers, but he would just not do anything but keep crying. Dr. Cobb, started yelling orders about terminating the Class-D and sending another one with some smokes and a lighter. Aki [Research Assistant Tanaka] also threw some of her own cigarettes inside of the elevator. Me, on the other hand, just stood there like an idiot… Fuck.
Agent 58: Did the countdown reach zero?
Junior Researcher Garcia: Yes.
Agent 58: Please explain what happened at that moment.
Junior Researcher Garcia: As the countdown ended the whole underground complex flashed some red lights and the surviving Class-D inside began to scream as his whole body was affected by SCP-3509-B while still being inside SCP-3509. It was different than other instances previously observed, as it went slower, and, based on my own experience, it seemed much, much more painful. It started by the plant of his feet, turning them into ashes in his case. That soon spread to his legs and lower torso. The subject could not stop screaming and we, the team, stared in terror as he twisted and turned in agony. The next thing we knew is that our own bodies started being affected by SCP-3509-B as well, despite being outside of its usual range of action. Dr. Cobb hurriedly pressed the switch to terminate the subject.
That wasn't enough to stop our own ailment though. I saw them all die, one after another. I heard screams outside the observation room, as well as someone yelling that the backup Class-D was attempting escape. It was hell. The image of Aki screaming as her skin began opening up multiple holes that showed her insides is something I don't think I will ever be able to live down.
Agent 58: Hold up, there's something that I don't understand. If you say that everyone around you died because of SCP-3509-B, how come that you are still alive?
Junior Researcher Garcia: I… don't know why. At the beginning, SCP-3509-B started wrecking my feet at the same rate as everyone else. But then, somehow, it started to consume me slower. I don't really get it myself, but I think it slowed down on me alone after Dr. Cobb terminated the Class-D for some reason. My best guess is that SCP-3509 had already selected me as its next resident by then, but that's just my hypothesis.
Agent 58: Noted. Continue.
Junior Researcher Garcia: At that moment I couldn't think of anything. I was confused and hurting. I didn't know what to do, just that I needed to stop that somehow. I acted without thinking, and using what remained of my legs I entered the elevator, pushing the button to go down.
Agent 58: So you entered there voluntarily, despite knowing the consequences?
Junior Researcher Garcia: I was desperate, okay? I realized what a blunder I had made as soon as the doors closed, and sat down as SCP-3509-B continued to consume my flesh. I knew I was gonna die there, and nothing mattered anymore. That's when I looked down and saw on the floor the cigarettes that Aki had thrown before. I think at that point I was experiencing an adrenaline rush because, despite the pain, I thought "You know what? Why not have one last smoke?". I grabbed the cigarette and started smoking it. That's when the lights flashed white and the other door to the elevator opened. I heard SCP-3509-A's voice giving the same line it says every time the order is fulfilled. However, it added at the end something that I'd never heard before, that "it would not allow for any other delays in fulfilling the order".
Agent 58: I see. Hold on one moment.
[Background noises of Agent 58 speaking through a walkie-talkie.]
Agent 58: Okay, that would be sufficient for now. My most sincere condolences for what happened to you, sir.
Junior Researcher Garcia: Don't need them. Just tell me if there are other people alive on the Site.
Agent 58: Yes. Although, some heavy losses have occurred in the closest sectors, most of the Site's personnel has survived. Regrettably, your team…
Junior Researcher Garcia: I know… Well, if that's everything I think I will rest for now, these painkillers are really kicking in.
[The synthesized voice of SCP-3509-A sounds on the receiver "Next testing procedure order: Curse out loud. Time limit: forty minutes."]
Junior Researcher Garcia: …Fuck my life.
[The synthesized voice of SCP-3509-A sounds on the receiver "Order fulfilled. Congratulations on the success of the test. A following test will be performed shortly."]
[END OF EXCERPT]
Document 3: O5-█ directive issued after the containment breach.
Due to a containment breach of SCP-3509's hazardous properties, a total of ███ members of the Foundation passed away and ████ were severely injured in an area of ████ cubic meters surrounding it. Since then it has been observed that the area of effect of SCP-3509-B has progressively gone back to its original size. Our experts have determined that if it weren't for the actions of Junior Researcher Garcia, the area of the adverse effect would have increased to undetermined lengths.
In light of these recent events, it has been decided that any experiment regarding the disobedience or reaching the time limit of the countdown of the order issued by SCP-3509 is absolutely prohibited.
O5-█ | 37 | ["_cc", "building", "euclid", "scp", "subterranean", "telekinetic"] | 2018-01-19T01:54:00 | 27,037 | 4,415 | SCP-3509 | Euclid | An appointed team of qualified researchers are to monitor the interior of SCP-3509 at all times using its own system of cameras, microphones and speakers. The teams are to deliver provisions to its current resident through the elevator that connects SCP-3509 with the rest of the Site. It will also provide any help necessary to said resident in order to fulfill whichever task SCP-3509 demands of it. The appointed team leader will have discretionary authority over the best course of approach towards those demands.
A single Class-D personnel is required to reside inside SCP-3509 at any given time. A log of its activities is to be kept up to date by the researcher team. In case of its decease or termination, another subject will be sent to occupy the vacancy.
Any Class-D assigned at SCP-3509 are required to get a perfect score in the standardized Foundation test N-051-RP, which measures the obedience and compliance of the subject. Those that also show signs of introversion or tendency to isolation will be given priority to be selected.
The newly selected Class-D personnel is to be injected with a very small explosive charge that can be remotely activated inside its thoracic chamber prior their entry. This is because the technical difficulties SCP-3509 creates to regular termination procedures once the subject is inside. The researcher team is to terminate the subject in case of disobedience or inability to comply with the order provided by SCP-3509.
In the light of the proprieties of SCP-3509, the need to rotate the Class-D personnel has been deemed unnecessary as long as the previous procedures are being followed. | SCP-3509 is an underground complex with the surface of ███ square meters, being equipped with a control room, a testing chamber, living quarters and a restroom. It is located ███ meters under the bottom floor of Site-██. Its only entrance is an elevator that connects it with the observation room located at Section ██ of the site. Prior to becoming SCP-3509, this underground complex was used as a testing facility by the Foundation, where experimentation and stress tests were realized on SCP-3509 and anomalous items to observe their reactions in extreme situations.
SCP-3509 started showing anomalous effects after ██/██/2001, when the Foundation carried out inside its test chamber the failed experiment on [REDACTED], and the subsequent incident on the eight day of continuous testing. This incident caused the members of the foundation present on the complex to experience an adverse effect similar to what would later be called SCP-3509-B, with the exception of a sole survivor which became its first resident. The object experimented upon was later retrieved without apparent change on SCP-3509.
The following is a compilation of any of anomalous effects observed within SCP-3509:
SCP-3509 will constantly give commands to its resident, one at a time. To issue each order, an unidentified synthesized voice will sound through the speakers of the complex. This voice is to be referred as SCP-3509-A. Said order is observed to be seemingly random most of the times, ranging from inane to extremely hazardous to the subject. So far it has never given an order that was physically impossible to achieve. The reason why it continues to give those commands is unknown.
When an order is given, a display in the control room of the underground complex will show a countdown. The amount of time varies between a minute and a few days, with the longest time recorded being 9 days. Experimentation has shown that both the order and the countdown will be given even if no resident is currently inside SCP-3509 or if the previous inhabitant has perished.
SCP-3509 only accepts human beings as its residents and will require them to personally fulfill the order. Any other attempts by third persons outside SCP-3509 or by animals and electronic mechanisms sent inside will be ignored. A human resident may still use the help of the previous to achieve the expected result, as long as the inhabitant contributes in a significant way to the fulfillment of the order.
After an order is successfully carried out, SCP-3509 will confirm its accomplishment. It seems to be impossible to conceal the fulfillment of any command inside it regardless of the method.
The confirmation of the accomplishment will cause the countdown to be turned off and SCP-3509-A will congratulate the resident. Afterwards it will remain silent during an hour until the announcement of its next order.
Any living resident attempting to leave SCP-3509 will suffer a series of physical changes that will eventually lead to its death on the way up during the elevator ride or if they try to escape using alternative methods. The only way to survive at that point is re-entering SCP-3509 before any critical damage has been received, as it will halt the process. Those changes vary from individual to individual. Some observed instances of the process are: The creation of multiple lacerations across the body of the subject, melting of the limbs and torso, decomposition of their body as they are still alive, transformation of their living tissue into a glass-like substance, the continuous generation of metal sharpnel inside the body among others. This process will be named SCP-3509-B. The current observed radius outside SCP-3509 for this effect to take place is ██ meters.
Any living human that tries to enter SCP-3509 while it already has another resident will also be affected by SCP-3509-B. However other entities like inanimate objects, animals, plants or human corpses have been shown be able to enter and leave it completely unharmed.
If multiple subjects enter at the same time while SCP-3509 is unoccupied, all of them but one will end up suffering the effects of SCP-3509-B. The surviving subject will be physically unharmed, but will usually have to be terminated due to its highly unstable psychological state after having witnessed what happened to the other subjects. See Addendum 3509-2 for more details.
Any attempts to breach the underground complex by any other means have ended in failure. Currently no further attempts are allowed.
It has been observed that SCP-3509 has at least some degree of sentience and consciousness of itself, as shown on some logs in Addendum 3509-1.
In the only instance that the order wasn't fulfilled in time, the area of effect of SCP-3509-B began expanding at an alarming rate, affecting multiple SCP Foundation staff and Class-D present on the Site. See: Addendum 3509-2 for more details.
Besides the aforementioned, no other anomalous phenomena can be observed neither on SCP-3509 nor its resident. If the subject is complying and is able to complete tasks ordered by SCP-3509, it can survive within it during long periods of time. The record time of a resident surviving within the complex has been for 5 years. In some instances the observer team observed traces akin that of symbiotic nature between SCP-3509 and its resident, however these behaviors are not frequent as SCP-3509 usually shows very little regard to the well-being of its inhabitant.
At the current point in time it has not been fully tested what happens if an order given by SCP-3509 is disobeyed, as so far every single order it has given has been eventually carried out, albeit one outside the time limit. The Foundation's experts on theoretical approach hypothesize that due to the events surrounding the incident detailed in Addendum 3509-2, it is very likely that in the event of complete disobedience, it could indefinitely expand the area of effect of SCP-3509-B. This possible event would create uncountable losses for the Foundation and the loss of Site-██ as a whole or worse. Based on that hypothesis, O5-█ decided that an obedient approach of having expendable personnel obeying the orders that SCP-3509 gave was a safer and more cost-effective option than the possible alternative. Thus any experimentation based on disobeying the order or letting the timer run out again have been prohibited. | 9 | ## incident that turned the location into SCP-3509.
Item #: SCP-3509
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: An appointed team of qualified researchers are to monitor the interior of SCP-3509 at all times using its own system of cameras, microphones and speakers. The teams are to deliver provisions to its current resident through the elevator that connects SCP-3509 with the rest of the Site. It will also provide any help necessary to said resident in order to fulfill whichever task SCP-3509 demands of it. The appointed team leader will have discretionary authority over the best course of approach towards those demands.
A single Class-D personnel is required to reside inside SCP-3509 at any given time. A log of its activities is to be kept up to date by the researcher team. In case of its decease or termination, another subject will be sent to occupy the vacancy.
Any Class-D assigned at SCP-3509 are required to get a perfect score in the standardized Foundation test N-051-RP, which measures the obedience and compliance of the subject. Those that also show signs of introversion or tendency to isolation will be given priority to be selected.
The newly selected Class-D personnel is to be injected with a very small explosive charge that can be remotely activated inside its thoracic chamber prior their entry. This is because the technical difficulties SCP-3509 creates to regular termination procedures once the subject is inside. The researcher team is to terminate the subject in case of disobedience or inability to comply with the order provided by SCP-3509.
In the light of the proprieties of SCP-3509, the need to rotate the Class-D personnel has been deemed unnecessary as long as the previous procedures are being followed.
Description: SCP-3509 is an underground complex with the surface of ███ square meters, being equipped with a control room, a testing chamber, living quarters and a restroom. It is located ███ meters under the bottom floor of Site-██. Its only entrance is an elevator that connects it with the observation room located at Section ██ of the site. Prior to becoming SCP-3509, this underground complex was used as a testing facility by the Foundation, where experimentation and stress tests were realized on SCP-3509 and anomalous items to observe their reactions in extreme situations.
SCP-3509 started showing anomalous effects after ██/██/2001, when the Foundation carried out inside its test chamber the failed experiment on [REDACTED], and the subsequent incident on the eight day of continuous testing. This incident caused the members of the foundation present on the complex to experience an adverse effect similar to what would later be called SCP-3509-B, with the exception of a sole survivor which became its first resident. The object experimented upon was later retrieved without apparent change on SCP-3509.
The following is a compilation of any of anomalous effects observed within SCP-3509:
SCP-3509 will constantly give commands to its resident, one at a time. To issue each order, an unidentified synthesized voice will sound through the speakers of the complex. This voice is to be referred as SCP-3509-A. Said order is observed to be seemingly random most of the times, ranging from inane to extremely hazardous to the subject. So far it has never given an order that was physically impossible to achieve. The reason why it continues to give those commands is unknown.
When an order is given, a display in the control room of the underground complex will show a countdown. The amount of time varies between a minute and a few days, with the longest time recorded being 9 days. Experimentation has shown that both the order and the countdown will be given even if no resident is currently inside SCP-3509 or if the previous inhabitant has perished.
SCP-3509 only accepts human beings as its residents and will require them to personally fulfill the order. Any other attempts by third persons outside SCP-3509 or by animals and electronic mechanisms sent inside will be ignored. A human resident may still use the help of the previous to achieve the expected result, as long as the inhabitant contributes in a significant way to the fulfillment of the order.
After an order is successfully carried out, SCP-3509 will confirm its accomplishment. It seems to be impossible to conceal the fulfillment of any command inside it regardless of the method.
The confirmation of the accomplishment will cause the countdown to be turned off and SCP-3509-A will congratulate the resident. Afterwards it will remain silent during an hour until the announcement of its next order.
Any living resident attempting to leave SCP-3509 will suffer a series of physical changes that will eventually lead to its death on the way up during the elevator ride or if they try to escape using alternative methods. The only way to survive at that point is re-entering SCP-3509 before any critical damage has been received, as it will halt the process. Those changes vary from individual to individual. Some observed instances of the process are: The creation of multiple lacerations across the body of the subject, melting of the limbs and torso, decomposition of their body as they are still alive, transformation of their living tissue into a glass-like substance, the continuous generation of metal sharpnel inside the body among others. This process will be named SCP-3509-B. The current observed radius outside SCP-3509 for this effect to take place is ██ meters.
Any living human that tries to enter SCP-3509 while it already has another resident will also be affected by SCP-3509-B. However other entities like inanimate objects, animals, plants or human corpses have been shown be able to enter and leave it completely unharmed.
If multiple subjects enter at the same time while SCP-3509 is unoccupied, all of them but one will end up suffering the effects of SCP-3509-B. The surviving subject will be physically unharmed, but will usually have to be terminated due to its highly unstable psychological state after having witnessed what happened to the other subjects. See
---
## Addendum 3509-2 for more details.
Any attempts to breach the underground complex by any other means have ended in failure. Currently no further attempts are allowed.
It has been observed that SCP-3509 has at least some degree of sentience and consciousness of itself, as shown on some logs in
---
## Addendum 3509-1.
In the only instance that the order wasn't fulfilled in time, the area of effect of SCP-3509-B began expanding at an alarming rate, affecting multiple SCP Foundation staff and Class-D present on the Site. See:
---
## Addendum 3509-2 for more details.
Besides the aforementioned, no other anomalous phenomena can be observed neither on SCP-3509 nor its resident. If the subject is complying and is able to complete tasks ordered by SCP-3509, it can survive within it during long periods of time. The record time of a resident surviving within the complex has been for 5 years. In some instances the observer team observed traces akin that of symbiotic nature between SCP-3509 and its resident, however these behaviors are not frequent as SCP-3509 usually shows very little regard to the well-being of its inhabitant.
At the current point in time it has not been fully tested what happens if an order given by SCP-3509 is disobeyed, as so far every single order it has given has been eventually carried out, albeit one outside the time limit. The Foundation's experts on theoretical approach hypothesize that due to the events surrounding the incident detailed in
---
## Addendum 3509-01:
The following is an excerpt of some of the logs kept by the researcher team tasked with SCP-3509 to be used as reference
Day : ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Jump.
Time limit: 5 hours
Result: The Class-D complied almost immediately, no assistance was required.
Day : ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Study calculus for three hours straight.
Time limit: 12 hours and 20 minutes
Result: The Class-D was provided with calculus reference books and asked to study them. One member of the researcher team offered to tutor him across the site's speakers.
Day: ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Rip out your nails from your left hand.
Time limit: 27 minutes.
Result: The researcher team provided a pair of pliers through the elevator. Although strongly reticent, the subject complied. Disinfectant and bandages were provided by the team after the event.
Day: ██/██/2002.
Resident: D-3541
Order: Dance the "Macarena".
Time limit: 3 hours and 1 minute.
Result: D-3541 told the researcher team that he didn't know the dance. The researcher team provided a television with a video tape that demonstrated the steps of the dance. After some attempts, D-3541 achieved to do a dance sufficient enough for the order to be deemed accomplished.
Day: ██/██/2003.
Resident: D-3557
Order: The floors are dirty, clean them.
Time limit: 5 hours and 49 minutes.
Result: The researcher team provided D-3557 with cleaning tools and it proceeded to obey the required task. The statement "The floors are dirty" was found to be most unusual, as SCP-3509-A hadn't said this kind of comment on an object before besides the congratulatory message at the fulfillment of an order.
Day: ██/██/2003.
Residents: D-3557 (Terminated), D-4286.
Order: Write a poem.
Time limit: 1 hour and 30 minutes
Result: The Class-D told to the research team that he was an illiterate. After a discussion within the team it was decided that trying to teach D-3557 how to write in that short amount of time was highly unlikely. D-3557 was terminated through the explosive charge in his chest and a replacement was sent. This replacement was tasked to write the poem once the elevator had reached its destination before exploring the rest of the complex. Once SCP-3509 congratulated her, the research team asked her to dispose of the corpse of the previous resident through the elevator.
Note: It seems that when the elevator is on the entrance of the underground complex SCP-3509 recognizes it as part of itself, allowing its resident to carry its orders inside it. This should be noted for further reference. -Team director Dr. Karam
Day: ██/██/2004.
Residents: D-4311(Terminated), Junior Researcher Garcia
Order: Smoke a cigarette.
Time limit: 1 minute.
Result: See
---
## Addendum 3509-2
Day: ██/██/2004.
Residents: Junior Researcher Garcia (Deceased), D-4371
Order: Dance claque.
Time limit: 1 day, 2 hours and 56 minutes
Result: Junior Researcher Garcia committed suicide. A new Class-D resident was sent to carry out the order as well as to retrieve the remains of the Junior Researcher.
Day: ██/██/2005.
Residents: D-4401
Order: Sing out loud the song "YMCA" by the "Village People".
Time limit: 9 hours 42 minutes.
Result: D-4401 showed signs of stage fright and told the researcher team that he was feeling too self-conscious to sing. The researcher team reasoned and encouraged it for a period of time until the Class-D suggested that he would feel more comfortable singing if the researcher team sang along with him through the speakers. After a short discussion within the team it was decided that it would be easier to humor the Class-D than preparing another substitute, and agred to the subject's request. The order was subsequently fulfilled without further
---
## incident.
Day: ██/██/2006.
Residents: D-4441
Order: Do a hundred push-ups and a hundred sit-ups.
Time limit: 24 hours.
Result: Due to the extremely poor physical state of D-4441, problems arose as it seemed to be unable to finish the regimen in time. The researcher team spent the day giving the Class-D encouragement and teaching it techniques to facilitate the fulfillment of the order. It was eventually accomplished by the 22nd hour mark with signs of exhaustion on the Class-D.
Day: ██/██/2006.
Residents: D-4441
Order: Pet a koala.
Time limit: 2 hours.
Result: One Mobile Task Force team was sent post-haste to the closest zoo to retrieve a specimen, managing its recovery and transportation within the allocated time. After the order was fulfilled, the specimen was returned and amnestics were administered to any witnesses of the operation.
Day: ██/██/2008.
Residents: D-5026
Order: Do not say "My uncle Steve has a big cow".
Time limit: 7 days 16 hours and 33 minutes
Result: This was the first instance SCP-3509 gave an order of inaction. Since it was unknown at the time how would it deem the inaction as fulfilled, any possible precautionary measures were took to ensure the safety of the Site. D-5026 was forbidden to open his mouth aside from eating and drinking until further notice. The researcher team closely monitored D-5026 at all times to ensure termination in case of any attempt at speaking. As the countdown kept descending without any indication of fulfillment of the order, an emergency meeting was called to discuss the situation with the Site Director other chief staff from the Foundation. During the last hour of the time limit an evacuation on all personnel in-site was issued, and the use of omega nuclear warheads was prepared for the worst-case scenario. At the last second, SCP-3509-A gave the announcement of order fulfilled and added that its resident could now say whatever it wanted. Once the crisis was deemed to be averted, the Foundation staff returned to their regular activities and the incident was disguised as a security drill. Afterwards, D-5026 commented how easy this order had been compared to previous ones since he didn't have any uncle called Steve.
Day: ██/██/2009.
Residents: D-5026.
Order: Repair the broken lamp.
Time limit: 6 days 3 hours and 4 minutes.
Result: D-5026 was given the materials and instructions by the team to repair the lightbulb that was accidentally shattered during the previous order of "Play racquetball by yourself for five minutes".
Day: ██/██/2009.
Residents: D-5026 (Deceased).
Order: Walk three meters on a tight rope
Time limit: 3 days 5 hours and 15 minutes.
Result: The researcher team provided the materials for the Class-D to make an improvised tight-rope inside the facility. Several attempts were made by D-5026 during the course of the first two days. At the last attempt, just as SCP-3509-A gave the congratulatory message, D-5026 slipped and hit its head on a table, causing skull fracture and internal hemorrhage. Due the inability of the researcher team to provide effective medical aid in time caused by the inherent characteristics of SCP-3509, D-5026 perished of blood loss.
Day: ██/██/2011.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Write erotic fanfiction featuring your parents
Time limit: 7 hours and 28 minutes.
Result: At the beginning D-5584 strongly refused to comply until the research team threatened to terminate it. The audiovisual recordings showed the Class-D writing something on a piece of paper and immediately tearing it apart after SCP-3509-A gave the congratulatory announcement.
Day: ██/██/2013.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Completely immerse yourself in sulfuric acid
Time limit: 5 days 12 hours and 1 minute.
Result: The researcher team provided a tank full of sulfuric acid through the elevator and a hazmat suit. After D-5544 had been reassured that the suit would protect him from any major burns he decided to comply. Treatment materials for second-degree chemical burns, as well as telephonic assistance on how to apply them was provided after the testing.
Day: ██/██/2013.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Ride an elevator
Time limit: 1 day 2 hours and 3 minutes.
Result: Discussion of making D-5584 use the entrance elevator took place within the researcher team. It was ultimately decided against it for ethical reasons and instead a small mini-elevator was built and sent inside SCP-3509 to fulfill the order.
Day: ██/██/2015.
Residents: D-5584.
Order: Good job, you may now exit SCP-3509 and bring in a new test subject.
Time limit: 9 days.
Result: Permission was given at D-5584 to use the main elevator by the researcher team. This has been the only instance of someone being able to leave the underground complex without being affected by SCP-3509-B. Another Class-D was sent inside SCP-3509, which marked the order as fulfilled. Further testings showed that, barring this exception, SCP-3509-B still occurs every time anyone else tries to exit, and continues functioning as if this incident never happened. When interrogated about it, D-5584 claimed to have no knowledge why only he was allowed to leave. D-5584 has been administered Class-A amnestics and repurposed at another location.
---
## Addendum 3509-02
The following is a compilation of documents recording the Containment Breach caused by SCP-3509 on ██/██/2004.
---
## Document 1: E-mail from the team director to the research team sent the day prior to the Containment Breach
FROM: Team director Dr. Karam
TO: Dr. Cobb, Dr. Zhurov, Junior Researcher Garcia, Research Assistant Tanaka.
SUBJECT: Experimentation on the behavior of SCP-3509.
A test is scheduled for tomorrow. This test is to measure how will SCP-3509 react if multiple living individuals try to enter at the same time. The test will begin immediately after the current resident fulfills any order issued by SCP-3509 after 8:30. When the order is fulfilled, the resident will be terminated and four Class-D will be sent down with the elevator simultaneously. I expect all of you to be prepared and ready to deal with any unexpected consequences.
Dr. Karam | |
SCP-4972 | SCP-4972 | scp | Dr. Carè
Item #: SCP-4972
Object Class: Unknown
Special Containment Procedures: The Adaptive Containment Chamber (ACC) SCP-4972 is believed to reside in is to remain in the section of Site-22 it was first found in. This ACC is to be kept under guard by a security team of at least ten personnel at all times. No attempts are to be made, outside of already agreed testing protocol, to observe or access the interior of the ACC.
Any approved attempts to access the interior of the ACC through testing are to be done according to this procedure:
All testing is to be performed by a single member of D-Class personnel.
No recording devices are to observe the testing process.
All security personnel are to turn away from the ACC during the moment of entry, and noise-cancellation headgear is to be activated until the ACC is resealed.
The amount of time the D-Class operative is to remain in the ACC is to be specified beforehand. The D-Class operative is not to be released until this time has been reached. In the event that a D-Class operative does not attempt to leave once this time has been reached, the ACC is to remain sealed.
Following emergence from the ACC, the D-Class is to be decontaminated, scanned remotely for bodily anomalies and interviewed by Dr. Carè. Interview is to take place in a sealed interview room, with the interviewer and subject in separated sections.
Until the interview has been concluded and the D-Class in question has been confirmed non-compromised, no individuals are to make any form of direct contact with them.
Once testing is concluded and all relevant information logged, the D-Class is to be administered a Class-A amnestic to excise any memory of said test.
All information gained from D-Class testing is to be accessed only by Dr. Carè. In the event of his death or otherwise becoming incapable of performing his duties, access is to pass to the next highest ranking member of research personnel.
Description: SCP-4972 is an object, entity or phenomenon presumed to exist within an Adaptive Containment Chamber located at Site-22.
Discovery: The existence of SCP-4972 was first discovered during a routine system scan of Site-22. It was discovered that, since previous checks had been performed, an unused section was draining large amounts of power from the site's generators. Upon investigation, the ACC was discovered in the area in question, with the designation emblazoned on its side indicating it was containing SCP-4972. The ACC is an experimental containment chamber designed for secure storage of Red Threat Level anomalies. Note that a prototype for the ACC had not yet been completed when SCP-4972 was found.
No individuals stationed at Site-22 could explain how the ACC was transported into Site-22, and mnestic therapy of numerous personnel proved that no memories existed of the ACC's arrival. In addition, no personnel could explain why the section of Site-22 the ACC was found in had been unused for such a long period of time.
Upon subsequent investigation into the SCP-4972 designation on the Foundation archives, only the following message was found:
The seal on the Adaptive Containment Chamber is not to be broken. Do not enter the chamber or attempt to remove anything from it. Do not attempt to observe the inside of the chamber. Do not attempt to deduce its contents. Do not speculate about its contents.
No further information can be divulged. I'm sorry.
O5-6 (Command Code ████-████-████-████)
In a similar manner to the personnel of Site-22, mnestic therapy of O5-6 found that they possessed no memories concerning SCP-4972 or the appearance of the ACC, nor had they possessed them at any point. In addition, the command codes attached to the message were outdated by several years.
In order to confirm the nature of SCP-4972, while still following the majority of the directives found in the original note, the current procedures for testing were created by Dr. Carè and approved by O5-6.
Test Log 4972-1:
Subject: D-29102.
Time in ACC: 120 seconds.
Subject entered the ACC according to the testing procedures and emerged 120 seconds later. Scans showed no abnormalities within her body. Interview was conducted five minutes after the subject emerged from the ACC.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Carè: Good evening. How do you feel?
D-29102: Uh, fine, I guess. Why'd you have me go in there, anyway? You didn't even have me do anything.
Dr. Carè: Just a bit of routine testing. Can you tell me what exactly you saw in there?
D-29102: Well, just a room, right?
(Pause.)
Dr. Carè: A little more specific, please.
D-29102: Oh, right. Well, kind of a square-ish room, all lit up by this one light in the ceiling. The walls were covered in this kind of, uh, I don't really know how to describe it. Bubble-wrap?
Dr. Carè: That would be the adaptive membrane, yes. That fits with the schematics. Anything else?
D-29102: Nothing much. I kinda just stood around for two minutes, then knocked on the door like you said. I guess there was kind of a snarky breakfast noise, but that was it.
(Pause.)
Dr. Carè: A what?
D-29102: A snarky breakfast noise. Why?
Dr. Carè: Oh, sorry. I thought you said something else.
D-29102: So, there anything else? (laughs) I gotta say, this wasn't much of a test. You guys kinda hyped it up for me, you know?
Dr. Carè: Well, I suppose if that's all you noticed, then I've nothing else to ask. We'll keep you on hand for more tests, just to make sure everything's fine, then you'll be released as agreed.
D-29102: Cool.
(Dr. Carè stands up and exits through the door on his side of the interview room. D-29102 stands up and exits through the far wall.)
<End Log>
Test Log 4972-2:
Subject: D-39112.
Time in ACC: Five minutes.
Prior to entering the ACC, the subject was put through several rounds of cognito-therapy in order to enable perception of phenomena beyond usual human capabilities. Subject entered the ACC according to the testing procedures and emerged five minutes later. Scans showed no abnormalities within his body. Interview was conducted five minutes after the subject emerged from the ACC.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Carè: Hello, D-39112. How are you feeling?
D-39112: Doesn't it get hard to remember that number? Can't you just call me, like, Steve or something?
Dr. Carè: Very well. How are you feeling, Steve?
D-39112: Sick.
Dr. Carè: You're feeling unwell?
D-39112: No, no, sick as in good. Sick .
(Pause.)
Dr. Carè: Okay, I'm glad to hear that. Could you tell me about what you saw while in the ACC?
D-39112: The what?
Dr. Carè: (sighs) The room we just put you in, Steven.
D-39112: Oh right, yeah, yeah. Well, I went in there like you said, looked around and when I was a kid I used to watch this show on television called Bernard the Bouncing Bunny. Have you seen that television program?
(Dr. Carè takes notes for ten seconds.)
Dr. Carè: No, I haven't.
D-39112: The show is primarily centered around a character called, you guessed it, Bernard the Bouncing Bunny. He is a playful rabbit with an identical spot on both his ears. He is prone to getting into all sorts of mischief including Percy the Police Pooch as well as a giant spider that remains unnamed by the producers to this day.
(Dr. Carè takes notes for one minute.)
Dr. Carè: I see, please continue.
D-39112: When I was a kid, I was watching this program, you understand? On my television. The aerial was scooping it out of the air like ice cream, and I felt like it was my sky dream. Do you own a television?
(Dr. Carè takes notes for seven minutes.)
Dr. Carè: Yes, I do. Why do you ask?
D-39112: Just curious. On my television, sometimes a playful rabbit appears. Even when I'm out shopping, I see him in the shards of glass with an identical spot on both his ears. He is my favourite television personality.
(Dr. Carè takes notes for five hours.)
Dr. Carè: I'm sorry, what was the bunny's name?
D-39112: Bernard.
(Dr. Carè takes notes for six hundred and thirty-four years.)
Dr. Carè: Well, thank you for this information. It's been extremely helpful.
D-39112: No problem, man.
(Dr. Carè stands up and exits the interview room through the door on his side of the interview room. D-39112 does the same on his side of the interview room.)
<End Log>
Test Log 4972-3:
Subject: Dr. Carè.
Time in ACC: Six hours.
During a containment breach at Site-22, security personnel assigned to SCP-4972 were reassigned to assist with efforts to stop said breach and secure the facility. Dr. Carè is believed to have entered the ACC in order to conduct unauthorized testing of SCP-4972 at this point. He was released upon the return of security personnel six hours later. Scans showed no abnormalities within his body. Interview was conducted by Dr. Lesteigh five minutes after Dr. Carè emerged from the ACC.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Lesteigh: Why'd you do it, Jon? I mean, come on.
Dr. Carè: I had to know. Something was wrong.
Dr. Lesteigh: What do you mean, something was wrong? I want an actual explanation for what the hell you were thinking. You drew up those testing procedures yourself, for god's sake!
Dr. Carè: Which one is me?
Dr. Lesteigh: What?
Dr. Carè: Am I me, or am I you? I can't … I'm having difficulty telling. (laughs) Can you help me, please?
(Pause.)
Dr. Lesteigh: Are you feeling alright, Jon?
Dr. Carè: Yes. No. No, of course I'm not feeling alright. I need to … I need to tell you, to let you know before it happens.
Dr. Lesteigh: Before what happens?
Dr. Carè: I don't know. Something. Something will happen, I don't know what. I need to - I need to tell you something, okay?
Dr. Lesteigh: Okay. Go ahead.
Dr. Carè: We shouldn't have opened it. We shouldn't have opened it, Noah. I saw … words . I don't have the words, there are too many. We need to cut them down a bit, we only need ten or so. What the hell am I talking about? I feel like bath-bubbles.
Dr. Lesteigh: Bath-bubbles?
Dr. Carè: Spreading, spreading, um, diluting , yes, that's the word. That's what it is - don't write this down, don't write this down! You'll get too close to it!
Dr. Lesteigh: What do you mean? We need to get the interview on file, Jon. It'll help with future tests.
(Dr. Carè begins visibly hyperventilating.)
Dr. Carè: Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Don't even think about it, don't try to work it out, you're getting too close to it. I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry.
(Dr. Carè looks down at his hands and begins screaming. Dr. Lesteigh stands up.)
Dr. Lesteigh: What is it? What's wrong, Jon?
Dr. Carè: What the hell did you do to me?! My hands! Look at my fucking hands! What is this place?! Where am I?! Where am I ?!
(The second Dr. Carè approaches the observation window, hunched over and grinning widely. He taps on the glass with his index finger rhythmically, then sinks into the floor seven seconds later.)
(Dr. Lesteigh turns and leaves the interview room through the door on his side of the interview room. Dr. Carè does not.)
<End Log> | 371 | ["_cc", "concept", "esoteric-class", "narrative", "scp"] | 2019-08-10T23:00:00 | 11,046 | 1,910 | SCP-4972 | Unknown | The Adaptive Containment Chamber (ACC) SCP-4972 is believed to reside in is to remain in the section of Site-22 it was first found in. This ACC is to be kept under guard by a security team of at least ten personnel at all times. No attempts are to be made, outside of already agreed testing protocol, to observe or access the interior of the ACC.
Any approved attempts to access the interior of the ACC through testing are to be done according to this procedure:
All testing is to be performed by a single member of D-Class personnel.
No recording devices are to observe the testing process.
All security personnel are to turn away from the ACC during the moment of entry, and noise-cancellation headgear is to be activated until the ACC is resealed.
The amount of time the D-Class operative is to remain in the ACC is to be specified beforehand. The D-Class operative is not to be released until this time has been reached. In the event that a D-Class operative does not attempt to leave once this time has been reached, the ACC is to remain sealed.
Following emergence from the ACC, the D-Class is to be decontaminated, scanned remotely for bodily anomalies and interviewed by Dr. Carè. Interview is to take place in a sealed interview room, with the interviewer and subject in separated sections.
Until the interview has been concluded and the D-Class in question has been confirmed non-compromised, no individuals are to make any form of direct contact with them.
Once testing is concluded and all relevant information logged, the D-Class is to be administered a Class-A amnestic to excise any memory of said test.
All information gained from D-Class testing is to be accessed only by Dr. Carè. In the event of his death or otherwise becoming incapable of performing his duties, access is to pass to the next highest ranking member of research personnel. | SCP-4972 is an object, entity or phenomenon presumed to exist within an Adaptive Containment Chamber located at Site-22. | 5 | ## testing are to be done according to this procedure
All testing is to be performed by a single member of D-Class personnel.
No recording devices are to observe the testing process.
All security personnel are to turn away from the ACC during the moment of entry, and noise-cancellation headgear is to be activated until the ACC is resealed.
The amount of time the D-Class operative is to remain in the ACC is to be specified beforehand. The D-Class operative is not to be released until this time has been reached. In the event that a D-Class operative does not attempt to leave once this time has been reached, the ACC is to remain sealed.
Following emergence from the ACC, the D-Class is to be decontaminated, scanned remotely for bodily anomalies and interviewed by Dr. Carè. Interview is to take place in a sealed interview room, with the interviewer and subject in separated sections.
Until the interview has been concluded and the D-Class in question has been confirmed non-compromised, no individuals are to make any form of direct contact with them.
Once testing is concluded and all relevant information logged, the D-Class is to be administered a Class-A amnestic to excise any memory of said
---
## test.
All information gained from D-Class testing is to be accessed only by Dr. Carè. In the event of his death or otherwise becoming incapable of performing his duties, access is to pass to the next highest ranking member of research personnel.
Description: SCP-4972 is an object, entity or phenomenon presumed to exist within an Adaptive Containment Chamber located at Site-22.
---
## Log 4972-1
Subject: D-29102.
Time in ACC: 120 seconds.
Subject entered the ACC according to the testing procedures and emerged 120 seconds later. Scans showed no abnormalities within her body. Interview was conducted five minutes after the subject emerged from the ACC.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Carè: Good evening. How do you feel?
D-29102: Uh, fine, I guess. Why'd you have me go in there, anyway? You didn't even have me do anything.
Dr. Carè: Just a bit of routine testing. Can you tell me what exactly you saw in there?
D-29102: Well, just a room, right?
(Pause.)
Dr. Carè: A little more specific, please.
D-29102: Oh, right. Well, kind of a square-ish room, all lit up by this one light in the ceiling. The walls were covered in this kind of, uh, I don't really know how to describe it. Bubble-wrap?
Dr. Carè: That would be the adaptive membrane, yes. That fits with the schematics. Anything else?
D-29102: Nothing much. I kinda just stood around for two minutes, then knocked on the door like you said. I guess there was kind of a snarky breakfast noise, but that was it.
(Pause.)
Dr. Carè: A what?
D-29102: A snarky breakfast noise. Why?
Dr. Carè: Oh, sorry. I thought you said something else.
D-29102: So, there anything else? (laughs) I gotta say, this wasn't much of a
---
## Test Log 4972-2
Subject: D-39112.
Time in ACC: Five minutes.
Prior to entering the ACC, the subject was put through several rounds of cognito-therapy in order to enable perception of phenomena beyond usual human capabilities. Subject entered the ACC according to the testing procedures and emerged five minutes later. Scans showed no abnormalities within his body. Interview was conducted five minutes after the subject emerged from the ACC.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Carè: Hello, D-39112. How are you feeling?
D-39112: Doesn't it get hard to remember that number? Can't you just call me, like, Steve or something?
Dr. Carè: Very well. How are you feeling, Steve?
D-39112: Sick.
Dr. Carè: You're feeling unwell?
D-39112: No, no, sick as in good. Sick .
(Pause.)
Dr. Carè: Okay, I'm glad to hear that. Could you tell me about what you saw while in the ACC?
D-39112: The what?
Dr. Carè: (sighs) The room we just put you in, Steven.
D-39112: Oh right, yeah, yeah. Well, I went in there like you said, looked around and when I was a kid I used to watch this show on television called Bernard the Bouncing Bunny. Have you seen that television program?
(Dr. Carè takes notes for ten seconds.)
Dr. Carè: No, I haven't.
D-39112: The show is primarily centered around a character called, you guessed it, Bernard the Bouncing Bunny. He is a playful rabbit with an identical spot on both his ears. He is prone to getting into all sorts of mischief including Percy the Police Pooch as well as a giant spider that remains unnamed by the producers to this day.
(Dr. Carè takes notes for one minute.)
Dr. Carè: I see, please continue.
D-39112: When I was a kid, I was watching this program, you understand? On my television. The aerial was scooping it out of the air like ice cream, and I felt like it was my sky dream. Do you own a television?
(Dr. Carè takes notes for seven minutes.)
Dr. Carè: Yes, I do. Why do you ask?
D-39112: Just curious. On my television, sometimes a playful rabbit appears. Even when I'm out shopping, I see him in the shards of glass with an identical spot on both his ears. He is my favourite television personality.
(Dr. Carè takes notes for five hours.)
Dr. Carè: I'm sorry, what was the bunny's name?
D-39112: Bernard.
(Dr. Carè takes notes for six hundred and thirty-four years.)
Dr. Carè: Well, thank you for this information. It's been extremely helpful.
D-39112: No problem, man.
(Dr. Carè stands up and exits the interview room through the door on his side of the interview room. D-39112 does the same on his side of the interview room.)
<End Log>
Test
---
## Log 4972-3
Subject: Dr. Carè.
Time in ACC: Six hours.
During a containment breach at Site-22, security personnel assigned to SCP-4972 were reassigned to assist with efforts to stop said breach and secure the facility. Dr. Carè is believed to have entered the ACC in order to conduct unauthorized testing of SCP-4972 at this point. He was released upon the return of security personnel six hours later. Scans showed no abnormalities within his body. Interview was conducted by Dr. Lesteigh five minutes after Dr. Carè emerged from the ACC.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Lesteigh: Why'd you do it, Jon? I mean, come on.
Dr. Carè: I had to know. Something was wrong.
Dr. Lesteigh: What do you mean, something was wrong? I want an actual explanation for what the hell you were thinking. You drew up those testing procedures yourself, for god's sake!
Dr. Carè: Which one is me?
Dr. Lesteigh: What?
Dr. Carè: Am I me, or am I you? I can't … I'm having difficulty telling. (laughs) Can you help me, please?
(Pause.)
Dr. Lesteigh: Are you feeling alright, Jon?
Dr. Carè: Yes. No. No, of course I'm not feeling alright. I need to … I need to tell you, to let you know before it happens.
Dr. Lesteigh: Before what happens?
Dr. Carè: I don't know. Something. Something will happen, I don't know what. I need to - I need to tell you something, okay?
Dr. Lesteigh: Okay. Go ahead.
Dr. Carè: We shouldn't have opened it. We shouldn't have opened it, Noah. I saw … words . I don't have the words, there are too many. We need to cut them down a bit, we only need ten or so. What the hell am I talking about? I feel like bath-bubbles.
Dr. Lesteigh: Bath-bubbles?
Dr. Carè: Spreading, spreading, um, diluting , yes, that's the word. That's what it is - don't write this down, don't write this down! You'll get too close to it!
Dr. Lesteigh: What do you mean? We need to get the interview on file, Jon. It'll help with future tests.
(Dr. Carè begins visibly hyperventilating.)
Dr. Carè: Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Don't even think about it, don't try to work it out, you're getting too close to it. I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry.
(Dr. Carè looks down at his hands and begins screaming. Dr. Lesteigh stands up.)
Dr. Lesteigh: What is it? What's wrong, Jon?
Dr. Carè: What the hell did you do to me?! My hands! Look at my fucking hands! What is this place?! Where am I?! Where am I ?!
(The second Dr. Carè approaches the observation window, hunched over and grinning widely. He taps on the glass with his index finger rhythmically, then sinks into the floor seven seconds later.)
(Dr. Lesteigh turns and leaves the interview room through the door on his side of the interview room. Dr. Carè does not.)
<End Log> | |
SCP-6162 | SCP-6162 | scp | SCP-6162 - The Wormhole
Image Credits
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wormhole_Gamma_27062019.png
vertical.png was made by me, djkaktus, released under CC by SA 3.0.
https://flickr.com/photos/chad_sparkes/40125986191
All image edits were made by me, djkaktus.
▸ More by this Author ◂
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
Item#: 6162
Level3
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
{$secondary-class}
Disruption Class:
ekhi
Risk Class:
warning
link to memo
SCP-6162-A as seen with infrared camera. Image taken from KNKO-3 space probe.
Assigned Site:
Site-4
Site Director:
Eduardo Beurgher
Research Head:
Dr. Theodore Galbyc
Assigned Task Force:
E-7 "Bob and Co."
Special Containment Procedures: Foundation assets assigned to near-Earth phenomenon are to monitor for signs of additional extraterrestrial spatial incursions that match SCP-6162's geometric signature. Foundation LUNACORPS engineers are to continue working on Project ANKS to evaluate methods by which to collapse additional instances of SCP-6162-A, should they appear in the future - however, due to the observed cross-dimensional mass matrix of SCP-6162-A, no such technology capable of accomplishing this currently exists.
Description: SCP-6162 is the group designation for a number of unusual extraterrestrial phenomena that were observed on October 19th, 2021.
SCP-6162-A was a spatial anomaly that appeared roughly 384,000 kilometers from Earth at 16:23 UTC on 19/10/2021. SCP-6162-A was first observed by the FARMIND extraterrestrial imaging array. In a paper filed shortly after initial observation, Dr. Mortimer Dekala described the anomaly as:
…a rogue celestial aberration of unknown mass, tracking an unknown orbit that is currently passing through our solar system. It is a fully opaque mass and does not reflect light or other higher energy waveforms. It appeared suddenly, expending only a small amount of energy when doing so. Kurushian physics indicates that any energy passing through the spatial rift should cause the overall interior metastructure of the anomaly to decay logarithmically; despite this, the anomaly has continued to regenerate mass by unknown means since its initial discovery.
SCP-6162-B and SCP-6162-C were mechanical entities or vessels discovered on the far side of SCP-6162-A's spatial rift. For more information, see Addendum 6162.1 .
Launch of the KNKO-3 probe.
Shortly after initial discovery, Foundation LUNACORPS authorized the launch of KNKO-3 to gather additional information about the anomaly.
Addendum 6162.1: KNKO-3 Observations
KNKO-3 came within 20,000km of SCP-6162-A after roughly 11 hours of travel time. The probe confirmed that SCP-6162-A had a mass of approximately three billion kilograms, was vaguely sphere-shaped with slight tapering at the poles, and was experiencing tidal drift through the center of the anomaly. As KNKO-3 was drawn into SCP-6162-A's gravity well, it ejected a radio tether on the near side of the anomaly to ensure transmission of data across the tidal plane.
KNKO-3 was almost incapacitated immediately upon passing through the anomaly by powerful electromagnetic pulses emanating from three colossal mechanical structures (hereafter identified as SCP-6162-B) immediately adjacent to the far side of SCP-6162-A, but was able to maneuver away from SCP-6162-A using onboard thrusters. Video received from KNKO-3 is inconclusive, but appears to show the three instances of SCP-6162-B engaged with another smaller, sleek black vessel (hereafter identified as SCP-6162-C). Each of the instances of SCP-6162-B were well over 5km in height, composed primarily of heavily oxidized steel plating, and appeared to have a weapons system consisting of depleted uranium shells launched at high velocity from multiple large caliber autocannons, each at least 2500mm in diameter. SCP-6162-C, which was seemingly spatially entangled by a kind of energy emitter equipped by each of SCP-6162-B, was in the process of returning fire using a previously unseen weapon of unknown function.
Shortly after its arrival, KNKO-3 observed two of the SCP-6162-B instances begin to change shape, folding their large cannon batteries into their main superstructure. They then fired their own massive on-board thrusters, aligned to a point in space, and then reached tremendous speed before disappearing from local space entirely. The single remaining instance of SCP-6162-B continued to fire upon SCP-6162-C until it was annihilated.
Immediately after the destruction of the smaller vessel, the KNKO-3 probe was caught in the same spatial entangling array it had previously observed being used to hold SCP-6162-C in place. KNKO-3's onboard radio was then overwhelmed by noise as the remaining instance of SCP-6162-B began to emit a repeating signal. KNKO-3 captured one final pressure reading coming from the gun batteries of SCP-6162-B before it ceased responding to radio broadcasts, presumably having been destroyed.
Two instances of SCP-6162-B. Image degradation due to severe electromagnetic interference.
Immediately after the loss of KNKO-3, LUNACORPS authorized the launch of KNKO-4 for further analysis of the anomaly; however, approximately fifteen hours after first appearing, SCP-6162-A began to show signs of structural degradation across its mass matrix, and fully collapsed in on itself 16 hours and 23 minutes after initial discovery.
Addendum 6162.2: Decoded Transmission
The following is the decoded message that was received by the KNKO-3 probe shortly before its apparent destruction. The message, which was transmitted on a previously unknown subspace frequency, was picked up by KNKO-3's radio transmitter as static - however, A.I. analysis of what was previously assumed to be noise determined the signal was in actuality a message, transmitted in modern Russian, that was repeated eleven times in the eight seconds immediately before KNKO-3 was destroyed. The text of this transmission is as follows:
Пошел ты, сука с фрегатом. Я посадил семя в вашем доме. теперь вас выселят.
The meaning of this message as it relates to its source is unknown. Further analysis of information collected by KNKO-3 is ongoing.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6162 " by djkaktus, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6162 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: KNKO.png
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Derivative Of:
Name: History in the Making
Author: Chad Sparkes
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: Flickr
Filename: vertical.png
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Filename: wormhole.png
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Derivative Of:
Name: Wormhole Gamma 27062019.png
Author: PantheraLeo1359531
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | 76 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "ectoentropic", "electromagnetic", "euclid", "extraterrestrial", "hostile", "mechanical", "portal", "satellite", "scp", "spatial", "structure", "transmission"] | 2022-01-04T20:41:00 | 7,069 | 1,030 | null | null | Foundation assets assigned to near-Earth phenomenon are to monitor for signs of additional extraterrestrial spatial incursions that match SCP-6162's geometric signature. Foundation LUNACORPS engineers are to continue working on Project ANKS to evaluate methods by which to collapse additional instances of SCP-6162-A, should they appear in the future - however, due to the observed cross-dimensional mass matrix of SCP-6162-A, no such technology capable of accomplishing this currently exists. | SCP-6162 is the group designation for a number of unusual extraterrestrial phenomena that were observed on October 19th, 2021.
SCP-6162-A was a spatial anomaly that appeared roughly 384,000 kilometers from Earth at 16:23 UTC on 19/10/2021. SCP-6162-A was first observed by the FARMIND extraterrestrial imaging array. In a paper filed shortly after initial observation, Dr. Mortimer Dekala described the anomaly as:
…a rogue celestial aberration of unknown mass, tracking an unknown orbit that is currently passing through our solar system. It is a fully opaque mass and does not reflect light or other higher energy waveforms. It appeared suddenly, expending only a small amount of energy when doing so. Kurushian physics indicates that any energy passing through the spatial rift should cause the overall interior metastructure of the anomaly to decay logarithmically; despite this, the anomaly has continued to regenerate mass by unknown means since its initial discovery.
SCP-6162-B and SCP-6162-C were mechanical entities or vessels discovered on the far side of SCP-6162-A's spatial rift. For more information, see Addendum 6162.1 .
Launch of the KNKO-3 probe.
Shortly after initial discovery, Foundation LUNACORPS authorized the launch of KNKO-3 to gather additional information about the anomaly. | 5 | ## logy capable of accomplishing this currently exists.
Description: SCP-6162 is the group designation for a number of unusual extraterrestrial phenomena that were observed on October 19th, 2021.
SCP-6162-A was a spatial anomaly that appeared roughly 384,000 kilometers from Earth at 16:23 UTC on 19/10/2021. SCP-6162-A was first observed by the FARMIND extraterrestrial imaging array. In a paper filed shortly after initial observation, Dr. Mortimer Dekala described the anomaly as:
…a rogue celestial aberration of unknown mass, tracking an unknown orbit that is currently passing through our solar system. It is a fully opaque mass and does not reflect light or other higher energy waveforms. It appeared suddenly, expending only a small amount of energy when doing so. Kurushian physics indicates that any energy passing through the spatial rift should cause the overall interior metastructure of the anomaly to decay logarithmically; despite this, the anomaly has continued to regenerate mass by unknown means since its initial
---
## discovery.
SCP-6162-B and SCP-6162-C were mechanical entities or vessels discovered on the far side of SCP-6162-A's spatial rift. For more information, see
---
## Addendum 6162.1 .
Launch of the KNKO-3 probe.
Shortly after initial discovery, Foundation LUNACORPS authorized the launch of KNKO-3 to gather additional information about the anomaly.
---
## Addendum 6162.1: KNKO-3 Observations
KNKO-3 came within 20,000km of SCP-6162-A after roughly 11 hours of travel time. The probe confirmed that SCP-6162-A had a mass of approximately three billion kilograms, was vaguely sphere-shaped with slight tapering at the poles, and was experiencing tidal drift through the center of the anomaly. As KNKO-3 was drawn into SCP-6162-A's gravity well, it ejected a radio tether on the near side of the anomaly to ensure transmission of data across the tidal plane.
KNKO-3 was almost incapacitated immediately upon passing through the anomaly by powerful electromagnetic pulses emanating from three colossal mechanical structures (hereafter identified as SCP-6162-B) immediately adjacent to the far side of SCP-6162-A, but was able to maneuver away from SCP-6162-A using onboard thrusters. Video received from KNKO-3 is inconclusive, but appears to show the three instances of SCP-6162-B engaged with another smaller, sleek black vessel (hereafter identified as SCP-6162-C). Each of the instances of SCP-6162-B were well over 5km in height, composed primarily of heavily oxidized steel plating, and appeared to have a weapons system consisting of depleted uranium shells launched at high velocity from multiple large caliber autocannons, each at least 2500mm in diameter. SCP-6162-C, which was seemingly spatially entangled by a kind of energy emitter equipped by each of SCP-6162-B, was in the process of returning fire using a previously unseen weapon of unknown function.
Shortly after its arrival, KNKO-3 observed two of the SCP-6162-B instances begin to change shape, folding their large cannon batteries into their main superstructure. They then fired their own massive on-board thrusters, aligned to a point in space, and then reached tremendous speed before disappearing from local space entirely. The single remaining instance of SCP-6162-B continued to fire upon SCP-6162-C until it was annihilated.
Immediately after the destruction of the smaller vessel, the KNKO-3 probe was caught in the same spatial entangling array it had previously observed being used to hold SCP-6162-C in place. KNKO-3's onboard radio was then overwhelmed by noise as the remaining instance of SCP-6162-B began to emit a repeating signal. KNKO-3 captured one final pressure reading coming from the gun batteries of SCP-6162-B before it ceased responding to radio broadcasts, presumably having been destroyed.
Two instances of SCP-6162-B. Image degradation due to severe electromagnetic interference.
Immediately after the loss of KNKO-3, LUNACORPS authorized the launch of KNKO-4 for further analysis of the anomaly; however, approximately fifteen hours after first appearing, SCP-6162-A began to show signs of structural degradation across its mass matrix, and fully collapsed in on itself 16 hours and 23 minutes after initial
---
## Addendum 6162.2: Decoded Transmission
The following is the decoded message that was received by the KNKO-3 probe shortly before its apparent destruction. The message, which was transmitted on a previously unknown subspace frequency, was picked up by KNKO-3's radio transmitter as static - however, A.I. analysis of what was previously assumed to be noise determined the signal was in actuality a message, transmitted in modern Russian, that was repeated eleven times in the eight seconds immediately before KNKO-3 was destroyed. The text of this transmission is as follows:
Пошел ты, сука с фрегатом. Я посадил семя в вашем доме. теперь вас выселят.
The meaning of this message as it relates to its source is unknown. Further analysis of information collected by KNKO-3 is ongoing.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6162 " by djkaktus, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6162 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: KNKO.png
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Derivative Of:
Name: History in the Making
Author: Chad Sparkes
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: Flickr
Filename: vertical.png
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Filename: wormhole.png
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Derivative Of:
Name: Wormhole Gamma 27062019.png
Author: PantheraLeo1359531
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | |
SCP-7695 | SCP-7695 | scp | Item #: SCP-7695
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7695 is to be placed in Site-99's Low Containment Security C-Wing. Requests for experimentation with SCP-7695 are to be filed with the Site Director, with test subjects to number no more than ten persons (either as players or SCP-7695-1 instances).
Description: SCP-7695 is a collection of twenty seven brass instruments manufactured sometime in the early to mid 1870s. This collection has ten drums (half snare, half bass), nine cornets, four Saxhorns, two fiddles and two bugle horns. Each one has a five sided insignia, similar in design to a Maltese cross, crudely pressed into the material.
When SCP-7695 is played together in close proximity, all individuals a twenty to eighty square kilometer radius, will disappear and rematerialize in another area disconnected from baseline reality. This area will often resemble its state between 1861-1865. Excepting SCP-7695's players, all individuals in this area will become instances of SCP-7695-1.
SCP-7695-1 instances are similar to their baseline counterparts in personality, but typically dress in era appropriate attire, and often lack memories of their prior life. Upon SCP-7695's activation, SCP-7695-1 instances will relocate to several camps, and begin organizing themselves into one of five separate regiments active during the American Civil War: 2nd Wisconsin, 6th Wisconsin, 7th Wisconsin, 19th Indiana, and 24th Michigan. 1 This entails the election of officers among SCP-7695, basic training, the sewing of regimental flags, and procurement of firearms, all of which will take no less than a day. When this is accomplished, a battle occurs with SCP-7695-2.
SCP-7695-2 is the collective designation of a group of highly aggressive gray-skinned humanoids, typically between one to two meters tall. Universally, SCP-7695-2 instances are afflicted with various mutilations of the body, although the origin of these injuries is unknown.
When SCP-7695-1 finishes its organization, SCP-7695-2 will attack, which will be signaled by the production of a loud, high pitched scream produced by an SCP-7695-2 instance. This assault will only cease upon either: 1) SCP-7695-2 instances have been entirely eliminated, or 2) SCP-7695-1 instances suffer at least a 85% casualty rate. With either of these criteria met, SCP-7695 related phenomena will cease, causing living SCP-7695-1 instances to rematerialize in their prior locations, lacking knowledge of their past acts.
SCP-7695 was discovered on January 7th, 1876, following its activation in the town of Belling, Indiana the day prior, with only twenty percent of its pre-activation population surviving. Shortly after this, the American Secure Containment Initiative was contacted, who quickly discovered SCP-7695 and its effects with the help of local Franklin Drew, the sole survivor of the local Sheffield Military Academy. After initial containment was confirmed and amnestics applied to survivors, a cover story of a yellow fever outbreak in Belling was distributed to local authorities and the media.
SCP-7695 was found in the choir room of the Sheffield Military Academy, alongside the rest of Sheffield's class of 1876 and the Academy's founder, Anthony Sheffield. Sheffield, a former officer of the 6th Wisconsin, was found clutching his medal of honor, presented to him on October 9th 1864 by President Lincoln.
Addendum-7695.I — Recovered Documents
Following an interview with Franklin Drew of Sheffield Military Academy, the American Secure Containment Initiative was informed that SCP-7695 had been in possession of Sheffield's commandant and founder, Anthony Sheffield. Drew alleged that SCP-7695 had been procured by Sheffield for purposes unknown to himself. While SCP-7695 was being discovered, ASCI agents raided Sheffield's home and office in the Academy. Several documents related to Sheffield and SCP-7695 have been reproduced below in full below.
The weather was acceptable, mild rain only. The boys were doing their marching when the man from the town over came to see me.
He came in smiling, arms wide and happy. I greeted him coldly, before he presented to me his medal to me, and he came to me, whispering, that we had fought in the Overland campaign together. Sgt. William Mitchel of the 2nd Wisconsin, 2 at my service.
I waited to see what he wanted. Always have time for a fellow soldier. He said that he could help me with my boys. Little over two dozen instruments, fashioned for our Brigade but never finished before the war's end, entered the Sergeant's possession. Syncope Artisans , he said, was one of the highest quality producers of instruments available to the soldiers of the United States. When I asked of price, he said he'd manage it. I thanked him. I think I'll use them for the ceremony. It's only a year away.
I played with the drum by myself as the boys marched in unison lockstep outside, and I could feel myself back then, in the fields, and I had to stop, lest I feel myself fall into it, letting myself get lost in the memories.
Even so, I quickly continued after a quick rest. They are high quality, as the Sergeant had promised. That night I slept thinking of the pounding of hooves and ripping of cartridge packs and whistling soaring harmonious soft explosions in the distance.
I think they'll do well for their graduation .
When I play I remember the sensations of yesterday, echoing throughout eternity and back into the Now . Even touching them brings to the fore ancient knowledge that buried itself deep into the chords of my soul. Knowing, remembering, returning to those sacred years, the years that repeat, on, on, on, even now, reverberating to me now, and into the vibrations of sound, spreading
I forgot what I had forgotten and I missed it
They raised the Statue yesterday 3
I stood there with Mayor Bulworth and felt hollow as I looked at the boys below us, staring, watching, observing, worshipping , eyes in love with the man on horseback and feeling nothing as the militiamen fired into the air to tell the world that it was over and that they could go Home
The Mayor said the boys were a good influence on me and yet the only thing I could feel was the broken spirals in my head expanding against the top of my skull jutting out of the Then into the Now
They're good boys the Mayor said, and I nodded, remembering us on the fields then, the idiot smiles on our faces, wild for battle and ready to kill and hurt and scream and bleed and flail and terrified and
They're good boys. They're good boys. They're good boys.
We were good boys too
My boys were in the choir room and we were singing when I had raised to dismiss them when the young asked What was it like to fight?
It felt good I said, wishing I was wrong, no longer in the Now but the Then as the ringing echoed inside my skull and into everything everything everything
What was it like to fight the Rebs? they called to me, smiling, eyes glinting, congregating, two dozen boys turned into thousands of men staring at me, staring on the field, barking, screaming, wailing , and I missed it, missed the harmony of rank and beats of marching and whistling of shells, wishing I didn't, wishing I was back Before , back Home
They will never let me go because there is something broken inside of me broken broken broken down to the base of my soul for god did not intend man to do the things we did to each other and to the ones we love and to the ones we hate and we knew this and went forward into the breach into the broken lines into the mud and the shit and
The boys left happy and full of knowledge and excitation at the thought of killing
The Then that was Then is still Now . I know that It echos throughout eternity and it pulls me back into it because nothing is after it and nothing was before it, those days and years that sucked everything out of us and spat us out after it was done with us, I cannot forget, I cannot go back, I cannot go forward, there is only then , then , then , forever
Harmony rings
Harmony rings
Harmony rings
I can feel my heart beat to the sound of the guns
tap tap tap
silence, silence, silence
TAP TAP TAP
Harmony Harmony Harmony
I miss it
I miss when things used to make sense
The flower of youth trembles forward, time moving even as we remain waiting to die, on, on on, only glimpsing past hushed whispers and fanciful yarns of the Truth , and as they grow they will forget us, forget the living dead, and throw themselves once again on the pyre, willingly, lovingly, wrapped in the stars, even as they scream, scream, scream
They simply cannot know
They must SEE
Addendum-7695.II — Drew's Testimony
The following is an excerpt from Franklin Drew's written testimony of SCP-7695's activation.
[…]
We played Old Glory, and the world began to shift and turn and twist. I saw the sun bleed in through the walls as if they were but curtains. And suddenly I realize that we are not in the choir room at all but in the fields outside, and that the buildings and the flat ground has been replaced by the overbrush and trees and wild nature spreading forth everywhere. The Colonel looked at us and told us, smiling, that we were 'there.'
[…]
We marched until we saw the first sign of camp. I could not believe what I was seeing, and if the rest of my comrades had not, I would have believed I was dead. Belling's citizens were in blue coats and pants and holding Springfields and wore stern faces. Even the women were there. Even the children, not much older than twelve. 'We are here,' the Colonel told us, approvingly. 'It's just like it had been.'
[…]
We spent a day there. The camp was like he had described to us: the mass of humanity that congregated as tiny civilizations in these camps. Men tightly packed into tents, the few who were lucky enough to have them, and those who could not make it, slept outside. The Colonel told us that we were to not sleep in tents; he had done no such thing in the war, and, he said, if it was good for him, it was good for us. I slept on the ground in the grass, even as the Colonel told us to keep an ear out, for the Rebs could be out. My comrades and I rolled our eyes at this paranoia. We shouldn't have.
[…]
I heard it in the morning. I awoke to the sound of a horrible, undulating cry that echoed around me. I felt myself being shook, as the Colonel looked down at me, and screamed at me to wake up. I saw into his eyes, and I saw fear - the first time I had seen such at thing before. Despite that, he was smiling. I think that scared me more.
[…]
We line up in the fields below the camp. Large lines of men and women in uniform stood across from these gray massed hoards. They were thin and walked as if they were in pain. They said nothing; they simply continued to wail and screech, flailing their arms and guns and swords around as they marched slowly towards us.
The commander - I did not see him, but I believe him to be Mayor Bulworth - gave the brigade the orders to fire. The Colonel gave the bugle call, and, as we joined him in unison, playing John Brown, I heard the explosion of gunfire. I saw the first wave of monsters fall, clutching their chests. They fell without grace, without purpose. They just sat there, crawling. Sometimes they just collapsed, and did nothing. And yet they still came.
Another order was given to fire. This time, I felt the booming of artillery behind us. The screaming continued. Everyone was shouting, most of all the Colonel, who told us to keep playing. We did so. I beat the drums as hard as I could, beating in conjunction with the sound of the pounding of the guns behind us. Ringing in my ear continued. They kept coming. The pounding in my ear joined with them marching. I could see their faces now. They had wide grins, no eyes, and kept wailing. And then the first wave clashed into our skirmishers a couple hundred feet ahead, and I stopped playing as I stared.
There was no fighting like I imagined in my mind. None of the horse charges, none of the battle cries, nothing. Just people clashing, a melee of hundreds that drew more men and women closer to the front as they tried, I presume, to help their comrades. In those moments I saw a dozen acts that I can not help but say as they were, as they happened: a gray-thing thrusting a knife into the head of a woman; a gray-thing on the ground, hands raised in fear as a man thrusted his bayonet down into it; a man hesitating to shoot before he is shot in turn; an explosion that threw dust up, bringing a dozen bodies to the ground, screaming; a running man shot in the back by a gray-thing; on and on and on, the little acts collected together, and I began to scream.
The Colonel, hearing me, grabbed me by my hair, and began to drag me away from the front. I screamed still, the sensation of terror gripping me, consuming me. Even when I felt myself being hit and slapped, I could not control myself, and it was only when I felt something hard hit against my head and the world went black that I could relax.
[…]
I woke up hours later, under a tree. The Colonel was there, staring into the distance. I looked with him; the camp was deserted. Bodies littered the ground. Off in the distance I could hear moaning. I heard a voice cry for water. When I looked to the voice, I saw a figure in the distance, crawling, waving a sole hand in the air. The other lay limp beside it, cut off at the elbow.
'All dead,' the Colonel said, tired. 'The line didn't hold.' He wheezed.
When I asked about the others, he said they died. 'I was dragging you back when they all got hit. Artillery shell. Gruesome.' He spoke coldly.
'To where?' I asked, pointlessly.
'I don't know. They never told me where they go after they die.' He laughed humorlessly, and coughed blood into his hands. 'I got shot,' he added, as if it was normal.
I asked what was going to happen to us. To the ones left. 'I don't know. I've already gave you what I could. You've graduated with flying colors.' He smiled, and I saw his eyes roll back into his head, and then everything was gone, and I was back in the choir room. My classmates lay dead in their chairs, gripping their instruments.
After Mr. Drew was determined to not be permanently affected by SCP-7695, he was administered amnestics and transferred to the Washington Military Academy and its ASCI affiliated training facility for future integration into their organization.
Footnotes
1 . These five regiments were organized into the 1st Brigade of the First Division of the I Corps of the Army of the Potomac. They were more famously known as the Iron Brigade due to them sustaining the highest causality rates of any brigade in the Civil War.
2 . No individual with this name appears in the muster rolls of the 2nd Wisconsin or the Iron Brigade as a whole; no individual of this name received any other medal in federal service, either.
3 . In early 1875, a small metal statue for Belling's veterans of the American Civil War was raised from local funds near the town square.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7695 " by Zer0Ne0phyte , from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7695 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 53 | ["_goblin-76", "_licensebox", "class-of-76", "goblincon2023", "historical", "hostile", "humanoid", "memory-affecting", "musical", "performance", "safe", "scp", "teleportation", "temporal"] | 2023-05-20T04:59:00 | 15,392 | 2,720 | SCP-7695 | Safe | SCP-7695 is to be placed in Site-99's Low Containment Security C-Wing. Requests for experimentation with SCP-7695 are to be filed with the Site Director, with test subjects to number no more than ten persons (either as players or SCP-7695-1 instances). | SCP-7695 is a collection of twenty seven brass instruments manufactured sometime in the early to mid 1870s. This collection has ten drums (half snare, half bass), nine cornets, four Saxhorns, two fiddles and two bugle horns. Each one has a five sided insignia, similar in design to a Maltese cross, crudely pressed into the material.
When SCP-7695 is played together in close proximity, all individuals a twenty to eighty square kilometer radius, will disappear and rematerialize in another area disconnected from baseline reality. This area will often resemble its state between 1861-1865. Excepting SCP-7695's players, all individuals in this area will become instances of SCP-7695-1.
SCP-7695-1 instances are similar to their baseline counterparts in personality, but typically dress in era appropriate attire, and often lack memories of their prior life. Upon SCP-7695's activation, SCP-7695-1 instances will relocate to several camps, and begin organizing themselves into one of five separate regiments active during the American Civil War: 2nd Wisconsin, 6th Wisconsin, 7th Wisconsin, 19th Indiana, and 24th Michigan. 1 This entails the election of officers among SCP-7695, basic training, the sewing of regimental flags, and procurement of firearms, all of which will take no less than a day. When this is accomplished, a battle occurs with SCP-7695-2.
SCP-7695-2 is the collective designation of a group of highly aggressive gray-skinned humanoids, typically between one to two meters tall. Universally, SCP-7695-2 instances are afflicted with various mutilations of the body, although the origin of these injuries is unknown.
When SCP-7695-1 finishes its organization, SCP-7695-2 will attack, which will be signaled by the production of a loud, high pitched scream produced by an SCP-7695-2 instance. This assault will only cease upon either: 1) SCP-7695-2 instances have been entirely eliminated, or 2) SCP-7695-1 instances suffer at least a 85% casualty rate. With either of these criteria met, SCP-7695 related phenomena will cease, causing living SCP-7695-1 instances to rematerialize in their prior locations, lacking knowledge of their past acts.
SCP-7695 was discovered on January 7th, 1876, following its activation in the town of Belling, Indiana the day prior, with only twenty percent of its pre-activation population surviving. Shortly after this, the American Secure Containment Initiative was contacted, who quickly discovered SCP-7695 and its effects with the help of local Franklin Drew, the sole survivor of the local Sheffield Military Academy. After initial containment was confirmed and amnestics applied to survivors, a cover story of a yellow fever outbreak in Belling was distributed to local authorities and the media.
SCP-7695 was found in the choir room of the Sheffield Military Academy, alongside the rest of Sheffield's class of 1876 and the Academy's founder, Anthony Sheffield. Sheffield, a former officer of the 6th Wisconsin, was found clutching his medal of honor, presented to him on October 9th 1864 by President Lincoln.
Addendum-7695.I — Recovered Documents
Following an interview with Franklin Drew of Sheffield Military Academy, the American Secure Containment Initiative was informed that SCP-7695 had been in possession of Sheffield's commandant and founder, Anthony Sheffield. Drew alleged that SCP-7695 had been procured by Sheffield for purposes unknown to himself. While SCP-7695 was being discovered, ASCI agents raided Sheffield's home and office in the Academy. Several documents related to Sheffield and SCP-7695 have been reproduced below in full below.
The weather was acceptable, mild rain only. The boys were doing their marching when the man from the town over came to see me.
He came in smiling, arms wide and happy. I greeted him coldly, before he presented to me his medal to me, and he came to me, whispering, that we had fought in the Overland campaign together. Sgt. William Mitchel of the 2nd Wisconsin, 2 at my service.
I waited to see what he wanted. Always have time for a fellow soldier. He said that he could help me with my boys. Little over two dozen instruments, fashioned for our Brigade but never finished before the war's end, entered the Sergeant's possession. Syncope Artisans , he said, was one of the highest quality producers of instruments available to the soldiers of the United States. When I asked of price, he said he'd manage it. I thanked him. I think I'll use them for the ceremony. It's only a year away.
I played with the drum by myself as the boys marched in unison lockstep outside, and I could feel myself back then, in the fields, and I had to stop, lest I feel myself fall into it, letting myself get lost in the memories.
Even so, I quickly continued after a quick rest. They are high quality, as the Sergeant had promised. That night I slept thinking of the pounding of hooves and ripping of cartridge packs and whistling soaring harmonious soft explosions in the distance.
I think they'll do well for their graduation .
When I play I remember the sensations of yesterday, echoing throughout eternity and back into the Now . Even touching them brings to the fore ancient knowledge that buried itself deep into the chords of my soul. Knowing, remembering, returning to those sacred years, the years that repeat, on, on, on, even now, reverberating to me now, and into the vibrations of sound, spreading
I forgot what I had forgotten and I missed it
They raised the Statue yesterday 3
I stood there with Mayor Bulworth and felt hollow as I looked at the boys below us, staring, watching, observing, worshipping , eyes in love with the man on horseback and feeling nothing as the militiamen fired into the air to tell the world that it was over and that they could go Home
The Mayor said the boys were a good influence on me and yet the only thing I could feel was the broken spirals in my head expanding against the top of my skull jutting out of the Then into the Now
They're good boys the Mayor said, and I nodded, remembering us on the fields then, the idiot smiles on our faces, wild for battle and ready to kill and hurt and scream and bleed and flail and terrified and
They're good boys. They're good boys. They're good boys.
We were good boys too
My boys were in the choir room and we were singing when I had raised to dismiss them when the young asked What was it like to fight?
It felt good I said, wishing I was wrong, no longer in the Now but the Then as the ringing echoed inside my skull and into everything everything everything
What was it like to fight the Rebs? they called to me, smiling, eyes glinting, congregating, two dozen boys turned into thousands of men staring at me, staring on the field, barking, screaming, wailing , and I missed it, missed the harmony of rank and beats of marching and whistling of shells, wishing I didn't, wishing I was back Before , back Home
They will never let me go because there is something broken inside of me broken broken broken down to the base of my soul for god did not intend man to do the things we did to each other and to the ones we love and to the ones we hate and we knew this and went forward into the breach into the broken lines into the mud and the shit and
The boys left happy and full of knowledge and excitation at the thought of killing
The Then that was Then is still Now . I know that It echos throughout eternity and it pulls me back into it because nothing is after it and nothing was before it, those days and years that sucked everything out of us and spat us out after it was done with us, I cannot forget, I cannot go back, I cannot go forward, there is only then , then , then , forever
Harmony rings
Harmony rings
Harmony rings
I can feel my heart beat to the sound of the guns
tap tap tap
silence, silence, silence
TAP TAP TAP
Harmony Harmony Harmony
I miss it
I miss when things used to make sense
The flower of youth trembles forward, time moving even as we remain waiting to die, on, on on, only glimpsing past hushed whispers and fanciful yarns of the Truth , and as they grow they will forget us, forget the living dead, and throw themselves once again on the pyre, willingly, lovingly, wrapped in the stars, even as they scream, scream, scream
They simply cannot know
They must SEE
Addendum-7695.II — Drew's Testimony
The following is an excerpt from Franklin Drew's written testimony of SCP-7695's activation.
[…]
We played Old Glory, and the world began to shift and turn and twist. I saw the sun bleed in through the walls as if they were but curtains. And suddenly I realize that we are not in the choir room at all but in the fields outside, and that the buildings and the flat ground has been replaced by the overbrush and trees and wild nature spreading forth everywhere. The Colonel looked at us and told us, smiling, that we were 'there.'
[…]
We marched until we saw the first sign of camp. I could not believe what I was seeing, and if the rest of my comrades had not, I would have believed I was dead. Belling's citizens were in blue coats and pants and holding Springfields and wore stern faces. Even the women were there. Even the children, not much older than twelve. 'We are here,' the Colonel told us, approvingly. 'It's just like it had been.'
[…]
We spent a day there. The camp was like he had described to us: the mass of humanity that congregated as tiny civilizations in these camps. Men tightly packed into tents, the few who were lucky enough to have them, and those who could not make it, slept outside. The Colonel told us that we were to not sleep in tents; he had done no such thing in the war, and, he said, if it was good for him, it was good for us. I slept on the ground in the grass, even as the Colonel told us to keep an ear out, for the Rebs could be out. My comrades and I rolled our eyes at this paranoia. We shouldn't have.
[…]
I heard it in the morning. I awoke to the sound of a horrible, undulating cry that echoed around me. I felt myself being shook, as the Colonel looked down at me, and screamed at me to wake up. I saw into his eyes, and I saw fear - the first time I had seen such at thing before. Despite that, he was smiling. I think that scared me more.
[…]
We line up in the fields below the camp. Large lines of men and women in uniform stood across from these gray massed hoards. They were thin and walked as if they were in pain. They said nothing; they simply continued to wail and screech, flailing their arms and guns and swords around as they marched slowly towards us.
The commander - I did not see him, but I believe him to be Mayor Bulworth - gave the brigade the orders to fire. The Colonel gave the bugle call, and, as we joined him in unison, playing John Brown, I heard the explosion of gunfire. I saw the first wave of monsters fall, clutching their chests. They fell without grace, without purpose. They just sat there, crawling. Sometimes they just collapsed, and did nothing. And yet they still came.
Another order was given to fire. This time, I felt the booming of artillery behind us. The screaming continued. Everyone was shouting, most of all the Colonel, who told us to keep playing. We did so. I beat the drums as hard as I could, beating in conjunction with the sound of the pounding of the guns behind us. Ringing in my ear continued. They kept coming. The pounding in my ear joined with them marching. I could see their faces now. They had wide grins, no eyes, and kept wailing. And then the first wave clashed into our skirmishers a couple hundred feet ahead, and I stopped playing as I stared.
There was no fighting like I imagined in my mind. None of the horse charges, none of the battle cries, nothing. Just people clashing, a melee of hundreds that drew more men and women closer to the front as they tried, I presume, to help their comrades. In those moments I saw a dozen acts that I can not help but say as they were, as they happened: a gray-thing thrusting a knife into the head of a woman; a gray-thing on the ground, hands raised in fear as a man thrusted his bayonet down into it; a man hesitating to shoot before he is shot in turn; an explosion that threw dust up, bringing a dozen bodies to the ground, screaming; a running man shot in the back by a gray-thing; on and on and on, the little acts collected together, and I began to scream.
The Colonel, hearing me, grabbed me by my hair, and began to drag me away from the front. I screamed still, the sensation of terror gripping me, consuming me. Even when I felt myself being hit and slapped, I could not control myself, and it was only when I felt something hard hit against my head and the world went black that I could relax.
[…]
I woke up hours later, under a tree. The Colonel was there, staring into the distance. I looked with him; the camp was deserted. Bodies littered the ground. Off in the distance I could hear moaning. I heard a voice cry for water. When I looked to the voice, I saw a figure in the distance, crawling, waving a sole hand in the air. The other lay limp beside it, cut off at the elbow.
'All dead,' the Colonel said, tired. 'The line didn't hold.' He wheezed.
When I asked about the others, he said they died. 'I was dragging you back when they all got hit. Artillery shell. Gruesome.' He spoke coldly.
'To where?' I asked, pointlessly.
'I don't know. They never told me where they go after they die.' He laughed humorlessly, and coughed blood into his hands. 'I got shot,' he added, as if it was normal.
I asked what was going to happen to us. To the ones left. 'I don't know. I've already gave you what I could. You've graduated with flying colors.' He smiled, and I saw his eyes roll back into his head, and then everything was gone, and I was back in the choir room. My classmates lay dead in their chairs, gripping their instruments.
After Mr. Drew was determined to not be permanently affected by SCP-7695, he was administered amnestics and transferred to the Washington Military Academy and its ASCI affiliated training facility for future integration into their organization.
Footnotes
1 . These five regiments were organized into the 1st Brigade of the First Division of the I Corps of the Army of the Potomac. They were more famously known as the Iron Brigade due to them sustaining the highest causality rates of any brigade in the Civil War.
2 . No individual with this name appears in the muster rolls of the 2nd Wisconsin or the Iron Brigade as a whole; no individual of this name received any other medal in federal service, either.
3 . In early 1875, a small metal statue for Belling's veterans of the American Civil War was raised from local funds near the town square.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7695 " by Zer0Ne0phyte , from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7695 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 2 | ## Documents
Following an interview with Franklin Drew of Sheffield Military Academy, the American Secure Containment Initiative was informed that SCP-7695 had been in possession of Sheffield's commandant and founder, Anthony Sheffield. Drew alleged that SCP-7695 had been procured by Sheffield for purposes unknown to himself. While SCP-7695 was being discovered, ASCI agents raided Sheffield's home and office in the Academy. Several documents related to Sheffield and SCP-7695 have been reproduced below in full below.
The weather was acceptable, mild rain only. The boys were doing their marching when the man from the town over came to see me.
He came in smiling, arms wide and happy. I greeted him coldly, before he presented to me his medal to me, and he came to me, whispering, that we had fought in the Overland campaign together. Sgt. William Mitchel of the 2nd Wisconsin, 2 at my service.
I waited to see what he wanted. Always have time for a fellow soldier. He said that he could help me with my boys. Little over two dozen instruments, fashioned for our Brigade but never finished before the war's end, entered the Sergeant's possession. Syncope Artisans , he said, was one of the highest quality producers of instruments available to the soldiers of the United States. When I asked of price, he said he'd manage it. I thanked him. I think I'll use them for the ceremony. It's only a year away.
I played with the drum by myself as the boys marched in unison lockstep outside, and I could feel myself back then, in the fields, and I had to stop, lest I feel myself fall into it, letting myself get lost in the memories.
Even so, I quickly continued after a quick rest. They are high quality, as the Sergeant had promised. That night I slept thinking of the pounding of hooves and ripping of cartridge packs and whistling soaring harmonious soft explosions in the distance.
I think they'll do well for their graduation .
When I play I remember the sensations of yesterday, echoing throughout eternity and back into the Now . Even touching them brings to the fore ancient knowledge that buried itself deep into the chords of my soul. Knowing, remembering, returning to those sacred years, the years that repeat, on, on, on, even now, reverberating to me now, and into the vibrations of sound, spreading
I forgot what I had forgotten and I missed it
They raised the Statue yesterday 3
I stood there with Mayor Bulworth and felt hollow as I looked at the boys below us, staring, watching, observing, worshipping , eyes in love with the man on horseback and feeling nothing as the militiamen fired into the air to tell the world that it was over and that they could go Home
The Mayor said the boys were a good influence on me and yet the only thing I could feel was the broken spirals in my head expanding against the top of my skull jutting out of the Then into the Now
They're good boys the Mayor said, and I nodded, remembering us on the fields then, the idiot smiles on our faces, wild for battle and ready to kill and hurt and scream and bleed and flail and terrified and
They're good boys. They're good boys. They're good boys.
We were good boys too
My boys were in the choir room and we were singing when I had raised to dismiss them when the young asked What was it like to fight?
It felt good I said, wishing I was wrong, no longer in the Now but the Then as the ringing echoed inside my skull and into everything everything everything
What was it like to fight the Rebs? they called to me, smiling, eyes glinting, congregating, two dozen boys turned into thousands of men staring at me, staring on the field, barking, screaming, wailing , and I missed it, missed the harmony of rank and beats of marching and whistling of shells, wishing I didn't, wishing I was back Before , back Home
They will never let me go because there is something broken inside of me broken broken broken down to the base of my soul for god did not intend man to do the things we did to each other and to the ones we love and to the ones we hate and we knew this and went forward into the breach into the broken lines into the mud and the shit and
The boys left happy and full of knowledge and excitation at the thought of killing
The Then that was Then is still Now . I know that It echos throughout eternity and it pulls me back into it because nothing is after it and nothing was before it, those days and years that sucked everything out of us and spat us out after it was done with us, I cannot forget, I cannot go back, I cannot go forward, there is only then , then , then , forever
Harmony rings
Harmony rings
Harmony rings
I can feel my heart beat to the sound of the guns
tap tap tap
silence, silence, silence
TAP TAP TAP
Harmony Harmony Harmony
I miss it
I miss when things used to make sense
The flower of youth trembles forward, time moving even as we remain waiting to die, on, on on, only glimpsing past hushed whispers and fanciful yarns of the Truth , and as they grow they will forget us, forget the living dead, and throw themselves once again on the pyre, willingly, lovingly, wrapped in the stars, even as they scream, scream, scream
They simply cannot know
They must SEE
---
## Testimony
The following is an excerpt from Franklin Drew's written testimony of SCP-7695's activation.
[…]
We played Old Glory, and the world began to shift and turn and twist. I saw the sun bleed in through the walls as if they were but curtains. And suddenly I realize that we are not in the choir room at all but in the fields outside, and that the buildings and the flat ground has been replaced by the overbrush and trees and wild nature spreading forth everywhere. The Colonel looked at us and told us, smiling, that we were 'there.'
[…]
We marched until we saw the first sign of camp. I could not believe what I was seeing, and if the rest of my comrades had not, I would have believed I was dead. Belling's citizens were in blue coats and pants and holding Springfields and wore stern faces. Even the women were there. Even the children, not much older than twelve. 'We are here,' the Colonel told us, approvingly. 'It's just like it had been.'
[…]
We spent a day there. The camp was like he had described to us: the mass of humanity that congregated as tiny civilizations in these camps. Men tightly packed into tents, the few who were lucky enough to have them, and those who could not make it, slept outside. The Colonel told us that we were to not sleep in tents; he had done no such thing in the war, and, he said, if it was good for him, it was good for us. I slept on the ground in the grass, even as the Colonel told us to keep an ear out, for the Rebs could be out. My comrades and I rolled our eyes at this paranoia. We shouldn't have.
[…]
I heard it in the morning. I awoke to the sound of a horrible, undulating cry that echoed around me. I felt myself being shook, as the Colonel looked down at me, and screamed at me to wake up. I saw into his eyes, and I saw fear - the first time I had seen such at thing before. Despite that, he was smiling. I think that scared me more.
[…]
We line up in the fields below the camp. Large lines of men and women in uniform stood across from these gray massed hoards. They were thin and walked as if they were in pain. They said nothing; they simply continued to wail and screech, flailing their arms and guns and swords around as they marched slowly towards us.
The commander - I did not see him, but I believe him to be Mayor Bulworth - gave the brigade the orders to fire. The Colonel gave the bugle call, and, as we joined him in unison, playing John Brown, I heard the explosion of gunfire. I saw the first wave of monsters fall, clutching their chests. They fell without grace, without purpose. They just sat there, crawling. Sometimes they just collapsed, and did nothing. And yet they still came.
Another order was given to fire. This time, I felt the booming of artillery behind us. The screaming continued. Everyone was shouting, most of all the Colonel, who told us to keep playing. We did so. I beat the drums as hard as I could, beating in conjunction with the sound of the pounding of the guns behind us. Ringing in my ear continued. They kept coming. The pounding in my ear joined with them marching. I could see their faces now. They had wide grins, no eyes, and kept wailing. And then the first wave clashed into our skirmishers a couple hundred feet ahead, and I stopped playing as I stared.
There was no fighting like I imagined in my mind. None of the horse charges, none of the battle cries, nothing. Just people clashing, a melee of hundreds that drew more men and women closer to the front as they tried, I presume, to help their comrades. In those moments I saw a dozen acts that I can not help but say as they were, as they happened: a gray-thing thrusting a knife into the head of a woman; a gray-thing on the ground, hands raised in fear as a man thrusted his bayonet down into it; a man hesitating to shoot before he is shot in turn; an explosion that threw dust up, bringing a dozen bodies to the ground, screaming; a running man shot in the back by a gray-thing; on and on and on, the little acts collected together, and I began to scream.
The Colonel, hearing me, grabbed me by my hair, and began to drag me away from the front. I screamed still, the sensation of terror gripping me, consuming me. Even when I felt myself being hit and slapped, I could not control myself, and it was only when I felt something hard hit against my head and the world went black that I could relax.
[…]
I woke up hours later, under a tree. The Colonel was there, staring into the distance. I looked with him; the camp was deserted. Bodies littered the ground. Off in the distance I could hear moaning. I heard a voice cry for water. When I looked to the voice, I saw a figure in the distance, crawling, waving a sole hand in the air. The other lay limp beside it, cut off at the elbow.
'All dead,' the Colonel said, tired. 'The line didn't hold.' He wheezed.
When I asked about the others, he said they died. 'I was dragging you back when they all got hit. Artillery shell. Gruesome.' He spoke coldly.
'To where?' I asked, pointlessly.
'I don't know. They never told me where they go after they die.' He laughed humorlessly, and coughed blood into his hands. 'I got shot,' he added, as if it was normal.
I asked what was going to happen to us. To the ones left. 'I don't know. I've already gave you what I could. You've graduated with flying colors.' He smiled, and I saw his eyes roll back into his head, and then everything was gone, and I was back in the choir room. My classmates lay dead in their chairs, gripping their instruments.
After Mr. Drew was determined to not be permanently affected by SCP-7695, he was administered amnestics and transferred to the Washington Military Academy and its ASCI affiliated training facility for future integration into their organization.
Footnotes
1 . These five regiments were organized into the 1st Brigade of the First Division of the I Corps of the Army of the Potomac. They were more famously known as the Iron Brigade due to them sustaining the highest causality rates of any brigade in the Civil War.
2 . No individual with this name appears in the muster rolls of the 2nd Wisconsin or the Iron Brigade as a whole; no individual of this name received any other medal in federal service, either.
3 . In early 1875, a small metal statue for Belling's veterans of the American Civil War was raised from local funds near the town square.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7695 " by Zer0Ne0phyte , from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7695 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
scp-093-orange-test | SCP-093 'Orange' Test - SCP Foundation | tale | + Show component code
- Hide component code
:root {
-- sidebar-width-on-desktop: calc(var(--base-font-size) * ( 266 / 15 )) ;
-- body-width-on-desktop: 45.75 rem ;
}
@media only screen and (min-width: 56.25 rem ) {
#content-wrap {
display: flex ;
position: initial ;
flex-direction: row ;
flex-grow: 2 ;
width: calc( 100 vw - ( 100 vw - 100 % )) ;
max-width: inherit ;
height: auto ;
min-height: calc( 100 vh - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, 10.125 rem)) ;
margin: 0 var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 13.6 rem) 0 calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 13.6 rem) * - 1 / 2 ) ;
}
#main-content {
position: initial ;
width: var(--body-width-on-desktop, 45.75 rem) ;
max-width: var(--body-width-on-desktop, 45.75 rem) ;
max-height: 100 % ;
margin: 0 auto ;
padding: 2 rem 1 rem ;
}
#page-content {
max-width: min( 90 vw, var(--body-width-on-desktop, 45.75 rem)) ;
}
#side-bar {
position: -webkit-sticky ;
position: sticky ;
top: 0 ;
left: 0 ;
grid-area: side-bar ;
width: var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 13.6 rem) !important ;
min-width: var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 13.6 rem) !important ;
max-height: 100 vh ;
padding-right: 2.5 rem ;
padding-left: 0.5 rem ;
overflow-y: scroll ;
transition:
translate 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
background-color 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
padding 300 ms linear,
margin 300 ms linear ;
border: none ;
border-color: rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color, 170 , 170 , 170 ), 0.4 ) ;
background-color: rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, 255 , 255 , 255 ), 0 ) ;
translate: calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 13.5 rem) * - 1 - 1 rem) ;
direction: rtl ;
scrollbar-width: thin ;
- ms-scroll-chaining: none ;
overscroll-behavior: contain ;
scrollbar-color:
rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), 0.1 ) /* Thumb */
rgba(var(--swatch-tertiary-color), 0.05 ) ; / * Track * /
}
#side-bar ::- webkit-scrollbar-track {
background-color: rgba(var(--swatch-secondary-color, 244 , 244 , 244 ), 0.8 ) ;
}
#side-bar ::- webkit-scrollbar ,
#side-bar ::- webkit-scrollbar-thumb ,
#side-bar ::- webkit-scrollbar-corner {
width: 0.5 rem ;
border-right-width: calc( 100 vw + 100 vh) ;
border-right-style: inset ;
border-color: inherit ;
background-color: rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, 255 , 255 , 255 ), 0 ) ;
}
#side-bar : is (: hover , : active , : focus-within ) {
margin-right: 2.25 rem ;
padding-right: 0.25 rem ;
overflow-x: hidden ;
overflow-y: auto ;
border-color: rgba(var(--swatch-primary-darker), 1 ) ;
background-color: rgba(var(--sidebar-bg-color, 255 , 255 , 255 ), 1 ) ;
translate: calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 1 rem) - var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 0 )) ;
scrollbar-color:
rgba( 170 , 170 , 170 , 1 ) /* Thumb */
rgba( 252 , 252 , 252 , 1 ) ; / * Track * /
scrollbar-color:
rgb(var(--swatch-primary-darker, 170 , 170 , 170 ), 1 ) /* Thumb */
rgb(var(--swatch-menubg-color, 252 , 252 , 252 ), 1 ) ; / * Track * /
}
#main-content :: after {
content: " " ;
display: flex ;
position: fixed ;
top: 0 ;
left: 1 rem ;
align-items: center ;
justify-content: center ;
width: 1 rem ;
height: 100 % ;
max-height: 100 % ;
transition:
left 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
background-position 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
opacity 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ) ;
background: url("https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component% 3 Acollapsible-sidebar/sidebar-tab.svg") ;
background-attachment: fixed ;
background-repeat: no-repeat ;
background-position: center left 1 rem ;
background-size: 1 rem 12.875 rem ;
pointer-events: none ;
}
#side-bar : is (: hover , : active , : focus-within ) + #main-content :: after {
left: calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 14.5 rem) * - 1 ) ;
width: 0 rem ;
transition:
left 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
background-position 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
opacity 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ) ;
opacity: 0 ;
background-position: center left calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 14.5 rem) * - 1 ) ;
font-size: 0 em ;
}
#main-content :: before {
content: " " ;
position: absolute ;
z-index: 9 ;
top: var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, 0 ) ;
left: 0 ;
width: var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 14.5 rem) ;
height: calc( 100 % - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, 0.688 rem) - 2.313 rem) ;
margin-bottom: calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, - 2.313 rem) * - 1 - 2.313 rem) ;
transition:
translate 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ),
opacity 300 ms cubic-bezier( 0.4 , 0.0 , 0.2 , 1 ) ;
opacity: 0.5 ;
background-color: rgb(var(--swatch-alternate-color, 0 , 0 , 0 )) ;
pointer-events: none ;
translate: calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 14.5 rem) * - 1 + 1 rem) ;
}
#side-bar : is (: hover , : active , : focus-within ) + #main-content :: before {
translate: 0 ;
opacity: 0 ;
}
#side-bar .side-block {
margin-top: 1 em ;
padding-left: 0.25 em ;
border-right-width: 0 rem ;
border-left-width: 0 rem ;
border-radius: 0 ;
background-color: rgb( 0 , 0 , 0 , 0 ) ;
direction: ltr ;
}
#side-bar .scpnet-interwiki-wrapper {
direction: ltr ;
}
/ * Print Friendly Formatting by Estrella * /
body.print-body {
-- sidebar-width-on-desktop: 0 ;
}
body.print-body #main-content :: before ,
body.print-body #main-content :: after {
display: none ;
}
}
close
Info
X
Resurrection – Old Foes Hub
+
Resurrection – New Faces Hub
More by Grigori Karpin
&
More by HarryBlank
Mirror Test 7: Colour (Orange)
Subject is Dr. Dan ███████, male, 44 years of age, mildly atrophied muscular physique. Subject's background shows instance of reckless endangerment via intentional containment breach, leading to multiple recorded fatalities.
"Quit looking over my shoulder."
Dan pointed at the tablet computer, over her shoulder. "Thought this was Test 6?"
Dr. Sophia Light shrugged, nearly striking him in the chin. "Database insists there's an entry for 6. Can't get access, probably a placeholder. We're looking into it."
"Okay." He pointed over her shoulder again. "But 'reckless endangerment'? I was trying to prove a point. I did prove a point."
"And yet that disc you're holding turned an oranger shade of guilty."
He walked back in front of her, still holding said glowing disc. " Okay, but 'mildly atrophied'? I beg your pardon."
"You're pardoned. Again. Now go make it worth our while." She pointed with her stylus at the simple mirror on the wall.
He fiddled with the wireless camera attached to his labcoat lapel. "What's the verdict on this thing? Because if it doesn't work, I am not carrying around a hundred meters of coaxial cable."
"We think it will, if you stop fiddling with it. Made great strides in interdimensional comms over the past decade." Sophia slipped the tablet into her labcoat pocket. "Surprise me with an alternate dimension once, shame on you, et cetera, et cetera. "
The door to the temporary containment chamber opened, and a polyglot crowd crowded in. The members of Light's provisional MTF Alpha-9 team — Lucretia Popescu, Carlotta Deneb, Rainer Miller and SCP-4494 — filed in first, followed by four Foundation soldiers and…
"No," said Sophia, moving to block the passage of the final towering figure. "No, no, no. Absolutely not."
The rough, chiselled face of General Jack Wilford glowered down at her. "Goggles asked for me personally."
She looked back at Dan. Dan shrugged. "Overwatch assigned Tau-1 to Area-09. Wilford came with."
"What means, 'Goggles'?" Popescu asked.
Sophia peeked at the hallway behind Wilford, then gestured at him and Dan to follow her out of the chamber. Dan shrugged apologetically at the team, and as he was the last one out, he closed the door behind him.
Sophia's hands snapped to her hips. "He tried to kill you." She pointed at Wilford. "Him. He relayed the transmission that sicced 096 on you."
"096-D," Dan murmured.
Wilford's eyes widened with feigned innocence. " I did that? Then why am I still alive?"
She pointed at Dan, who was leaning on the door with his arms crossed, staring at the disc in his hand. "Because he won't sign off on my official complaint."
"And why is that?"
Dan didn't look at him. "I've grown accustomed to your face."
Wilford scoffed. "More like, even you know you shouldn't still be alive."
Sophia reached up and snapped her fingers under Wilford's nose. "You tried to axe my most important asset. I'm not entrusting him to you."
Wilford shook his head. "I've been briefed. I'm not going to shoot your rottweiler when there's burglars at the door."
She shook her head. "Not good enough. You know how few generals we have? We don't even mint those anymore. It's absurd for you to go on a field op."
He crossed his arms. "Not when I already know the field."
Sophia blinked. "What?"
"Violet test. Three of my men and I escorted the subject through a ruined cityscape. Lost a good soldier, gained… well." He pursed his lips. "Whatever we gained, this mission is either going to add to it, or make it all have been in vain."
Sophia swore under her breath. "I didn't even know. Those old files are so goddamn redacted."
Wilford ignored her. "The thing that made that other world in its image is pure evil. I want to make damn sure it's eaten its last Earth."
"See? He's so noble." Dan cracked his neck. "And if he tries anything, Popescu can dump him in one of Miller's singularities. Win-win."
Sophia stared at them for a moment. Wilford met her gaze impassively, Dan still wouldn't look at either of them.
"Fine," she sighed. "But if you so much as nudge him, I'll reassign Tau-1 to 076 detail."
"Why we are bringing expendables?" Lucretia demanded, as they walked back into the chamber. "Already have expendable Sarkic."
"They are not expendable," Wilford growled. "None of them. But the three of you are high-rated Foundation assets, the kind of thing these men and women are trained to protect. The kind of thing that's too valuable to throw at something which will respond to good old-fashioned firepower."
"Assuming there's anything like that over there," said Dan.
"What's even the point of bringing anomalies, then?" Carlotta asked. Lucretia frowned at her choice of words, and she winced before continuing. "If you're gonna fill out the ranks with firepower, I mean."
"I'm sorry you feel that way about your own training, Agent Deneb," Wilford snapped, "but it's too late to back out now." She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept going. "If I need a boulder shifted, guns won't be much use. That'll be on Ms. Popescu. If I need a specific item pulled out of someone's ass, that ass will be Mr. Miller's."
"My ass has nothing to do with it," Rainer grumbled.
"And The Specter ," Dan interrupted, "is coming in case we need someone to arm-wrestle the Anti-Monitor. Everything else will be up to the grunts."
Wilford grunted, but said nothing further.
"We good?" Dan asked. Without waiting for a response, he held the disc in front of him like an ID badge and walked towards the mirror.
"What's the rush?" Miller called after him. "No pep talk?"
"Follow me, and don't die," Dan replied without looking back. He clapped the disc to the mirror's surface, and felt it snap into place like a magnet on metal. He didn't stop walking when he reached the glass, and he didn't stop walking after that, either.
Subject entered the provided mirror while holding SCP-093 , which emitted an orange colour. Outside technicians observed that the mirror retained a true reflection until subject had completely passed into it, at which time the view changed to a rubble-strewn interior space heavily tinged in orange, similar to previous tests. Video feed follows in attached media…
It was a strange sensation, a simultaneous sinking of his gut, shortening of his breath and quickening of his heart. None of this was a direct effect of passing through the mirror, which offered no resistance at all; it was merely his every instinct screaming at him that this was a bad idea, this was a dangerous place, and this was a very, very stupid thing to be doing.
"Greetings from Earth," he whispered into the warm, musty space. "The good one." He tasted rust in the air, and thought he could smell blood. Blood smells like rust. Occam's Razor. Focus.
He was standing in a narrow hallway filled with smashed concrete and metal debris. The metal had once been painted white, so that the countless rust spots resembled rot and mold on cardboard. He was barely able to pick and stumble his way forward, stepping over what looked like a box of circuit breakers and several broken computer terminals. Once he'd gone a few meters, he looked back through the shimmering orange portal behind him and gave a tentative thumbs up sign.
"You hear me?" he asked. Sophia shook her head, and tapped her lapel. He nodded, and activated the body camera and microphone. "Enter freely, and of your own free will. But watch your fucking step."
Camera activates, flickers to view. Subject is looking back through the mirror at the containment chamber. Tau-1 and the remaining members of Alpha-9 proceed through the mirror, soldiers preceding agents.
SCP-4494 declares that its reach, and thereby the reach of justice, now transcends dimensional boundaries. Dr. Dan retorts, and a brief argument ensues before Agent Popescu intervenes.
"MISSION HAS STARTED!" Lucretia bellowed, and both Dr. Dan and The Specter abruptly ceased their arguing. "Please to be moving on now."
Wilford scanned the cluttered mess ahead of them, and nodded. "The Sarkic is correct, if loud. We need to get a move-on."
"The Sarkic thanks you, General Grunt." Lucretia gave a theatrical half-bow. "Small expendables first."
"This is Control," said Light from Dan's lapel, making him jump. "How's the transmission quality?"
"Loud and clear," he responded. "Dial it back to just 'clear', please, we don't know who else might be listening."
Lucretia clenched and unclenched her fists. "Could yell again, find out."
Carlotta took one of Lucretia's hands. "Or we could do this by the book, Lucy."
"What book?" Lucretia waved at the chaotic tangle of stone and metal surrounding them. " Roadside Picnic ? Weird reality burps happen, sneak or no."
The Specter pulled both of his pistols from their holsters and spun them on his thumbs, before snapping them back into place. "Not if I find them first. The Specter is like a bloodhound on the bloody, smelly trail of evil."
"Smoke man getting to be a lot," said Lucretia.
Dan sighed. "Got that all out of your system, folks? The fact is, there's not likely to be anyone around. Save for one isolated incident in a very different environment, the only humanoids encountered in 093-E are the weird faceless ghost things, and they don't kick up a fuss." A look of realization and worry spread across his own face, before he visibly scrunched it down. "Nobody's ever encountered an Unclean in an interior space, or I'd have shushed you at the start."
"I'd love to say it's good to know you're thinking," said Wilford. "But it isn't." He shouldered his rifle. "Let's advance."
The soldiers took the lead, and with a few more muttered comments, the rest followed.
Alpha-9 moves through the facility, exploring every accessible room and hallway. The functions of each space have been jumbled, the apparent result of both age, misuse, and conflict; many contain a mixture of unfamiliar, rusted medical equipment, broken electronic components, and clusters of clothing. Most of the clothes are military uniforms, coated in a dark brown viscous fluid.
Dr. Dan queries Control about the presence or absence of entities invisible to Alpha-9 but visible on the video feed. No such entities are visible, and Control assures him of this.
After eighteen minutes of fruitless exploration, a large set of double doors is located. The ceiling and walls around the doors have caved in; General Wilford remarks that this appears to have been the result of deliberate action. Dr. Dan requests that either Agent Popescu or SCP-4051 attempt to shift the rubble. SCP-4051 asserts that he would not like to chance it, as the materials do not comprise a solid whole; Agent Popescu agrees to perform the required action, and manifests a series of tentacular bioforms which take hold of the rubble and violently move it aside. Once the point of ingress is largely clear, Agent Popescu notes that she is only useful for her physical strength; Dr. Dan takes issue with this remark, and a brief argument ensues before Agent Popescu wrenches the door open.
Agent Deneb notes an inscription on the lintel above the doors: "THE HAMMER ARE WE, THE ARM IS HE."
Alpha-9 proceeds, with SCP-4051 lagging behind.
This wing of the facility was concrete. Very nearly nothing but concrete: brushed slabs for walls, polished slabs for floors. Rainer didn't like it. He didn't like concrete; it gave him a comforting, homey feeling, and he knew that shouldn't be the case.
"This place isn't damaged," he remarked to nobody in particular.
He wasn't surprised when it was The Specter who answered. "A valid insight, old chum! Whatever nefarious forces breached the outer halls did not penetrate to these depths."
"The people living in these halls were the nefarious ones, I think," Rainer corrected gently.
The Specter dipped its wide-brimmed fedora in a facsimile of a nod. "Fair play. I've been assuming all the citizens of this cursed burg are nefarious, not honest folk like you or I. It may not be precisely true, but it feels… right."
It did feel right. There was an oppressive sameness to the halls, and an uncomfortable, close warmth to the air which made his head ache slightly. It felt like somewhere nothing good had ever happened.
You're externalizing, he thought miserably. Because your friend is a genuine superhero, and you're just a wannabe.
"Hold," Wilford called, one hand in the air. There were doors on either side of them now, black metal with no visible means of opening. "Let's be thorough. Popescu or Miller, you're up."
Lucretia patted Rainer roughly on the back. "Indulge self."
Even the idea of helping made him feel better. He put one hand on the nearest door, glancing briefly at the nameplate: "Rederick Bonafarve." He glanced back at Dr. Dan, who theatrically waggled his eyebrows and mouthed Told you.
Rainer grinned. The door was definitely metal, and very solid. He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "How fast you want this thing breached?"
Wilford was staring at him. "What?"
"How fast? You want anything in there to have advance notice, or you want the element of surprise?"
Wilford and Dan both considered. Light's voice pre-empted them both: "The latter."
Rainer nodded, and turned back to the door again. The space around it seemed to bend, to distort, to ripple like a pool of still water with the introduction of a sudden stone, and…
"Surprise," he said, as the door completely vanished.
The dormitory room is neatly kept and sparsely furnished, containing only a bed, a bedside table, a wardrobe, and a desk with chair. A closed door stands at the opposite end from the hallway entrance.
Dr. Dan repeats his query to Control about the presence of entities on the video feed but invisible to Alpha-9. No such entities are visible, and Control assures him of this.
The soldiers search the room briefly before calling an all-clear, and the remaining members of Alpha-9 enter. SCP-4051 immediately moves to open the single drawer on the bedside table, and makes an excited exclamation at its contents: an immaculate, leather-bound book imprinted with an image of two hands pressed together in a symbol of prayer. He removes the book and hands it to Dr. Dan, who expresses admiration for SCP-4051's quick thinking; SCP-4051 responds enthusiastically, and Dr. Dan carefully stows the book in his bag. Control reminds Dr. Dan of his earlier dismissal of the possibility of locating precisely this object; Dr. Dan claims not to have received Control's transmission, and Control does not repeat the message.
The soldiers collect several clean uniforms from the wardrobe, storing them in their backpacks. SCP-4051 nullifies the second door, revealing a spacious personal washroom.
Not expecting company, I guess. Dan examined the mess from the doorway; he immediately realized that what he was seeing was not actually grime. Nobody made a move to enter the room.
The sink was coated in a thick, dark brown sludge which ran down like a tiny frozen waterfall from the spout. The bottom of the bathtub was covered in the same substance, with the same obvious point of egress.
A pile of amber-smeared clothing lay against the side of the tub.
"They were bathing in it?" Wilford asked. His jaw was set in a grim line.
"And drinking it," Dan nodded. "Probably laced all the water, evaporated now." He frowned. "Can't imagine they were doing it regularly, though. Too uncontrolled. They must have started pumping it into the water when they got desperate, when they needed more, stronger soldiers, faster. Soldiers don't like being experimented on, and they wouldn't have all volunteered for extra Tears. This was the workaround. It's how I would've done it."
He left his pondering reverie to find the entire group staring at him. "What?"
General Wilford comments that Dr. Dan would have found ready employment at this facility. Dr. Dan retorts that both of their alternate selves might well have done; a brief argument about the existence of 'alternate selves' ensues before SCP-4494 intervenes.
SCP-4494 enters the bathroom and carefully lifts the lid of the toilet; the bowl is dry but clean, with no sign of the anomalous fluid. Multiple extraneous remarks are made by Alpha-9, and they return to the hallway.
They walked in silence. The Specter was used to surprising his foes, and he was used to being alone with his thoughts, but he had become accustomed to the gregarious nature of his teammate. There was a tension in the air which suggested his new allies were not as comfortable with the silence, and themselves, as he was. The tell-tale guilt of the unjust, he thought, and felt a pang himself for thinking it.
He decided to break the ice. "Perhaps this would be a good time for you to tell your origin story, Dr. Dan."
Dan looked back at him, grimaced, and looked away. Wilford, however, grinned. "Our man Dan here is no stranger to MTF operations. He's spent the last ten years thinking long and hard about one in particular."
"This isn't the time," Light snapped over the radio.
"Sure it is. All these rooms are empty, and we're just covering ground. Might as well multi-task! Your team needs to know all about this fine gentleman if they're ever going to trust him." Wilford clapped Dan on the shoulder. "Their fearless leader."
"Sophia's the leader," Dan muttered. "I'm just the asset."
Wilford laughed. "Dr. Sophia Light, leader-slash-killer of men."
"Killer?" said The Specter . "You're calling her a killer ?"
"Ask her how she got her job, some time." Wilford smirked. "I'll give you a hint: it involved ten dead men, and treason."
"Eleven," Light corrected him. "And yes, ask me about it when you get back. When you get back. "
The Specter felt a knot forming in his… well, he felt a knot forming. He liked Light. She didn't seem like a killer, to him. But, then, neither did Dr. Dan.
Dr. Dan seems like a braggart. Most evil-doers were braggarts, but most evil-doers didn't look so consistently miserable beneath their bravado as did the doctor with the redacted name. He certainly did look guilty, though, on second glance…
"Our man Dan," Wilford continued, "secretly let a monster out of its cage, then sent an entire unit of our best agents after it without letting them in on his reasoning."
"The reasoning was sound." Dan marched forward in a straight line, staring into space. The soldiers were very obviously trying not to look at him.
"He intentionally released that thing into the wide world, where it slaughtered a whole slew of innocents and decimated a unit of our best men."
"Decimated means 'reduced by one-tenth'," Dan said quietly. "You suffered fifty percent casualties."
Wilford's grin widened dangerously as he clapped Dan on the shoulder again. "Always the cold calculator, our man Dan! Fifty percent casualties, to prove a point. Here is an egghead who understands the meaning of 'human resources'. He even gave the poor guys a set of bullshit goggles for protection. Of course, you've all heard the line about goggles, and whether they actually do anything."
The Specter 's gloves were resting on his pistols, the result of no conscious decision. "Was he tried? Convicted for his crimes?"
Wilford nodded. "Oh, yes, indeed. His perfect plan had a perfect little hole in it, and it got him sent off to a cushy containment cell for ten years. Got his partner in crime executed, actually; our man Dan is a genius at escaping personal consequences. Spent ten whole years thinking up garbage plans for killing anomalies that no-one ever intends to kill, and then the moment the top brass saw a good excuse they secretly let him out of his cage so he could rampage—"
A dull groaning they'd ignored as part of the crumbling structure's background noise suddenly bounced around them as a discrete sound, and they froze as one unit. Dan and Wilford exchanged a glance, then looked back at the rest of the team. Wilford pressed one finger to his lips, waited for acknowledgements, then stealthily pressed forward.
Alpha-9 enters a grand atrium with a glass ceiling. They are facing an oversized reception desk which stands before a three-storey wall of plaster and concrete, with halls heading deeper into the facility cut into the bottom storey. A large canvas portrait lies on top of the desk, face down; a damaged computer terminal protrudes from a hole in the canvas.
The upper storeys of the wall are occupied by an enormous humanoid figure with pale white skin, no visible facial features, and a torso which terminates just above the pelvis. It appears to have partially phased through the concrete before becoming mostly inert; it occasionally shifts position, its limbs extending, distending and retracting at random. Flakes and concrete dust are dislodged by these actions, and exposed rebar in the walls is bent and twisted. The figure does not appear to have noticed the arrival of the team.
Alpha-9 carefully retreat far down the hallway and confer. Dr. Dan explains that the Unclean are capable of locomotion because their reach transcends atomic boundaries, allowing them limited ability to phase through solid objects, and theorizes that this particular specimen had done so before falling into a mostly vegetative state. SCP-4494 declares that its reach, and thereby the reach of justice, also transcends atomic boundaries. Dr. Dan agrees with this sentiment, and again queries Control about the presence of entities on the video feed invisible to Alpha-9. Control asserts that said entities are in fact surrounding Alpha-9 and making "hurry up gestures" at Dr. Dan specifically. Dr. Dan responds negatively to this assertion, and a brief argument ensues before Agent Deneb intervenes.
"Is this really the fucking time?"
That got their attention. Carlotta had both hands on her hips, and she was making what she hoped was a stern face. Project authority. You don't have any, with these people, but project it anyway. "You done exploring? Found a book, found some clothes, and that's good enough for you? We've fallen into argument every ten minutes so far."
"It's this place," Rainer protested. "It's creepy as all hell."
She fought to keep the sympathy from her face. She fought to keep from trembling. That fucking thing that fucking thing that fucking thing …! She clenched her jaw.
"It is unsettling," The Specter agreed. "Coming face to face with such perfidy."
"And he knows what lurks in the hearts of men!" Dan added. "We're coping as best we can."
Carlotta gestured towards the atrium. "That's clearly the lobby for whatever this place's main deal is. We need to get through. If we're not going to just stand around and bitch at each other, we need to make a plan and execute it."
"Expendables time?" Lucretia suggested.
"Yeah," said Wilford. "No."
"We could stage a diversion," said Dan.
"I could wormhole something," said Rainer. "If anyone has a good idea as to what."
Carlotta took a deep breath, and Dan took the opportunity to peer at her appraisingly. "I get the sense that Agent Deneb has a suggestion of her own," he ventured.
She exhaled, hard, and nodded. "Yeah, I do." She smiled, even as the bottom fell out of her stomach. "We go under it."
Resurrection - His Will Be Done
« A Study in Cinnabar | Guilt Trip »
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-093 'Orange' Test " by Grigori Karpin and HarryBlank, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-093-orange-test . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: A-9.png/A9Asterisk.png
Author: SunnyClockwork
License: CC BY 3.0
Filename: Asterisk.png
Author: HarryBlank
License: CC BY 3.0 | 87 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "adventure", "agent-popescu", "co-authored", "doctor-dan", "doctor-light", "ettra", "last-hope", "military-fiction", "otherworldly", "post-apocalyptic", "rainer-miller", "resurrection", "superhero", "tale", "the-specter"] | 2021-09-18T20:10:00 | 29,192 | 4,868 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-7170 | SCP-7170 | scp | ▷ Show Code ◁
△ Hide Code △
@import url ( https :// fonts.googleapis.com / css2 ? family = Montserrat :wght @600 ;700& display = swap );
/ * Centered Header Sigma
* [ 2021 Wikidot Component ]
* By Lt Flops ( CC BY-SA 3.0)
* Forked from:
* Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte
* Also based on:
* Centered Header BHL by Woedenaz
** /
/ * ---- VARS ---- * /
:root {
-- titleColor: hsl( 0 , 0 % , 95 % ) ;
-- subtitleColor: hsl( 60 , 62 % , 85 % ) ;
-- lgurl: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/lgbtqp_logo.svg) ;
}
/ * ---- SITE BANNER ---- * /
#header ,
div#header {
background-image: none ;
}
#header : :before {
position: absolute ;
width: 100 % ;
height: 100 % ;
content: "" ;
background-image: var(--lgurl) ;
background-position: center top ;
background-repeat: no-repeat ;
background-size: auto 9 em ;
opacity: .33 ;
}
#header h1 ,
#header h2 {
float: none ;
margin-left: 0 ;
text-align: center ;
}
#header h1 span ,
#header h2 span {
/ * Hide the Existing Text * /
display: none ;
}
#header h1 a : :before ,
#header h2 : :before {
/ * Style the New Text * /
font-family: "Montserrat", "Arial", sans-serif ;
text-shadow: none ;
}
#header h1 a : :before {
position: relative ;
bottom: .15 em ;
color: var(--titleColor) ;
font-size: 115 % ;
font-weight: 700 ;
}
#header h2 : :before {
position: relative ;
top: .1 em ;
color: var(--subtitleColor) ;
font-size: 130 % ;
font-weight: 600 ;
}
#header h1 a : :before {
/ * Set the New Text ' s Content From Variable * /
content: var(--header-title, "SCP FOUNDATION") ;
}
#header h2 : :before {
content: var(--header-subtitle, "SECURE - CONTAIN - PROTECT") ;
}
/ * ---- SEARCH ---- * /
#search-top-box {
top: 1 em ;
right: 0 ;
}
#search-top-box-form input.button {
margin-right: 0 ;
}
#search-top-box-input ,
#search-top-box-input :hover ,
#search-top-box-input :focus ,
#search-top-box-form input [ type = submit ] ,
#search-top-box-form input [ type = submit ] :hover ,
#search-top-box-form input [ type = submit ] :focus {
border-radius: 0 ;
box-shadow: none ;
font-size: 100 % ;
}
/ * ---- TOP BAR ---- * /
#top-bar {
right: 0 ;
display: flex ;
justify-content: center ;
}
#top-bar ul li ul {
border-bottom: 1 px solid hsl( 0 , 0 % , 40 % ) ;
box-shadow: none ;
}
/ * ---- LOGIN ---- * /
#login-status {
top: 1.1 em ;
right: initial ;
color: hsl( 0 , 0 % , 87 % ) ;
}
#account-topbutton {
border-color: hsl( 0 , 0 % , 87 % ) ;
font-size: 100 % ;
}
/ * ---- PAGE TITLE ---- * /
.meta-title ,
#page-title {
text-align: center ;
}
/ * ---- BREADCRUMBS ---- * /
.pseudocrumbs ,
#breadcrumbs {
text-align: center ;
}
/ * ---- MOBILE DISPLAY ---- * /
@media (max-width: 767 px ) {
#search-top-box {
top: 1.85 em ;
width: unset ;
}
.mobile-top-bar {
position: relative ;
left: 0 ;
display: flex ;
justify-content: center ;
}
#login-status {
top: 0 ;
right: 0 ;
}
#header .printuser {
font-size: 0 ;
}
#header .printuser img.small {
margin: 0 ;
transform: translate( 6 px , 4 px ) ;
}
#my-account {
display: none ;
}
#account-topbutton {
margin-left: 2 px ;
}
}
NDHeckfire
SCP-7170 - Within Hindsight
More by me!
Item#: SCP-7170
Level3
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
{$secondary-class}
Disruption Class:
keneq
Risk Class:
warning
link to memo
Assigned Site
Site Director
Research Head
Assigned Task Force
Site-400
Director Adam Desmond
N/A
N/A
Entrance into Site-400's DPI-∄ (late-stage construction)
Special Containment Procedures: With approval from Site-400's Site Director, SCP-7170 has been granted permission to continue her long-term employment with the Foundation. However, she is to report and log any sort of occurrences where she prevented her death.
By order of the Ethics Committee, proposals detailing the utilization of SCP-7170 as an "early warning system" are to be summarily denied, due to concerns of permanently affecting her workplace productivity and overall morale.
Description: SCP-7170 is the designation given to Senior Technician Na'meen Delholm, Deputy Head of the Department of Tartarean and Demonological Research. SCP-7170 is a Caucasian human adult female of British-Thai descent, 176 centimeters in height with blue eyes and long brown hair.
Whenever SCP-7170 expires through any known means, her current consciousness (specifically her current knowledge, memories, and experiences) will temporally travel backward in time, approximately 30 seconds prior to the actual time of her demise.
Due to this, SCP-7170 would have around 30 seconds of an opening to prevent her own death by any method necessary, as technically, SCP-7170 has already foreseen and ultimately anticipated it. On account of that, this "ability" would make SCP-7170 functionally clairvoyant of her death.
Addendum 7170-1, Notable Reported Occurrences: The following is a partial log of prevented deaths, primarily composed of reports made by SCP-7170 herself.
Date & Time
Event Description
Prevention Method
Notes
02/01/2018 (11:40 PM)
While in the cafeteria, SCP-7170 accidentally slipped and fell on a banana peel, resulting in her hitting her head on a metal disposal bin and dying from breaking her neck at the base of the skull.
After "reviving", SCP-7170 merely avoided the banana peel and subsequently berated Janitor Finley North for neglecting to clean the cafeteria during their shift.
N/A
26/09/2018 (9:19 AM)
When attempting to restore power to an electrical box unit located in her own office, SCP-7170 was subsequently electrocuted by a faulty wire and died of cardiac dysrhythmia.
After "reviving", SCP-7170 quickly moved away from the electrical unit and instead requested personnel from the Maintenance Section to properly repair it.
The electrical unit was eventually restored power without incident.
09/07/2019 (3:08 AM)
An explosive planted by a Chaos Insurgent mole 1 detonated in the Demonics Research Lab, resulting in multiple Foundation personnel and SCP-7170 dying due to fallen debris. According to SCP-7170, this event also caused the release of several hostile Tartarean entities, which quickly enveloped the entirety of the Research Lab.
After "reviving" the second time, SCP-7170 was able to place the Research Lab under emergency lockdown and single-handedly activate the on-site AESR 2 , successfully recontaining all of the loosed Tarterean entities.
It was discovered that during the endeavor, SCP-7170 suffered multiple deep lacerations on her arms and torso, possibly from Tartarean entities attempting to stop her. She was promptly sent to the Health and Pathology Infirmary for treatment.
13/07/2021 (4:56 AM)
See Addendum 7170-2
Unknown.
N/A
Addendum 7170-2, Incident Log: On the 13th of July, 2021, while spearheading the development of Site-400's newly constructed Demonic Purification Installation (DPI-∄), SCP-7170 accidentally tripped upon a haphazardly placed wire cable and fell into the lower levels of the facility.
The fractured corpse of SCP-7170 was recovered deep on the flooring of DPI-∄. An investigation on how SCP-7170 could've expired via this particular method eventually lead to the measuring of the height between where SCP-7170 initially fell and the flooring where she landed, which was determined to be approximately six kilometers in depth.
This makes the time to fall between the two points to be around 35 seconds.
SCP-7170's personal notebook (which, along with a dull 2B graphite pencil, was present on the individual's persons during the time of her death) was able to be recovered. On the final page of the book, a hastily written note was visible. The note reads:
SCP-7170 has been reclassified to Neutralized. The possibility of SCP-7170 ever returning is currently uncertain improbable.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7170 " by NDHeckfire, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7170 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: entrance.png
Name: Itaipu Décembre 2007 - Intérieur du barrage.jpg
Author: Martin St-Amant
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Footnotes
1 . Discovered to be [ CLASSFIED DATA REMOVED ].
2 . Akiva-Emissive Sacramental Reactor. | 84 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "alive", "euclid", "humanoid", "loop", "neutralized", "reanimation", "sapient", "scp", "temporal"] | 2022-10-04T02:32:00 | 8,349 | 1,367 | SCP-7170 | null | With approval from Site-400's Site Director, SCP-7170 has been granted permission to continue her long-term employment with the Foundation. However, she is to report and log any sort of occurrences where she prevented her death.
By order of the Ethics Committee, proposals detailing the utilization of SCP-7170 as an "early warning system" are to be summarily denied, due to concerns of permanently affecting her workplace productivity and overall morale. | SCP-7170 is the designation given to Senior Technician Na'meen Delholm, Deputy Head of the Department of Tartarean and Demonological Research. SCP-7170 is a Caucasian human adult female of British-Thai descent, 176 centimeters in height with blue eyes and long brown hair.
Whenever SCP-7170 expires through any known means, her current consciousness (specifically her current knowledge, memories, and experiences) will temporally travel backward in time, approximately 30 seconds prior to the actual time of her demise.
Due to this, SCP-7170 would have around 30 seconds of an opening to prevent her own death by any method necessary, as technically, SCP-7170 has already foreseen and ultimately anticipated it. On account of that, this "ability" would make SCP-7170 functionally clairvoyant of her death. | 2 | ## log any sort of occurrences where she prevented her death.
By order of the Ethics Committee, proposals detailing the utilization of SCP-7170 as an "early warning system" are to be summarily denied, due to concerns of permanently affecting her workplace productivity and overall morale.
Description: SCP-7170 is the designation given to Senior Technician Na'meen Delholm, Deputy Head of the Department of Tartarean and Demonological Research. SCP-7170 is a Caucasian human adult female of British-Thai descent, 176 centimeters in height with blue eyes and long brown hair.
Whenever SCP-7170 expires through any known means, her current consciousness (specifically her current knowledge, memories, and experiences) will temporally travel backward in time, approximately 30 seconds prior to the actual time of her demise.
Due to this, SCP-7170 would have around 30 seconds of an opening to prevent her own death by any method necessary, as technically, SCP-7170 has already foreseen and ultimately anticipated it. On account of that, this "ability" would make SCP-7170 functionally clairvoyant of her death.
---
## incident.
09/07/2019 (3:08 AM)
An explosive planted by a Chaos Insurgent mole 1 detonated in the Demonics Research Lab, resulting in multiple Foundation personnel and SCP-7170 dying due to fallen debris. According to SCP-7170, this event also caused the release of several hostile Tartarean entities, which quickly enveloped the entirety of the Research Lab.
After "reviving" the second time, SCP-7170 was able to place the Research Lab under emergency lockdown and single-handedly activate the on-site AESR 2 , successfully recontaining all of the loosed Tarterean entities.
It was discovered that during the endeavor, SCP-7170 suffered multiple deep lacerations on her arms and torso, possibly from Tartarean entities attempting to stop her. She was promptly sent to the Health and Pathology Infirmary for treatment.
13/07/2021 (4:56 AM)
See | |
critter-profile-chel | Critter Profile: Chel! - SCP Foundation | goi-format | .
Critter Profile: Chel!
Overview!
Name: Chel!
Species: Green sea turtle ( Chelonia mydas )
Primary Caretaker: Oliver Pericles
Diet: None / Doesn't Matter
Housed: Marine Enclosure 3
Creature Features!
Chel is the favorite turtle of all staff at Marine Enclosure 3! Isn't that right, little Chel? Since she's been with us, our work environment has changed a lot - it has changed so much that anyone would swear Chel can alter our mood with her mind! But she can't, she's just very sweet with everyone.
The first thing you need to know about Chel to get her attention is her favorite food: Nothing! Our little turtle doesn't eat breakfast, doesn't eat lunch, and doesn't eat dinner - and she still stays at the right weight! Seriously, we've tried everything, but she refuses to eat even the smallest gram. Well, more for the rest of us!
Secondly, and most importantly, whenever you are feeling down, Chel will be there! I don't know how she does it, but every time someone on the team is overwhelmed, either by their family or because some other creature has fallen ill, Chel comes to the rescue! She comes swimming up to be as close to us as she can and stays that way until all our anguish is gone, she is such a sweetheart!
History!
We first met Chel when- Chel came to us- Chel…
Does it really matter how we met Chel? Of course not! All we need to know is that she's now part of our lives, and that should be enough, you all hear?!
Oliver is in charge of her, but he's also a real sweetheart! He lets us play with her for as long as we want - there have even been days when I spend the whole day at Chel's side! It seems like Oliver isn't even there, but of course, at the end of the day he comes back to check on Chel. He is very passionate about what he does - his dream was always to take care of a turtle! It's his favorite animal - well, he loves them all equally, but his love for turtles is what prompted him to become part of our family at WWS.
I can only imagine his face when Chel showed up! He- He was assigned- Chel- Errr…
I think we lost some of Chel's paperwork, but it doesn't matter, that way anyone can imagine their own story! Maybe Chel used to fight dragons? Or maybe she was part of the Secret Service and is now hiding out with us? Well-! No no no. Something is wrong. I have to ask Oliver about it, in the meantime just imagine that Chel has an amazing and awesome origin story!
Special Needs and Accommodations!
Chel doesn't really need much. Except for the fact that she doesn't eat anything, she's just like any other sea turtle. We have her in a HUGE tank where she can swim around and receive all our love!
Notes about Chel!
Yep. I've been checking and it looks like we're missing some of Chel's documentation. Well, actually I've been asking the rest of the team and it seems that… no one remembers when or how Chel arrived at Marine Enclosure 3. I haven't been able to contact Oliver, but it shouldn't be long until he arrives. I'm sure it's just a big mix up and Oliver will clarify it all, it's obvious!
From: Sophia Wallace
To: Oliver Pericles
Date: 22/03/2021
Ollie? Um… You haven't come to check on Chel, are you okay? If anything happens you know you can talk to me about it, but you can't just skip work. The rest of the team and I agreed to have your back, but we need you to tell us what happened.
By the way, I've finished writing Chel's file, as you asked me to do, although I discovered that there are some gaps. In fact, we all have gaps in our heads - how did we discover Chel, Ollie? I can't leave the file like this - I can't be left without knowing. Ollie, what's going on?
Chel has been very nervous without you, and she hardly lets herself be seen, hiding among the rocks of her habitat. She's afraid, I can see it in her eyes. You're not involved in anything dangerous, are you? I don't want Chel to be in danger, Ollie. You have to come back, soon.
From: Sophia Wallace
To: Oliver Pericles
Date: 26/03/2021
Ollie, we need to talk, in person, urgently. I don't know why you're not coming to work, but if you don't, we're coming to your house by ourselves.
Yesterday, Miguel decided to take action and went into your office to go through your things. He shouldn't have, I know, but he found… your diary. What do you mean, the whole "it's eating me up" thing? And the "it won't come out of my thoughts" thing? My God, you've got whole pages covered in the word "thoughts"!
Ollie, I need you to tell me what's going on. What… what is Chel? Please, Ollie, come back. We're - I'm scared. What did you get involved in?
Chel Incident [27/03/2021]
Entered by: Sophia Wallace
I don't know how to describe what happened. I really don't know.
Miguel, Andrew and I decided to go to Oliver's house after he'd missed several days of work. He lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of town; it took us about an hour to get there, and by the time we arrived it was getting dark - I wish we could've done it sooner, but we had some animals to take care of first. We'd never been to visit him before, so it took us a while to get to his apartment number. When we did, we knocked on the door, but no one answered.
We waited for a while, until Miguel suggested that we pick the lock. Andrew didn't like the idea, but I managed to convince him after showing him Oliver's diary - specifically, the part where he described- look, I'm just going to transcribe it:
" 17/03/2021
I have been concerned for a few days now. I have previously mentioned the extenuating lack of turtles where I work. I have also mentioned and described how much I would love to be assigned to work with a turtle - they really are beautiful .
The problem is - I started to imagine a turtle recently. I did it out of boredom, more than anything else. Like those characters you come up with when you start daydreaming, and maybe later use to make a short story or even a fanfic of some sort.
Anyway, I started to imagine a sea turtle named Chel. Calm, affectionate, empathetic… Everything someone would want in a pet. I even drew her a couple of times, on some loose papers I had lying around. Everything I did was normal, I guess. No big deal.
Thing is - Chel is real . A few days ago, when I came to work. Chel was there, being cared for by one of my coworkers. When I approached - somehow, I'm Chel's primary caretaker, always have been. Everyone in there has known her since always, and is also fond of her- No, this shouldn't be possible. I'm scared. I have to put my thoughts together, I don't-
I can't do this anymore. There are more and more gaps in my memory - names, places, whole memories that disappear every time I try to access them. I don't know what's going on, I need help, I need-
Help."
Once he finished reading it, Andrew nodded and Miguel picked the lock with a small wire he brought with him. Oliver was… sitting on the floor, in a corner, next to his bed, shaking. We approached him slowly, more out of instinct than anything else. He was whispering, but we couldn't make out what he was saying.
I reached out to touch his shoulder, but all I got were more whispers and meaningless words.
Although… there was actually one sentence that I did understand, and that I wish I hadn't:
"It screams for me. It wants to stay. It's screaming to stay. I don't want to follow its pattern."
From: Tim Wilson
To: Marine Enclosure 3 Personnel
Date: 28/03/2021
I am sorry for everything that happened. I can assure you that everything will be fine, there is nothing to worry about; I took the liberty of contacting the Foundation and, well, from now on they will take care of the matter.
The relevant documentation will be destroyed shortly, and some may have to be amnestized, like Mr. Pericles, but believe me it is for your own good.
I'm truly sorry.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Critter Profile: Chel! " by EthanHanson, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/critter-profile-chel . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Chel.jpg
Name: N/A
Author: Structuro
License: CC0
Source Link: https://pixabay.com/photos/sea-turtle-turtle-aquarium-sea-485825/ | 148 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "_marine", "_wilsons-wildlife", "cosmic-horror", "featured", "goi-format", "horror", "jam-con2021", "pattern-screamer", "psychological-horror", "tim-wilson", "wilsons-wildlife"] | 2021-03-23T02:35:00 | 8,318 | 1,531 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-9812 | SCP-9812 | scp | Item #: SCP-9812
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9812 is housed in a keypad locked storage locker at Site-22. Given the specifics of its cognito-hazardous properties, all personnel assigned to research the item must be confirmed to have never been Christian or one which is within proximity of it. 1 Anyone seeking access to it or related documentation must first be of Level 2 Security Clearance or higher and be willing to submit to questioning regarding current and previous religious beliefs.
Disciplinary action has been deemed unnecessary in the event personnel are dishonest during this questioning.
Description: SCP-9812 is a human ear attached to a section of grey-painted of drywall. Its skin is similar in coloration to tarnished brass with notable spotting on the lobes and near the base. The lobes are droopy and larger than average, implying advanced age. It continually produces a light which passively varies between 180-200 lumens in intensity. Medical examination has determined it is continuously circulating blood. As all biological structures terminate on the point of contact with the drywall it is unknown from where this blood is supplied or how.
Subjects who are either currently or formerly Christian that see SCP-9812 will express psychological and physiological responses consistent with extreme guilt over one or more past crimes or actions they view as misdeeds. These feelings will worsen over time with the subject being made to continually recall the events. The topic will develop into obsession. The dreams, waking thoughts, and actions of the affected subject will be consumed by contemplations upon these events and self hatred which it causes, alongside a desire to return to SCP-9812.
Basic amnestics have proven to be sufficient in treating SCP-9812 exposure. Aside from this, the only cure is for the subject to be allowed to speak into SCP-9812 whereafter all anomalous influence will cease.
Discovery: SCP-9812 was discovered following the murder of one Harold Montgomery in Dry Prong, Louisiana, United States.
Foundation agents embedded into state police were made aware of the case after three officers declined to participate in the investigation citing possible conflicts of interest given previous issues had with Mr. Montgomery. Follow-up questioning of individuals around the area determined that 76.9% of subjects had reported issues with Mr. Montgomery. This would later be determined to be unrelated to SCP-9812, as Mr. Montgomery was murdered after being revealed to have misappropriated church funds for the purchase of various amphetamines.
At this time, SCP-9812 was located in the men's bathroom of the Dry Prong Assembly of God Church. Questioning of civilians revealed they were aware of the object but had not considered it out of the ordinary. SCP-9812 and the section of drywall it was attached to were recovered without incident and witnesses were amnesticized before being placed on minimum surveillance.
Test Logs: To study the effects of SCP-9812 a dozen D-class subjects and one Foundation junior researcher, Jezebelle Portmeyer, were selected to be test subjects.
Of the D-class, six of the selected were charged with misdemeanors, four with felonies, and the last two with first-degree murder and ████ respectively. To avoid reactions potentially unrelated to the item's anomalous effects, subjects were led to believe ahead of time that it was a mundane art piece.
Jezebelle was chosen to be the control case given generally reported good moral standing from co-workers.
Designation: S-9812-00 2
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to a noted slight discomfort. Over the following days subject reported symptoms including minor stomach pains, heightened adrenaline, and somberness. Reported effects of SCP-9812 to have highlighted multiple arguments had with brother when he was still alive. After two weeks of insignificant progression, subject was ordered to speak into SCP-9812.
Designation: S-9812-02 3
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to a noted slight discomfort. Over following days would report insomnia and a lack of hunger. Reportedly was made to think of multiple times he had slapped his daughter and been too inebriated to attend her school events. By day four requested to be brought back to SCP-9812. Request was granted.
Notes: Following amnesticization and release from Foundation custody has been observed to have majorly reduced alcohol intake likely due to SCP-9812 exposure.
Designation: S-9812-05 4
Observations: Subject noted to have been immediately alarmed upon exposure to SCP-9812. After two days expressed a developing sense of paranoia with the feeling they were being observed throughout times they were alone. Initially refused to share actions brought to mind by the object's effects. After nine days requested to be returned to SCP-9812. Request was denied. The day after, the subject confessed to a previously undisclosed incident wherein they had robbed a young woman at knife point.
Request to be returned to SCP-9812 granted thereafter. Was notably relieved following re-exposure and expressed a desire to apologize to the woman he had robbed.
Notes: Subject was documented getting into arguments with other D-class at a higher rate following this test. Majority were minor in nature and did not have the subject as the aggressor.
SCP-9812's effects vary depending on the level of guilt subjects feel for their actions prior to exposure. While the resultant dreams and psychological responses cannot be observed directly, physiological responses and changes to SCP-9812 may yield the most clear result going forward.
Designation: S-9812-08 5
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to moderate discomfort and a sense of immediate shame. SCP-9812 was observed varying in brightness by an additional 80-140 lumens for 30 seconds. Subject expressed a lack of hunger and minor chest pain that would worsen over the course of five days into a sharp and constant stabbing sensation. Overtime expressed a sense of being observed for most hours of the day.
SCP-9812 was determined to have highlighted a homosexual relationship subject had engaged in during grade school. After 15 days subject requested to be returned to SCP-9812. Request was granted.
Notes: SCP-9812's "sense" of morality appears to be based on factors both personal to each subject and objective regarding harm done unto others. Given that at least two other subjects were homosexual and SCP-9812 did not highlight this, it is consensus that this case resulted from the subject's own homophobia, which was observed prior to the experiment. Notably, such beliefs have also diminished in severity following exposure.
Designation: S-9812-10 6
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to immediate minor discomfort. Within two days requested to be returned to SCP-9812. Request was denied. Subject would develop insomnia over the two weeks following exposure. What sleep was achieved was commonly accompanied by nightmares relating to previous crimes for which they were incarcerated. Repeated requests to be returned SCP-9812 were made but denied.
After 17 days subject began refusing to leave their holding cell, citing that they felt unsafe around personnel and other D-class. Subject requested to receive a Bible. Request was granted. Symptoms were noted to abate for a duration of three days.
On day 23, one of the research staff allowed the subject to return to SCP-9812 without permission from the Head Researcher. Subject expressed immediate relief. When the researcher responsible was questioned for their actions they responded that the experiment felt "increasingly cruel." They were summarily demoted.
Notes: Subject has since begun to re-convert into Christianity and expressed lasting regret for actions that led to incarceration. Other D-class have expressed disinterest in conversations with subject citing various reasons.
SCP-9812's effects seem to vary depending on the level of regret a subject feels for their actions prior to exposure. Subjects who are more readily willing to admit to wrongdoing receive less severe effects and progress at a slower rate than others.
Designation: S-9812-12 7
Observations: SCP-9812 increased in brightness by 1500% upon being observed by subject; temporarily blinding them. Subject expressed distress and requested to be removed from the object's vicinity. Subject expressed feeling a looming sense of dread over the following days. Dreams consisted entirely of a pair of golden pupiled eyes staring at the subject for the full duration. On one occasion they were detected muttering "Romans 12:19" in their sleep.
Test ended prematurely; see notes.
Notes: Subject was stabbed to death by another D-class in the communal bathroom nine days subsequent to exposure. Investigation determined that the stabbing was the result of a dispute over lunch items having been traded in the past for which S-9812-12 never provided adequate compensation. Five other D-class subjects were present for the stabbing, all of whom were found to be supportive of the action due to various, unrelated issues had with S-9812-12.
Footnotes
1 . Subjects holding Christian-related faiths such as Hermeticism, Free Masonry, and Islam appear to inconsistently trigger SCP-9812's effects.
2 . Jezebelle Portmeyer
3 . Subject was serving eight months jail time for a second offense DUI charge.
4 . Subject was serving two years jail time for misdemeanor marijuana possession and two counts of graffiti.
5 . Subject was serving ten years prison time for three counts of aggravated identity theft.
6 . Subject was serving 25 years prison time for one count attempted murder and one count of making terroristic threats along with some assault charges.
7 . Subject moved to Foundation custody from death row where they had been placed on two charges of ████ and one charge of elder abuse. | 4 | ["biological", "light", "mind-affecting", "religious", "safe", "scp"] | 2026-02-05T18:02:00 | 9,977 | 1,540 | SCP-9812 | Safe | SCP-9812 is housed in a keypad locked storage locker at Site-22. Given the specifics of its cognito-hazardous properties, all personnel assigned to research the item must be confirmed to have never been Christian or one which is within proximity of it. 1 Anyone seeking access to it or related documentation must first be of Level 2 Security Clearance or higher and be willing to submit to questioning regarding current and previous religious beliefs.
Disciplinary action has been deemed unnecessary in the event personnel are dishonest during this questioning. | SCP-9812 is a human ear attached to a section of grey-painted of drywall. Its skin is similar in coloration to tarnished brass with notable spotting on the lobes and near the base. The lobes are droopy and larger than average, implying advanced age. It continually produces a light which passively varies between 180-200 lumens in intensity. Medical examination has determined it is continuously circulating blood. As all biological structures terminate on the point of contact with the drywall it is unknown from where this blood is supplied or how.
Subjects who are either currently or formerly Christian that see SCP-9812 will express psychological and physiological responses consistent with extreme guilt over one or more past crimes or actions they view as misdeeds. These feelings will worsen over time with the subject being made to continually recall the events. The topic will develop into obsession. The dreams, waking thoughts, and actions of the affected subject will be consumed by contemplations upon these events and self hatred which it causes, alongside a desire to return to SCP-9812.
Basic amnestics have proven to be sufficient in treating SCP-9812 exposure. Aside from this, the only cure is for the subject to be allowed to speak into SCP-9812 whereafter all anomalous influence will cease. | 3 | ## documentation must first be of Level 2 Security Clearance or higher and be willing to submit to questioning regarding current and previous religious beliefs.
Disciplinary action has been deemed unnecessary in the event personnel are dishonest during this questioning.
Description: SCP-9812 is a human ear attached to a section of grey-painted of drywall. Its skin is similar in coloration to tarnished brass with notable spotting on the lobes and near the base. The lobes are droopy and larger than average, implying advanced age. It continually produces a light which passively varies between 180-200 lumens in intensity. Medical examination has determined it is continuously circulating blood. As all biological structures terminate on the point of contact with the drywall it is unknown from where this blood is supplied or how.
Subjects who are either currently or formerly Christian that see SCP-9812 will express psychological and physiological responses consistent with extreme guilt over one or more past crimes or actions they view as misdeeds. These feelings will worsen over time with the subject being made to continually recall the events. The topic will develop into obsession. The dreams, waking thoughts, and actions of the affected subject will be consumed by contemplations upon these events and self hatred which it causes, alongside a desire to return to SCP-9812.
Basic amnestics have proven to be sufficient in treating SCP-9812 exposure. Aside from this, the only cure is for the subject to be allowed to speak into SCP-9812 whereafter all anomalous influence will cease.
---
## incident and witnesses were amnesticized before being placed on minimum surveillance.
Test Logs: To study the effects of SCP-9812 a dozen D-class subjects and one Foundation junior researcher, Jezebelle Portmeyer, were selected to be test subjects.
Of the D-class, six of the selected were charged with misdemeanors, four with felonies, and the last two with first-degree murder and ████ respectively. To avoid reactions potentially unrelated to the item's anomalous effects, subjects were led to believe ahead of time that it was a mundane art piece.
Jezebelle was chosen to be the control case given generally reported good moral standing from co-workers.
Designation: S-9812-00 2
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to a noted slight discomfort. Over the following days subject reported symptoms including minor stomach pains, heightened adrenaline, and somberness. Reported effects of SCP-9812 to have highlighted multiple arguments had with brother when he was still alive. After two weeks of insignificant progression, subject was ordered to speak into SCP-9812.
Designation: S-9812-02 3
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to a noted slight discomfort. Over following days would report insomnia and a lack of hunger. Reportedly was made to think of multiple times he had slapped his daughter and been too inebriated to attend her school events. By day four requested to be brought back to SCP-9812. Request was granted.
Notes: Following amnesticization and release from Foundation custody has been observed to have majorly reduced alcohol intake likely due to SCP-9812 exposure.
Designation: S-9812-05 4
Observations: Subject noted to have been immediately alarmed upon exposure to SCP-9812. After two days expressed a developing sense of paranoia with the feeling they were being observed throughout times they were alone. Initially refused to share actions brought to mind by the object's effects. After nine days requested to be returned to SCP-9812. Request was denied. The day after, the subject confessed to a previously undisclosed incident wherein they had robbed a young woman at knife point.
Request to be returned to SCP-9812 granted thereafter. Was notably relieved following re-exposure and expressed a desire to apologize to the woman he had robbed.
Notes: Subject was documented getting into arguments with other D-class at a higher rate following this
---
## test. Majority were minor in nature and did not have the subject as the aggressor.
SCP-9812's effects vary depending on the level of guilt subjects feel for their actions prior to exposure. While the resultant dreams and psychological responses cannot be observed directly, physiological responses and changes to SCP-9812 may yield the most clear result going forward.
Designation: S-9812-08 5
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to moderate discomfort and a sense of immediate shame. SCP-9812 was observed varying in brightness by an additional 80-140 lumens for 30 seconds. Subject expressed a lack of hunger and minor chest pain that would worsen over the course of five days into a sharp and constant stabbing sensation. Overtime expressed a sense of being observed for most hours of the day.
SCP-9812 was determined to have highlighted a homosexual relationship subject had engaged in during grade school. After 15 days subject requested to be returned to SCP-9812. Request was granted.
Notes: SCP-9812's "sense" of morality appears to be based on factors both personal to each subject and objective regarding harm done unto others. Given that at least two other subjects were homosexual and SCP-9812 did not highlight this, it is consensus that this case resulted from the subject's own homophobia, which was observed prior to the experiment. Notably, such beliefs have also diminished in severity following exposure.
Designation: S-9812-10 6
Observations: Subject was exposed to SCP-9812 to immediate minor discomfort. Within two days requested to be returned to SCP-9812. Request was denied. Subject would develop insomnia over the two weeks following exposure. What sleep was achieved was commonly accompanied by nightmares relating to previous crimes for which they were incarcerated. Repeated requests to be returned SCP-9812 were made but denied.
After 17 days subject began refusing to leave their holding cell, citing that they felt unsafe around personnel and other D-class. Subject requested to receive a Bible. Request was granted. Symptoms were noted to abate for a duration of three days.
On day 23, one of the research staff allowed the subject to return to SCP-9812 without permission from the Head Researcher. Subject expressed immediate relief. When the researcher responsible was questioned for their actions they responded that the experiment felt "increasingly cruel." They were summarily demoted.
Notes: Subject has since begun to re-convert into Christianity and expressed lasting regret for actions that led to incarceration. Other D-class have expressed disinterest in conversations with subject citing various reasons.
SCP-9812's effects seem to vary depending on the level of regret a subject feels for their actions prior to exposure. Subjects who are more readily willing to admit to wrongdoing receive less severe effects and progress at a slower rate than others.
Designation: S-9812-12 7
Observations: SCP-9812 increased in brightness by 1500% upon being observed by subject; temporarily blinding them. Subject expressed distress and requested to be removed from the object's vicinity. Subject expressed feeling a looming sense of dread over the following days. Dreams consisted entirely of a pair of golden pupiled eyes staring at the subject for the full duration. On one occasion they were detected muttering "Romans 12:19" in their sleep.
Test ended prematurely; see notes.
Notes: Subject was stabbed to death by another D-class in the communal bathroom nine days subsequent to exposure. Investigation determined that the stabbing was the result of a dispute over lunch items having been traded in the past for which S-9812-12 never provided adequate compensation. Five other D-class subjects were present for the stabbing, all of whom were found to be supportive of the action due to various, unrelated issues had with S-9812-12.
Footnotes
1 . Subjects holding Christian-related faiths such as Hermeticism, Free Masonry, and Islam appear to inconsistently trigger SCP-9812's effects.
2 . Jezebelle Portmeyer
3 . Subject was serving eight months jail time for a second offense DUI charge.
4 . Subject was serving two years jail time for misdemeanor marijuana possession and two counts of graffiti.
5 . Subject was serving ten years prison time for three counts of aggravated identity theft.
6 . Subject was serving 25 years prison time for one count attempted murder and one count of making terroristic threats along with some assault charges.
7 . Subject moved to Foundation custody from death row where they had been placed on two charges of ████ and one charge of elder abuse. | |
SCP-7940 | SCP-7940 | scp | by ParallelPotatoes
Item#: SCP-7940
Level1
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
{$secondary-class}
Disruption Class:
dark
Risk Class:
notice
link to memo
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7940 is assigned a humanoid containment cell at Site-403. Due to its low potential for disruption and record of loyalty to the Foundation, it is allowed to freely leave its containment cell to access common areas of Site-403 and areas relevant to its position as Senior Researcher.
Description: SCP-7940 refers to Senior Researcher Ryan Tegen, a 30-year-old humanoid male. Its anomalous effect occurs when it attempts to bring its hand 45 centimeters above its head. This will cause an invisible ceiling to manifest above SCP-7940's hand. This ceiling will block the upward movement of SCP-7940 and inanimate objects it is holding, but is completely intangible to other living beings.
Discovery: SCP-7940 was discovered on 2/16/2023 when it reported its anomalous properties to its supervisor. It claimed that these abilities might have existed intermittently throughout its life but only became permanent recently. SCP-7940 believed that its diary entries reveal a reason as to its manifestation of anomalous properties. Relevant entries are shown below, with surrounding entries included for context.
Day 1: First day at the Foundation. I can’t say I was expecting to be hired by the shadow government straight out of college, but it pays better than any other job. I don’t know anything about these “anomalies”, but the trainers are saying I’m picking up the science very quickly. I'm excited to start real work here!
Day 3: I finished their basic “What Is An Anomaly?” training course and they’re having me help out with tests. Honestly, I have no clue what I’m doing. College prepared me for real stuff, not a flower that blooms when you speak purple around it. How the hell does that even work? Well, I guess this is real stuff. The point is, I was doing tests like they asked me to, but I don’t understand what the tests are actually doing. Hopefully it will make sense soon, but I’m not sure if it ever will.
Day 4: Not the best day today. One of the tests went wrong because I mixed up the equipment. The senior researchers didn’t say anything, but I could tell they weren’t happy. Right after that, when I was putting the test materials away in the high cabinets, I think I bumped my hand on something and dropped a bunch of glassware. If they weren’t disappointed earlier, they certainly are now.
Day 5: They said they weren’t mad and it's expected for my first week, but that doesn’t change much. I’m not picking this up as fast as I normally pick things up. There’s still a huge wall between me and competence.
Day 6: I bumped my hand when putting equipment away again, dropping all the test tubes I was holding. I really need to be more careful. I didn’t even see what I hit. What if they decide I’m too clumsy for this job? I can’t do this.
Day 8: They said I’m doing good work. They’re just being nice though. I understand what these tests are measuring for, but I don't understand anything about why they are designed this way.
Day 20: I think I’m starting to get the hang of this. It feels like I managed to get through something holding me back. I’m able to help out the other new junior researchers who are struggling on testing their assigned anomalies.
Day 180: The senior researchers assigned me to design a test procedure for an anomaly myself. How the hell do they expect me to do this? I’m not there yet; I still need to improve before I know how to design a test myself. I just know the basics of testing procedures. I’ll do my best, but I’m probably not going to do very well.
Day 185: I hit my hand on the ceiling earlier and bruised it. Stupid low ceilings. And something’s not right with the test. The Hume readings should not be fluctuating this much around the anomaly. The fluctuations don't seem to be affecting it though. Is there something wrong with the test? I’ll need to recheck the design.
Day 186: I rechecked the test design and I can’t find anything wrong. Did I double check it right? Is it something wrong with me? Fuck, I could get fired. Why couldn’t I get it right the first time?
Day 188: I hit my hand on something when doing the tests again, and I’m not even sure what it was this time. I was just climbing the ladder to get to the test aperture, and I hit something where I bruised it. I almost fell down the ladder. Fortunately I was able to finish the test, but things are still looking grim though. The test still has major Hume fluctuations. I’m not going to be able to complete this, am I?
Day 189: Another obstacle is gone. It turns out there was a malfunction in the reality anchor, which caused the Hume fluctuation. The senior researchers said the test I designed was fine, but I’m sure there’s still room for improvement. There always is.
Day 806: They promoted me to senior researcher and assigned me my own anomaly to study. I should be glad, but I’m not qualified for this. I’ve only been here around two years so far. I told the other senior researchers I wasn’t ready, but they insisted that I’m the right person for the job. Let’s hope I don’t mess this up too badly.
Day 808: I’ve assigned some of the junior researchers to various tests on the anomaly. One of the tests was to see the chemical output’s reaction to iron, but the researcher grabbed the aluminum instead. Not a huge mistake, but it cost us an hour or two to reset the test. I’m sure he’ll do it right tomorrow though.
Day 813: The tests are going slowly. It’s not the fault of the junior researchers; I just designed the tests they’re doing inefficiently. We need to finish up these research tasks so the containment specialists can get the right conprocs out.
Day 815: I tried to change a lightbulb today, but something was preventing me from reaching the outlet. I’ll figure it out and tell someone later though. This damn anomaly takes priority. It’s just not doing what it's expected to, and it’s my fault and I need to focus on it.
Day 825: Why did they make me senior researcher on this project? I'm just a failure. I need to do better on this project but there’s something about me that I just can't change. It doesn’t help that there’s something anomalous preventing me from changing the light bulb. I have too many things to worry about.
Day 830: There’s been a breakthrough, and we are finally making progress. I’m going to host a congratulatory party for Bob, Jane, and Sally; they did excellent work on the tests.
Day 840: We finally got our research to a point that the higher ups consider satisfactory. They said it was completed significantly faster than was expected, but I think that’s bullshit. It could have been done better. At the very least, I learned something from the experience, and I’ll be able to do better next time.
Also, I finally changed that light bulb. I’m not sure what was preventing me from doing it, but it seems to be gone now. I logged it as a minor extranormal event.
Day 2054: Over the past few years, it’s become clear to me I have some sort of anomalous property. I’m going to report it, but my supervisors will probably remove me from my position since I’m an anomaly. And honestly? I think it’s for the best.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned at this job, it’s that I’ll never be good at it. Or at least, I’ll never be as good as I want to be. Have I improved since I first came here? Yes, certainly. But it’s not enough. I’m still fucking up. I’m still making stupid mistakes. This stuff can get people killed if I keep like this. If they decide I stay as a researcher, I need to improve. I need to get past whatever’s stopping me.
Maybe one day I’ll reach those heights I never could.
It is believed SCP-7940’s anomalous effects became permanent shortly after the final entry was written. Due to SCP-7940’s record of high quality work, it was considered that strict containment procedures would only serve as a detriment to Foundation operations.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7940 " by ParallelPotatoes, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7940 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 91 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "euclid", "extremity", "humanoid", "immobile", "intangible", "rewritable", "sapient", "scp"] | 2023-02-21T14:15:00 | 8,393 | 1,487 | SCP-7940 | null | SCP-7940 is assigned a humanoid containment cell at Site-403. Due to its low potential for disruption and record of loyalty to the Foundation, it is allowed to freely leave its containment cell to access common areas of Site-403 and areas relevant to its position as Senior Researcher. | SCP-7940 refers to Senior Researcher Ryan Tegen, a 30-year-old humanoid male. Its anomalous effect occurs when it attempts to bring its hand 45 centimeters above its head. This will cause an invisible ceiling to manifest above SCP-7940's hand. This ceiling will block the upward movement of SCP-7940 and inanimate objects it is holding, but is completely intangible to other living beings. | 2 | ## testing their assigned anomalies.
Day 180: The senior researchers assigned me to design a test procedure for an anomaly myself. How the hell do they expect me to do this? I’m not there yet; I still need to improve before I know how to design a test myself. I just know the basics of testing procedures. I’ll do my best, but I’m probably not going to do very well.
Day 185: I hit my hand on the ceiling earlier and bruised it. Stupid low ceilings. And something’s not right with the
---
## tests.
Day 840: We finally got our research to a point that the higher ups consider satisfactory. They said it was completed significantly faster than was expected, but I think that’s bullshit. It could have been done better. At the very least, I learned something from the experience, and I’ll be able to do better next time.
Also, I finally changed that light bulb. I’m not sure what was preventing me from doing it, but it seems to be gone now. I logged it as a minor extranormal event.
Day 2054: Over the past few years, it’s become clear to me I have some sort of anomalous property. I’m going to report it, but my supervisors will probably remove me from my position since I’m an anomaly. And honestly? I think it’s for the best.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned at this job, it’s that I’ll never be good at it. Or at least, I’ll never be as good as I want to be. Have I improved since I first came here? Yes, certainly. But it’s not enough. I’m still fucking up. I’m still making stupid mistakes. This stuff can get people killed if I keep like this. If they decide I stay as a researcher, I need to improve. I need to get past whatever’s stopping me.
Maybe one day I’ll reach those heights I never could.
It is believed SCP-7940’s anomalous effects became permanent shortly after the final entry was written. Due to SCP-7940’s record of high quality work, it was considered that strict containment procedures would only serve as a detriment to Foundation operations.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7940 " by ParallelPotatoes, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7940 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-1293 | SCP-1293 | scp | PeppersGhost
SCP-1293 - Squeedle Deedle Dee! by PeppersGhost
More by this author
Item #: SCP-1293
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All known specimens of SCP-1293 are to reside within a standard Containment Habitat at Bio-Site 12. Specimens of SCP-1293-A are to be engaged in Procedure 722-Ephraim once per month to avoid the production of SCP-1293-C. A minimum of fifteen (15) armed security personnel must be present within the habitat at all times to neutralize specimens of SCP-1293-C in the event that one is produced. Completed specimens of SCP-1293-A1 are to be photographed before consumption by SCP-1293-A. Personnel present within the habitat are not to attempt communication or physical interaction with specimens of SCP-1293-B during a Terpsichore Event.
Description: SCP-1293 is a species of humanoid creatures of unknown origin. Each specimen of SCP-1293 is unique in appearance, although all specimens generally resemble costumed human beings. Autopsies performed on deceased specimens have shown that SCP-1293 are completely unclothed, with skin, bone, and muscle tissue mimicking various types of fabric. SCP-1293 possess biological components resembling a human circulatory system, except the system carries and distributes multicolored balls of sugar instead of blood. SCP-1293 have no apparent nervous systems or digestive tracts, and do not require food, drink, or sleep. SCP-1293 possess no visible reproductive organs; however, 54% of SCP-1293 specimens are capable of reproduction. For the purpose of this document, such specimens will be considered female and referred to as SCP-1293-A, whereas male (non-reproducing) specimens will be referred to as SCP-1293-B.
SCP-1293-A vocally communicate in American English, speaking with masculine voices in a cheerful manner. Capable of reproduction, SCP-1293-A gestate their young for a period of roughly nine (9) months before giving birth to another specimen of SCP-1293. Newborn SCP-1293 emerge from their mothers fully matured in size and intelligence. SCP-1293-A deliver their young via their mouths, 1 which anomalously elongate to accommodate the child's size. Because newborn SCP-1293 are roughly the same size as their progenitors, it is presumed that gestation takes place inside an extradimensional space within SCP-1293-A. If SCP-1293-A are not impregnated 2 via Procedure 722-Ephraim, they will produce SCP-1293-C once per month until Procedure 722-Ephraim is executed.
SCP-1293-B are generally lethargic in nature and highly reclusive, avoiding contact with human beings and other specimens of SCP-1293. Unlike SCP-1293-A, SCP-1293-B have shown no capacity for speech. Every forty-five (45) days, SCP-1293-B will congregate and a Terpsichore Event will take place (see Addendum SCP-1293-1). Due to the precisely coordinated nature of Terpsichore Events, it is assumed that SCP-1293-B are capable of communicating telepathically.
SCP-1293-C are malevolent entities produced by SCP-1293-A if not impregnated via Procedure 722-Ephraim. SCP-1293-C differ from other specimens of SCP-1293 in that they generally possess large teeth, multiple arms, prehensile tongues, and elongated talons. SCP-1293-C are openly hostile toward human beings and will attempt to mutilate any individual they encounter.
Procedure 722-Ephraim is the process by which SCP-1293-A are impregnated. To begin the procedure, a child, aged 4 to 12 years old and belonging to an on-site personnel member, is to be introduced to the specimen of SCP-1293-A that is in heat. If SCP-1293-A decides that the child is suitable, it will regurgitate a sheet of paper (SCP-1293-A1) and a metal tin of Crayola-brand crayons (SCP-1293-A2). Using his or her imagination, the child must then draw a picture of a humanoid creature. If an adult human attempts to influence the child's drawing process, whether it be during the procedure or beforehand, SCP-1293-A will announce that the child is unsuitable and a different child must be selected. If SCP-1293-A deems the completed SCP-1293-A1 acceptable, it will devour it, thereby impregnating SCP-1293-A. The resulting SCP-1293 specimen will resemble the drawing on SCP-1293-A1.
Addendum SCP-1293-1: The following is a table listing examples of recorded Terpsichore Events:
Date
Event Description
04/17/1998
SCP-1293-B silently performed the choreography from the 1982 Broadway production Cats in its entirety.
11/02/1999
Splitting into four individual groups, SCP-1293-B performed all four acts of the Russian ballet La Bayadère 3 simultaneously.
08/14/2004
SCP-1293-B laid face-down in three separate rows and undulated their bodies in a wavelike motion on the ground for roughly five (5) hours.
05/09/2007
SCP-1293-B engaged in Filipino tinikling, 4 substituting bamboo with other SCP-1293-B.
01/22/2009
SCP-1293-B performed the choreography from music video for Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) for thirty-nine (39) seconds before quickly dispersing in different directions.
Addendum SCP-1293-2: The following is an interview conducted with a pregnant SCP-1293-A specimen. SCP-1293-A used a number of words and phrases that do not correspond to any known language. These have been transcribed phonetically for the readability and integrity of this interview.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Reeves: Good morning. How are you feeling?
SCP-1293-A-4: Squeedly deedly dee! I'm apsa-tapsa-lutely wonderful, mister nice person type man! My loin child should be ready for regurgitationing in two shakes of a lamb's tail!
Dr. Reeves: Very good. Now, please take a moment to explain your selection process for children used in Procedure 722-Ephraim.
SCP-1293-A-4: I only look for childrens that are goodly and pure of heart! They also must have great, big, whale-sized imaginations!
Dr. Reeves: You only accept children belonging to researchers assigned to your containment. Why is this?
SCP-1293-A-4: If I used a stranger's childrens, that would just be squeedly weedly weird! Do you want to see me do a merry jig?
Dr. Reeves: No, thank you.
( SCP-1293-A-4 disregards Dr. Reeves and begins dancing. )
SCP-1293-A-4: ( Singing ) Wibbly wibbly woo, I wish I could hug big, beautiful you! Shmiggly shmaggly shmarms, I sadly don't have any arms!
Dr. Reeves: That's quite enough. Please try to focus on the interview. What are SCP-1293-C?
SCP-1293-A-4: You mean my whoopsy-daisies? It's not polite to ask a lady-type about her special monthly times, mister nosy posy!
Dr. Reeves: Any information you could give us on the nature of SCP-1293-C would be greatly beneficial in preventing personnel casualties.
SCP-1293-A-4: I'm sorry they come out so mean and scary! If I don't have the childrens' imagination seed in my wooble spot, I sploosh out things from my own imagination, and I'm afraid that's a very squeedly scary place!
Dr. Reeves: I'm not sure I—
SCP-1293-A-4: Oh, dear! My loin child cometh!
( SCP-1293-A-4 expells SCP-1293-A-5 from its mouth. )
SCP-1293-A-5: Greetings, loin mother! I am child!
SCP-1293-A-4: It is a lady-type! I am the happy for I have childrens!
SCP-1293-A-4 and SCP-1293-A-5, simultaneously: Squeedle deedle dee!
<End Log>
Addendum SCP-1293-3: The following is a message sent to Bio-Site Director Roward by Dr. Goodwin:
Hello,
As you are aware, I have been the head researcher for SCP-1293 since Dr. Reeves was terminated for unrelated reasons. Having spent roughly a year observing SCP-1293, I have come to the conclusion that present documentation of SCP-1293—particularly in regard to SCP-1293-A's reproductive process—is inaccurate and in urgent need of revision.
When I was first transferred to this project, I was surprised that Dr. Reeves had based much of SCP-1293's documentation on testimony by SCP-1293-A specimens. Feeling that it was not sufficient to go by SCP-1293-A's words alone, I put in place a number of new research guidelines, including the discreet video monitoring of SCP-1293 during the 24 hours following Procedure 722-Ephraim. The footage that we have since obtained has shown that specimens SCP-1293-A and SCP-1293-B, do, in fact, mate, using a thin, red tendril that extends from the male's mouth to the female's. Frankly, I am appalled that such a crucial aspect of SCP-1293 has not been previously documented.
Now that we know SCP-1293 reproduce by mating, that leaves the question of what Procedure 722-Ephraim accomplishes, as well as the question of what SCP-1293-C are. I have a theory that I believe addresses both these issues:
Contrary to current documentation, SCP-1293 do indeed feed, empathically drawing sustenance from human emotion. SCP-1293-A feed on feelings of unease and perturbation, and SCP-1293-B feed on feelings of confusion and bewilderment. SCP-1293-B are easily capable of subsisting on the feelings expressed by research personnel during Terpsichore Events, but SCP-1293-A must employ more elaborate methods of feeding. In addition to unsettling the children, SCP-1293-A forces us to use our own kids as a ploy to provoke an emotional reaction from jaded Foundation personnel. If SCP-1293-A has gone without "food" for an extended length of time, it will release SCP-1293-C as an emergency defense mechanism.
In order to test this theory, I propose that a revised version of SCP-1293's special containment procedures will be used on a trial basis. SCP-1293-A and SCP-1293-B are to be kept in separate habitats, as I believe they should have been when initially contained. Procedure 722-Ephraim will be altered to use D-Class personnel who have been provided fabricated information about SCP-1293 to enhance their levels of discomfort and anxiety during the process. Finally, now that we know the purpose of Terpsichore Events, a similar D-Class procedure will be put in place to ensure that SCP-1293-B will still be able to feed.
It is regrettable that it took this long to see these things for what they are, but I hope that with this knowledge, we will be able to contain SCP-1293 with greater efficiency.
— Goodwin
Revisions to SCP-1293's documentation and containment procedures are currently underway.
Footnotes
1 . A similar orifice will be substituted if the mother does not possess a mouth.
2 . The word "pregnant" is used in this article to describe SCP-1293-A's state between the execution of Procedure 722-Ephraim and the birth of a new SCP-1293. SCP-1293-A cannot be considered pregnant in a literal sense as they have no reproductive organs.
3 . Also known as Баядерка and The Temple Dancer .
4 . A traditional native dance that involves stepping between two pieces of bamboo that are continuously knocked together.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1293 " by PeppersGhost, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1293 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 582 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "empathic", "euclid", "event-featured", "humanoid", "reproductive", "sapient", "scp", "species"] | 2013-06-04T22:32:00 | 10,979 | 1,674 | SCP-1293 | Euclid | All known specimens of SCP-1293 are to reside within a standard Containment Habitat at Bio-Site 12. Specimens of SCP-1293-A are to be engaged in Procedure 722-Ephraim once per month to avoid the production of SCP-1293-C. A minimum of fifteen (15) armed security personnel must be present within the habitat at all times to neutralize specimens of SCP-1293-C in the event that one is produced. Completed specimens of SCP-1293-A1 are to be photographed before consumption by SCP-1293-A. Personnel present within the habitat are not to attempt communication or physical interaction with specimens of SCP-1293-B during a Terpsichore Event. | SCP-1293 is a species of humanoid creatures of unknown origin. Each specimen of SCP-1293 is unique in appearance, although all specimens generally resemble costumed human beings. Autopsies performed on deceased specimens have shown that SCP-1293 are completely unclothed, with skin, bone, and muscle tissue mimicking various types of fabric. SCP-1293 possess biological components resembling a human circulatory system, except the system carries and distributes multicolored balls of sugar instead of blood. SCP-1293 have no apparent nervous systems or digestive tracts, and do not require food, drink, or sleep. SCP-1293 possess no visible reproductive organs; however, 54% of SCP-1293 specimens are capable of reproduction. For the purpose of this document, such specimens will be considered female and referred to as SCP-1293-A, whereas male (non-reproducing) specimens will be referred to as SCP-1293-B.
SCP-1293-A vocally communicate in American English, speaking with masculine voices in a cheerful manner. Capable of reproduction, SCP-1293-A gestate their young for a period of roughly nine (9) months before giving birth to another specimen of SCP-1293. Newborn SCP-1293 emerge from their mothers fully matured in size and intelligence. SCP-1293-A deliver their young via their mouths, 1 which anomalously elongate to accommodate the child's size. Because newborn SCP-1293 are roughly the same size as their progenitors, it is presumed that gestation takes place inside an extradimensional space within SCP-1293-A. If SCP-1293-A are not impregnated 2 via Procedure 722-Ephraim, they will produce SCP-1293-C once per month until Procedure 722-Ephraim is executed.
SCP-1293-B are generally lethargic in nature and highly reclusive, avoiding contact with human beings and other specimens of SCP-1293. Unlike SCP-1293-A, SCP-1293-B have shown no capacity for speech. Every forty-five (45) days, SCP-1293-B will congregate and a Terpsichore Event will take place (see Addendum SCP-1293-1). Due to the precisely coordinated nature of Terpsichore Events, it is assumed that SCP-1293-B are capable of communicating telepathically.
SCP-1293-C are malevolent entities produced by SCP-1293-A if not impregnated via Procedure 722-Ephraim. SCP-1293-C differ from other specimens of SCP-1293 in that they generally possess large teeth, multiple arms, prehensile tongues, and elongated talons. SCP-1293-C are openly hostile toward human beings and will attempt to mutilate any individual they encounter.
Procedure 722-Ephraim is the process by which SCP-1293-A are impregnated. To begin the procedure, a child, aged 4 to 12 years old and belonging to an on-site personnel member, is to be introduced to the specimen of SCP-1293-A that is in heat. If SCP-1293-A decides that the child is suitable, it will regurgitate a sheet of paper (SCP-1293-A1) and a metal tin of Crayola-brand crayons (SCP-1293-A2). Using his or her imagination, the child must then draw a picture of a humanoid creature. If an adult human attempts to influence the child's drawing process, whether it be during the procedure or beforehand, SCP-1293-A will announce that the child is unsuitable and a different child must be selected. If SCP-1293-A deems the completed SCP-1293-A1 acceptable, it will devour it, thereby impregnating SCP-1293-A. The resulting SCP-1293 specimen will resemble the drawing on SCP-1293-A1.
Addendum SCP-1293-1: The following is a table listing examples of recorded Terpsichore Events:
Date
Event Description
04/17/1998
SCP-1293-B silently performed the choreography from the 1982 Broadway production Cats in its entirety.
11/02/1999
Splitting into four individual groups, SCP-1293-B performed all four acts of the Russian ballet La Bayadère 3 simultaneously.
08/14/2004
SCP-1293-B laid face-down in three separate rows and undulated their bodies in a wavelike motion on the ground for roughly five (5) hours.
05/09/2007
SCP-1293-B engaged in Filipino tinikling, 4 substituting bamboo with other SCP-1293-B.
01/22/2009
SCP-1293-B performed the choreography from music video for Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) for thirty-nine (39) seconds before quickly dispersing in different directions.
Addendum SCP-1293-2: The following is an interview conducted with a pregnant SCP-1293-A specimen. SCP-1293-A used a number of words and phrases that do not correspond to any known language. These have been transcribed phonetically for the readability and integrity of this interview.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Reeves: Good morning. How are you feeling?
SCP-1293-A-4: Squeedly deedly dee! I'm apsa-tapsa-lutely wonderful, mister nice person type man! My loin child should be ready for regurgitationing in two shakes of a lamb's tail!
Dr. Reeves: Very good. Now, please take a moment to explain your selection process for children used in Procedure 722-Ephraim.
SCP-1293-A-4: I only look for childrens that are goodly and pure of heart! They also must have great, big, whale-sized imaginations!
Dr. Reeves: You only accept children belonging to researchers assigned to your containment. Why is this?
SCP-1293-A-4: If I used a stranger's childrens, that would just be squeedly weedly weird! Do you want to see me do a merry jig?
Dr. Reeves: No, thank you.
( SCP-1293-A-4 disregards Dr. Reeves and begins dancing. )
SCP-1293-A-4: ( Singing ) Wibbly wibbly woo, I wish I could hug big, beautiful you! Shmiggly shmaggly shmarms, I sadly don't have any arms!
Dr. Reeves: That's quite enough. Please try to focus on the interview. What are SCP-1293-C?
SCP-1293-A-4: You mean my whoopsy-daisies? It's not polite to ask a lady-type about her special monthly times, mister nosy posy!
Dr. Reeves: Any information you could give us on the nature of SCP-1293-C would be greatly beneficial in preventing personnel casualties.
SCP-1293-A-4: I'm sorry they come out so mean and scary! If I don't have the childrens' imagination seed in my wooble spot, I sploosh out things from my own imagination, and I'm afraid that's a very squeedly scary place!
Dr. Reeves: I'm not sure I—
SCP-1293-A-4: Oh, dear! My loin child cometh!
( SCP-1293-A-4 expells SCP-1293-A-5 from its mouth. )
SCP-1293-A-5: Greetings, loin mother! I am child!
SCP-1293-A-4: It is a lady-type! I am the happy for I have childrens!
SCP-1293-A-4 and SCP-1293-A-5, simultaneously: Squeedle deedle dee!
<End Log>
Addendum SCP-1293-3: The following is a message sent to Bio-Site Director Roward by Dr. Goodwin:
Hello,
As you are aware, I have been the head researcher for SCP-1293 since Dr. Reeves was terminated for unrelated reasons. Having spent roughly a year observing SCP-1293, I have come to the conclusion that present documentation of SCP-1293—particularly in regard to SCP-1293-A's reproductive process—is inaccurate and in urgent need of revision.
When I was first transferred to this project, I was surprised that Dr. Reeves had based much of SCP-1293's documentation on testimony by SCP-1293-A specimens. Feeling that it was not sufficient to go by SCP-1293-A's words alone, I put in place a number of new research guidelines, including the discreet video monitoring of SCP-1293 during the 24 hours following Procedure 722-Ephraim. The footage that we have since obtained has shown that specimens SCP-1293-A and SCP-1293-B, do, in fact, mate, using a thin, red tendril that extends from the male's mouth to the female's. Frankly, I am appalled that such a crucial aspect of SCP-1293 has not been previously documented.
Now that we know SCP-1293 reproduce by mating, that leaves the question of what Procedure 722-Ephraim accomplishes, as well as the question of what SCP-1293-C are. I have a theory that I believe addresses both these issues:
Contrary to current documentation, SCP-1293 do indeed feed, empathically drawing sustenance from human emotion. SCP-1293-A feed on feelings of unease and perturbation, and SCP-1293-B feed on feelings of confusion and bewilderment. SCP-1293-B are easily capable of subsisting on the feelings expressed by research personnel during Terpsichore Events, but SCP-1293-A must employ more elaborate methods of feeding. In addition to unsettling the children, SCP-1293-A forces us to use our own kids as a ploy to provoke an emotional reaction from jaded Foundation personnel. If SCP-1293-A has gone without "food" for an extended length of time, it will release SCP-1293-C as an emergency defense mechanism.
In order to test this theory, I propose that a revised version of SCP-1293's special containment procedures will be used on a trial basis. SCP-1293-A and SCP-1293-B are to be kept in separate habitats, as I believe they should have been when initially contained. Procedure 722-Ephraim will be altered to use D-Class personnel who have been provided fabricated information about SCP-1293 to enhance their levels of discomfort and anxiety during the process. Finally, now that we know the purpose of Terpsichore Events, a similar D-Class procedure will be put in place to ensure that SCP-1293-B will still be able to feed.
It is regrettable that it took this long to see these things for what they are, but I hope that with this knowledge, we will be able to contain SCP-1293 with greater efficiency.
— Goodwin
Revisions to SCP-1293's documentation and containment procedures are currently underway.
Footnotes
1 . A similar orifice will be substituted if the mother does not possess a mouth.
2 . The word "pregnant" is used in this article to describe SCP-1293-A's state between the execution of Procedure 722-Ephraim and the birth of a new SCP-1293. SCP-1293-A cannot be considered pregnant in a literal sense as they have no reproductive organs.
3 . Also known as Баядерка and The Temple Dancer .
4 . A traditional native dance that involves stepping between two pieces of bamboo that are continuously knocked together.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1293 " by PeppersGhost, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1293 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 2 | ## interview conducted with a pregnant SCP-1293-A specimen. SCP-1293-A used a number of words and phrases that do not correspond to any known language. These have been transcribed phonetically for the readability and integrity of this interview.
<Begin Log>
Dr. Reeves: Good morning. How are you feeling?
SCP-1293-A-4: Squeedly deedly dee! I'm apsa-tapsa-lutely wonderful, mister nice person type man! My loin child should be ready for regurgitationing in two shakes of a lamb's tail!
Dr. Reeves: Very good. Now, please take a moment to explain your selection process for children used in Procedure 722-Ephraim.
SCP-1293-A-4: I only look for childrens that are goodly and pure of heart! They also must have great, big, whale-sized imaginations!
Dr. Reeves: You only accept children belonging to researchers assigned to your containment. Why is this?
SCP-1293-A-4: If I used a stranger's childrens, that would just be squeedly weedly weird! Do you want to see me do a merry jig?
Dr. Reeves: No, thank you.
( SCP-1293-A-4 disregards Dr. Reeves and begins dancing. )
SCP-1293-A-4: ( Singing ) Wibbly wibbly woo, I wish I could hug big, beautiful you! Shmiggly shmaggly shmarms, I sadly don't have any arms!
Dr. Reeves: That's quite enough. Please try to focus on the
---
## documented.
Now that we know SCP-1293 reproduce by mating, that leaves the question of what Procedure 722-Ephraim accomplishes, as well as the question of what SCP-1293-C are. I have a theory that I believe addresses both these issues:
Contrary to current documentation, SCP-1293 do indeed feed, empathically drawing sustenance from human emotion. SCP-1293-A feed on feelings of unease and perturbation, and SCP-1293-B feed on feelings of confusion and bewilderment. SCP-1293-B are easily capable of subsisting on the feelings expressed by research personnel during Terpsichore Events, but SCP-1293-A must employ more elaborate methods of feeding. In addition to unsettling the children, SCP-1293-A forces us to use our own kids as a ploy to provoke an emotional reaction from jaded Foundation personnel. If SCP-1293-A has gone without "food" for an extended length of time, it will release SCP-1293-C as an emergency defense mechanism.
In order to test this theory, I propose that a revised version of SCP-1293's special containment procedures will be used on a trial basis. SCP-1293-A and SCP-1293-B are to be kept in separate habitats, as I believe they should have been when initially contained. Procedure 722-Ephraim will be altered to use D-Class personnel who have been provided fabricated information about SCP-1293 to enhance their levels of discomfort and anxiety during the process. Finally, now that we know the purpose of Terpsichore Events, a similar D-Class procedure will be put in place to ensure that SCP-1293-B will still be able to feed.
It is regrettable that it took this long to see these things for what they are, but I hope that with this knowledge, we will be able to contain SCP-1293 with greater efficiency.
— Goodwin
Revisions to SCP-1293's documentation and containment procedures are currently underway.
Footnotes
1 . A similar orifice will be substituted if the mother does not possess a mouth.
2 . The word "pregnant" is used in this article to describe SCP-1293-A's state between the execution of Procedure 722-Ephraim and the birth of a new SCP-1293. SCP-1293-A cannot be considered pregnant in a literal sense as they have no reproductive organs.
3 . Also known as Баядерка and The Temple Dancer .
4 . A traditional native dance that involves stepping between two pieces of bamboo that are continuously knocked together.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1293 " by PeppersGhost, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1293 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
pilot | Pilot - SCP Foundation | tale | CAPTION
THIS PROGRAM HAS BEEN REDACTED BY THE FOUNDATION ETHICS COMITTEE AND BY THE COGNITOHAZARD DEPARTMENT. REDACTED MATERIAL AVAILABLE ON LEVEL 5 CERTIFICATION.
SECURE - CONTAIN - PROTECT
FADE IN and PAN over a cluttered studio environment, styled as a more colorful and children-oriented version of a scientific research laboratory. Desks crowded with colorful bottles, prop machines and scientific measuring devices, and parts of animals preserved in jars surround an open stage. The walls and floor are heavily graffitied, and two sections of the wall graffiti have been digitally blurred.
PRESENTER #1 enters excitedly. He is a light-skinned man on his early twenties, wearing a purple lab coat over jeans and a tie-dyed T-shirt, as well as a top hat.
PRESENTER #1
Hello, boys and girls! Who's ready to learn some science with… Doctor Wondertainment?
The INTRODUCTION plays. It is a collage of various science-related stock photos and diagrams, set to a pseudo-zydeco soundtrack. The only lyrics are "Doctor Wondertainment".
BACK ON SCENE:
PRESENTER #2, a dark-skinned man of indeterminate age, is already on scene as it switches back. He is wearing loose basketball-themed gear under a blue lab coat and shutter shades. PRESENTER #1 is not to be seen.
PRESENTER #2
Welcome to the land of Science, boys and girls! I am Doctor Wondertainment, and today we will learn about… evolution!
CAPTION: EVOLUTION
Slide whistle plays, then spring noise. BACK ON SCENE.
PRESENTER #2
Evolution is how every living thing that exists today… can be descended from the same creature!
The following is a voice-over while a montage of animals, loosely ordered from primitive fish to amphibians, dinosaurs, mammals and primates plays.
PRESENTER #2 VOICE-OVER
Evolution in nature happens over many millions of years, as animals are born slightly different from their parents in each generation.
BACK ON SCENE.
PRESENTER #2
But Doctor Wondertainment can demonstrate evolution before your very eyes! Let's give a big hand to… Mr. Headless!
APPLAUSE. A headless man in a purple jumpsuit wheels a device into the scene. It is a cabin the size of a single person, covered in garish piping and independently spinning gears.
PRESENTER #2
This… is the Super Science Evolution Kit! We'll be showing what it can do, after the break!
ADVERTISING BREAK. Previous frame of Mr. Headless in front of the device frozen. Text on screen has been covered by black bars.
NARRATOR
Dr. Wondertainment's Super Science Evolution Kit and Dr. Wondertainment's Mr. Headless are available on select locations now! Call [7 seconds of electronic beep]
BACK ON SCENE. PRESENTER #3, a blonde woman possibly on her late twenties but made up to appear much younger, is the only one on stage. She's wearing a green lab coat over a pink tank top and shorts.
PRESENTER #3
Welcome back, boys and girls! For those of you that just tuned in, I'm Doctor Wondertainment, and it's time… to do science!
MISTER HEADLESS walks back into the scene, carrying an adult orange-black tabby cat. The cat is placed in the cabin and a clear plastic door is closed in front of it.
PRESENTER #3
Aw, isn't he cute? Just what creature was our kitty's great-grandfather? Let's find out! Science it up, boys!
The camera zooms closer to the device as it comes alive. The gears spin more quickly, lights blink and fog rises from the ground. The form inside is indistinct for a few seconds, after which the door opens and a large, fanged SMILODON jumps out.
PRESENTER #3 moves to pet the large cat.
PRESENTER #3
That's right! Cats were once very big, with huge saber teeth! But he's still such a honey, aren't you?
The video appears to skip. When it's back, the previous cat is in the cabin.
PRESENTER #3
We've seen our kitty's past. But… what is his future? Let's put some science into it!
The cabin operates in a similar manner to the first time. This time, the cat appears unchanged. As the camera pans around to follow the cat, one of the CAMERAMEN is briefly visible. He, or she, is concealed by a full hazmat suit.
PRESENTER #3
Aw, he looks the same! Come here, kitty, let me take a look at… BOO!
The cat quickly inflates into a near-spherical furry balloon with a distinct POP.
PRESENTER #3
That's right, it's Doctor Wondertainment's very own Puffer-Kitten! So cute and so cuddly. The future of pets, today! More after the break!
ADVERTISING BREAK. Montage shot of the puffed kittens and proto-cat over a colorful background. Text on screen has been redacted off.
NARRATOR
Dr. Wondertainment's Pufferkittens and Dr. Wondertainment's Smiley the Smilodon could be in your house tonight! Call [6 seconds of electronic beep]
BACK ON SCENE. PRESENTER #4 is now on stage. His/her face has been blurred out digitally, and his/her voice is similarly distorted. Only the clothes are clearly visible, a yellow lab coat over a full-body black latex suit.
PRESENTER #4
Welcome back, boys and girls! Doctor Wondertainment will now show you, what does evolution have in wait… for humans? Do we have a member of the audience willing to volunteer?
The camera spins around to focus on the AUDIENCE for the first time. It is composed entirely of dummies used in car crash testing, each one wearing a different kind of mask. Theatrical masks, protective sports masks, welding masks and gas masks are all visible.
PRESENTER #4
No one? Very well, we are prepared for that. Mister Headless?
MISTER HEADLESS comes in, carrying a conscious but drugged FEMALE probably in her late teens. APPLAUSE as she is placed into the cabin.
PRESENTER #4
Now, boys and girls… Let us do science.
The cabin operates as it did previously. The form walking out of it is shrouded by fog for a moment.
PRESENTER #4
Yes. Yes indeed. And here it is…
The FEMALE emerges from the fog. Her hair is bright pink, her eyes are shimmering gray-green, and feathered wings sprout from her spine with each step. She is clothed in a rippling, rapidly shifting fabric that appears self-willed. The video starts glitching as she moves forward.
A screech is heard as the camera falls over.
ADVERTISING BREAK. Black screen captioned REDACTED for the next 30 seconds.
NARRATOR
Dr. Wondertainment's [8 seconds of electronic beep] are waiting for you! Call [12 seconds of electronic beep]
CAPTION: NEXT EPISODE
VOICE-OVER
This is it for today, but next week Dr. Wondertainment will have a very special guest! The Doctor presents… Bobble the Clown!
SCENE SWITCHES to BOBBLE THE CLOWN staring at the camera with a knife on one hand and guts pulled out of an off-camera animal on the other.
BOBBLE THE CLOWN
HI, KIDS! WHO'S READY TO DO SOME FUCKING SCIENCE?
Black screen captioned REDACTED and electronic beep for the next six minutes, then black.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Pilot " by zaratustra, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/pilot . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 34 | ["_licensebox", "black-comedy", "bobble-the-clown", "body-horror", "comedy", "dr-wondertainment", "horror", "mister", "science-fiction", "tale"] | 2012-07-09T12:54:00 | 7,102 | 1,186 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-2208 | SCP-2208 | scp | SCP-2208: Deus In Furno
Sometimes, God just gets turned into a saucepan, okay?
▸ More by this Author ◂
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
SCP-2208 with testing cord and lid
Item #: SCP-2208
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2208 is to be kept in a Level 4 secure storage locker in Site-57. Personnel wishing to access SCP-2208 must obtain permission from the Site Director. Instances of SCP-2208-A are to be cataloged and placed in non-hazardous storage. 1 Full-body protection must be worn at all times when testing SCP-2208.
Description: SCP-2208 is a 2-quart ██████-brand stainless steel saucepan. The inside is coated in a nonstick polymer believed to be polytetrafluoroethylene. 2 The handle has been modified to include a USB standard-A receptacle, the purpose of which has yet to be determined investigation of which is pending. 3 SCP-2208 does not transfer heat as a stainless steel saucepan should, and heat testing up to 2,300°C has been unable to warm its surface.
When a human subject makes skin contact with any part of SCP-2208, there is a 29% chance the subject will be transformed into a saucepan (SCP-2208-A) in a process that takes ~0.8 seconds. Instances of SCP-2208-A match SCP-2208's appearance, apart from the lack of USB receptacle; they are otherwise non-anomalous. Subjects unaffected by initial contact with SCP-2208 are able to safely handle it thereafter. 4 A predictive pattern of SCP-2208's effects has yet to be determined.
Interview 2208-01
Interviewed: J██████ Nuñez
Interviewer: Agent Alvarez-Montaña
Foreword: SCP-2208 was recovered from the home of J██████ Nuñez of Westway, Texas, USA, along with 145 other saucepans believed to be instances of SCP-2208-A. The home was raided after a four-month federal investigation into the disappearances of more than ███ individuals from the area. Foundation agents embedded with the FBI were alerted to SCP-2208's anomalous properties after 3 federal and 1 Foundation agent were converted into instances of SCP-2208-A. The object was recovered by a federal agent immune to its effects, and Ms. Nuñez was questioned by the Foundation. Interview translated from Spanish.
<Begin Log>
Agent Alvarez: What can you tell us about the saucepan we recovered from your home? The one that transforms people.
Ms. Nuñez: God created man in His own image.
Agent Alvarez: I don't understand.
Ms. Nuñez: God does not make mistakes.
Agent Alvarez: I don't know what you mean. Maybe you can explain why you haven't been changed? I'm sure you've touched it. Is there a reason why some are changed and some aren't?
Ms. Nuñez: You and I, we are unworthy. I brought more and more faithful to him, yet still am I forsaken. [begins to cry] Why am I not worthy?
Agent Alvarez: Make sure you tell the Bureau about that later. [pauses] Are you sure you don't know anything more about how it works, or why?
Ms. Nuñez: God does not make mistakes, Mister Agent. If God were to change, His image would change, also.
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Ms. Nuñez was remanded to FBI custody after a standard containment period and administration of amnestics. She cooperated with authorities in locating the remains of the ███ individuals not accounted for by SCP-2208-A instances and was charged in their deaths.
Addendum 2208-02: On ██/██/20██, while performing routine testing on SCP-2208's USB receptacle, Junior Researcher L███ was simultaneously recharging an MP3 player via USB on the test computer, in violation of testing procedures. After testing was complete, Junior Researcher L███ discovered a new file on his device, named "un_w721g.mp3" and remanded his MP3 player to custody for study. A transcript of the audio file follows.
[File begins with 4 seconds of white noise, followed by a surprised feminine voice.]
Ow! What? What's this? Hello? Is that you guys? Listen, I haven't had anything to work with in like two months. Is that why you missed my last couple paychecks? It's been a while. I'm not a charity here! I've got expenses! And all these other people you sent in, they're starting to smell. It's been a while. Look, either you get me some new material, you pay me, or you find yourself a new employee. Once I figure out how to get out of here, anyway. It's been a while.
Containment procedures are currently under review.
Footnotes
1 . Next of kin are to be informed of death and loss of remains per Foundation Ethics Protocol 283-A-5: Family and Survivors With Unrecoverable Remains.
2 . Marketed as "Teflon". Materials testing has not been possible.
3 . See Addendum 2208-02.
4 . For a list of personnel immune to the effects of SCP-2208, reference Document 2208-02-b.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-2208 " by TL333s, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2208 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: scp-2208.jpg
Name: A Thermo-Electric Saucepan?
Author: Paul Gardner-Stephen
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: Link | 31 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "artifact", "safe", "scp", "tactile", "transfiguration"] | 2015-11-24T19:39:00 | 5,146 | 836 | SCP-2208 | Safe | SCP-2208 is to be kept in a Level 4 secure storage locker in Site-57. Personnel wishing to access SCP-2208 must obtain permission from the Site Director. Instances of SCP-2208-A are to be cataloged and placed in non-hazardous storage. 1 Full-body protection must be worn at all times when testing SCP-2208. | SCP-2208 is a 2-quart ██████-brand stainless steel saucepan. The inside is coated in a nonstick polymer believed to be polytetrafluoroethylene. 2 The handle has been modified to include a USB standard-A receptacle, the purpose of which has yet to be determined investigation of which is pending. 3 SCP-2208 does not transfer heat as a stainless steel saucepan should, and heat testing up to 2,300°C has been unable to warm its surface.
When a human subject makes skin contact with any part of SCP-2208, there is a 29% chance the subject will be transformed into a saucepan (SCP-2208-A) in a process that takes ~0.8 seconds. Instances of SCP-2208-A match SCP-2208's appearance, apart from the lack of USB receptacle; they are otherwise non-anomalous. Subjects unaffected by initial contact with SCP-2208 are able to safely handle it thereafter. 4 A predictive pattern of SCP-2208's effects has yet to be determined. | 4 | ## testing cord and lid
Item #: SCP-2208
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2208 is to be kept in a Level 4 secure storage locker in Site-57. Personnel wishing to access SCP-2208 must obtain permission from the Site Director. Instances of SCP-2208-A are to be cataloged and placed in non-hazardous storage. 1 Full-body protection must be worn at all times when testing SCP-2208.
Description: SCP-2208 is a 2-quart ██████-brand stainless steel saucepan. The inside is coated in a nonstick polymer believed to be polytetrafluoroethylene. 2 The handle has been modified to include a USB standard-A receptacle, the purpose of which has yet to be determined investigation of which is pending. 3 SCP-2208 does not transfer heat as a stainless steel saucepan should, and heat testing up to 2,300°C has been unable to warm its surface.
When a human subject makes skin contact with any part of SCP-2208, there is a 29% chance the subject will be transformed into a saucepan (SCP-2208-A) in a process that takes ~0.8 seconds. Instances of SCP-2208-A match SCP-2208's appearance, apart from the lack of USB receptacle; they are otherwise non-anomalous. Subjects unaffected by initial contact with SCP-2208 are able to safely handle it thereafter. 4 A predictive pattern of SCP-2208's effects has yet to be determined.
---
## Interview 2208-01
Interviewed: J██████ Nuñez
Interviewer: Agent Alvarez-Montaña
Foreword: SCP-2208 was recovered from the home of J██████ Nuñez of Westway, Texas, USA, along with 145 other saucepans believed to be instances of SCP-2208-A. The home was raided after a four-month federal investigation into the disappearances of more than ███ individuals from the area. Foundation agents embedded with the FBI were alerted to SCP-2208's anomalous properties after 3 federal and 1 Foundation agent were converted into instances of SCP-2208-A. The object was recovered by a federal agent immune to its effects, and Ms. Nuñez was questioned by the Foundation. Interview translated from Spanish.
<Begin Log>
Agent Alvarez: What can you tell us about the saucepan we recovered from your home? The one that transforms people.
Ms. Nuñez: God created man in His own image.
Agent Alvarez: I don't understand.
Ms. Nuñez: God does not make mistakes.
Agent Alvarez: I don't know what you mean. Maybe you can explain why you haven't been changed? I'm sure you've touched it. Is there a reason why some are changed and some aren't?
Ms. Nuñez: You and I, we are unworthy. I brought more and more faithful to him, yet still am I forsaken. [begins to cry] Why am I not worthy?
Agent Alvarez: Make sure you tell the Bureau about that later. [pauses] Are you sure you don't know anything more about how it works, or why?
Ms. Nuñez: God does not make mistakes, Mister Agent. If God were to change, His image would change, also.
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Ms. Nuñez was remanded to FBI custody after a standard containment period and administration of amnestics. She cooperated with authorities in locating the remains of the ███ individuals not accounted for by SCP-2208-A instances and was charged in their deaths.
---
## Addendum 2208-02.
4 . For a list of personnel immune to the effects of SCP-2208, reference
---
## Document 2208-02-b.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-2208 " by TL333s, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2208 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: scp-2208.jpg
Name: A Thermo-Electric Saucepan?
Author: Paul Gardner-Stephen
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: Link | |
a-once-and-future-king | Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology - SCP Foundation | tale | Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology
Byㅤ AriadnesThread
Published on 26 Mar 2024 20:32
Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology
74:2 (February 2017), pp. 15-49.
© Foundation Publishing (Site-43), 2017.
doi: 491802131745650
A Once and Future King : The Intersection of Folklore and Popular Religion in the Field of Tactical Theology
Ariadne M. Cooper, PhD.
I. Abstract
In this article, I seek to explore the many ways that traditional approaches to anomalous theology have excluded popular and/or folk religious practices - particularly in the nascent discipline of Tactical Theology. 1 The influence and importance of cultural or legendary heroes, superstitions and fables, as well as non-Western oral traditions remains woefully esoteric to many researchers in anomalous religious warfare, due large part to the complex legacies of postcolonial globalization, particularly in the Twentieth Century. However, modern era anomalous events such as the successful summoning of at least five Bergentrückung during the First World War clearly indicates the significant power of these nontraditional concepts of divine authority, and the need for Tactical Theology to pivot and incorporate a broader definition of religious expression and ritual in order to be prepared for future containment needs and conflict resolution.
II. Folklore, Oral Traditions, & the Bergentrückung
In 1955, American Folklorist Stith Thompson created a motif-index system to identify tropes and constants across legends and mythology within ethnic and historical groups. 2 Thompson catalogued splinter motifs within folklore tales, particularly amongst those of legendary heroes, identifying thousands of categories and subcategories within regional iterations of similar tales, which has allowed for both literary and historical analysis of the manner in which these tales spread between peoples, as well as the cultural beliefs represented by the surviving elements in each saga.
One prominent motif which often repeats in folklore is that of the Bergentrückung , or 'king asleep in the mountain'. 3 In these stories, a mythical hero or ruler from the past has gone to a remote place to sleep and wait for the time that they are once more needed to save their people from unspecified but great danger. 4 Arguably the most famed versions of the motif are those of King Arthur and Frederick Barbarossa of the Holy Roman Empire, however there are well over a hundred versions of similar heroes in repose worldwide, with varying augers of events which would be required to predicate their return. Although none of these Bergentrückung have established what would be considered cults of worship in the traditional sense of the term, a lasting belief in the supposed aid that they could provide in a time of cultural crisis has persisted into the modern era through the stories and sagas passed down through history.
During the early stages of World War I, at least five Bergentrückung were successfully awakened to defend their ancestral lands, identified collectively by the Foundation as SCP-4918 . 5 Of particular interest is the fact that in at least two cases, the Bergentrückung summoned had previously been considered to be fictional constructs rather than historical personages, while two others appear as they did the prior to their documented demises. 6
While the details of the rituals used in these resurrections are still poorly understood, interviews and incidents with the entities have indicated that although successful in their execution, circumstances were less than ideal for the return of these entities and in some cases may have been directly orchestrated in order to ensure a positive result. Of particular note, Barbarossa 7 stated to the Foundation that upon his awakening, he found the dead ravens which had been stated as the augur for his return shot by German soldiers. While the sustained cultural belief of the ability to return "at the moment of their people's greatest need" 8 was noted as a necessary predicate of the successful Bergentrückung summoning, it is surprising that other parts of the ritual could be coerced via direct manipulation into functionality. 9 Thus, a clear link could be established between the conceptional definition of a religious entity and humanity's interaction with it. This represented an important pivot in the approaches of applied and tactical theology, not only for the Foundation in their continued containment efforts but for global geopolitical and military actors as well.
III. Defining Theological Anomalies
As with most academic fields, Tactical Theology has continually grappled with taxonomy and categorization when attempting to define its own ideological boundaries. Since its founding in 1951, disagreements about the classification of parareligions 10 , the lack of research into non-Western traditions (as well as the concurrent issues of Orientalism and colonialist mindset), along with prescriptive classifications of deific beings often stymied the work of parahistorians and theologians, particularly in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Ironically, the discovery of Akiva radiation and its role in the interaction of worship, faith, and reality initially limited the scope of research as the focus on overcoming the 'generation question' 11 as well as the interaction with known anomalous markers 12 in the hopes that standardization of scientific theory around faith-based anomalies would result in greater understanding and ease of containment. Unfortunately, as is often the case with discovery, research did not uncover a single answer but instead dozens of avenue of future inquiry, and an answer for the Generation Problem remains elusive.
However, rather than be frustrated by the lack of a unified theory, researchers were instead presented with clear evidence that the boundary between organized and popular religious belief is far more fluid than once thought. The Bergentrückung of SCP-4918 represent but one modern example of belief having an anomalous impact upon reality, the intersection of popular religious and cultural traditions harnessed deliberately for use during conventional warfare. 13 The historical worldview which traditionally excluded popular religious expression, cultural heroes and folk legends, and other outsider delineations of what might 'count' as religion is one that can no longer be afforded.
IV. Conclusions
The purpose of this argument is not to discourage the pursuit of further understanding in any form, particularly the desire to move towards a standard theory even of the anomalous world. One could successfully argue that there are few things more human than the continued desire to know with certainty how their surroundings work, and it would be just as foolish to discount the quantifiable components of theology than it would be to write off belief itself as entirely unworthy of study. However clinical the tactical calculus of the military leaders in World War I could claim to be, there were at least five successful resurrections of kings and cultural heroes of the glorious past by those same leaders, made ultimately possible by the power of belief.
The intersection of science and faith has always been contentious, the resulting discoveries and innovations often seem to work to invalidate one view or the other. In order to properly contextualize the research in the field of tactical theology - past, present, and future - it falls upon all of us to recognize that if we fail to acknowledge and correct for implicit biases, we may fail in our stated mission entirely to secure, contain, and protect against the anomalous. As T.H. White once famously stated (using the voice of Merlin), "There is only one thing for it then — to learn… That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting… Look what a lot of things there are to learn." 14
Footnotes
1 . With gratitude to Drs. al-Taqi and Leiner for their continuing support and guidance.
2 . Thompson, Stith (1955). Motif index of folk-literature : a classification of narrative elements in folktales, ballads, myths … rev. and enlarged ed. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Note that at six volumes, the index is extensive yet by no means exhaustive.
3 . It should be noted that while the more famous versions of these tales tend to be of Eurasian descent, oral traditions in this motif have been found in both Pre-Columbian Americas, South-East Asia, and in various denomination of nearly every major world religion. For further reading, see Thompson, Stith (1977), The Folktale, University of California Press, pp. 264–265 and Ó hÓgáin, Dáithí (1991), "Has the Time Come?' (MLSIT 8009): The Barbarossa Legend in Ireland and Its Historical Background", Béaloideas, 59: 197–207.
4 . While this story is commonly associated with the presence of ravens, this is not limited to Germanic traditions where the association of Óðinn would be more easily explained.
5 . Identified individually as King Arthur of Camelot (hero of various English and Breton sagas), Fionn mac Cumhaill (hero of the Irish Fenian Cycle), Väinämöinen (Hero of the Finnish saga Kalevala ), Frederick Barbarossa of the Holy Roman Empire, and Sir Francis Drake of England. For clarity, proper names will be used henceforth rather than the established SCP designation.
6 . It should be noted that since the interview with Barbarossa by Foundation personnel in 2018, Francis Drake has been identified as [ REDACTED AT REQUEST OF THE OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY-GENERAL OF NATO ].
7 . Currently living under the pseudonym Frederick Bismarck, a member of the European Democratic Party in the European Union Parliament.
8 . D 1960.2 in Stith Thompson's motif index system.
9 . For similar methods of compelled worship, see al-Taqi, "Parchinkari as Control: Report on the Use of pietra dura cognitohazards in Imperial Mughal Indian Architecture", Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology , 64:12 (Dec 2010), pp. 1-21.
10 . Many researchers initially objected to the separation of Mekhanism, Fifthism, et. al. from other religious movements as artificially applied, particularly as many of these religious beliefs were as ancient as Abrahamic or Vedic traditions. Parareligions were later clarified to specify religions whose posture is by default anti-Veil.
11 . For further reading, see Yossarian Leiner, "Akiva Radiation and Faith-based Containment: Addressing the Generation Problem" Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology , 59:7 (July 2002), pp. 67-99.
12 . Humes and EVEs in particular, although for a time the chase for a faith-based elementary particle, comparable to the search for the Higgs-Boson by physicists, consumed a great deal of the research community. To date, no particles, elementary and/or anomalous have been proven to exist within Akiva fields.
13 . For other non-Foundation examples of popular religious weaponization of the anomalous, see SCP-3457 , SCP-7892 , and SCP-6109 .
14 . White, T. H. 1906-1964, The Once and Future King. New York, Ace Books, 1987.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Dokein: A Journal for Tactical Theology " by AriadnesThread, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/a-once-and-future-king . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 28 | ["_licensebox", "mythological", "religious-fiction", "tactical-theology", "tale", "worldbuilding"] | 2024-03-26T20:32:00 | 11,527 | 1,806 | 0 | ||||||
hartliss-detective-agency | Hartliss Detective Agency - SCP Foundation | tale | Capone's 'Outfit' operates out of South Chicago with impunity, handing out stacks of green to keep everyone minding their own damn business. And if the green ain't green enough? A couple pounds of lead in your belly ought to do the trick.
One of the only men with the moxie to stand up to the Outfit is Hymie Weiss — 'The Perfumed Burglar'. But moxie only gets you so far. Weiss' North Side Gang is the mom-and-pop store to Al Capone's Sears Catalog . Capone's got the muscle, the cash, and — unlike Weiss — hasn't managed to piss off nearly every crook in the Windy City. He's got Weiss on the ropes — and that's made Weiss desperate.
And if there's one thing desperate men are good at, it's filling up morgues.
Place stinks of chemicals. I pull out a foil-sleeved stick of gum from my pocket, unwrap it, and shove it into my mouth. Meanwhile, Dr. Dalewood — Chicago's pre-eminent forensic pathologist — makes his way toward the large metal plates that line the wall. He disengages the locking mechanism on one of them, then casts a glance back my way. "You sure you're up to this?"
I mash the gum against the back of my mouth. "You sure you want that twenty?"
A week ago, a stoolie set to testify against one of Capone's boys ended up in the hospital over a case of 'acute lead poisoning'. Four slugs in the brain. Doctors didn't expect him to make it through the night. Suddenly, Hymie Weiss shows up with his own personal physician. Two days later? The stoolie walked into the courtroom and sang his little heart out. Must have been a stressful performance — he croaked the next day. 'Brain aneurysm'.
The doctor grabs hold of the handle and heaves back. The tray rolls out with a loud, obnoxious rattle — revealing a shrouded corpse stretched across the slab.
Two days ago, Capone sent a specialist to 'ventilate' one of Weiss' Northboys. Witnesses claimed the bastard ate over twenty rounds before buying it. Police are keeping it hush hush, but Mr. Gallant has it on good word that the corpse was still crawling two hours later. They eventually just set the damn thing on fire.
Dr. Dalewood pulls the sheet back. He has to work at it; some of the linen sticks to the corpse's face and chest. Underneath are the burnt remains of Mr. Charles Montgomery — one of Weiss' personal body-guards.
Not much to work with. But I've done more with less.
I fish the wad out of my mouth and walk on over to the body, sticking the gum to the side of the tray. Then, reaching down, I squeeze Mr. Montgomery's blackened, blistered cheeks. Bits of charred flesh crack and splinter under my fingers. His jaw pops open like a released spring, exposing crooked teeth inside of a still-pink mouth.
The doctor takes a few steps back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him making the sign of the cross.
Words never meant to be spoken by a human tongue leave my mouth. I follow them with a question to Mr. Montgomery: "Who gave you life beyond life?"
I lower my head and kiss his melted lips, breathing warmth into his lungs.
My hands go to his chest. As I pull back, I push down against his sternum. Bones creak and pop — something gives. A surge of fetid air gushes out from him, accompanied by a raspy whisper.
Volo… dya…
Satisfied, I retrieve my gum and step away, poking the wad back into my mouth. But then I hear Dalewood cry out.
"Mother of God!"
I turn. Mr. Montgomery seems to have regained his zeal for life. His upper torso convulses; he's trying to breathe on his own.
I grab the bone chisel from the surgical tray next to me and slam it down between his eyes. It sinks in about an inch. He keeps jerking. I seize a nearby hammer and start beating at that chisel, forcing it deeper. After the seventh hit, his convulsions have dwindled to tiny spasms. After hit number sixteen, he's just a twitching heap of cooked meat.
"God in Heaven." Dalewood mumbles a prayer to himself. Meanwhile, I hold the hammer up, ready to strike again.
Twitch. Twitch. Twitch.
Nothing.
That's when I see it. Something wriggling inside of his mouth. At first, I think it's his tongue — but it's the wrong color. A sickly, pearl-like white. Too pale, and too long. Leaning forward, I narrow my eyes and get a closer look.
A segmented worm pokes its head out from the back of his throat. It looks like a bloated, over-sized pupa. The thing stretches and undulates, squeezing bulges from its tip down to where it's gotten stuck — trying to push itself free. I tap Mr. Montgomery's mouth shut with the hammer.
Dalewood's looking a little green around the gills. He's flattened himself against the far wall, staring at me and the corpse.
"Alright," I tell him. "We need to stitch his mouth shut, quick. Also, you got an incinerator down here?"
After I clean myself up and pay Dalewood for his trouble, I climb the steps back up into the police station and use their phone to call the number Mr. Gallant gave me.
September's voice responds: "Mr. Hartliss. You'll take the case?"
"Ten dollars a day to cover expenses. Three hundred when the job is done. And I'll need a hundred up front, right now."
"Those terms seem rather excessive."
"The case is excessive. You're asking me to take on a lot of risk." I glance around to make sure none of the flat-foots are listening in. "I can track Weiss' new ally for you, but it won't be easy. Whoever they are, they're dangerous."
"You already have a lead?" She sounds surprised. I savor it. September isn't the sort who's easily impressed.
"Yeah. It ain't the Spirit. How much do you and your boss know about Sarkicism ?"
The line goes quiet for a while.
"September?"
"You suspect Sarkic involvement."
"I don't 'suspect' a goddamn thing. I know . I've also got a name: Volodya. You recognize it?"
Again, quiet.
"Look, lady, I don't deal with dramatic silence that well. You familiar with the name or not?"
"We are familiar with Iga Volodya's work," she tells me. "I'll have my office forward you our information on her, and wire the money to your account. We'll need daily reports from you — you are to locate her and determine her involvement with Mr. Weiss. Nothing else. Are these terms agreeable?"
"Nothing about this is agreeable, September. But it'll do." I hang up.
Finding out that Weiss' silent partner isn't the Chicago Spirit is a relief. Guys like Capone and Weiss will spill your guts, sure — but a guy like Richard Chappell ? He'll putrefy those guts, blend 'em into a milkshake, then make you drink while your family watches.
Not like the Sarkites are much better, though. They're older than dirt and use words like 'quaint' and 'rustic' to describe acts of cannibalism. They've got dynasties spanning back hundreds — if not thousands — of years. Their only saving grace is that they're too old — modernity baffles them. I once watched one struggle for ten minutes to figure out how to answer a goddamn telephone.
After a night of rest, I arrive in the Polish Downtown. Crowded tenement housing looms on either side of the street; the scent of sauerkraut and boiled hot-dogs wafts from a nearby food-cart. A newsboy stands on the corner, trying to pass yesterday's papers as today's news.
I reach into my coat pocket and squeeze my pistol — taking comfort in its weight.
The Gallant Society has been keeping tabs on Iga Volodya since the 1800s. September's file on her reads like a pastiche of half a dozen horror stories. Mothers giving birth to bulbous knots of mandrake root — their unborn children snatched from their very wombs. Babies sown into blood-drenched soil, only to grow into sobbing saplings that bleed when cut. Human heads sprouting from the branches of trees .
Y'know, basic Sarkic stuff.
Volodya was born in Russia, but left with her kids and grand-kids for Poland. Immigration papers describe her as ' a simple turnip farmer '. To everyone else, she's Baba Yaga. September's files hint that she's had a hand in everything from Rasputin's rise to power to the influenza pandemic of 1918. Whoever she is, she's a fully ordained Karcist — the Sarkic equivalent of a Catholic Cardinal.
In other words? I'm to her what a card-sharp is to Harry frigging Houdini.
But even a card-sharp can pull a fast one on a master when the master isn't paying attention.
I slip past the store-fronts and tenement complexes, making my way through the alleyways that weave in and out of the spaces in-between. Closing my eyes, I walk and breathe — counting back from a hundred. The scents and sounds behind me shrink away. Little by little, the world dissolves.
Most people who live here only see one city. A few can see two or three. If you're real clever, you know there's more than can be counted — each stacked on top of another, like an infinitely nested Matryoshka doll.
I hold my breath, peel back Chicago's layers, and open my eyes.
The alleyway is now crooked and wrong. Pink veins snake through the walls to my left and right; they pulse with a hidden heartbeat. In the distance, a heavy, yellow smog obscures the skyline. What was previously a dead tom-cat is now alive and growling, lazily grooming its spilled entrails.
I pull out my .45 and start walking.
Volodya immigrated here from Poland in 1921. She claimed she wanted to spend time with her family. Five bucks says Weiss — a Polish immigrant himself — is part of the family she was referring to.
Finding her won't be hard. I tuck the .45 under my sleeve and follow the veins, tracing them back to their source. They lead me around a corner — past a bakery where all the pastries are stuffed full of glistening viscera — past a man selling toys with blood on his hands.
All the veins stretch out to meet a single building. It's a slouched 3-story tenement in the poorest part of town. As I approach, I can hear the faint beat of a heart. It's getting louder with every step.
I slip in through the back door and up the stairs. The railing is made of cracked, splintered femurs; they are fastened together with wet, slick sinew. On the walls, a symbol is scrawled over and over again — a crooked spiral of yellow. The boards under my feet whimper with pain.
The heart-beat is deafening. I enter the hall; the walls and floors are made of pale, pulsating flesh. Root-like fibers dangle from the ceiling above. The door where all the veins converge is a misshapen, bulbous thing; it's covered in tumors and pustules, each throbbing with the pulse.
I breathe. The world around me shudders and collapses. I am standing in an ordinary hall, in front of an ordinary door. There is no one with me. I reach out and knock on the door.
No answer.
I knock again. "Ma'am? This is Officer Dalewood, with the Chicago PD. I was hoping to ask you a few questions."
Still no answer.
I give the hallway another look-over — still no one around. Then, I take a step back and slam the heel of my boot into the space directly beneath the lock. After three solid kicks, the wood splinters. After the fifth, it snaps and gives.
The door swings open. I step in.
Iga Volodya's eyes meet mine.
She's tied to a bed on the other side of the room, surrounded by a dozen or more sticks of smoldering incense. The space is filled with stacks of glass cylinders framed in brass — each filled with a pale yellow liquid. Segmented worms are suspended in the fluid — the same kind of worm I found in Mr. Montgomery's throat. Numerous medical textbooks litter the floor, with surgical equipment arranged neatly on a nearby tray.
The incense is for the smell, I'm guessing — but it's not nearly enough. Iga Volodya is split open from throat to pelvis, folds of flesh pinned back with needles; her organs throb with every beat of her still-functioning heart. Inside of her, more of the white worms — smaller pupae — wriggle and twist inside of her guts. She stares at me from where she's bound, watching me with those pitch-black eyes.
She's not the one helping Weiss. She's being used — harvested . Someone's kept her locked up here, using her to grow and cultivate these things.
Her cracked lips peel back to expose yellow, broken teeth. She opens her mouth, starting to make a wheezing sound — is she trying to speak? It looks like her tongue's been carved out.
No, she's not trying to speak.
She's laughing .
I see the length of loose tripwire on the floor. I see where it attached to the now broken door. And then I see the grenade bolted to the wall to my right — the grenade that's missing its pin.
As the world explodes around me, I suck in a breath and dive deeper into Chicago than I've ever dived before.
Next: The Long Goodbye
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Hartliss Detective Agency " by The Great Hippo, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/hartliss-detective-agency . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 129 | ["_licensebox", "chicago-spirit", "crime-fiction", "first-person", "mystery", "otherworldly", "period-piece", "reviewers-spotlight", "sarkic", "tale"] | 2017-07-17T02:09:00 | 12,928 | 2,325 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-7524 | SCP-7524 | scp | 1/7524 LEVEL 1/7524
CLASSIFIED
Item #: SCP-7524
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7524 is kept in a low-security containment locker at Site-18. PoI-76293 remains at large.
Description: SCP-7524 is a modified NES Zapper video game controller attached by several cables to an improvised anomalous electronic device contained within a briefcase. When aimed at a character in any kind of video media and fired, the object "kills" the targeted character; characters affected by SCP-7524 do not appear in any subsequent playings of affected media on the device initially targeted. Despite this disruption, events in affected media continue as they normally would despite the absence of deleted characters. Actors who portray deleted characters are unaffected by the anomaly, even if they play themselves.
Addendum: Creation and Discovery
SCP-7524 was found in the home of Edward "Hertz" Nguyen (known to the Foundation and classified as PoI-76293), a hacker and software pirate with ties to Veiled criminal mischief collective "Gamers Against Weed" (GoI-5869). At the time of the object's discovery, Nguyen was on Foundation-mandated probation; therefore, records from within his home showing the circumstances leading to the creation of SCP-7524 have been recorded and are known to the Foundation.
Begin Log
Date: March 17, 2022
Footage taken within Nguyen's apartment shows him sitting at a table in his dining room and eating soup from a large, steaming bowl. The television, situated above the recording device and out of view, is turned on and tuned to CBS. Nothing of note happens for two minutes.
Nguyen reaches down to scratch the area of his leg under his ankle monitor. Nothing of note happens for four minutes.
A commercial for a local business (identified as Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars of Norristown, Pennsylvania) begins to play. Its audio is considerably louder than anything that has played on the television before that point.
Speaker (Regis Baumbach): Are we the best? Our sources say yes!
Nguyen, startled, spills his soup into his lap. The bowl falls to the floor and breaks into two pieces. On the television, the commercial continues.
Unknown (in unison with an explosion sound effect): Yahoo!
Baumbach: That's right, Norristown — Baumbach's back, baby! And we've still got the best rates -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The best payment plans -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen, now standing, looks disgustedly down at his pants and the bowl before starting towards the television. He hits the side of his abdomen on the edge of his dining table and doubles over, cursing.
Baumbach: And the best selection of cars anywhere! Get the new 2022 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $200 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The new 2022 Chrysler 300 for $130 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the 2022 Ram 1500 for zero down! That's right — zero down!
Unknown: Yah-
Nguyen, clutching his side, turns off the television. He straightens, turns back toward the dinner table, and curses under his breath.
For the next few weeks, nothing of note occurred; Nguyen reflexively muted the Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars advertisement whenever it came on as he was watching television. The next recorded instance of the commercial indirectly inconveniencing Nguyen occurred on March twenty-ninth.
Date: March 29, 2022
The television is on and tuned to CBS, but Nguyen is not visible. Prior to the events of this log, Nguyen had adjusted its volume to a higher level than usual. Four library books ( The Road by Cormac McCarthy, The Maxwellists: Those who Evolved when their Church Couldn't by Andrea Whitford, JALAKÅRA's Web: a History of Three Moons Censorship by Roger Greenbaum, and It Starts With Us by Colleen Hoover) are in a pile on the glass table in front of the recording device.
The advertisement begins.
Baumbach: Are we the best? Our sources say yes!
Nguyen's voice can be heard from outside the recording device's field of view.
Nguyen: No!
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: That's right, Norristown — Baumbach's back, baby! And we've still got the best rates -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Heavy footsteps are heard from left of the recording device. Nguyen, carrying a half-full laundry hamper, runs into the room and places the hamper on the table in front of the television before scrambling for the remote.
Baumbach: …the best selection of cars anywhere! Get the new 2022 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $200 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The new 2022 Chrysler 300 for $130 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the 2022 Ram 1500 for zero down! That's right — zero down!
Nguyen struggles with the remote. Before he can mute the television, a loud scraping noise originating near the floor is heard. As Nguyen, distracted, looks down, the table collapses onto his left foot and shatters and the hamper slides into his leg. He drops the remote and falls to the ground to clutch his foot.
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen: Shut the fuck up!
Nguyen picks up the remote, mutes the television, and puts it back down. He rubs his foot and stares absently to his right for two minutes.
Nguyen stands up and starts to turn to leave before pausing and turning back to look at something on the table.
Nguyen picks up the copy of JALAKÅRA's Web: a History of Three Moons Censorship by Roger Greenbaum, looks back at the television, and raises an eyebrow.
For the next three weeks, things continued as normal — none of the recording devices planted in Nguyen's apartment recorded anything incriminating or even suspicious. Nguyen left the television on as he usually did, but did not take the time to mute the Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars advertisement as he had before. He did not purchase a new table.
Date: April 21, 2022
At 7:30 PM, Nguyen positions a chair in front of the television, using it to hide an object now known to be SCP-7524 from view of the recording device. He turns on the television, tunes it to CBS, sits down, and waits for ten minutes.
At 7:45 PM, the Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars advertisement begins.
Baumbach: Are we the best? Our sources say yes!
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen narrows his eyes.
Baumbach: That's right, Norristown — Baumbach's back, baby! And we've still got the best rates -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The best payment plans -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the best selection of cars anywhere! Get the new 2022 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $200 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The new 2022 Chrysler 300 for $130 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the 2022 Ram 1500 for zero down! That's right — zero down!
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen is scowling now. His left eye twitches.
Baumbach: Hi, I'm Regis Baumbach. Here at-
Within less than a second, Nguyen reaches across his body with his right hand, draws SCP-7524, aims at the screen, and "fires." Baumbach's voice abruptly stops. After a second, Nguyen looks directly at the recording device and momentarily hesitates before aiming SCP-7524 at it and "firing" again. Upon doing so, his body freezes, inverts, and spins as it slowly falls and disappears from the recording device's field of view.
The following is a transcript of a recording taken by a device in Nguyen's bedroom, and picks up where the previous transcript ended.
The video feed shows Nguyen's bedroom, slightly illuminated by light coming in through the doorway to the left. The recording device is situated on Nguyen's desk. The audio feed is silent for a few seconds before the sound of muffled footsteps and a chair being dragged across the ground in the living room are heard. After a few more seconds of silence, a stock sound effect of an explosion (presumably coming from Nguyen's television) can be heard.
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen: FUCK!
End Log
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7524 " by Tyumen, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7524 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 46 | ["_licensebox", "electronic", "gamers-against-weed", "reality-bending", "safe", "scp", "toy"] | 2023-01-10T01:32:00 | 8,038 | 1,333 | SCP-7524 | Safe | SCP-7524 is kept in a low-security containment locker at Site-18. PoI-76293 remains at large. | SCP-7524 is a modified NES Zapper video game controller attached by several cables to an improvised anomalous electronic device contained within a briefcase. When aimed at a character in any kind of video media and fired, the object "kills" the targeted character; characters affected by SCP-7524 do not appear in any subsequent playings of affected media on the device initially targeted. Despite this disruption, events in affected media continue as they normally would despite the absence of deleted characters. Actors who portray deleted characters are unaffected by the anomaly, even if they play themselves. | 1 | ## Addendum: Creation and Discovery
SCP-7524 was found in the home of Edward "Hertz" Nguyen (known to the Foundation and classified as PoI-76293), a hacker and software pirate with ties to Veiled criminal mischief collective "Gamers Against Weed" (GoI-5869). At the time of the object's discovery, Nguyen was on Foundation-mandated probation; therefore, records from within his home showing the circumstances leading to the creation of SCP-7524 have been recorded and are known to the Foundation.
Begin Log
Date: March 17, 2022
Footage taken within Nguyen's apartment shows him sitting at a table in his dining room and eating soup from a large, steaming bowl. The television, situated above the recording device and out of view, is turned on and tuned to CBS. Nothing of note happens for two minutes.
Nguyen reaches down to scratch the area of his leg under his ankle monitor. Nothing of note happens for four minutes.
A commercial for a local business (identified as Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars of Norristown, Pennsylvania) begins to play. Its audio is considerably louder than anything that has played on the television before that point.
Speaker (Regis Baumbach): Are we the best? Our sources say yes!
Nguyen, startled, spills his soup into his lap. The bowl falls to the floor and breaks into two pieces. On the television, the commercial continues.
Unknown (in unison with an explosion sound effect): Yahoo!
Baumbach: That's right, Norristown — Baumbach's back, baby! And we've still got the best rates -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The best payment plans -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen, now standing, looks disgustedly down at his pants and the bowl before starting towards the television. He hits the side of his abdomen on the edge of his dining table and doubles over, cursing.
Baumbach: And the best selection of cars anywhere! Get the new 2022 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $200 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The new 2022 Chrysler 300 for $130 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the 2022 Ram 1500 for zero down! That's right — zero down!
Unknown: Yah-
Nguyen, clutching his side, turns off the television. He straightens, turns back toward the dinner table, and curses under his breath.
For the next few weeks, nothing of note occurred; Nguyen reflexively muted the Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars advertisement whenever it came on as he was watching television. The next recorded instance of the commercial indirectly inconveniencing Nguyen occurred on March twenty-ninth.
Date: March 29, 2022
The television is on and tuned to CBS, but Nguyen is not visible. Prior to the events of this log, Nguyen had adjusted its volume to a higher level than usual. Four library books ( The Road by Cormac McCarthy, The Maxwellists: Those who Evolved when their Church Couldn't by Andrea Whitford, JALAKÅRA's Web: a History of Three Moons Censorship by Roger Greenbaum, and It Starts With Us by Colleen Hoover) are in a pile on the glass table in front of the recording device.
The advertisement begins.
Baumbach: Are we the best? Our sources say yes!
Nguyen's voice can be heard from outside the recording device's field of view.
Nguyen: No!
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: That's right, Norristown — Baumbach's back, baby! And we've still got the best rates -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Heavy footsteps are heard from left of the recording device. Nguyen, carrying a half-full laundry hamper, runs into the room and places the hamper on the table in front of the television before scrambling for the remote.
Baumbach: …the best selection of cars anywhere! Get the new 2022 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $200 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The new 2022 Chrysler 300 for $130 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the 2022 Ram 1500 for zero down! That's right — zero down!
Nguyen struggles with the remote. Before he can mute the television, a loud scraping noise originating near the floor is heard. As Nguyen, distracted, looks down, the table collapses onto his left foot and shatters and the hamper slides into his leg. He drops the remote and falls to the ground to clutch his foot.
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen: Shut the fuck up!
Nguyen picks up the remote, mutes the television, and puts it back down. He rubs his foot and stares absently to his right for two minutes.
Nguyen stands up and starts to turn to leave before pausing and turning back to look at something on the table.
Nguyen picks up the copy of JALAKÅRA's Web: a History of Three Moons Censorship by Roger Greenbaum, looks back at the television, and raises an eyebrow.
For the next three weeks, things continued as normal — none of the recording devices planted in Nguyen's apartment recorded anything incriminating or even suspicious. Nguyen left the television on as he usually did, but did not take the time to mute the Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars advertisement as he had before. He did not purchase a new table.
Date: April 21, 2022
At 7:30 PM, Nguyen positions a chair in front of the television, using it to hide an object now known to be SCP-7524 from view of the recording device. He turns on the television, tunes it to CBS, sits down, and waits for ten minutes.
At 7:45 PM, the Baumbach's № 1 Used Cars advertisement begins.
Baumbach: Are we the best? Our sources say yes!
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen narrows his eyes.
Baumbach: That's right, Norristown — Baumbach's back, baby! And we've still got the best rates -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The best payment plans -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the best selection of cars anywhere! Get the new 2022 Jeep Grand Cherokee for $200 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: The new 2022 Chrysler 300 for $130 down -
Unknown: Yahoo!
Baumbach: And the 2022 Ram 1500 for zero down! That's right — zero down!
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen is scowling now. His left eye twitches.
Baumbach: Hi, I'm Regis Baumbach. Here at-
Within less than a second, Nguyen reaches across his body with his right hand, draws SCP-7524, aims at the screen, and "fires." Baumbach's voice abruptly stops. After a second, Nguyen looks directly at the recording device and momentarily hesitates before aiming SCP-7524 at it and "firing" again. Upon doing so, his body freezes, inverts, and spins as it slowly falls and disappears from the recording device's field of view.
The following is a transcript of a recording taken by a device in Nguyen's bedroom, and picks up where the previous transcript ended.
The video feed shows Nguyen's bedroom, slightly illuminated by light coming in through the doorway to the left. The recording device is situated on Nguyen's desk. The audio feed is silent for a few seconds before the sound of muffled footsteps and a chair being dragged across the ground in the living room are heard. After a few more seconds of silence, a stock sound effect of an explosion (presumably coming from Nguyen's television) can be heard.
Unknown: Yahoo!
Nguyen: FUCK!
End Log
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7524 " by Tyumen, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7524 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
archival-document-hsa-008-advent | Archival Document — HSA-008-Advent - SCP Foundation | goi-format | « Obskuracorps Memos... || Black Sunrise || A Man of Clay and Men Formerly Men »
NOTICE
The following document was created by the Allied Occult Initiative, the precursor to the Global Occult Coalition active in the 7th Occult War. All information in this file is not reflective of the current status of High Security Artifact-008-Advent and High Security Ritual-001-Advent-Nox ("The Rite of Solomon"). Refer to the Threat Advent Dossier for further information.
Allied Occult Initiative
Operation GLEAMING COVENANT
Prepared on 13/SEPT/1944
SECURITY CLEARANCE 4
Anomaly Identifier:
High Security Artifact-008-Advent — "Mythical Sword Tyrfing"
Security Status Level:
0 (In Provisional Storage) 1
Artistic rendition of King Svafrlami retrieving the first version of HSA-008-Advent, created in 1906.
Description:
The artifact is a sword similar in design to ancient Viking Age weaponry. The object's blade appears to be composed of steel and the hilt from gold, though tests to confirm this have not been performed out of risk of invoking thaumaturgic hexes from taking metal samples. Unidentified thaumaturgic runes are carved into the blade and hilt. A visual effect similar to fire can be seen surrounding the sword at times.
Younger Futhark runes are engraved along the edges of the blade on both sides. The runes roughly translate to the following:
Wield in the days victory is demanded
Wield in the days your life is needless
HSA-008-Advent, if in use in combat, will exhibit the following properties:
The artifact will never miss an intended attack by its user if not blocked.
Objects struck with the artifact will be cleanly split in half, regardless of material composition, based on the angle the blade strikes at. Size limits to what objects will be split are undetermined.
Thaumaturgic workings can be disrupted and redirected if intended by the user.
At least one entity will be killed by the weapon every time it is in use. The circumstances leading to the death are variable.
Further properties may exist.
Human users of HSA-008-Advent will be afflicted with a thaumaturgic hex. As few human users of the weapon have been well documented, full details are unavailable, though it is currently presumed that the hex in all cases ends in the death of the user. This appears to coincide with the failure of any major goals the user wished to accomplish. As such the usage of HSA-008-Advent by human personnel of the AOI (for combat, testing, or otherwise) is strictly forbidden.
The weapon serves as a potential artifact for use in High Security Ritual-001-Advent-Nox ("The Rite of Solomon"). It can be used in conjunction with other artifacts of religious significance and seven high-importance occult artifacts (the "keys of Solomon," identifiers HSA-001-Advent through HSA-007-Advent) to perform HSR-001-Advent-Nox. Completion results in the manifestation of a Code BLACK eschatological entity of significant thaumaturgic potential.
<CLASSIFIED CLEARANCE 6 BY ORDER OF AOI HIGH COMMAND>
Only one version of HSA-008-Advent (identifier 008-BETA) is known to presently exist. Destruction of the weapon and all other relevant artifacts will not be performed unless it is deemed necessary by the joint AOI-Foundation containment for HSR-001-Advent-Nox.
History:
All details on the first version of HSA-008-Advent (identifier 008-ALPHA, known as "Tyrfing") have been provided by Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks (The Saga of Hervör and Heidrek) and the Poetic Edda , sets of Norse legends. According to the texts, the mythological king Svafrlami captured two dwarves and demanded they craft a powerful sword for him, which they cursed in revenge. The hex killed Svafrlami and caused three evil deeds, later being taken by a Gothic group after the curse was said to have been removed. No further information on 008-ALPHA exists. Although dwarven ruins have been discovered in territory supposedly ruled by Svafrlami, no evidence for the existence of the characters from the tales and 008-ALPHA has been found.
Site of a Nyrsigtuna ritual, circa 1870.
A replica of Tyrfing (identifier 008-BETA) was constructed in the 1500s by the Scandinavian occult group Nyrsigtuna (or New Sigtuna) via thaumaturgic rituals. 008-BETA was a central aspect to Nyrsigtuna religious beliefs, revered as a link between humanity and the Norse deities, meant to be wielded by a warrior not belonging to any group of beings detailed in Norse mythology. However, losses in the Sixth Occult War 2 led to in-fighting among Nyrsigtuna leaders, culminating in a battle near present-day Rjukan, Norway, where 008-BETA was lost. The few details on the conflict suggest that one group disguised 008-BETA as a different sword to trick opposing factions into using it and cursing themselves.
Written Testimony: Manu Partanen (former Nyrsigtuna member), 1901
We rode through the woods on horseback. An hour past one of our men was skewered by spears of Tyr, thrown by the cavalry of a rebelling faction. When we charged it came to our surprise that, by some miracle, the sword of Speaker Taisto held the abilities of mythical Tyrfing when he slew several rebels. I was certain it was a sign of the gods deciding we were to be the victors of the battle.
It all changed too fast. First three of our archers misfired their blessed arrows, all colliding with trees next to them and tearing their forms from the blasts. Speaker Taisto accidentally severed the heads of several of our swordsmen who had cut between him and rebels to protect him. Trees fell on our warriors without warning. I swore the universe was conspiring against us.
The final loss was when Speaker Taisto shattered the ancestor amulets he wore, his last effort to stave the rebel horde. Countless spirits of past Nordic warriors rose from the grounds around us and bared their axes at the rebels. They approached the rebels then shouted "unworthy wielder," turning to Speaker Taisto. The spirits butchered Speaker Taisto for an hour.
The sword was not a sign of victory. It was a sign of sabotage.
Due to the deaths of most Nyrsigtuna leaders and its fragmenting into smaller offshoots, the group is considered defunct.
The exact site of the battle was lost until discovery by the Thule Society 3 as part of their investigations into Nordic occult artifacts, occurring after Nazi Germany's occupation of Norway. In cooperation with the Ahnenerbe Obskuracorps 4 , the secretive Facility 12 was constructed at the site to investigate military applications of 008-BETA and its use in HSR-001-Advent-Nox.
After the Foundation's capture of Obskuracorps commander Konrad Weiss on 1/SEPT/1944, it was found that the Obskuracorps and Thule Society intend to perform HSR-001-Advent-Nox, aiming to remove thaumaturgic capabilities from any non-Germanic people and grant them to members of the German government. The effort against Thule and the Obskuracorps under Operation GLEAMING COVENANT was expanded to include joint Foundation-AOI operations in stopping the Rite.
Documents recovered during Weiss's capture indicated the discovery of 008-BETA, corroborated by reports from AOI undercover agents. An operation to secure 008-BETA was then performed on 9/SEPT/1944, ending in a successful recovery. The artifact is currently in storage at an AOI provisional encampment.
The Vemork Hydroelectric Plant in 1935.
Recovery:
Recovery was performed under Operation DREKAR MIRAGE. Four teams were organized:
Team Able: Squad trained in handling occult threats. Headed by Noble Templar Knight Javiera Solos and Special Operative Josef 5 with 8 members.
Team Baker: Squad composed of thaumaturges and Nordic occultists, 7 members in total. Headed by psionics specialist Captain Mathew Dell.
Team Charlie: General operations platoon, headed by First Lieutenant Horace Southers with 20 members.
Team Dog: Covert infiltration squad, headed by Runemaster Niklas Eklund with 6 members.
Although no undercover agents had been able to enter Facility 12, reconnaissance teams had identified two entrances with low levels of security, which could be used as potential breaching points. Cables were observed connecting the compound to the nearby Vemork Hydroelectric Plant, which appeared to be continuing operation despite extensive sabotage actions taken by the Norwegian resistance.
After preparations for general purpose occult operations, plans were devised for an initial covert infiltration of Facility 12, intended to undermine its security, followed by a full military assault to secure the compound. Operation DREKAR MIRAGE was initiated on 9/SEPT/1944.
Operation DREKAR MIRAGE Timeline
02:10- Team Dog enters the Vemork Hydroelectric Plant via an unguarded maintenance hatch. Unusually, few guards are observed. No generators or heavy water production machinery appear to be in operation.
02:12- Team Baker breaches a tunnel extending out of Facility 12, likely meant to serve as a method for facility personnel to escape in the event of disaster. Team Baker proceeds down the tunnel.
02:13- Team Able covertly sedate guards at a rear entrance with a ritually-summoned demon and enter Facility 12.
02:14- A previously unknown sublevel in the Vemork Hydroelectric Plant is discovered, with its entrance guarded by Thule Society priests. Runemaster Niklas Eklund establishes a cloaking barrier and begins surveying for an alternate entrance.
02:15- Team Charlie hijacks a German supply convoy heading to Facility 12, suffering minor casualties. Half of Team Charlie drives the convoy while the other half begins moving to the main entrance of Facility 12.
02:16- Team Baker enters a basement mechanical room of Facility 12, encountering two guards that quickly surrender.
02:17- Team Dog locates a maintenance shaft and enters the sublevel. Runemaster Eklund reports encountering a "dwarven occult generator" before communications are lost. Alarms go off in Facility 12. Teams Able, Baker, and Charlie are ordered to disregard plans for covert operations.
02:18- Teams Able and Baker come under attack from Obskuracorps soldiers, who are all armed with thaumic weapons.
Written Testimony: Operative Kjell Anthonsen (Team Baker)
I turned the corner and several of them waited for us with bizarre weaponry. Their guns were things like assault rifles, the barrels swapped for mummified arms whose hands kept wriggling. All over their uniforms were mismatched pieces of equipment — stone slabs carved with sigils strapped on, rune-covered plate armor, belts of ritual daggers — like they threw it on in a scramble for defense.
I barely stepped back when their mummy-guns shot volleys of thaumic energy. If we didn't have the barriers Seweryn and Morgan kept conjuring (and the oh so precious machinery around us) we would've been mowed down.
Written Testimony: Special Operative Josef (Team Able)
Shortly after the assault began I spotted a soldier who tried to attack us from behind. The mummified arm of his weapon had wrung its fingers around his neck and writhed, taken by a spirit summoned from an Obskura demon grenade, only trying to kill with a violent fury. I tore it off of him and exorcised its demon.
His position was weaker yet he retrieved the broken fragments of a bow and attempted to kill me by summoning volleys of arrows. When he failed he scrambled to other corridors. I had the opportunity to attack, grant our team one less opponent, but I let him run. He was with the enemy but not all confrontation need end in death.
Instead I reminded him of his past deeds. I called to the spirits of his victims and let them return to him before I resumed protecting my teammates. I hope their hauntings serve him well.
02:19- One member of Team Able is killed, and they retreat into a room storing large numbers of occult artifacts. Thule Society priests enter and kill two members through the use of various artifacts in the area. A brief transmission is received from Runemaster Eklund.
Written Testimony: Noble Templar Knight Javiera Solos (Team Able)
Once I believed that Obskuracorps treasured all they obtained. Now it is clear that the artifacts are solely a means to an end. Much of what lined the massive shelves around us was practically thrown at us, the priests running up the shelf sides to drop what they saw, evading our bullets all the while. Vases would shatter and unleash many-limbed demons — all more intimidating than challenging for my sword to vanquish — and weathered sculptures would crack and violently explode in vibrant hues, perhaps the last cries of ill-remembered deities.
We fended the arcane flurry well until a cloaking barrier vanished and we discovered that a priest had completed a ritual without our noticing. Flaming mares emerged from the ritual circle and charged forth with unrivaled fury. Dores believed her holy water bullets would halt them but had her brain gouged out by a burning hoof and reduced to ash. I thank whoever climbed the shelves first, for that was our only way to survive.
Our strategy worked until a priest lunged toward us, effortlessly walking along the shelf sides like a grim phantasm. He plunged his scepter through Ridley's legs and let him descend to the mares. Ridley nearly made it too, pushing himself into a lower alcove with an arcane nudge, but it was tragically inhabited by a hungering statue. I felt no remorse when I stabbed the priest, nor when his body began to cook around my sword.
Transmission Transcript: Runemaster Niklas Eklund [9/SEPT/1944 - 10] (Team Dog)
< TRANSMISSION START >
Eklund: No. Too many arms. Too much movement.
(white noise)
Unknown Male: (speaking in German) Voluntary soul loss is less painful.
(white noise)
Eklund: Keep away from the arms. Keep away from the hands and ignore the generator's voices. (heavy breathing) Get to the crack. The gears are weaker there.
(mechanical scraping sounds, gunshots)
Eklund: AOI Command, this is — (pained grunts) — Runemaster Niklas Eklund.
(white noise)
Unknown Male: Step back from the generator or the guards — (white noise) — your soul will not reach rest if you — (pained screaming)
(white noise, mechanical crunching sounds)
Eklund: Command, I don't know if you can hear this, but if you do I have one last message.
(gunshots, screeching)
Eklund: I won't stop fighting—
(white noise)
< END TRANSMISSION >
02:21- A large explosion of blue fire occurs near the Vemork Hydroelectric Plant. Facility 12 switches to using reserve generators for power. Team Dog is presumed to be killed in action. Special Operative Josef collapses a storage shelf, killing two priests, and Team Able exits the storage room while being pursued by soldiers.
Written Testimony: Special Operative Josef (Team Able)
Ridley's death made me realize fleeing the priests was pointless. We would only lose more lives, and not fighting aggressors is against my purpose. When Javiera killed one of the priests I dropped from the shelf to handle the remaining two.
The two infernal horses attacked first. Their fires and kicks could not harm me so I took their heads and broke them against each other until flickering remnants were left. One priest tore down an entire column of a shelf, unleashing writhing masses of tendrils and demons that radiated an aura intense enough that any attempt to approach pained me. The priest pushed me toward them with an excessive number of magical barriers, all of which I punched through with ease. Javiera aided with a grenade that tore through his legs, giving me a chance to throw him into the demon masses. None of my teammates saw what happened to his body.
The last priest, wearing black robes instead the typical white, summoned lightning bolts, daggers of ice, and flaming bullets as he levitated above me. Normally I wouldn't care — it's nothing I haven't seen before — but he aimed for the words of life on my forehead, knowing any damage to it would disable me. As my teammates were defending themselves from the demon masses, I had to handle him alone.
Much like before I climbed the shelf, avoiding the scrambling appendages of creatures the priest had awoken. I threw several towards him but all disintegrated from cleansing barriers he had raised around himself. His response was to summon numerous apparitions around him. I would later learn that all of the apparitions were facsimiles of the Norse pantheon, meant to intimidate, but at the time I thought it was only another obstacle. I lunged from the shelf and broke through each apparition but in my haste I forgot about the priest's ability to dodge. When I landed on the ground he flew toward me with an axe of lightning.
Getting near me lost him his sole advantage. I grabbed onto his body and broke him against the shelf with the strength to fracture several of its columns. The section of the shelf crumbled slowly enough that I could escape the rain of artifacts it produced. It all combusted in an aetheric blast that eviscerated the demon masses and tore a hole into an adjacent chamber.
Figured we had to leave when streams of thaumic projectiles came from behind.
02:22- Team Baker uses explosives to destroy several pieces of equipment in the mechanical room. The group enters an elevator that brings them to a room on the main level containing statues of Norse deities and occult iconography. The area is presumed to have been used for Thule Society rituals. They break the elevator and momentarily rest.
Written Testimony: Operative Kjell Anthonsen (Team Baker)
If Niklas had lived to see the chamber he would've had a heart attack. I never knew Norse legends as well as he did, but my time with him around the Universalist Order of the Æsir made me see how wrong it was. Thor never wielded a sword, let alone Tyrfing, runic prayers don't belong on the statues of military commanders, renditions of Yggdrasil shouldn't be surrounded by animals guts. A few glances at my occultists friends and I could tell they felt the same. If we didn't have our mission we would've torn the place to the ground — though we did give the Führer and Quisling's 6 effigies royal send offs down the elevator shaft.
02:23- The convoy controlled by Team Charlie arrives at the main entrance of Facility 12. Guards order them to turn it back due to the AOI incursion. Both halves of Team Charlie assault the main entrance, suffering one death and four casualties, then enter Facility 12.
02:26- Teams Able and Baker enter a spacious weapons testing chamber. An automaton wielding 008-BETA enters alongside Obskuracorps soldiers. Five AOI members are killed in the ensuing battle.
Written Testimony: Captain Mathew Dell (Team Baker)
In complete honesty I nearly shit myself when the automaton unsheathed the sword. We knew they had been testing the sword. We didn't know they found a way to actually use the damn thing. Its black armor and silver runic decorations didn't help to cool my nerves.
Without hesitating it went straight for Gunvald. He pulled his hands-shooting-fire trick but the automaton just held the sword out and let the flames sweep around them. Only a single scratch landed on Gunvald's arm before it split in half. I watched him try to run to me for any sort of help but the sword's next swing just reached him (I don't know how to describe it — it should've missed but it still hit and it made sense) and he split apart. Oz went the same way. And Darion. And Jules.
When it came for me next I tried thinking about throwing the automaton to the ground, but I suddenly pictured the sword and those thoughts started hurting. Right when it swung at me I panicked and thought about throwing a crate between us. I thought I was dead but the crate split clean in half while I didn't. I kept that up for a good minute with any junk I could find and it kept working. Problem was it was becoming such a burden on my mind I could've passed out any second. Couldn't think enough about attacking as well, so I figured I was screwed.
Only got out when the automaton was distracted by some of Josef's spirits.
[…]
Then Hal started singing an old Mekhanite hymn. Didn't hold any weapon at all. I thought he'd gone mad until the automaton fumbled its swing and paused. I swear some gears in its chassis turned to mimic the hymn in response.
Obskura never built that automaton. Definitely nobody Germanic for that matter. I thought the armor meant they had but Hal figured they added it on after (or he was at a loss for what to do). Ahnenerbe, Thule, whoever found it must've been so over their head with "Aryan" superiority that they were sure the machine was either their own heritage or could bend to their every will. Never imagined it wouldn't.
Needless to say it is satisfying to imagine what their faces looked like when the automaton sliced itself.
02:30- Special Operative Josef obtains 008-BETA and destroys the automaton. Team Charlie spots several Thule Society priests and Obskuracorps researchers in a basement area, who open a Way and flee into the dimension it leads to. No operatives could enter before the Way spontaneously detonated.
A majority of the remaining soldiers at Facility 12 surrendered. Documents detailing research were found, though most had been intentionally destroyed by soldiers prior to the facility's full capture. Interrogation of captured soldiers is in progress. Exploration of the destroyed sublevel to the Vemork Hydroelectric Plant yielded no information on the nature of the "dwarven occult generator" that had been in use.
All members of Team Dog have been posthumously awarded the AOI Valiance Medal.
IMPORTANT SECURITY NOTICE:
Undercover operatives embedded in the Ahnenerbe have reported that 008-ALPHA has been discovered by the Obskuracorps. An archaeology team found an underground tomb at the ruins of a Goth settlement, likely within German-occupied Polish territory, which contained a decayed corpse and a damaged sword. Descriptions of the sword are similar to the appearance of 008-BETA. It is unknown if a thaumaturgic hex is present on the artifact.
It is now suspected that 008-ALPHA will be used as a substitute for 008-BETA in performing HSR-001-Advent-Nox. If reports of the Thule Society creating forgeries of the Keys and important religious artifacts are true, then it is likely that preparations for the Rite are nearing completion. An operation to halt the performance is being planned.
Footnotes
1 . HSA-008-Advent may be transferred to Foundation jurisdiction upon the conclusion of the present war, depending on devised containment procedures for HSR-001-Advent-Nox.
2 . Lasting from 1875 to 1882. Notably, the war resulted in the death of a Code BLACK entity that had been preventing the performance of HSR-001-Advent-Nox, which allows it to be performed now in the modern day.
Archival Note: Entity is now designated LTE-0913-Ex-Machina .
3 . A German occult group.
4 . A branch of the German government's SS Ahnenerbe, focusing on the military use of anomalies.
5 . A golem whose body contains HSA-007-Advent ("The Seventh Key of Solomon"), discovered by Obskuracorps in Prague, Czechoslovak Republic. Josef fought German forces in the area until recovery by the AOI.
6 . Vidkun Quisling, head of the German-occupied Norwegian government.
« Obskuracorps Memos... || Black Sunrise || A Man of Clay and Men Formerly Men »
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Archival Document — HSA-008-Advent " by NatVoltaic, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/archival-document-hsa-008-advent . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: tyrfing.jpg
Name: King Svafrlame Secures the Sword Tyrfing.jpg
Author: Lorenz Frølich
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia
Filename: nyrsigtuna_sacred_v3.jpg
Name: (if different from filename)
Author(s): NatVoltaic , Otter
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Derivative of: Wikimedia
Filename: Vemork_Hydroelectric_Plant_1935.jpg
Author: Anders Beer Wilse
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia | 113 | ["7th-occult-war", "_cc", "_global-occult-coalition", "_licensebox", "action", "broken-god", "doomsday2018", "fantasy", "global-occult-coalition", "goi-format", "golem-of-prague", "military-fiction", "mythological", "obskura", "period-piece", "third-law"] | 2018-06-13T21:36:00 | 24,147 | 3,910 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-3638 | SCP-3638 | scp | INFOHAZARD WARNING
Knowledge of this document may have harmful side-effects. Access is restricted to staff briefed on Procedure 382-Diogenes, unless justified by imminent danger. If you accessed this file by accident, notify the SCP-3638 research group immediately.
Fig. 1: Sketch of the entity, drawn by agent Colby Franquin during his guarding shift. Click here for supplementary similar drawings .
Item #: SCP-3638
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3638 is located in a custom-built clear acrylic glass cell 1 in Area-130. A group of four agents posted around its cell act as the primary containment construct for SCP-3638's remote effects (supplemented by two other groups in nearby isolated rooms with live vital signs data from each other, acting as fail-safes). Agents are to operate in four hour shifts and are to be provided with any source of entertainment that they request. The use of non-anomalous mood-altering substances may be exceptionally allowed at the discretion of supervisors.
In the event of a breach, recontainment strategies rely upon proficiency in Procedure 382-Diogenes among all personnel aware of SCP-3638's existence, irrespective of site. Derisive language and emphasis on its benign nature are thus encouraged in all exchanges and documentation. This may even take precedence over accuracy in non-critical contexts 2 .
Description: SCP-3638 is a two-meters tall, partially incorporeal, remarkably impotent predatory entity. It has an arthropod-like segmented structure, with a bloated terminal segment bearing eight four-jointed legs with numerous curved spikes on their tarsi. Each of the other segments bears two curved spikes and one flexible, comically obscene tendril (see fig.1). The entity is always visible, but can suppress all other interactions with matter (e.g. bypass physical barriers) seemingly at will.
Its behavior is understood to be heavily influenced by certain characteristics of sapience: known targets have included adult humans, adult cows, dogs, and a class-III AI construct. Young children, cow calves, and other animals/organisms have consistently been ignored (including in situations of complete vulnerability to attacks). Those who are aware of its existence are primarily targeted, in order of proximity. In cases where no such organisms remained in its surroundings, it has been observed to translocate instantly to reach the next-closest sapient being aware of it. This has been noted as comparable to the routine of a stage magician.
The entity appears unable to initiate a new attack until its current target expires, or until there is a new vulnerable target closer to it. It has been postulated to be greatly frustrated by the ridiculous nature of this behavioral defect highlighting its overwhelming inadequacy.
All observed attacks have occurred in two stages. First, the entity stays stationary and remotely accesses the mind of its prey (as evidenced by vocalizations consistent with knowledge of their thoughts). When this stage is prolonged, brief indistinct hallucinations are induced infrequently. If certain mental features are present (see next paragraph), it becomes immediately able to initiate the second stage: physical assault. The most notable specificity of its aggression techniques is flailing movements reminiscent of a distressed poultry bird, or an oblivious scurrying insect.
Established cognitive patterns that enable the progression to stage two include sustained fear of the entity, inquisitive fascination, visceral disgust, and a disciplined stoic demeanor; best described collectively as "taking it seriously". An indefinite maintenance of stage one (with a continual rotation of agents successively acting as the primary target) has been achieved through a derisive, irreverent mindset, formalized as Procedure 382-Diogenes.
Temporary failures to maintain this outlook do not immediately trigger an attack. Losses of focus 3 lasting up to 30 seconds have been reported with no consequences.
Vocalizations from the entity have occurred occasionally since initial containment, typically in the form of amusingly melodramatic threats that greatly overstate its importance and betray human-like psychological flaws, most notably histrionic delusional power fantasies.
Recorded examples of vocalizations include:
"I encompass your sanity. You don't have to think about it now, you will learn later."
"Little treats, dancing on my mind's tongue! Delightful."
"You're exhausted. Don't you want some rest?"
"Cockroaches in your skull, scuttling on your thoughts!"
"You were scared for a split-second. I felt it, delicious. Remember! Think about it again!"
"Gravitas, gravy-taters, omnia grab-its-ass"
"Your mockery is getting quite dull. I may just get bored and stop playing along one day."
Note: although this is not currently verifiable, it has been hypothesized that if the entity were fully corporeal, its smell would be similar to urine and feces.
Footnotes
1 . Observation has been shown to be beneficial to the enactment of psychological procedures.
2 . For instance, the entity was formerly classified Keter but was found to be far too inept and uncoordinated to deserve this label.
3 . Described by agents as the inadvertent onset of fear or doubt regarding the entity's innocuousness.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-3638 " by 440 Hertz, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3638 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: mrwiggledick
Author: 440 Hertz
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | 132 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "animal", "arthropod", "hallucination", "illustrated", "infohazard", "predatory", "safe", "scp"] | 2019-02-06T23:40:00 | 5,757 | 864 | SCP-3638 | Safe | SCP-3638 is located in a custom-built clear acrylic glass cell 1 in Area-130. A group of four agents posted around its cell act as the primary containment construct for SCP-3638's remote effects (supplemented by two other groups in nearby isolated rooms with live vital signs data from each other, acting as fail-safes). Agents are to operate in four hour shifts and are to be provided with any source of entertainment that they request. The use of non-anomalous mood-altering substances may be exceptionally allowed at the discretion of supervisors.
In the event of a breach, recontainment strategies rely upon proficiency in Procedure 382-Diogenes among all personnel aware of SCP-3638's existence, irrespective of site. Derisive language and emphasis on its benign nature are thus encouraged in all exchanges and documentation. This may even take precedence over accuracy in non-critical contexts 2 . | SCP-3638 is a two-meters tall, partially incorporeal, remarkably impotent predatory entity. It has an arthropod-like segmented structure, with a bloated terminal segment bearing eight four-jointed legs with numerous curved spikes on their tarsi. Each of the other segments bears two curved spikes and one flexible, comically obscene tendril (see fig.1). The entity is always visible, but can suppress all other interactions with matter (e.g. bypass physical barriers) seemingly at will.
Its behavior is understood to be heavily influenced by certain characteristics of sapience: known targets have included adult humans, adult cows, dogs, and a class-III AI construct. Young children, cow calves, and other animals/organisms have consistently been ignored (including in situations of complete vulnerability to attacks). Those who are aware of its existence are primarily targeted, in order of proximity. In cases where no such organisms remained in its surroundings, it has been observed to translocate instantly to reach the next-closest sapient being aware of it. This has been noted as comparable to the routine of a stage magician.
The entity appears unable to initiate a new attack until its current target expires, or until there is a new vulnerable target closer to it. It has been postulated to be greatly frustrated by the ridiculous nature of this behavioral defect highlighting its overwhelming inadequacy.
All observed attacks have occurred in two stages. First, the entity stays stationary and remotely accesses the mind of its prey (as evidenced by vocalizations consistent with knowledge of their thoughts). When this stage is prolonged, brief indistinct hallucinations are induced infrequently. If certain mental features are present (see next paragraph), it becomes immediately able to initiate the second stage: physical assault. The most notable specificity of its aggression techniques is flailing movements reminiscent of a distressed poultry bird, or an oblivious scurrying insect.
Established cognitive patterns that enable the progression to stage two include sustained fear of the entity, inquisitive fascination, visceral disgust, and a disciplined stoic demeanor; best described collectively as "taking it seriously". An indefinite maintenance of stage one (with a continual rotation of agents successively acting as the primary target) has been achieved through a derisive, irreverent mindset, formalized as Procedure 382-Diogenes.
Temporary failures to maintain this outlook do not immediately trigger an attack. Losses of focus 3 lasting up to 30 seconds have been reported with no consequences.
Vocalizations from the entity have occurred occasionally since initial containment, typically in the form of amusingly melodramatic threats that greatly overstate its importance and betray human-like psychological flaws, most notably histrionic delusional power fantasies.
Recorded examples of vocalizations include:
"I encompass your sanity. You don't have to think about it now, you will learn later."
"Little treats, dancing on my mind's tongue! Delightful."
"You're exhausted. Don't you want some rest?"
"Cockroaches in your skull, scuttling on your thoughts!"
"You were scared for a split-second. I felt it, delicious. Remember! Think about it again!"
"Gravitas, gravy-taters, omnia grab-its-ass"
"Your mockery is getting quite dull. I may just get bored and stop playing along one day." | 1 | ## supplementary similar drawings .
Item #: SCP-3638
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3638 is located in a custom-built clear acrylic glass cell 1 in Area-130. A group of four agents posted around its cell act as the primary containment construct for SCP-3638's remote effects (supplemented by two other groups in nearby isolated rooms with live vital signs data from each other, acting as fail-safes). Agents are to operate in four hour shifts and are to be provided with any source of entertainment that they request. The use of non-anomalous mood-altering substances may be exceptionally allowed at the discretion of supervisors.
In the event of a breach, recontainment strategies rely upon proficiency in Procedure 382-Diogenes among all personnel aware of SCP-3638's existence, irrespective of site. Derisive language and emphasis on its benign nature are thus encouraged in all exchanges and documentation. This may even take precedence over accuracy in non-critical contexts 2 .
Description: SCP-3638 is a two-meters tall, partially incorporeal, remarkably impotent predatory entity. It has an arthropod-like segmented structure, with a bloated terminal segment bearing eight four-jointed legs with numerous curved spikes on their tarsi. Each of the other segments bears two curved spikes and one flexible, comically obscene tendril (see fig.1). The entity is always visible, but can suppress all other interactions with matter (e.g. bypass physical barriers) seemingly at will.
Its behavior is understood to be heavily influenced by certain characteristics of sapience: known targets have included adult humans, adult cows, dogs, and a class-III AI construct. Young children, cow calves, and other animals/organisms have consistently been ignored (including in situations of complete vulnerability to attacks). Those who are aware of its existence are primarily targeted, in order of proximity. In cases where no such organisms remained in its surroundings, it has been observed to translocate instantly to reach the next-closest sapient being aware of it. This has been noted as comparable to the routine of a stage magician.
The entity appears unable to initiate a new attack until its current target expires, or until there is a new vulnerable target closer to it. It has been postulated to be greatly frustrated by the ridiculous nature of this behavioral defect highlighting its overwhelming inadequacy.
All observed attacks have occurred in two stages. First, the entity stays stationary and remotely accesses the mind of its prey (as evidenced by vocalizations consistent with knowledge of their thoughts). When this stage is prolonged, brief indistinct hallucinations are induced infrequently. If certain mental features are present (see next paragraph), it becomes immediately able to initiate the second stage: physical assault. The most notable specificity of its aggression techniques is flailing movements reminiscent of a distressed poultry bird, or an oblivious scurrying insect.
Established cognitive patterns that enable the progression to stage two include sustained fear of the entity, inquisitive fascination, visceral disgust, and a disciplined stoic demeanor; best described collectively as "taking it seriously". An indefinite maintenance of stage one (with a continual rotation of agents successively acting as the primary target) has been achieved through a derisive, irreverent mindset, formalized as Procedure 382-Diogenes.
Temporary failures to maintain this outlook do not immediately trigger an attack. Losses of focus 3 lasting up to 30 seconds have been reported with no consequences.
Vocalizations from the entity have occurred occasionally since initial containment, typically in the form of amusingly melodramatic threats that greatly overstate its importance and betray human-like psychological flaws, most notably histrionic delusional power fantasies.
Recorded examples of vocalizations include:
"I encompass your sanity. You don't have to think about it now, you will learn later."
"Little treats, dancing on my mind's tongue! Delightful."
"You're exhausted. Don't you want some rest?"
"Cockroaches in your skull, scuttling on your thoughts!"
"You were scared for a split-second. I felt it, delicious. Remember! Think about it again!"
"Gravitas, gravy-taters, omnia grab-its-ass"
"Your mockery is getting quite dull. I may just get bored and stop playing along one day."
Note: although this is not currently verifiable, it has been hypothesized that if the entity were fully corporeal, its smell would be similar to urine and feces.
Footnotes
1 . Observation has been shown to be beneficial to the enactment of psychological procedures.
2 . For instance, the entity was formerly classified Keter but was found to be far too inept and uncoordinated to deserve this label.
3 . Described by agents as the inadvertent onset of fear or doubt regarding the entity's innocuousness.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-3638 " by 440 Hertz, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3638 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: mrwiggledick
Author: 440 Hertz
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | |
SCP-5561 | SCP-5561 | scp | EEE-EEEE EE E EEEE EEEE EE EE EEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EE EE "EEEE EEEEEEEE E".
close
Info
X
Word Count w/o Format Screw: ~1k
Word Count w/ Format Screw: ~2k
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The following document has been affected by an infohazard, and is unreadable in its current state. A translation has been provided at the end of the file.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
[EEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEE: EEEEE E EEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE]
[EEEEEE EEEEEEE]
EEEE #: EEE-EEEE
EEEEEE EEEEE: EEEE 1
EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE: EEE EEEE EEEEE EE EEEEE EEE-EEEE EEEEEEE EEEE EE EEEE EE E EEEEEEE EEEEEE EE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE-EE. EEEEEEEEEEE EEE EE EEEE EEE EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EE EEE-EEEE. EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EE EE EE EEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEE EEEE/EE/EE.
EE EE EEEE/EE/EE EE EEEEE EEEEEEEEE EE EEE "EEEE EEEEEEEE E" EEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE.
EEEEEEEEEEE: EEE-EEEE EE E EEEE EEEE EE EE EEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EE EE "EEEE EEEEEEEE E". EE EE EE EEEEE EE EEEEEEEE EEEE "EEEEEEEEEE" EEEEEEEEE'E EEE EEEE EEEEEEEE'E 2 EEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEEE EEEE EE EEEEE EEEE EEE EEEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE 3 .
EEE EEEEEEE EE EEE-EEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEE EEEE EE EEE EEEE EEEEE EE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EE E EEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE. EEE EEEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEE "E". EEE-EEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEE EE E EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEE EEEE; EEEEEE, EEE EEEEEEEEEEEE EEE EE. EEEEEEEEE'E EEEEEEEE EEEE EEEE EE EEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEE.
EEE-EEEE EEE EEEEEEEEEE EE E EEEE EEEEE EEEEEEEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE, EE EEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEE EEEEEEEEEE. EE E EEEEE EEEEEEEEEE, EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEEEE E EEEEEE EE "EEEE EEEEEEEE E".
EEE-EEEE'E EEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEE EE EE. EEEEEEEEEE EE EEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE 4 . EEEEEEEEEEEE, EEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EE EEEEEE EEE EEEE EE EEE EEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE . EEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE EE EEEE EE EEEEEE.
EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EE EEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEEEE. EE. EEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEE EEE EE EEEE. EE EEEE EEEE EE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE.
EE EE EEEE/EE/EE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEE EEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EE EEEEEEE EEE-EEEE'E EEEEEEEEE EEEEEE.
EEEEEEEE-E: EEEEEE EEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE'E EEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEEE.
EEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE:
EEEE: EE/EE/EEEE
EEEEEE: EEEEEEEEE EEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEE: EEEEEE EEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEE: EEEEEE EEEEE
EEEE EEEEEE: EEEEEEE EEEEE
EEEEEEEEE: EEEEEE EEEE, EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEE EEEE, EEEEEEEE EEEE, EEEE EEEEEEEEE
EEEEEE EEEEE: EEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EE EE. EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE'E EEEEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEEE
EEEE EEEEEEEE: EEE EEEE
EEEEEEEEEEE: EE. EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEE, EEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EEEE EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEE. EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEE EEE EEEE EEEEEE EEEE EE EEEE EEEE. EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEE EEE EE EEEEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEE.
EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEE EEEEEE EEEE EEE EEE E EEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE E EEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE. EEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEEEEE EEE EE EEEEE EEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE'E EEEEEE EEEEEE.
EE. EEEEEEEE EEEEE EE. EEEEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEE. EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EE EEEE'E EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE. EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEE EE EE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEE.
EEEEEEEEEEE: EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE EEE EEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EE EEEE EEEEEE EE EEEE. EEEEEEEEEEE, EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EE EEEEEEE EE EEEEE EE EEEEE EEEEEEEE
EE: EEE.EEE.EEEEEEE|EEEEEEEEEEEE_E#EEE.EEE.EEEEEEE|EEEEEEEEEEEE_E
EEEE: EEE.EEE|EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE#EEE.EEE|EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEE: EEEEEEE EE EEEEEEE
EEEE: EE/EE/EEEE
EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE,
EEE EE EEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE, EEE EEEE EEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EE E EEEEEEE EEEEEEE, EEE EEEEEE EE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEE EEE EEEE EEEE EEEEE EEEEEEEEEE. EEEEE EE EE EEEEEE EE EEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEE EE EEE EEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEE.
-EEEEEE EEEEEEEE
EEEE EE EEE EEEEEE EE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEE
EEEEE: EEE-EEE-EEEE
EEE: EEE-EEE-EEEE
EEEEEEEE-E: EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE'E EEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEE EE E EEEEE EE EEEEEEEE. EEE EEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEEE, E EEEEEEE EEEE EE EEE EEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEE. EE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE.
EEEEEEEEEEE: EEEEE EEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEE: EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE
EEEE: EEEE/EE/EE
<EEEEE EEE>
EEEEEE: EEEEE EEE EEE EEE EEEEEEEEE. E'E EEEEE EEEEEE. (EEEEEEE EEE EEEE)
EEEEEEEEEE: (EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE) EE'E EEEE EEEE EEEEEEE EEEEE'E EEEEE E'E EEEEE.
EEEEEE: EEEEEEEEE EE EEEE EEEEEEE, EEE EEEEE E EEEEEE EEEEE EEEE EEEE?
EEEEEEEEEE: EEEEE EE, EEE.
EEEEEE: -EEEE EE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEE EEEE EEEE EEEEEEEE EEE E EEEEEEEE EEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEE, EEE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEE E EEEEEEE EEEEEE "E"?
EEEEEEEEEE: …EEEE'E EEEEEEE. (EEEEEE) …EEEE EEEEE'E EEEE E EEEE EEEE. EEEEEE EEEEEEE EE.
EEEEEE: E EE, EEEE EEEEEEEE, EEEEE EEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEE?
EEEEEEEEEE: E EEE'E EEEE? EEEEEEE EE EEE? E EEE'E EEEEEEEE.
EEEEEE: EEEE'E EEEEEEEEEEEEEE. (EEEEEE EEEEEE) EEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEE EEEE EEEEE EEEEE?
EEEEEEEEEE: EE! EEE EEEE'E EEEE, EE!! E EEE EEEEEE EE EEEE EE EEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE!
EEEEEE: (EEEEEE EEEEE) EEEE EEEE EEEEEE!
[EEEEEEE]
EEEEEE: EEE EEE EEEEEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEE?
EEEEEEEEEE: E'E EEE EEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEE. (EEEEE EEE EEEEE) EEEE EE EEEE E'EE EEEE EEEEEE EE EEE.
EEEEEE: EE. EEEEEEEEEE, E EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEE EEEEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEE.
EEEEEEEEEE: …EE EEEE'E EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEE.
EEEEEE: EEEEE EEE. EEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEE EEE'EE EE EE EEEE EEE.
EEEEEEEEEE: (EEEEE EEEEEEE) …EE.
EEEEEE: EEE EEE EEEE EEEEEEEEEE . 5
[EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEE EE EEE EEEEE EEE EEEEE EEE EEEEE EE EEEEE. EEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEE EE EEE EEEEE EEEE EEEE ; EEEEEEEE, EEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEEE EEE EEE EEE EEEE EEEE EEEEE EEEE EEE EEEE .]
EEEEEEEEEE: …E EEEEEE EEEEE EE EEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEEEEE.
[EEEEEEE.]
EEEEEEEEEE: EEEE EEEEEEE E EEE EEEEEEE EEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEEE, EEE EE EEEEEEEEE… (EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEE) …EEE E EEEEEEEE EE EEEEE EEEEEEEE EEE EEEEEE.
EEEEEE: E EEEE EE'EE EEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEEEE. EEEEE EEE EEEEE EEE EEEE EEEEEEEEEEE.
[EEE EEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEE EE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEE. EEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEEEEEE EEE EE EEEEEE EE EEE EEEEEEE, EE. EEEEEEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEEE EE E EEEEEEEEEE EEEEE EEEEEEEE.]
<EEE EEE>
[Translation attached below: Level 2 Clearance Required:]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
Item #: SCP-5561
Object Class: Safe 6
Special Containment Procedures: The hard drive on which SCP-5561 resides must be kept in a storage locker at Auxiliary Research Facility-19. Webcrawlers are to scan for images on the internet that exhibit the anomalous effect of SCP-5561. Samuel Fitzgerald is to be under Foundation care until 2021/02/02.
As of 2020/02/02 no other instances of the "Lord Marquaad E" meme exhibit anomalous effects.
Description: SCP-5561 is a save file of an internet meme referred to as "Lord Marquaad E". It is an image of YouTuber Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach's and Lord Farquaad's 7 faces merged together and super imposed over an image from the Mark Zuckerberg Congressional Hearings 8 .
The effects of SCP-5561 become apparent whenever the save file on the hard drive is directly referenced in a bureaucratic document. All language is replaced by the capital letter "E". SCP-5561 does not replace the letters in a document not directly referencing the save file; however, the nomenclature for Mr. Fischbach's username will vary in text referencing the anomaly.
SCP-5561 was discovered on a hard drive belonging to Samuel Fitzgerald, an anthropology student who attended Ohio State University. As a class assignment, Mr. Fitzgerald wrote a thesis on "Lord Marquaad E".
SCP-5561's secondary effect is the inability of Mr. Fitzgerald to write consequential bureaucratic documents 9 . Additionally, the subject is further incapable of saying the name of the horror game YouTuber . Amnestics are recorded to have no effect.
The Foundation reached out to Mark Fischbach for questioning. Mr. Fischbach declined an interview and was under Foundation surveillance for 30 days. In that time no anomalous activity was detected.
As of 2020/02/02 Samuel Fitzgerald is the only known individual to exhibit SCP-5561's secondary effect.
Addendum-1: Emails and minutes of Samuel Fitzgerald's disciplinary hearing were acquired by the Foundation.
Disciplinary Hearing minutes:
Date: 11/12/2019
Leader: Elizabeth Dower
Facilitator: Kenton Moraines
Recorder: Valery Trace
Time Keeper: Richard Jones
Attendees: Harvey Grey, Samuel Fitzgerald, Annabelle Ward, Samantha Cole, Hugh Hensworth
Agenda Topic: Disciplinary action of Mr. Samuel Fitzgerald's breach of school conduct
Time allotted: One hour
Discussions: Mr. Moraines discussed the emails, and verbal harassment Professor Grey received from Mr. Fitzgerald over the course of the semester. Mr. Fitzgerald stated that the assignments were effected by technical errors as the documents had been normal when he sent them. Professor Grey commented fearing the harassment was due to false charges of ableism earlier in the semester.
Mr. Fitzgerald became irate saying that him and a majority of the class had reported Professor Grey for harassing a deaf student and her sign language interpreter. This incident had been reported to the college but was dropped due to there being little evidence and Professor Grey's recent tenure.
Mr. Moraines asked Mr. Fitzgerald if his harassment towards Professor Grey was related to the incident. Mr. Fitzgerald said he hadn't harassed Professor Grey and upon further questioning Mr. Fitzgerald became aggressive and threatened the committee. Mr. Fitzgerald had to be escorted off campus.
Conclusions: The committee calls for expulsion and will vote via private committee on what action to take. Furthermore, the committee will be sending an email of their decision
To: ude.uso.tneduts|29dlaregztif_s#ude.uso.tneduts|29dlaregztif_s
From: ude.uso|sriaffacimedaca#ude.uso|sriaffacimedaca
Subject: Results of Hearing
Date: 11/16/2019
Samuel Fitzgerald,
Due to the charges of harassment against you, and your actions at the hearing unbecoming of a Buckeye student, the Office of Academic Affairs have decided to expel you from Ohio State University. There is no option to repeal the decision due to the severity of the case.
-Kenton Moraines
Head of the Office of Academic Affairs
Phone: 614-292-5881
Fax: 614-292-3658
Addendum-3: During investigations, Samuel Fitzgerald's apartment was found in a state of disarray. The home office was covered in hardcopies of the assignment, a printer with no ink and the bathroom mirror broken. An interview with Samuel Fitzgerald was requested.
Interviewer: Agent Królik
Interviewee: Samuel Fitzgerald
Date: 2019/11/18
<Begin Log>
Królik: Thank you for the interview. I'm Agent Królik. (extends his hand)
Fitzgerald: (accepts handshake) It's nice that someone doesn't think I'm lying.
Królik: According to your account, you wrote a thesis about this meme?
Fitzgerald: Tried to, yes.
Królik: -both an attached document sent from your computer and a hardcopy given to the professor, had all letters replaced with a capital letter "E"?
Fitzgerald: …that's correct. (pauses) …they weren't when I sent them. Please believe me.
Królik: I do, next question, where did you download the image from?
Fitzgerald: I don't know? Discord or IRC? I don't remember.
Królik: That's understandable. (clears throat) Were you harassing Professor Harvey Grey with these memes?
Fitzgerald: NO! For fuck's sake, no!! I was trying to turn in this fucking assignment!
Królik: (taking notes) Calm down please!
[Silence]
Królik: Was the harassment of Professor Grey fueled by his charge dismissal?
Fitzgerald: I'm not harassing him period. (grits his teeth) This is what I've been trying to say.
Królik: Mr. Fitzgerald, I understand your frustration with him but please answer the question.
Fitzgerald: …It wasn't fueled by the dismissal.
Królik: Thank you. Last question and then you'll be on your way.
Fitzgerald: (hands tremble) …OK.
Królik: Say the name Darkiplier . 10
[Fitzgerald shifts nervously in his chair and opens his mouth to speak. Camera records his mouth sounding out the name of the gamer from Ohio ; although, audio records him saying the man who runs head first into the dark .]
Fitzgerald: …I became aware of this during the hearing.
[Silence.]
Fitzgerald: They thought I was mocking and threatening them, and it escalated… (stares at the backwall) …all I remember is being escorted off campus.
Królik: I feel we're finished with the interview. Thank you again for your cooperation.
[The session ends and security enters the room and escorts Samuel Fitzgerald to amnestic administration. After it was discovered that amnestics had no effect on the anomaly, Mr. Fitzgerald was court ordered to attend weekly therapy sessions at a Foundation cover hospital.]
<End Log>
More from fairydoctor
Close me!
SCPs :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
SCP-6420
25 May 2021 20:59
113
28
15513
SCP-5561
08 Jul 2021 20:30
74
48
17409
page 1 of 4 1 2 3 4 next »
GoI Formats :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
Foundation Tales :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
Prose Bot and Perseverance
24 Mar 2021 02:56
31
1
7667
Daisy the Clown
29 Mar 2021 22:23
33
5
5156
page 1 of 9 1 2 3 ... 8 9 next »
Footnotes
1 . EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
2 . EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEE "EEEEE".
3 . EEE EEEEE EEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEE-EEE, EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEE EE E EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEE EE "EEEE EEEEE"
4 . EEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEE EEEEE, EEE.
5 . EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE .
6 . Pending Euclid reclassification.
7 . The antagonist from the movie "Shrek".
8 . The image has been run through various filters making the image appear washed-out, and saturated with color in a graphic design commonly known as "deep fried".
9 . Such as school assignments, applications, government forms, etc.
10 . Another moniker for the screamer streamer .
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5561 " by fairydoctor, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5561 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 74 | ["_licensebox", "absurdism", "bittersweet", "document", "infohazard", "memecon2021-unofficial", "mind-affecting", "online", "safe", "scp"] | 2021-07-08T20:30:00 | 15,215 | 2,339 | SCP-5561 | Safe | The hard drive on which SCP-5561 resides must be kept in a storage locker at Auxiliary Research Facility-19. Webcrawlers are to scan for images on the internet that exhibit the anomalous effect of SCP-5561. Samuel Fitzgerald is to be under Foundation care until 2021/02/02.
As of 2020/02/02 no other instances of the "Lord Marquaad E" meme exhibit anomalous effects. | SCP-5561 is a save file of an internet meme referred to as "Lord Marquaad E". It is an image of YouTuber Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach's and Lord Farquaad's 7 faces merged together and super imposed over an image from the Mark Zuckerberg Congressional Hearings 8 .
The effects of SCP-5561 become apparent whenever the save file on the hard drive is directly referenced in a bureaucratic document. All language is replaced by the capital letter "E". SCP-5561 does not replace the letters in a document not directly referencing the save file; however, the nomenclature for Mr. Fischbach's username will vary in text referencing the anomaly.
SCP-5561 was discovered on a hard drive belonging to Samuel Fitzgerald, an anthropology student who attended Ohio State University. As a class assignment, Mr. Fitzgerald wrote a thesis on "Lord Marquaad E".
SCP-5561's secondary effect is the inability of Mr. Fitzgerald to write consequential bureaucratic documents 9 . Additionally, the subject is further incapable of saying the name of the horror game YouTuber . Amnestics are recorded to have no effect.
The Foundation reached out to Mark Fischbach for questioning. Mr. Fischbach declined an interview and was under Foundation surveillance for 30 days. In that time no anomalous activity was detected.
As of 2020/02/02 Samuel Fitzgerald is the only known individual to exhibit SCP-5561's secondary effect.
Addendum-1: Emails and minutes of Samuel Fitzgerald's disciplinary hearing were acquired by the Foundation.
Disciplinary Hearing minutes:
Date: 11/12/2019
Leader: Elizabeth Dower
Facilitator: Kenton Moraines
Recorder: Valery Trace
Time Keeper: Richard Jones
Attendees: Harvey Grey, Samuel Fitzgerald, Annabelle Ward, Samantha Cole, Hugh Hensworth
Agenda Topic: Disciplinary action of Mr. Samuel Fitzgerald's breach of school conduct
Time allotted: One hour
Discussions: Mr. Moraines discussed the emails, and verbal harassment Professor Grey received from Mr. Fitzgerald over the course of the semester. Mr. Fitzgerald stated that the assignments were effected by technical errors as the documents had been normal when he sent them. Professor Grey commented fearing the harassment was due to false charges of ableism earlier in the semester.
Mr. Fitzgerald became irate saying that him and a majority of the class had reported Professor Grey for harassing a deaf student and her sign language interpreter. This incident had been reported to the college but was dropped due to there being little evidence and Professor Grey's recent tenure.
Mr. Moraines asked Mr. Fitzgerald if his harassment towards Professor Grey was related to the incident. Mr. Fitzgerald said he hadn't harassed Professor Grey and upon further questioning Mr. Fitzgerald became aggressive and threatened the committee. Mr. Fitzgerald had to be escorted off campus.
Conclusions: The committee calls for expulsion and will vote via private committee on what action to take. Furthermore, the committee will be sending an email of their decision
To: ude.uso.tneduts|29dlaregztif_s#ude.uso.tneduts|29dlaregztif_s
From: ude.uso|sriaffacimedaca#ude.uso|sriaffacimedaca
Subject: Results of Hearing
Date: 11/16/2019
Samuel Fitzgerald,
Due to the charges of harassment against you, and your actions at the hearing unbecoming of a Buckeye student, the Office of Academic Affairs have decided to expel you from Ohio State University. There is no option to repeal the decision due to the severity of the case.
-Kenton Moraines
Head of the Office of Academic Affairs
Phone: 614-292-5881
Fax: 614-292-3658
Addendum-3: During investigations, Samuel Fitzgerald's apartment was found in a state of disarray. The home office was covered in hardcopies of the assignment, a printer with no ink and the bathroom mirror broken. An interview with Samuel Fitzgerald was requested.
Interviewer: Agent Królik
Interviewee: Samuel Fitzgerald
Date: 2019/11/18
<Begin Log>
Królik: Thank you for the interview. I'm Agent Królik. (extends his hand)
Fitzgerald: (accepts handshake) It's nice that someone doesn't think I'm lying.
Królik: According to your account, you wrote a thesis about this meme?
Fitzgerald: Tried to, yes.
Królik: -both an attached document sent from your computer and a hardcopy given to the professor, had all letters replaced with a capital letter "E"?
Fitzgerald: …that's correct. (pauses) …they weren't when I sent them. Please believe me.
Królik: I do, next question, where did you download the image from?
Fitzgerald: I don't know? Discord or IRC? I don't remember.
Królik: That's understandable. (clears throat) Were you harassing Professor Harvey Grey with these memes?
Fitzgerald: NO! For fuck's sake, no!! I was trying to turn in this fucking assignment!
Królik: (taking notes) Calm down please!
[Silence]
Królik: Was the harassment of Professor Grey fueled by his charge dismissal?
Fitzgerald: I'm not harassing him period. (grits his teeth) This is what I've been trying to say.
Królik: Mr. Fitzgerald, I understand your frustration with him but please answer the question.
Fitzgerald: …It wasn't fueled by the dismissal.
Królik: Thank you. Last question and then you'll be on your way.
Fitzgerald: (hands tremble) …OK.
Królik: Say the name Darkiplier . 10
[Fitzgerald shifts nervously in his chair and opens his mouth to speak. Camera records his mouth sounding out the name of the gamer from Ohio ; although, audio records him saying the man who runs head first into the dark .]
Fitzgerald: …I became aware of this during the hearing.
[Silence.]
Fitzgerald: They thought I was mocking and threatening them, and it escalated… (stares at the backwall) …all I remember is being escorted off campus.
Królik: I feel we're finished with the interview. Thank you again for your cooperation.
[The session ends and security enters the room and escorts Samuel Fitzgerald to amnestic administration. After it was discovered that amnestics had no effect on the anomaly, Mr. Fitzgerald was court ordered to attend weekly therapy sessions at a Foundation cover hospital.]
<End Log>
More from fairydoctor
Close me!
SCPs :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
SCP-6420
25 May 2021 20:59
113
28
15513
SCP-5561
08 Jul 2021 20:30
74
48
17409
page 1 of 4 1 2 3 4 next »
GoI Formats :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
Foundation Tales :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
Prose Bot and Perseverance
24 Mar 2021 02:56
31
1
7667
Daisy the Clown
29 Mar 2021 22:23
33
5
5156
page 1 of 9 1 2 3 ... 8 9 next »
Footnotes
1 . EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
2 . EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEE "EEEEE".
3 . EEE EEEEE EEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEE-EEE, EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEE EE E EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEE EE "EEEE EEEEE"
4 . EEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEE EEEEE, EEE.
5 . EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE .
6 . Pending Euclid reclassification.
7 . The antagonist from the movie "Shrek".
8 . The image has been run through various filters making the image appear washed-out, and saturated with color in a graphic design commonly known as "deep fried".
9 . Such as school assignments, applications, government forms, etc.
10 . Another moniker for the screamer streamer .
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5561 " by fairydoctor, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5561 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 4 | ## interview and was under Foundation surveillance for 30 days. In that time no anomalous activity was detected.
As of 2020/02/02 Samuel Fitzgerald is the only known individual to exhibit SCP-5561's secondary effect.
---
## documents had been normal when he sent them. Professor Grey commented fearing the harassment was due to false charges of ableism earlier in the semester.
Mr. Fitzgerald became irate saying that him and a majority of the class had reported Professor Grey for harassing a deaf student and her sign language interpreter. This incident had been reported to the college but was dropped due to there being little evidence and Professor Grey's recent tenure.
Mr. Moraines asked Mr. Fitzgerald if his harassment towards Professor Grey was related to the
---
## interview with Samuel Fitzgerald was requested.
Interviewer: Agent Królik
Interviewee: Samuel Fitzgerald
Date: 2019/11/18
<Begin Log>
Królik: Thank you for the
---
## interview. Thank you again for your cooperation.
[The session ends and security enters the room and escorts Samuel Fitzgerald to amnestic administration. After it was discovered that amnestics had no effect on the anomaly, Mr. Fitzgerald was court ordered to attend weekly therapy sessions at a Foundation cover hospital.]
<End Log>
More from fairydoctor
Close me!
SCPs :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
SCP-6420
25 May 2021 20:59
113
28
15513
SCP-5561
08 Jul 2021 20:30
74
48
17409
page 1 of 4 1 2 3 4 next »
GoI Formats :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
Foundation Tales :
SCP
Created
Rating
Comments
Length
Prose Bot and Perseverance
24 Mar 2021 02:56
31
1
7667
Daisy the Clown
29 Mar 2021 22:23
33
5
5156
page 1 of 9 1 2 3 ... 8 9 next »
Footnotes
1 . EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
2 . EEE EEEEEEEEEE EEEE EEE EEEEE "EEEEE".
3 . EEE EEEEE EEE EEEE EEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEE EEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEE-EEE, EEE EEEEEEEEE EEEE EEEEE EE E EEEEEEE EEEEEE EEEEEEEE EEEEE EE "EEEE EEEEE"
4 . EEEE EE EEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEE EEEEE, EEE.
5 . EEEEEEE EEEEEEE EEE EEE EEEEEEEE EEEEEEEE .
6 . Pending Euclid reclassification.
7 . The antagonist from the movie "Shrek".
8 . The image has been run through various filters making the image appear washed-out, and saturated with color in a graphic design commonly known as "deep fried".
9 . Such as school assignments, applications, government forms, etc.
10 . Another moniker for the screamer streamer .
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5561 " by fairydoctor, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5561 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-2994 | SCP-2994 | scp | Item #: SCP-2994
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2994-1 to -27 are to be kept in two standard Safe-class lockers. Intravenous feeding tubes and catheters should be connected at all times, except when testing. A veterinarian should monitor them to ensure their continued health. SCP-2994 instances and their containment lockers are to be cleaned daily. Testing requires permission from a Level 2 Researcher. SCP-2994-28 is to be kept in a separate locker, and monitored constantly.
Description: SCP-2994-1 through -27 are externally identical to small whiteboards, brand unknown, with each being 40cm x 30cm x 5cm. Instances of SCP-2994 are alive, possessing internal organs. Genetic testing has revealed a strong similarity to Canis familiaris , or the domestic dog. Three orifices are present; one, on the back face, is used for egestion, another, situated on the forward face, for breathing, and next to it a third, which is used for sustenance intake. SCP-2994 instances possess no teeth, and it is theorised that they subsisted on liquid food before containment. The brains of SCP-2994 instances have been modified artificially 1 .
Instances of SCP-2994 are inactive until a human writes on them with a dry erase marker pen, which causes them to display simple incomplete phrases in German. They accomplish this using chromatophores, which are most densely situated underneath the top face, forming a grid of lines in a similar configuration to a seven-segment display, which then illuminate in a way that forms letters. If no attempt is made to answer after marking it, the phrases will fade over the course of approximately two minutes. If the blanks are filled in incorrectly, the board will display an encouraging message, and if three mistakes are made, the board will fill in half of the missing letters. If the blanks are filled in correctly, the instance of SCP-2994 will congratulate the user, displaying messages such as "Wunderbar!" and "Fantastisch!" (German for "wonderful" and "fantastic", respectively). If expletives are written on an instance, it will turn a bright red colour and emit a loud, high-pitched whistle until the expletives have been erased.
SCP-2994-28 is similar to other instances of SCP-2994, but with far fewer augumentations to its brain and a cruder make up; the internal organs are more cramped, with some pushing against major nerve bundles. SCP-2994-28 is unresponsive to external stimuli, and manifests messages at irregular intervals in crude English. These messages all have similar themes (see addendum 2).
Addendum: SCP-2994-1 through 27 were discovered in ██████ ███████ Elementary School in Moses Lake, Washington, when parents reported "talking whiteboards" in one class during an open house. When questioned, the children claimed that a German teacher, Ms A████ S█████████, had brought them in from home for use in their lessons three months prior. Grades had improved significantly for that class since. All individuals involved were administered Class-A amnestics, with the children exposed to SCP-2994 over the longer period being monitored for █ years in case of recollection.
A raid on S█████████'s house by Foundation agents led to the discovery of SCP-2994-28, and several dog carcasses missing most of their internal organs. Some of the dogs were microchipped, and later identified as having gone missing between twelve and seven months prior to the raid. However, rates of decomposition pointed to them having died between eight and four months prior. An exception was a dog traced to S█████████ herself, which had been killed fourteen months earlier. As of ██/██/20██, attempts to trace S█████████ have been unsuccessful.
Addendum 2: Sample texts manifested by SCP-2994-28 during containment. Grammar and spelling have been unaltered.
Date
Text
12/06/05
are you there
04/11/09
it hurts
13/09/11
please make it stop
02/12/13
i dont know what i did rong but im sorry
21/03/14
please help me
31/06/14
kill me
12/08/14
i still love you
Footnotes
1 . For current leading theories on the origin and precise effects of SCP-2994 brain modifications, see: Cambridge, Jack, “Tabula Rasa: Neurological Modification As Present In SCP-2994” Biophysics: An SCP Foundation Journal (2010): 359.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-2994 " by Sound Chaser, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2994 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 73 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "animal", "canine", "game", "rewrite", "safe", "sapient", "scp", "tool"] | 2014-09-26T21:03:00 | 4,615 | 723 | SCP-2994 | Safe | SCP-2994-1 to -27 are to be kept in two standard Safe-class lockers. Intravenous feeding tubes and catheters should be connected at all times, except when testing. A veterinarian should monitor them to ensure their continued health. SCP-2994 instances and their containment lockers are to be cleaned daily. Testing requires permission from a Level 2 Researcher. SCP-2994-28 is to be kept in a separate locker, and monitored constantly. | SCP-2994-1 through -27 are externally identical to small whiteboards, brand unknown, with each being 40cm x 30cm x 5cm. Instances of SCP-2994 are alive, possessing internal organs. Genetic testing has revealed a strong similarity to Canis familiaris , or the domestic dog. Three orifices are present; one, on the back face, is used for egestion, another, situated on the forward face, for breathing, and next to it a third, which is used for sustenance intake. SCP-2994 instances possess no teeth, and it is theorised that they subsisted on liquid food before containment. The brains of SCP-2994 instances have been modified artificially 1 .
Instances of SCP-2994 are inactive until a human writes on them with a dry erase marker pen, which causes them to display simple incomplete phrases in German. They accomplish this using chromatophores, which are most densely situated underneath the top face, forming a grid of lines in a similar configuration to a seven-segment display, which then illuminate in a way that forms letters. If no attempt is made to answer after marking it, the phrases will fade over the course of approximately two minutes. If the blanks are filled in incorrectly, the board will display an encouraging message, and if three mistakes are made, the board will fill in half of the missing letters. If the blanks are filled in correctly, the instance of SCP-2994 will congratulate the user, displaying messages such as "Wunderbar!" and "Fantastisch!" (German for "wonderful" and "fantastic", respectively). If expletives are written on an instance, it will turn a bright red colour and emit a loud, high-pitched whistle until the expletives have been erased.
SCP-2994-28 is similar to other instances of SCP-2994, but with far fewer augumentations to its brain and a cruder make up; the internal organs are more cramped, with some pushing against major nerve bundles. SCP-2994-28 is unresponsive to external stimuli, and manifests messages at irregular intervals in crude English. These messages all have similar themes (see addendum 2). | 1 | ## Addendum 2: Sample texts manifested by SCP-2994-28 during containment. Grammar and spelling have been unaltered.
Date
Text
12/06/05
are you there
04/11/09
it hurts
13/09/11
please make it stop
02/12/13
i dont know what i did rong but im sorry
21/03/14
please help me
31/06/14
kill me
12/08/14
i still love you
Footnotes
1 . For current leading theories on the origin and precise effects of SCP-2994 brain modifications, see: Cambridge, Jack, “Tabula Rasa: Neurological Modification As Present In SCP-2994” Biophysics: An SCP Foundation Journal (2010): 359.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-2994 " by Sound Chaser, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2994 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
a-bit-more-of-a-plan | A Bit More of a Plan - SCP Foundation | tale | Eugene grabbed at the sides of his head and breathed heavily, threatening to vomit for the third time in five minutes. He had no plans on where to take the clones, no plans on how he'll get out of this house, and no plans to deal with the comatose pervert lying in front of him . But now that he was here, he really should have used a bit of foresight beforehand.
"Mister? Where are we going to go?" the clones asked again.
"I… I don't…." Eugene took a wobbly step out of the musky-smelling closet, almost tripping over Mr. Thoroughwood's limp arm.
"Mister, please, let us help you relax," the gender-transitioned clone said, "If you are to help us have a better life, we should at least repay you in kind."
The clones all took steps forward out of the closet, following Eugene into the hallway. Eugene collapsed against the wall, pulling at his hair and threatening to rip it out. He was too delirious to object when the clones all came up to him and reached down to touch him. Eugene was almost scared of what they thought helping him relax would be.
"Please breathe, Mister," one of the clones said, placing a hand on Eugene's chest, "Count with me slowly."
Eugene was surprised that however long these clones had lived in this place didn't entirely warp their perceptions of what assistance was. He looked up at them to see them giving gentle, caring smiles towards him, the kind that a nurse would give a child who was about to get a vaccination. Eugene went along with their instructions, counting down from 10 and slowing his breathing to match.
"What would help you the most now?" the clone touching Eugene's chest asked.
Eugene sat and thought for a moment, his head defogging after being bombarded with thoughts of murder and vomit. He knew he wanted to get out of here, and he knew he needed to take these clones with him. However, he did not want to be responsible for a person's murder, no matter how awful that person was. He knew what he needed.
"Pen. And paper," Eugene said weakly.
The conjoined clones walked swiftly away into another room down the hall while the other two continued to regulate Eugene's breathing. Eugene's stomach felt hollow at this point, and each breath had an acidic sting to it that almost made it unpleasant to focus on. Despite everything, Eugene was feeling better.
"Do you have names?" Eugene asked.
"I was called Roman," said the clone touching Eugene's chest.
"And I was Ramona," the gender-transitioned clone said.
"What about the other two, the conjoined ones?" Eugene asked.
"They were called Robert and Rupert," Ramona said.
"Oh god… they weren't named after anyone, were they?" Eugene asked, hoping that Mr. Thoroughwood didn't name sex clones after Mr. Carter.
"Not that I know of," Roman said, "Though if you are to be our new owner, you may change our names if you like. If any of them make you uncomfortable."
"God, please, don't call me your owner. I'm not your bloody owner and I never will be," Eugene said feeling a twinge of anxiety rise up again, "I want to help you. I want to be your friend, not your master."
"Huh," Roman and Ramona said, "Alright, we will call you our friend."
Eugene sighed, hoping that they understood what he's trying to say. When clones are made to serve, it's hard to imagine that they have any idea of what friendship actually is. He hoped in time that he could teach them.
A few moments later, the conjoined clones came back with a yellow pad of paper and a blue pen. Eugene nodded and reached out for it, taking it gently. Eugene took off the cap of the pen with his teeth and flipped to a page that didn't have any writing on it already.
"Why did you need that, Mister?" Robert and Rupert asked.
Ramona turned back to them, "He wished to be called our friend instead."
"Why did you need that, friend?" they again.
Eugene spat out that cap onto the floor, "You don't need to call me friend either. Just call me Gene."
"Why did you need that, Gene?" they asked for the third time.
"Bloody hell…" Eugene said under his breath.
"We are curious as to how writing would help you with your care," Roman said, removing his hand from Eugene's chest, "Does literature help you stay calm?"
Eugene, his mind much more clear, looked up to the clones in front of him. His face flushed and his eyes went wide as he realized for the second time that all of the clones in front of him were stark naked. He hurriedly looked back down onto the pad of paper in front of him.
"You seem to be getting an-"
Roman was interrupted by Eugene, "I know, I know! Just… listen."
Eugene began to draw lines on the paper, making a simple table. On one header he wrote "Call Hospital", on the other he wrote "Sneak Out". Below the table he drew a line across the paper, with the word "Information" on it.
"We need to figure some things out, and I think we're on a time limit," Eugene said, eyes still glued to the paper, "Mr. Thoroughwood will likely die if we don't get him to a proper hospital. I know you all are good at taking care of people, but that man is in some sort of coma or body paralyzation or something, and he needs a proper doctor."
The clones all turned around to look at Mr. Thoroughwood, who was also lying naked due to his towel flying off his body. They could all see him breathing, but the breaths were slowly and shallow.
"What should we do about Sir, then?" the clones all asked.
"That's what we need to figure out. If we call a hospital, we'll get caught and likely get arrested or worse. If we leave him, we're murderers. What we need to do is figure out the best course of action so our hands our clean and we get you all out of here," Eugene said, "And I'm not coming up with this plan alone. The last time I came up with a plan by myself I ended up… here."
The clones all looked back to Eugene and nodded.
"What can you tell me about the guards? How many are there?" Eugene asked, pen primed to write.
"We do not know the total number of them, but we know that there are at least five guarding the outside of the house at all times," Ramona said.
"Three of them have dogs. Giant Schnauzers," Roman added.
"Schnauzers are guard dogs?" Eugene asked incredulously.
"Giant ones are."
Eugene wrote down everything that was being said in the information box, and began to put a few things in the respective tables. Mid-writing one sentence, he paused, tapping to pen against his bottom lip.
"Are Giant Schnauzers only good at attacking people or are they good smellers, too?" Eugene asked.
"Yes. Mr. Thoroughwood's father was a policeman, so he had a great affinity for adopting former police dogs," Robert and Rupert said.
"Well… tits," Eugene sighed, "That complicates things."
Eugene scratched a line out and wrote a new one beneath it, punctuating it with a big question mark. There were so many questions, that one could wonder if there was even a way to get out of this without getting caught. Eugene still had no idea where to go after they all managed to get out of this place, anyway.
"Is there a back door? And if so, does it lead to someplace that we can hide in?" Eugene asked.
"There are several, the patio is large and expansive," Roman noted, "We were often used to provide assistance there when Sir threw his weekly galas."
Eugene shuddered.
"The entirety of this estate is surrounded by fencing, however," Roman said, "It would be difficult to leave anywhere but from the front gate."
Eugene continued to scratch and scrawl, underlining certain things, circling others. He was holding on so tightly to the pen as he wrote that one could see his knuckles turning a sheer white. The clones simply stood and waited to be called on when they needed to be.
Several minutes pass, several questions are asked, and Eugene still felt stumped. He sighed shakily, not sure how much time he would have left before his choices would be made for him. He knew he couldn't do this alone, he needed someone else's help. If only Mr. Weissman was actually here rather than his…
Eugene looked back up to the clones, standing still and watching over him like a quartet of guardian angels. They really did all look like Mr. Weissman, even if they were much younger. Maybe, even though they might not have souls, they might have a bit of his ingenuity? It was worth a shot, at least.
"Look, I'm really, really stumped on how we can get out of this. Everything that I can think of sees us either getting caught by the authorities, caught by the guards, or as murderers. I've already done enough crime by lying my way into this house in order to break you all out, but I need some more heads," Eugene said, "What should I do?"
The clones all looked at each other, then back to Eugene, confused.
"What do you mean? We do not know how to do this," Ramona said.
"We were meant for assisting people, not for espionage," Roman added.
Eugene sighed and smiled, "Like I said, you all could be so much better than what you're used for. You're all clones of one of the smartest men I've ever known, surely you have a bit of that genius in you, right?"
The clones' faces twisted, as if they weren't able to comprehend what was happening. Eugene's anxiety started to flare up again. Eugene looked down at his legs and felt like the world was collapsing in on him. Perhaps this really was the end. This is the place where Thacker's story stops for good.
"The garage," Robert alone said suddenly, "There's only ever one guard there at a time."
Rupert continued, "Incapacitate him with the weapon Sir used, borrow one of Sir's cars, and we drive Sir to the hospital ourself."
Eugene's eyes lit up at the sound of their voices. The idea was like hearing birdsong after waking up from a well-needed nap. Something that honestly Eugene could do with right about now. More than anything, it was an idea that could potentially work.
"I'm… mildly okay with stealing a car for the greater good, but I really don't want to shoot a guard," Eugene said, writing down more things on the pad on his lap, "What if I distract the guard while you all get Mr. Thoroughwood ready to go?"
The clones all looked at each other and then nodded.
"You should take the weapon anyway," Ramona said.
"Just in case," Roman added.
Ramona walked back into the closet and picked up the gun and Eugene's briefcase, handing them over to him. Eugene reached out and took them, the pad of paper sliding down onto the floor with an unceremonious clatter. He pushed himself against the back of the wall and stood up, brushing off his suit jacket so at least he didn't come out of this adventure looking much worse than when he started.
"You'll likely need a new shirt, Gene," Roman said, indicating to the large yellow vomit stain covering his belly.
Embarrassedly, Eugene realized he probably didn't look as strapping and clean as he wanted to be. Following Roman's lead down the hall to the Master Bedroom, the two of them got clothing for the five of them collectively. With a closet full of outfits handpicked by Mr. Thoroughwood, the clones quickly got dressed and offered a fresh shirt to Eugene. Eugene put on his new shirt and tried his best to ignore the variety of other lacy and latex outfits hidden deep beneath the others, not want to imagine anyone wearing them.
With everyone dressed and ready, Eugene tucked the gun in his pants, then immediately took it out due to the hindsight of still wanting functioning legs if it misfires. Electing to just keep it in his coat pocket, Eugene took a moment to do a few of those breathing exercises he was shown just moments ago. He needed to be calm, this was their best chance out of this.
"When we drop off Mr. Thoroughwood at the hospital, we need to drive to my bank. I'm hoping that Mr. Carter hasn't found a way to foreclose my account in half a day," Eugene said, "From there, we'll at least have the money and the transportation to figure out where to go."
The clones nodded.
Eugene hoped that Mr. Weissman really was seeing him through their eyes today. He hoped that he would be doing him proud here. No more waffling or wavering, just the conviction to push forward. The clones picked up Mr. Thoroughwood's body which was, thankfully, still breathing. The breaths looked much more faint which was a bad sign, but at the very least he was alive. Now was the time.
The clones and Eugene made their way down the stairs, hauling Mr. Thoroughwood as carefully as they could without making too much noise. The plan was for Eugene to draw the guard far enough away from the garage so that the clones could take a car and drive out front. From there, Eugene would need to make a mad dash, hop in and hope they could bust through the gate.
Eugene split off from the clones, letting them hide somewhere safe while he used their directions to make his way to the garage. As he opened the door, he was greeted with exactly what he imagined he would see. The garage was like a testament to overcompensation, luxury cars, classic cars, cars that exist just to be big and guzzle gasoline. In addition, he noticed exactly one guard… and one guard dog.
"Fuck," Eugene muttered under his breath.
The guard turned around to Eugene, eyes wide. The dog growled at the unfamiliar visitor.
"Who the fuck are you? Some bloke who got lost in here after one of Thoroughwood's parties?" the guard asked, walking slowly towards Eugene.
"Oh, me? No! No, I don't do that… thing," Eugene said, "I was here to inspect Mr. Thoroughwood's clones! I'm from Marshall, Carter and Dark."
Eugene took out his wallet and showed his identification. The guard, now standing right up to him, snatched it from his fingers to inspect it. The Schnauzer to his side sniffed at Eugene's pants. A few moments later, the guard looked up to Eugene.
"Well, the clones ain't here. Mr. Thoroughwood ain't here either," the guard said, "So why the fuck are you in the garage?"
Eugene shrugged, "I was hoping to find him. He left me to my business inspecting the clones, said he had to go somewhere and vanished. I wanted to find him to tell him myself that the clones are all right as rain."
Eugene looked down at the dog who was practically smelling every inch of his body. He hoped that he wouldn't smell something suspicious, not that he would know what WOULD be suspicious. There wasn't any blood, and he barely touched Mr. Thoroughwood at all. Eugene just needed to remember to stay calm… stay calm and not throw up over everything again.
The guard handed the wallet back to Eugene, and Eugene took it back and placed it in his pocket. Somehow he hadn't blown it yet, which was amazing to him, personally. He just needed to get the guard out of the garage so everyone else could slip in.
"Did he say where he was going?" the guard asked.
"Well, he greeted me in a towel, so I figured he was trying to get dressed," Eugene improvised.
"Hm," the guard said, "Well, if I had to make a guess-"
At that moment, the guard dog started to bark, his nose pushed up against Eugene's coat pocket. Eugene could feel the familiar gurgling in his stomach. He didn't even think about the gun smelling like Mr. Thoroughwood. The guard looked at the misshapen bulge in Eugene's coat and squinted suspiciously.
"What's in your pocket, lad?" the guard asked.
"M-my pocket?" Eugene said with a forced chuckle, "Oh, it's… it's my gun! Lot of dangerous people want to kill people who work for MCD, so I… keep a gun on me."
"Take it out," the guard said.
"Oh, there shouldn't be any reason for-"
"I said," the guard growled, staring Eugene down, "Take. It. Out."
Eugene slowly reached into his pocket, pulling out the gun, the custom-made Walther P88 that Mr. Thoroughwood commissioned from Marshall, Carter and Dark. The guard dog began to bark louder and more aggressively. The guard didn't need to see anything else to know that this was Mr. Thoroughwood's gun. He reached to his hip to pull out his own piece.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Eugene said, pointing the gun at the guard's leg and firing.
Instantly, the guard fell, clutching his leg as it slowly started to seize up. The guard dog, no longer restrained by a leash, took it as a sign to start attacking, and pounced on Eugene. Eugene screamed as the gun went flying behind him, trying to shield himself from the black mass of fur and teeth trying to bite his face off.
Eugene's arms were well and truly bloodied before the door to the garage burst open. Eugene didn't see what was going on as hair, drool and blood dripped into his eyes, but he heard another gunshot and suddenly the dog was off him. Two hands reached onto Eugene's shoulders, pulling him up and hauling him into one of the vehicles. Thrown next to him was Mr. Thoroughwood, currently being held by Roman.
Eugene could tell that the clones were all trying to talk to him, but he once again found himself in that panicked headspace, vision swirling, stomach churning, but instead of the musk of sex, it was the taste of dog hair and iron in his mouth as he panted and moaned in the back seat.
Eugene could feel the car lurch forward, and heard the screeching of tires. Shouting. Bullets hitting the car window. A sharp turn. The car speeding up faster. The sound of a gate bursting open. Eugene was flung forward off the back seat.
"We're out!" Eugene heard a voice say, "We're-"
The car crashed into a tree just off the mansion property.
Everything went black.
Half of a Plan
Inevitability Industries
Arson, Activism, and Mustaches
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" A Bit More of a Plan " by OthellotheCat, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/a-bit-more-of-a-plan . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 42 | ["_licensebox", "_shaggy-dog", "black-comedy", "chase", "comedy", "jam-con2019", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "tale"] | 2019-03-10T06:59:00 | 17,834 | 3,212 | 0 | ||||||
also-this-all-happened-on-the-same-day | Also This All Happened On The Same Day, So I Don't Know Why He Said It Like That. - SCP Foundation | tale | I've been wanting to do this since October and I've had chest and head congestion at some level ever since, so fuck it. Last chance this year to do it at all, so it's done.
Happy holidays!
▸ More by this Author ◂
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
The following is the last recorded message from newly promoted Director Austin of Site-12. It is unknown if the director was suffering a mental break or if he was under the effects of an unidentified memetic effect released during the site-wide breach on December 25th, 2013.
Regardless, the site experienced the simultaneous activation of both the above ground and below ground nuclear fail-safes 1 minute and 43 seconds after the broadcast. There were no survivors.
if the audio player is broken so is the masquerade...
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Also This All Happened On The Same Day, So I Don't Know Why He Said It Like That. " by Doctor Cimmerian, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/also-this-all-happened-on-the-same-day . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Site-12.mp3
Author: Doctor Cimmerian
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | 45 | ["_licensebox", "audio", "tale"] | 2017-12-24T22:10:00 | 1,322 | 218 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-8545 | SCP-8545 | scp | ADULT CONTENT
This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers.
Sexual References: Features sexual themes or language, without the depiction of sexual acts.
Sexually Explicit: Description of sexual acts.
Sexual Assault: Features non-consensual sexual acts.
Gore: Depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts.
Child Abuse: Features severe mistreatment of children.
Self-Harm: Description of self-harm.
Suicide: Description of suicide.
Torture: Description of torture.
{$custom-content}
If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.
Continue
Back to Front Page
Love all despite it
close
Info
X
⚠️ CW: This article evokes sexual trauma and is explicitly NSFW (18+).
⚠️ content warning
Item #: SCP-8545
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: The construction paper containing SCP-8545 is kept within Folder C-2 in Site-433's Anomalous Media Storage Unit. The sheet itself is covered with a plastic opaque material so as not to risk accidental exposure.
Further testing fixated on the anomaly is considered a waste of resources. Personnel are warned beforehand that any requests for amnestic treatment in relation to information about the circumstances of SCP-8545's discovery will be denied.
Requests to engage with SCP-8545 in private will be denied.
Seriously? Not even a little peek?! This is madness! - Dr. Lux
This is the second time I've had to request you not to write these grossly unprofessional "humorous" notes on your assigned documentation. Understand that I have been lenient on you in the past. Last time I give this warning. - Site Director J. M.
Description: SCP-8545 is a sketch scrawled on a singular sheet of beige colored construction paper. Analysis of the material the anomaly was designed on has determined that the "origin" of the anomaly is fixated specifically within the sketch itself. For all intents and purposes, the construction paper itself is entirely non-anomalous.
Markers, colored pencils, crayons, and glitter glue are determined to be the main tools used to craft the sketch. Art quality is poor, various elements appear traced from resources discovered online. The construction paper is punctured in various areas, assumed from being subjected to intense pressure whilst the artist was drawing SCP-8545.
SCP-8545 depicts Jane Read, a character from the animated children's show Arthur , [DATA EXPUNGED]. Several other figures can be seen, expressing indifference or disinterest at the situation. Jane Read is smiling. A speech bubble has been drawn above her, it remains blank.
Any subject viewing SCP-8545 will invariably find the contents sexually gratifying. This arousal is determined to be independent of the subject's own sexual orientation or personal desires. Considering the contents of SCP-8545, most subjects questioned after viewing the anomaly convey discomfort. The average SCP-8545 exposed subject will express shame and unwillingness to discuss their arousal regarding the depicted event. The shame expressed is considered non-anomalous. Subjects who are sexually fascinated with the acts depicted in SCP-8545 do not express shame upon viewing, and consider their response to it normal.
Subjects do not experience any codependency when it comes to the imagery within SCP-8545. Subjects do not experience difficulty achieving orgasm without imagining or viewing SCP-8545. Subjects are able to suppress SCP-8545 from their memory with mental effort, amnestics are not required. Mental distress caused by SCP-8545 is negligible and can be reversed with time. Any codependency or fixation expressed is entirely of the subject's own volition.
On the back of the construction paper containing SCP-8545, crudely written in red marker:
Characer chosen is Arthurs mother. ITs Out of me now. Im okay now. Plece no looking. Love all despite it. 1
Discovery: Reports of "low wailing" [DATA EXPUNGED].
Subject was aroun[DATA EXPUNGED].
Dr Lux. attempted to take subject into custody, subject prom[DATA EXPUNGED].
[DATA EXPUNGED].
Cleanup took a total of 12 hours to complete. Whereabouts of the subject are undetermined, assumed to be in hiding. Dr. Lux was severely reprimanded.
Footnotes
1 . (sic)
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-8545 " by ratking666, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8545 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 42 | ["_adult", "_licensebox", "artistic", "but-a-dream", "classiccon2025", "mind-affecting", "safe", "scp", "sexual"] | 2025-07-10T16:55:00 | 4,620 | 709 | SCP-8545 | Safe | The construction paper containing SCP-8545 is kept within Folder C-2 in Site-433's Anomalous Media Storage Unit. The sheet itself is covered with a plastic opaque material so as not to risk accidental exposure.
Further testing fixated on the anomaly is considered a waste of resources. Personnel are warned beforehand that any requests for amnestic treatment in relation to information about the circumstances of SCP-8545's discovery will be denied.
Requests to engage with SCP-8545 in private will be denied.
Seriously? Not even a little peek?! This is madness! - Dr. Lux
This is the second time I've had to request you not to write these grossly unprofessional "humorous" notes on your assigned documentation. Understand that I have been lenient on you in the past. Last time I give this warning. - Site Director J. M. | SCP-8545 is a sketch scrawled on a singular sheet of beige colored construction paper. Analysis of the material the anomaly was designed on has determined that the "origin" of the anomaly is fixated specifically within the sketch itself. For all intents and purposes, the construction paper itself is entirely non-anomalous.
Markers, colored pencils, crayons, and glitter glue are determined to be the main tools used to craft the sketch. Art quality is poor, various elements appear traced from resources discovered online. The construction paper is punctured in various areas, assumed from being subjected to intense pressure whilst the artist was drawing SCP-8545.
SCP-8545 depicts Jane Read, a character from the animated children's show Arthur , [DATA EXPUNGED]. Several other figures can be seen, expressing indifference or disinterest at the situation. Jane Read is smiling. A speech bubble has been drawn above her, it remains blank.
Any subject viewing SCP-8545 will invariably find the contents sexually gratifying. This arousal is determined to be independent of the subject's own sexual orientation or personal desires. Considering the contents of SCP-8545, most subjects questioned after viewing the anomaly convey discomfort. The average SCP-8545 exposed subject will express shame and unwillingness to discuss their arousal regarding the depicted event. The shame expressed is considered non-anomalous. Subjects who are sexually fascinated with the acts depicted in SCP-8545 do not express shame upon viewing, and consider their response to it normal.
Subjects do not experience any codependency when it comes to the imagery within SCP-8545. Subjects do not experience difficulty achieving orgasm without imagining or viewing SCP-8545. Subjects are able to suppress SCP-8545 from their memory with mental effort, amnestics are not required. Mental distress caused by SCP-8545 is negligible and can be reversed with time. Any codependency or fixation expressed is entirely of the subject's own volition.
On the back of the construction paper containing SCP-8545, crudely written in red marker:
Characer chosen is Arthurs mother. ITs Out of me now. Im okay now. Plece no looking. Love all despite it. 1 | 1 | ## discovery will be denied.
Requests to engage with SCP-8545 in private will be denied.
Seriously? Not even a little peek?! This is madness! - Dr. Lux
This is the second time I've had to request you not to write these grossly unprofessional "humorous" notes on your assigned documentation. Understand that I have been lenient on you in the past. Last time I give this warning. - Site Director J. M.
Description: SCP-8545 is a sketch scrawled on a singular sheet of beige colored construction paper. Analysis of the material the anomaly was designed on has determined that the "origin" of the anomaly is fixated specifically within the sketch itself. For all intents and purposes, the construction paper itself is entirely non-anomalous.
Markers, colored pencils, crayons, and glitter glue are determined to be the main tools used to craft the sketch. Art quality is poor, various elements appear traced from resources discovered online. The construction paper is punctured in various areas, assumed from being subjected to intense pressure whilst the artist was drawing SCP-8545.
SCP-8545 depicts Jane Read, a character from the animated children's show Arthur , [DATA EXPUNGED]. Several other figures can be seen, expressing indifference or disinterest at the situation. Jane Read is smiling. A speech bubble has been drawn above her, it remains blank.
Any subject viewing SCP-8545 will invariably find the contents sexually gratifying. This arousal is determined to be independent of the subject's own sexual orientation or personal desires. Considering the contents of SCP-8545, most subjects questioned after viewing the anomaly convey discomfort. The average SCP-8545 exposed subject will express shame and unwillingness to discuss their arousal regarding the depicted event. The shame expressed is considered non-anomalous. Subjects who are sexually fascinated with the acts depicted in SCP-8545 do not express shame upon viewing, and consider their response to it normal.
Subjects do not experience any codependency when it comes to the imagery within SCP-8545. Subjects do not experience difficulty achieving orgasm without imagining or viewing SCP-8545. Subjects are able to suppress SCP-8545 from their memory with mental effort, amnestics are not required. Mental distress caused by SCP-8545 is negligible and can be reversed with time. Any codependency or fixation expressed is entirely of the subject's own volition.
On the back of the construction paper containing SCP-8545, crudely written in red marker:
Characer chosen is Arthurs mother. ITs Out of me now. Im okay now. Plece no looking. Love all despite it. 1 | |
four-knights-tango | Four Knights' Tango - SCP Foundation | tale | Canon Hub » From 120's Archives Hub / The Man Who Wasn't There Hub » GASLIGHT, GATEKEEP, GIRLBOSS Hub » Four Knights' Tango
close
Info
X
Co-written by JakdragonX , Ralliston , and Trotskyeet
JakdragonX's Authorpage
Ralliston's Authorpage
Trotskyeet's Authorpage
The following article is a part of the GASLIGHT, GATEKEEP, GIRLBOSS storyline. Whilst you can read it on its own, it's highly recommended you read the previous installments to get this article in its fullest.
2004
11th of January
Overwatch Command, 25 kilometers south of Kraków, Poland
Site-01 wasn't a quiet place.
Ever since its creation in the wake of the 20th century , its endless corridors were always filled with one sound or another. At first, it was the humming of perfectly-aligned machinery, feeding the Beast beneath the Factory with the products of its harvest. Then, it was the screams and shouts of a million-year war, brought to the building's threshold by a raging army of wronged men. And then, for almost a century, it was the shuffling of papers and research talks, vocalized by the endless array of personnel Overwatch Command employed in an attempt to contain the Queen in her Throne Room.
But tonight was different, for Site-01 was quiet.
Nobody knew when it happened, how it happened, or why it happened, but everyone within the building felt it. A dead silence, devoid of the endless whispers of the devil that tainted it for so long, filling every single centimeter of the place it could find. No motion, no voice, no presence could be felt, only the void of the god-shaped hole it left behind.
Site security raised a containment breach alarm within seconds.
The ancient doors creaked open, sweeping away centuries worth of dust and grime as a large humanoid figure stepped inside.
The suit was a cross between Darth Vader and a bulldozer, the peak of two decades of paratech research done by a dozen organizations that both legally and morally should not exist. With its every step came the crackle of druid protection wards, the humming of active Scranton Reality Anchors, and the thunder of two tons of Pittsburgh steel, protecting its user from the influence of almost any being that wanted to take control of its user, no matter how powerful.
Piloting it was Junior Researcher Christina Yates, who was not having a good day.
In her left claw was what looked like a Geiger counter designed by Escher, humming and wailing as she flipped through the detection frequencies: antimemetic, thaumaturgy-cloaking, Akiva, djinncraft, the whole nine yards. Nothing.
Well, not entirely nothing; what the Foundation called SCP-001-B still had one of its unmistakable traits remaining in place. The wooden throne room of the once world-spanning Fae empire, full of countless jewels and riches from forgotten conquests, weaved by magic so evil even the Foundation feared it, was still where it had been before, intact.
What was particularly noteworthy about the seat however was the visible absence of the immortal soul of a long-dead Fae monarch god on it, hellbent on enslaving all of Earth.
Christina sighed, activating her walkie-talkie, dreading the response on the other side.
"It’s Yates. Scans confirm it. Mab's gone."
She was so getting fired.
12th of January
Esterberg's Market District : Częstochowa, Silesian Voivodeship, Poland
EMERGENCY NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION O4 COUNCIL
The following message is currently broadcast to all Foundation Sites overseeing Free Ports.
During the morning hours of 11/01/2004, Site-01 was raided, resulting in the theft of an incredibly powerful artifact. Its proper usage would result in an inevitable and irreversible HK-Class "Deific Subjugation" Scenario. All clues lead to a single party being responsible: GoI-120, Triumviraté.
Per unanimous decision of the entirety of the O4 Council, all Foundation Sites overseeing Free Ports are now required to form small-scale operation groups staffed by their most competent personnel to not garner enemy attention. Those teams will be required to infiltrate the Triumviraté cells in their respective Free Ports in an attempt to find any potentially useful information regarding its future plans.
More information will follow soon.
— Ethan MacCarthy Jr., O4 Council , Summit Lead
"Why are we doing this again?" Magdaleine Cornwell said, groaning as more rain poured down from her coat's hood onto her face.
"Because Green and Westbrook already took Three Ports , and Eurtec's being explored by Rainer and Miller ." Jessie Rivera answered, chuckling slightly at her partner's wet blond curly hair. Her red bundled ones were also wet, obviously, but it didn't bother her as much — she was almost always as cool as they got. "Oh, and because Esterberg's close to 120 , dummy." She rolled her eyes.
The other sighed again, trying to avoid collision with one of the local denizens of the Free Port, who were as desperate to get out of the downpour as she was. "We're Site Directors, for fuck's sake!" She threw her arms in the air. "Why can't… I don't know, Asheworth or whoever else go? He doesn't do anything regardless."
Jessie didn't answer, instead smiling slightly as she hurried towards a roofed area, directly adjacent to their destination. She thought Mag looked cute when she got angry. Which was very often.
She sighed with relief, happy they weren't walking through a literal wall of water anymore, and looked at the doors leading to the building next to them.
Inventor's Ingredients
Open all day round!
(Unless you're law enforcement)
They were there.
Inventor's Ingredients was a place with many faces, depending on who the client entering was. To a regular observer, it was the biggest tavern in town, serving mediocre drinks and giving good prices for sleeping the night off. To the more informed customer, it was a hotspot for the dealing of more illicit substances under the nose of apathetic staff. To the countless Mab-hating Fae of the city, it was even supposedly the headquarters of an anti-Queen rebellion, said to serve Mab's sister, the Inventor (the name wasn't particularly subtle). And to personnel of a certain normalcy maintaining organization, it was one of the few spots where their three-arrow logo wouldn’t draw too much attention.
Jessie strolled in, making sure to carefully avoid a pair of Yeren , ready to beat each other unconscious in the center of the room before making her way to the bar counter. Magdaleine followed close behind, unfortunately being not so careful, excusing the collision with the two with a nervous smile and a "sorry" muttered in Polish. She awkwardly placed her hands on the table, drumming them against the smooth granite.
Just a few seconds later, the tapping was interrupted by the creak of large wooden kitchen doors opening, from whom a large and mid-aged Fae woman emerged. She broke into a grin upon seeing Rivera, and came closer, stretching her back a little bit and yawing profusely.
"Jessie! Nice to see you again! The usual?" Cad'hla Gwyneth said, raising her eyebrow upon seeing Mag. Even if she was an insincere scoundrel that tried to be as nice to as many scum of Esterberg's criminal world to maximize profit as she could, her words this time were honest. Jessie was fortunate enough to be very good friends with her only daughter, Olivié Gwyneth, whose obsession with history had saved 120 personnel from trouble many, many times .
Jessie held up a hand, returning the smile.
"Not tonight, Gwyn'. Business calls, unfortunately." She sighed. "In fact…"
She pulled two small tickets from her pocket, sliding them across the counter.
"…we were hoping to catch a show."
Gwyneth smirked, inspecting the tickets before passing them back and giving the pair a conspiratorial wink.
"Of course, of course. Stairs to the left, think you’re just in time for the headliner." She pointed to the appropriate door with her head. "You and your girlfriend have fun." She grinned stupidly.
Magdaleine was about to reply that they were strictly work partners thank you very much, but was quickly interrupted by being dragged away by Jessie towards a small door at the far end of the room.
"Show? Not exactly the greatest use of our time here." She groaned, correcting her still-soaking hair.
Rivera sighed. "Not about the show, silly. We’ve got a meeting here."
Jessie opened the horrendously creaking door, revealing a cramped set of stone stairs leading down. It smelled like death.
"After you." She smiled.
12th of January
Esterberg's Sewer District : Częstochowa, Silesian Voivodeship, Poland
The Esterberg Sewer System was state-of-the-art, constructed by the Foundation a decade ago as a prestige project and apology to the city for their actions back in '85. It also smelled exactly as you'd expect.
Jessie and Magdaleine carefully marched along the tunnels' narrow walkways, trying their best to not fall down the slippery and awfully wet slabs of cold cobblestone (both did their best not to think of what the slabs were wet with). There was no handrail, which definitely didn't help the ever-present darkness and smell of rot and gunpowder.
"Where… Where are we even going, for crying out loud?" The blonde Director said, trying her best not to vomit at… well, everything around her.
"You'll see."
After what felt like literal decades to one of them and ten minutes for the other, the two finally escaped the never-ending staircase, entering a large and very wet corridor. Through its middle, a canal full of dirty water flowed, which would have made a lovely lazy river if one happened to be a rat.
"You're fucking kidding me."
"I most certainly am not," Jessie replied with an enigmatic smile on her face, continuing to walk with full confidence down the corridor.
Through more groans and complaints, they eventually made their way onto yet another staircase, then another, and then another , until the two were so deep underground one could hear neither the sounds of the city nor of the tavern above then. What Mag could hear, though, was extremely vague yet rhythmic music-like sounds, coming from beyond the brick wall next to her face. She came a little closer, trying to listen more carefully, only to realize the walls ended, giving in to large metal doors in a dead end. She looked at Jessie, raising her eyebrow.
The other nodded silently, giving the doors an irregular knock. Immediately, the doors' composition changed, forming an extremely small window, just large enough for the other side to be able to see the two but not for them to see the rest. The gap in space was suddenly filled with what looked like a skull, which quickly gave the two a look and disappeared just as quickly, changing the way the entry looked once more. They were free to come in.
The first thing that hit Magdaleine was the music. It was a local artist, Rhoteen C'ari, poster child of the Esterbergian post-punk neo-faechant hypertrance scene, filling the entire club with sounds she didn't think the human mind was prepared to experience. The music sounded like rhythmic grunting occasionally broken up by a guttural scream. The people loved it.
The second thing was the sheer size of the hall, which went against all logic and yet was completely reasonable for this place. The ceiling seemed to impossibly extend upwards for miles, occasionally broken up by floating bright lanterns until after a few miles, a layer of dark mist obscured her view. Hundreds of creatures — both recognized by Mag and not — fiddled about, filling the entirety of the club with chatter and drinking. However, most of their attention was focused on only one thing — the wrestling pit located directly in the center of the room, cordoned off by barbed wire and electric fences. The people around it were screaming — some because they had too much to drink, some because their fistfuls of złotys were riding on this match, and some because they accidentally touched the fence.
The third thing that Magdaleine noticed was the competitors. The hazy outline of a creature stood in one corner, chanting in an unknown language. It was humanoid only in the vaguest sense of the word — it was featherless and a biped to be sure, but she didn't think Plato ever accounted for additional tentacles and colors never seen on this plane of existence. The creature opened its countless mouths to expel the scream of an exploding star, the dirge for the long-dead Nightwalker god, and the last word to be spoken by humanity, making all observers weep with both agony and ecstasy. Mag didn't think it had anything equivalent to a head — but even then, she was glad its top protrusion was covered by a hot pink luchador mask.
Opposite the entity stood a singular skeleton, wearing the clothes of a Victorian aristocrat who got really into cosplaying. A short skirt forming a larger, war-like suit covered her hips to neck, ending in a shoulder-pad and a long, tethered red cape. Its barely-protected hands grasped golden knuckledusters, empowered with carvings of Celtic (the basketball team, not the people) runes. With one of them, it scratched its bare skull, only decorated by a golden diadem full of diamonds, with the other it took a cigarette from their many-pocketed suit and lit it in one fluid motion.
Ex-Foundation Agent Marie Antoine Surratt , first and last of her name, Mad Queen of Hell, Bones, and Suffering Itself, Bone Battalion's Baron, leader of Claire's Legion, Bloodless Kingpin, Murdered of Hope, Light in the Darkness, and just a Mean-ass Bitch et al was quite the sight to behold.
As Mag and Jessie made their way towards the bar counter, sitting in comfortable distance from the arena, a skeletal announcer counted down the match before quickly running out of the ring. The beast roared, prompting Surratt to spring towards it. Her punch connected with the being in its approximate midriff, causing it to stagger away. The crowd screamed, both with happiness and anger as the two threw punches at each other over and over as the skeleton grabbed the demon's head and bashed it against her femur. She punched it again and again, until its "face" was reduced to nothing more than pulp, spraying technicolor blood all over herself and the observers. No one particularly seemed to care.
The creature fell on the floor as the crowd whooped and hollered. Surratt took another drag from her cigarette, stretching her arms wide as she proudly strutted around the ring. The spectators ate it up, throwing their money directly onto the pit as the skeletal warrior burst out into uncontrollable laughter of a maniac.
She didn't notice it, not until it was too late. The being rose again from behind the ex-agent, opening its million mouths with the fury of a thousand suns and latched itself onto Surratt's body. It swallowed her whole, screeching with an emotion so alien to the human noosphere as to be entirely incomprehensible. Mag let out a small yelp of surprise which she would later insist was indigestion. As the crowd booed, it laid down on the arena again, panting with unmistakable satisfaction and exhaustion. The entire hall once again fell silent, waiting in anticipation for what would happen next.
And then the beast's belly exploded. A singular skeletal arm broke through the scaly and slippery body of the demon, its blood tainting even more of the arena, until Surratt entered reality again. She uttered a loud and triumphant "Ha!" before proceeding to kick the beast in the face, taking extra care to ensure no blood got on her boots.
"Get the hell out of my city, you fucking non-Euclidean, scum," she shouted, extinguishing her still burning cigarette on the blood-stained ground. She spat on the half-alive being, panting with exhaustion, happiness, and sheer adrenaline pumping through her nonexistent veins. "Nobody fucks with the Bone Queen, bitch."
It was over. And then the crowd exploded.
Jessie cleared her throat. "And that's exactly who we're meeting today."
Mag didn't reply, instead sighing as she looked around the hall once more. It seemed like Surratt was done with taking adulation from the crowd, as she made her way away from the arena down the hall. The crowd opened before her — be it from respect or fear — and in just a matter of seconds, she arrived at a gigantic throne, standing menacingly in the highest point of the room, near one of its walls. The construction was just as confusing as Surratt's attire, but, at this point, neither of the two questioned it, having long since accepted the bizarre as the norm in the confusing world of Esterberg's undercity.
Surratt clambered upon it, lighting another smoke while smiling with satisfaction, giving the entire hall a look with her supposed eyes. Mag's reason knew this was impossible, but a smaller and much older part of her brain that hadn't quite worked out yet that hunter-gathering was rather passé screamed internally that not only was Surratt grinning from ear to ear, but she was also looking directly at Mag. She blinked once, and the feeling was gone.
Their trance was suddenly interrupted by a large Child of the Night, scowling at them from behind the counter with a less-than-pleased expression on his furry face. "Oi, if you aren't going to buy something, get out of those seats. Paying customers only."
Mag immediately turned to leave, but Jessie stopped her and slammed down their tickets. An awkward smile entered her face as she chuckled nervously.
"I purchased two Deluxe Dinner And A Show Packages, which guarantees us each one meal and drink voucher. At least according to it, haha." The bartender looked closer at the tickers, groaning almost unnoticeably. "I'd like a water and a slice of bread, and she'll have… Mag, do you want anything?" She looked her directly in the eyes.
"Uhm… I…" She blushed slightly, coughing in an attempt to cover it up, which was extremely stupid because that's not how blushing works, she thought.
"She'll have a glass of water and bread as well," Rivera smiled sweetly, turning once again towards the bartender. "I trust that's not a problem?"
The bartender turned away, grumbling something about "fuckin' tourists," visibly not pleased.
"So, I, uh…" Mag tried to say, only to be interrupted by the match's announcer sliding into the seat next to her, ordering three shots of the bar’s cheapest liquor. With enthusiasm she's never seen in anyone, it downed them one after the other, liquid splashing down from its jaws to its ribcage, with a few droplets of the booze getting on Mag's coat. She looked on with mild disgust and curiosity at the being, wondering what unholy force held together all these bones.
Her train of thought was shattered almost as quickly as it began, as the previous music suddenly stopped. She felt a sense of relief at the sense of relative quietness and tranquility that followed, but immediately groaned again as the endless crowds filling the club cheered for something in the distance.
Near Surratt's throne sat a seven-man band of skeletons, each of them occupying a different equally peculiar instrument. She was certain one of them was a modified flute and the other a guitar formed from the bones and maw of what appeared to be a dragon of some kind, but the one that really got her attention was the piano, occupied by a skeleton wearing eighteen-century clothing. The others waited for his command, and seconds later, the club exploded with a techno-dubstep remix of Moonlight Sonata. Mag never expected the crowd to enjoy the show, but for some reason she did not understand, it appealed to the Esterbergians even more than the previous chants.
"Alright, so, uhm," Rivera said, turning her head towards Mag and groaning slightly as she heard more and more of the music. "You wait here, and I'll go arrange a meeting."
"A meeting?" She raised an eyebrow.
Jessie pointed at Surratt with her head. "With her, dummy. She's not gonna talk to us in front of the entire crowd. It would break her image."
"Fair enough," Mag replied, making place on the counter for the now-arrived orders.
"C-Cool beans." The other raised her thumbs, walking away into the endless crowd. Before Mag could blink again, she disappeared into the rhythmically-dancing mass of people and monsters.
"So, what'cha doin' here, skipper?" The announcer suddenly spoke with surprising clarity, turning his skull towards Mag. "What drives a Jailor and her girlfriend out here, the middle of Esterberg Fight Night?" 1
She internally sighed, too tired to explain their relationship for the millionth time this evening, instead just moving her stool a little closer to the other. "Meeting with her, apparently." She said, pointing with her head towards Surratt. She knew she probably shouldn't talk about the details of their mission with strangers, but something deep within the skeleton's voice told her he would forget the entire conversation in an hour anyways.
He burst out laughing, hitting the counter many times with his skeletal fits, much to the barman's disapproval. "Oh, man!" He wiped away a nonexistent tear from his cheek. "Well, good luck to you two lovebirds if you think the Mad Queen'll listen."
Mag shook her head. "She really did go nuts after she died in that grove of suffering all those years ago, didn't she?"
"Well, if ya went to hell and killed Satan 'imself, would you be sane?" He drank another shot.
"Fair enough." Cornwell shrugged, taking a bite out of the bread. It was hard as a rock. Taste was similar too. "Whawht abwout thwe west, thwouwgh?"
"Huh?"
She swallowed the bite. "The rest of the skeletons, I mean. You all seem pretty normal."
He looked around them, focusing on the band playing in the background almost immediately. "I guess they do, unless you count Beethoven out." He chuckled.
She raised her eyebrow.
"Oh, you don't know?" She nodded, making him point in the direction of the fancy-dressed skeleton on the stage. "That's Ludwig van motherfuckin' Beethoven, sweetie."
The airhorn and synthesizer section of the sonata started, and Mag decided that sometimes you shouldn’t mess with the classics, because otherwise, the classics might decide to mess with you.
Interview Log 120/Alpha-49X0
«BEGIN LOG»
Rivera turns her recording device on as she comes closer to Surratt's bone throne. She shallowly bows, smiling through a grimace on her teeth, much to Surratt's satisfaction. The other shows Rivera can stand up with her hand, simultaneously filling her nonexistent mouth with a big sip from a gigantic bear mug sitting atop her seat. The liquid splashes through her open ribcage onto the floor below her. She does not seem to notice.
Surratt: Curse my goddamn eyes if I'm seeing the truth. Jessie Hannah fuckin' Rivera, in her very own person. Here, in the heart of my palace.
From one of her pockets, Surratt takes out a piece of paratechnology with a visible Prometheus Labs marking on it, and uses it to light her own cigarette. The lighter zaps with thaumic energy, but ultimately abides the order.
Surratt: What to do I owe the pleasure?
Rivera: Oh, Queen of Bones, Light in the Darkn—
Surratt rolls her eyes.
Surratt: Oh skip the bullshit, will you? Just get to the point already. <looking at her wrist> I ain't got the entire day, honey.
Rivera sighs, gently massaging her eyes.
Rivera: It's about Triumviraté.
Surratt raises her eyebrow.
Surratt: <quietly:> Even after the weeb Nazis, it's always those fuckin' forest idiots. <sighing, much more clearly and loudly:> What is it this time? Drugs, human trafficking, or just general bullshit all over?
Rivera comes closer, scratching her head.
Rivera: Weeb Nazis?
Surratt scratches her skull with the hand holding the smoke.
Surratt: Chicago Geist . It's… a long story. Point is even they were less annoying than Triumviraté. But I digress; what do you need and why should I help you?
Rivera bites her lip.
Rivera: I can't exactly tell you anything, but—
Surratt waves her finger.
Surratt: I'm still technically 120's employee.
Rivera: Huh?
Surratt: They never terminated my contract after I died. <stretches her limbs> So, y'know, I'm covered by the secrecy policy. Go ahead.
Rivera: I…
Rivera looks at the bar located in the background, grabbing her head in her hand. She sighs, and whispers "whatever" to herself.
Rivera: They somehow stole Mab's soul from Overwatch HQ, and now want to use it to summon her fully back into reality. Which would, you know, inevitably end it, alongside everyone in it.
Short pause.
Rivera: We don't know which cell of them has it, but since they operate in practically every Free Port out there, we sent two-man squads to check up on them to each one. <pointing at Cornwell in the distance with her head> Me and Mag were deployed here, and we heavily suspect we're onto something. Problem is—
Surratt: —that you don't know how to get in. And it so happens you just remembered your little experiment girl so happens to run the biggest racket in the city and can get any info on them. <scoffs> You really haven't changed, y'know?
Rivera: Look, Marie, I swear it's not like that—
Surratt: We both know it is like that. And it's "Surratt" to you, Jessie .
Rivera tries to speak, before turning around, beginning to step down from the dais.
Surratt: <raising her finger:> But I'll give you one more chance.
Rivera raises her eyebrow.
Surratt: They're a pain in my ass, too. No matter how many times I fuck them over, they always come back. And I don't want no ends of reality. So I think we can come to some… <gesticulates> consensus here.
Rivera: Anything works for me.
Surratt stops for a moment, tapping the right armrest of her throne with her hand and exhaling the smoke from the cigarette. She looks around them, and suddenly smiles widely.
Surratt: I can give you direct contact with someone that's itching to beat the shit out of any Triumviraté scum he comes across. And, trust me, he's good at what he does — so if anyone has any info about them, it's him. <interrupting Rivera:> I know what you'll say, I know — but you can trust me on this one. I'm insane, but I have a moral code.
Rivera: Where's the "but?"
Surratt: You see that arena?
Surrat points at the pit in the center of the room. Within it, two Fae are standing, trying to clean up the still-present mucus and body of the entity. One of them waves her hand in a circular manner, and the corpse starts to levitate.
Rivera: <nods> Yes. What about it?
Suratt: See, here's the thing, honey — I'm a Queen 'round these parts. I can't just randomly help Skippers, my technical employment notwithstanding, I've got a reputation to uphold. So, here's my deal: <pointing with her head at the arena:> you beat me there, and I give you all the help you need. The people are happy because they get to see two of us fight, I'm happy because I get to keep my reputation, and you're happy because you get your info.
Pause.
Surratt: So, you in?
As dead silence fills the area around them, Rivera blinks twice, shaking her head.
Rivera: You're… kidding, right?
Surratt grins widely, taking another sip from her cup.
Surratt: We can come in in ten minutes. I'm dead serious.
She chuckles silently at her own joke. Rivera sighs, sitting down on the dais steps. She looks at Cornwell, Surratt, the crowd around her, and then her hands. She smiles slightly, and looks directly into Surratt's eye sockets.
Rivera: You got yourself a deal.
«END LOG»
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!" Mag shouted, trying to be just a little louder than the ever-present and very vocally chanting crowd. "THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO WAY I'M EVER—"
"I can hold my own. Remember Kraków?"
"You broke half your ribs in Kraków!"
"Still, I managed to beat them, didn't I? Besides, she's a skipper, I'm sure she'll go easy on me."
They both glanced over at Surratt, who was currently suplexing adoring fans in the stand. Despite it being mostly nonsensical tricks, the myriad creatures observing the upcoming match seemed to love it.
As Mag opened her mouth to protest, Jessie shushed her, putting a finger on her lips. "Point is, I'll be fine." She replied, tapping her head with her hand and strapping on a safety helmet with the other. The crowd found it to be very amusing.
Mag groaned gently. "But what if it's not enough?" She grabbed her palm, uniting it with her own. "I… she's strong, Jes. Please, take care of yourself. I—"
"I know."
No one spoke a word, but no such things were necessary — they understood each other perfectly anyway, and it would be simply energy wasted. Rivera smiled, and Cornwell returned the gesture. For a moment, all was quiet. For a moment, all was calm. For a moment, all was good.
They lasted like that for a moment, only for their moment to be stopped by their ears getting assaulted by a high-pitched sound coming from the arena. Above the pit, a platform levitating alongside the announcer from before appeared, piercing the shroud of darkness with accompanying light beams. They switched between million colors Mag wasn't sure she could describe, but that didn't really matter as long as its attention-catching function worked.
And it worked indeed; within one moment, the entire crowd previously screaming and chanting fell silent, gazing only towards one point above them: a single skeleton wearing utterly outlandish attire. He cleared his throat, making everyone know his voice was somehow boosted as to encompass the entire hall, and stretched his limbs, making the clicks of his bones heard by everyone.
"Fiends from forests, caves, plains, hell, and heaven alike: welcome, WELCOME!" He shouted, much to the spectators' entertainment. "I'm happy to announce a second — that's right, ladies and gentlemen: second ! — fight this evening." As he took a deep breath, the illuminators suddenly shifted, changing their position to focus entirely on Surratt standing on one of the corners of the arena. He screamed at the top of his lungs: "Mad Queen of Hell and Bones, leader of the Bone Batallion, Bloodless Kingpin, Murdered of Hope, Light in the Darkness, the Chosen One, and Empress of the East: Queeeeeeeeeeeeen Marieeeee Surrattttttt!"
The crowd exploded with both happiness and anger, forming an incoherent mass of screeching in apparent and overwhelming support for the contender. Each of them tried to be louder than the previous, wanting their Queen to hear their words. Though they inevitably failed, it did not discourage a single present soul, gaining quite the opposite effect.
As they partially calmed down just seconds later, the lights made sure Rivera was the one to be seen by the public next. She groaned at their intensity, but tried to make her bravest face possible in one final attempt to gain the observers' approval.
She of course failed, spawning a wave of booing and disappointment, but she did not care. All she herself could focus on now was the skeletal general in front of her. For a moment, their eyes met, each drilling into the soul of the other. They tried to gain even a single advantage before the fight would start. But, invariably, they both remained as the immovable objects they were, not letting the other unstoppable force enter their emotions. Even if Jessie was strong as almost nobody else she'd ever met, she knew the other wasn't any weaker.
"JESSIE?" Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Mag shouting into the crowd from the audience, trying to make herself heard.
"YES?" She slowly turned around, barely hearing a word.
"JUST IN CASE SOMETHING HAPPENED, I WANTED YOU TO KNOW—"
"WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU HERE!" She tried to reply, tapping her ear, covered by the helmet.
"I WANT YOU TO KNOW I—"
" LET THE MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATCH BEGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!!! " The fury of a thousand throats from above interrupted them, forcing Rivera to turn back at her opponent. She apologetically smiled and put on the protection for her eyes, blinking twice and breathing just as heavily. She knew she could do it.
It was on.
Jessie and Surratt slowly moved to the center, circling each other like sharks. The Director's mind was racing; her Taekwondo was abysmal, her Judo an affront to Japan. Her kickboxing was alright, though, maybe she could—
Surratt reached into a coat pocket, pulling out a fistful of sand and throwing it in her face. As Jessie spat grit out of her mouth, she just barely dodged a haymaker to the temple, courtesy of the skeleton. So it was going to be one of those fights.
"And the Queen goes for the SALT-SPRINKLER! How do we feel about that one, folks?"
The crowds cheering were incessant, echoing in Jessie's ears as the crunch of gravelly sand lingered in her mouth. By the time her left foot firmly planted onto the ground beneath, Surratt had already stepped forward, her dominant arm flailing outward in preparation for another strong-arm to the face.
Her arms shot up defensively — just barely in time to block the incoming blow by Surratt. The Queen was already preparing for her next attack, though, swinging her opposite arm across Jessie's neck in an attempt to grapple.
The doctor leaned backward, dodging Surratt before throwing a punch of her own. Her impact was grabbed by the opponent, who effortlessly flung it aside. A faint "ooh" echoed in the bleachers as Surratt slammed her shoulder forward, causing Jessie to jump backward to dodge. The ropes were now dangerously close nearby. Rivera grunted in anger as she held her arms up to her chin in preparation. This is exactly what Surratt wanted.
Jessie's instincts screamed at her to duck and weave, which her legs complied with before her mind had time to register. Buckling downward, she pivoted towards Surratt's left, trying desperately to find a better angle of attack. The red-haired woman caught a brief glimpse of a smile across Surratt's face as she realized her opponent's opposite leg was blocking her movement, boxing her between the ring and the Queen's reach.
And that was when she caught it — the impact of a boney knee directly to her nose.
The sounds of the crowd and Surratt's laughter only grew into a conglomerated roar as Jessie flung her body across the arena. Above her, the announcer's voice rattled and rambled, but she couldn't make out exactly what he was saying. Pain was the only thing on her mind, dulling her senses as she slowly planted her feet beneath her again.
I'm going to lose if this keeps up. Jessie's mind began racing. What was she supposed to do? Surratt was already on the approach, her demeanor towering above like a leopard ready to pounce on its prey.
And that was when she heard it. The desperate screams of Mag from behind her.
She couldn't make out what her partner was saying, but it didn't matter. Jessie knew that this couldn't continue. She needed to win this — for her sake, Mag's, and the mission itself. Whatever the cost, at that moment, was irrelevant to Jessie. She just had to do something and with that, Surratt's contender felt a newfound power. She knew that she could beat the Queen, and beat her she would.
Reality itself began to ripple around Jessie. Dimensional energy cracked and creaked around her as the crowds roar simmered. Surratt grimaced, taking a step backward as Jessie wiped the blood from her shattered nose, closing her eyes. When she opened them moments later, they were full of purple, rippling with a soul full of realty-bending.
One small step forward, and the ring beneath Jessie's foot crumbled into dust. The crowd was dead silent.
Surratt was now running towards Jessie in a full sprint. She didn't know if the Queen was maybe aware of her predicament, or if she was just trying to get in another blow to end the fight. Whatever the case was now though, it didn't matter. As she approached, Jessie's hands reached out in front of her body, her wrists connecting together with her outspread hands. The tug of reality grappled and shook her body in fleeting retaliation, but Jessie was the one in control now. And she didn't let go.
Her muscles tensed in unison as a single word escaped her lips.
"Push."
And then suddenly, the crowd's screams were a lot more pleasant to Jessie's ears.
The everpresent frost of the Esterbergian night was chill-inducing, but the slowly fading heat of adrenaline made up for it.
It seemed that with each step the trio made across the wet streets of the city, a single star above them flickered out of existence, making the sky just a little bit darker. The city — and, by extension, Surratt — didn't really seem to care, going around its business just as usual, but the newcomers in form of the two Directors very much did. In an effort to make sure they weren't being followed, every shadow, puddle, and corner was thoroughly inspected by Mag, much to Surratt's amusement.
But even then, it was all futile; the Night always watched, and those that lurked inside it observed the three undeterred.
"Where the hell are you taking us?" Mag said, focusing the beam of her flashlight on Surratt's face. The other didn't even flinch. "For all we know, you could be—"
The skeleton groaned, pushing down the light with a bony finger. "Even after you get a goddamned partner, you still have trust issues, don't you, Cornwell?"
Mag opened her mouth, ready to reply to this utterly ridiculous idea. Anger filled her head for the god-knows-which time this evening, forcing her to clear her throat. And just as she was about to share those words of disapproval, she realized that the sentiment was essentially entirely true, all of it. It forced her to shut up, spawning a reaction of looking down at the ground from self-centered embarrassment.
Surratt sped up her walk, as if she still had some appointment this evening, even if "this night" was a much better descriptor. She of course had none, but the idea of spending even more time than necessary with her former employers didn't exactly fill her with much joy. Especially when one of them was Magdaleine Cornwell.
As tens of minutes went by, they wandered seemingly without merit among the car-less city streets. The deeper they ventured in, the fewer people accompanied their voyage, until they made it so far away from city center they were the only ones among the dark skies, alone to the Night's touch.
Jessie felt a shiver go through her spine. She looked around, nervously glancing at the road they previously followed, only to meet nothing but their shadows. It was obviously just her imagination, she thought, chuckling in her mind nervously. It was just her mind, it had to be.
"We're here," Surratt loudly exclaimed, expanding her arms and smiling widely.
The square they found themselves standing in wasn't exactly the nicest area to be in. Small, dirty, in the back of half-ruined houses, and absolutely filled with trash, not the friendly type of trash contained in neat plastic bags mind you, the type that needed to be kept in metal barrels and even a cockroach would turn its nose up at. As Jessie tiptoed across, she did her best to ignore the sinking pit of dread in her stomach. This place seemingly reeked of anger, of grudges, of the will to hunt.
It stunk of hatred.
Jessie raised her eyebrow at the skeleton's comment. "You sure? Doesn't look like 'here' to m—"
And as she was about to let the final words exit her mouth, she noticed something . Before them, one of the brick walls of the demolished houses was… wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong. When she first noticed the expression of anger filling the area, it felt like it covered the entire square, but now she knew whatever the hell was such a furious being definitely hid behind the memetic cape covering the hole in the wall before her, making for a single hate singularity in the matrix of the Free Port.
She blinked twice, making her eyes burn with deep purple. The ontokinesis deep within the essence of the red-haired Director snapped awake once more, filling her very being with nothing more than pure power. It ran through her veins, eventually making its way to her soul and brain, until there wasn't a single ounce of her that wasn't one with it.
As she snapped her fingers, a strong and chill-inducing breeze swooped through the place, forcing her and the other two to blink once more.
When they opened their eyes, they were looking at something akin to a pit nested within the building, filled with endless items whose purpose the two Foundation doctors could only speculate about. Maps, drawings, bounty markers, knives, nets, bolts, flasks, you name it; they were all there.
Among the entire mess sat a single skeleton, his body in the expression of interrupted meditation. With an expressionless face — or, rather, skull — he looked at Surratt, completely ignoring the Directors. Noticing the expression, the General nodded, and that was all he needed to understand everything.
"And who the hell is this?" Mag said, raising her eyebrow at the obscenely dressed skeleton. His bones were covered by a large coat, filled with as many pockets containing as much illegal paratech as she could imagine, from the tip of his wide brimmed hat to the menacing crossbow, modified with so many enhancements even the Coalition would blush. He didn't say a single thing, but she felt his chilling stare run over her, as if he was gazing directly into their souls.
"Oh, him?" Surratt replied, slinging a shoulder around the being. " He's nobody ."
12th of January
Somewhere in Esterberg : Częstochowa, Silesian Voivodeship, Poland
After life, there is death. After death, there is reincarnation. An endless cycle of rebirth and destruction, forever guiding the universe forward in its infinity; wherever one went, this pattern followed, inevitably rebuilding the world anew every millennium or so. Even when the Fae Empire was razed from the Earth by its hatred and scheming so many worlds ago, it still found its way back to reality alongside those that unmade it, bringing its darkness into reality once more. Such was the cycle: never-ending, never-faulty, and never-broken.
For as long as it existed, there had been men whose sole purpose in life was to make sure this harmony would fall, crumbled by their boots and made theirs by their spells. Each time, they would of course fail, unmade into nothingness by the cycle's balance. But in the end, it did not matter, as for as long as this harmony existed, so would its enemies; and for as long as they would exist, so would their inevitable failures.
What the cycle's past enemies however did not possess was what Ai'sling Fiadh held in his hands — the half-dead soul of the ancient Fae god-queen, filled with nothing more than her hatred and endless agony. And that was exactly what would make his plans different from the rest's.
He smiled, walking away from the ritual well containing the essence of his master, built-in five meters into the ground of the dark halls around him. He already made sure she was temporarily stable, and there was no need to gaze into the endless screech of hate she was for more than he absolutely needed to. There was never a certainty if the symbols glowing with blood holding her in would not malfunction, making the observer a similarly miserable entity, and Fiadh very much would not want that. Not before his plan to bring her back was finished, at least.
He opened his unseeing eyes, disconnecting the psychic bond with Mab he'd held up for the last couple of hours. It hurt like hell, but it was well worth it — any zealot would sacrifice anything to be with their messiah, and he was no different from them. A little headache was nothing when compared to a direct, faster-than-thought conversation with the one he held dearest.
Where he did differentiate himself from other insane worshippers across history however was that he actually had a plan to make the world his god's. And it was a plan he was almost done with.
"Master!" A cry broke the silence of the dark crypt somewhere below the City of the East he stood in. Through its gigantic doors, a single figure entered, running with a torch that pierced the shroud of Night within, allowing for the messenger to safely pass.
Ai'sling flinched slightly as the light met his deep, black eyes, illuminating his figure and its long, silver hair and ritualistic outwear. With a groan too quiet for the other to hear he came forward, spawning a flame as dark as his heart in the palm of his ring-decorated hand, in an attempt to see who the intruder was. Where his eyes had always failed since he was born his magic succeeded, allowing him to see the very essence of the newcomer.
"What is it?" Fiadh's deep voice asked in a slow yet soul-piercing manner, forcing the other to answer with its words of power.
The figure shivered as his order entered ver mind. "They-They are here." Ve stuttered out, avoiding eye contact with the priest as best as ve could. His will made ver fail.
Ve flinched once more upon seeing his blind eyes look directly at ver. "They know."
He turned back, closing his sightless eyes once more. With a smile too faint for the other to notice, he told his Queen of what he knew, of what he felt, of who he was. And she listened back, allowing him to spread her thoughts in return.
"Then we have already won."
The Lands Nobody Returns From
GASLIGHT, GATEKEEP, GIRLBOSS
I Was the Queen (Before It Was Cool)
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Four Knights' Tango " by JakdragonX, Ralliston, and Trotskyeet, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/four-knights-tango . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Name of the file: logo2.png
Source: link
License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported
Author: José Luiz
Name of the file: logosmall.png
Source: link / link
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Author: EstrellaYoshte , edited by HarryBlank
Footnotes
1 . First Rule of Esterberg Fight Night: Talk about Fight Night, word of mouth advertising is always good. | 49 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "action", "children-of-the-night", "co-authored", "damien-nowak", "doctor-rivera", "esterberg", "fantasy", "from-120s-archives", "homo-sapiens-sidhe", "man-who-wasnt-there", "marie-surratt", "mystery", "nobody", "queen-mab", "tale"] | 2022-04-02T20:06:00 | 46,096 | 7,823 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-4877 | SCP-4877 | scp |
close
Info
X
SCP-4877 : Good Airwaves (previously titled 9.8 m/s 2 )
There's a reason they call it free fall.
Author: Captain Kirby
SCPs
SCP Number
Rating
SCP-3393
1418
Captain Kirby's Proposal
876
SCP-4514
748
SCP-3448
682
SCP-5552
631
SCP-3844
584
SCP-3388
516
SCP-3866
478
SCP-5003
459
SCP-3305
429
SCP-3449
412
SCP-4877
407
SCP-4321
362
SCP-7100
310
SCP-016-J
303
SCP-3123
253
SCP-3393-EX
242
SPC-1057
232
SCP-3511
219
SCP-6007
215
SCP-3633
201
SCP-4925
200
SCP-4479
193
SCP-3767
183
SCP-4316
169
SCP-4775
148
SCP-4034
144
SCP-5448
129
SCP-5877
124
SCP-3650
107
SCP-3203
73
SCP-5779
65
SCP-3405
62
SCP-3481
54
Tales
Title
Rating
The Nuclear Option
604
Impossible-To-Destroy Reptile
520
In The Clutches Of Life
439
Numbers, Like Stories, Never Die
371
The Tombstone of Alto Clef
296
Tales of the Ethics Committee: 5 Reasons The Foundation Wants A Robot Army
257
Excerpts From The Societal Census Programme ΩK-Class Report
254
With The Reaper On Retirement
250
Do You Remember Funerals?
187
From The Clutches Of Life
174
Where Death Used To Live
164
Project Damnerung
159
Hello, My Name Isn't
152
Group Date
151
Don't Get Used To It
146
The Many Portraits Of Jack Bright
144
Monochrome
137
Hundred-Year Favor
135
Even The Most Masked Of Men Become Themselves Behind Closed Doors
123
You Have 18 Unread Messages
104
Everyday Is Somebody's Birthday
102
A Failed Two Weeks Notice
77
The Shape of a Noose
75
Pink Cracks in a Digital Wall
70
Tears of a Neon God
69
'Til Death Do Us Part
69
Rocks And Trees Are Not Good Company
66
A Eulogy In 11/8 Time
58
Carnivores
58
Poky And Pal Scheme Together
55
Is Anybody Home?
54
When It Rains, It Pours
50
Poky And Pal Arm Themselves
50
Virtue
48
God-Knows-Where
41
It's A Nice Day Out
40
I Felt Numb
40
Attempts To Salvage Thought
39
I Am Wonderful
34
Outrun
31
What Is There To Do With A Pot Of Gold?
29
They Are Not Laughing With You
28
Containment's A Beach
23
GOI Formats
Title
Rating
Captain Kirby's Proposal, Or Something
196
My Head Is On Fire And I'm (Not) Ok
105
Project Proposals 2004-013/2014-114/2024-072: "Losing Your Cool"
76
You may also like:
SCP-3512 - The More You Know psul
So put yourself back in that imaginary bar, but this time, with a small stellated dodecahedron in your pocket…
SCP-3311 - All The Little Chairs by Billith
God, I just can't stop thinking about chairs now. There has to be billions of chairs on this planet. They might outnumber humans. Good lord. We'd never win.
Cliffs of Moher, Ireland. A common location for SCP-4877 occurrences.
Item #: SCP-4877
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All individuals who demonstrate understanding of SCP-4877 are to be questioned. Once all possible information regarding SCP-4877 has been extracted, these individuals are to be amnestized and released. Any pictures, videos or other media depicting or describing SCP-4877 are to be removed by Foundation webcrawlers.
Should individuals who have been linked to SCP-4877 disappear for longer than seven days, a duplicate body is to be prepared in order to fake the individual's death under the cover story that they died after falling from a great height.
Description: SCP-4877 is a phenomenon which can reduce the force of gravity that is applied to an individual during free fall. The exact circumstances needed to trigger this phenomenon are not well understood; however, initial research suggests the following:
SCP-4877 can be triggered by any individual.
The individual must be in free fall.
The individual must be consciously attempting to trigger SCP-4877.
The individual must close their eyes.
It is believed that there are additional requirements, both physically and mentally, that are fulfilled prior to a successful triggering of SCP-4877. Due to the lack of concrete resources regarding SCP-4877, the Foundation has been unable to confirm the exact steps necessary.
Discovery: SCP-4877 was brought to the Foundation's attention following the posting of a video to YouTube which gained approximately 30,000 views in under an hour.
< 00:00 > Black screen. Centered caption: "Flight Classes: Final Exam".
< 00:04 > Boy stands at the edge of a cliff by the sea. Late teens, long black hair, slim frame. Several young men and women are on the edge of the camera frame, talking; more linger off-screen. The wind flapping against the microphone drowns out all other sounds.
< 00:10 > A bald man in his mid-forties enters the frame. He wears a Hawaiian shirt and sweat pants. The man approaches and places his hands on the boy's shoulders. The two exchange words that are drowned out by the wind.
< 00:44 > The man smiles, pats the boy's back, and exits the frame.
< 01:08 > Camera pans over the edge of the cliff. Waves crash against rocks that jut out of the water. Camera pans back to the boy.
< 01:14 > The boy runs and jumps off of the cliff.
< 01:20 > The boy is impaled on the rocks.
< 01:23 > Camera pans back to the audience gathered at the edge of the cliff. The audience applauds. Their expressions remain neutral.
< 01:30 > - Black screen. Caption reads, "Join OneLeap Today!"
< 01:32 > - Video ends.
Flyer advertising OneLeap.
The video was taken down by YouTube soon after gaining popularity for violating its community guidelines. Initially the video was not marked as anomalous, but due to the strange behavior demonstrated, a fledgling investigation was conducted by Junior Researcher Abagail Lin.
Lin identified the location of the video to be the southern edge of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. After determining that the cliff is approximately 120m tall, Lin noted that the fall from the video lasted almost a second longer than it should have.
Addendum SCP-4877-1: Following the formal designation of the phenomenon observed in the posted video as SCP-4877, Researcher Lin identified the boy as seventeen-year-old Aston Cucher. An Garda Síochána 1 confirmed that Cucher had indeed died during the incident. Additional details regarding the events shown in the video were not disclosed to law enforcement officials to guarantee they would not interfere in a Foundation investigation.
Lin also identified the bald man who spoke to Cucher as Rainbow 2 . After obtaining his address and contact information, Researcher Lin volunteered to interview Rainbow under the guise of a civilian seeking to learn about OneLeap.
< Begin Log >
Lin enters the coffee shop where she agreed to meet with Rainbow. He is seated at a table for two near the window, drinking out of a mug. Lin stops next to the table.
Lin: Umm… hello. Are you uh, Rainbow?
Rainbow turns to face Lin, but appears to look past her.
Rainbow: And you— you must be the one they call Catherine. 3 Good airwaves.
Lin: Can I take a seat?
Rainbow: Vibe out however you like. Sitting, standing, jumping jacks. Just let yourself be comfortable. Good airwaves.
Lin sits down. Rainbow does not make eye contact with her.
Lin: So uhh, I guess I saw that video you guys posted a week ago and I got interested. But I'm still not totally sure what you do…
Rainbow: There's no use in doing things. We're all about feeling things. Like good airwaves.
Lin: I'm not sure I follow.
Rainbow: That's the sound of someone thinking with their head, instead of their internal dioxceline receptors.
Rainbow takes a pen from his shirt pocket and uses it to scribble an address and a time on a napkin. When he finishes, Rainbow makes eye contact with Lin for the first time.
Rainbow: Leap before you look, my gal. Good airwaves.
Rainbow stands up from the table and staggers out of the coffee shop.
< End Log >
Due to the lack of information gathered by the interview, Project Lead Dr. Teller decided that an investigation would be formed to infiltrate the OneLeap group and gather information. Usual protocol dictates that field agents are to be selected for extended field work; however, Researcher Lin was chosen due to her expected presence by Rainbow.
Addendum SCP-4877-2: The following is a series of field reports submitted by Researcher Lin during her investigation of OneLeap:
Report #1
Report #2
Report #3
Report #4
Report #5
Report #6
Report #7
Report #8
Report #9
Report #: 1
Date: 4/13/2019
I just got back from the first meeting. I'll try to describe everything that happened but a lot of it is from memory… I forgot to bring a notebook, or even the microphone. 4
We met in this back room at a run down community center. I think someone brought snacks. Honestly, it reminded me of how my dad described his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, except everyone was quieter.
I don't remember exactly how many people were there. I think it was around sixteen? Maybe closer to twenty? I should've talked to them while we waited for Rainbow. He was late, but everyone acted like that was the norm.
When the meeting started we all sat around in a circle on the ground, except Rainbow who used a folding chair. He started by reading something out of this little notebook he kept in his shirt pocket. I don't remember what he said. I was too nervous just trying to fit in.
I didn't forget my alias though. Rainbow had all the new people stand up and introduce themselves to the group. I think they thought my stutter was from nerves rather than trying to remember the right name. I wasn't the only new girl though. Her first name was Olivia, but I forgot her last name.
I don't really know why I'm doing this. I mean, I know why, but I'm more cut out for the lab.
I'll make sure I'm more thorough with my next report, sorry.
Report #: 2
Date: 4/18/2019
I took notes this time. I was too scared to wear the microphone in case one of the other members saw it, but I think the notes are thorough enough.
There were twelve other people at the meeting. Most of them must've been in their twenties or thirties, but there were a few older folks. One woman must've been in her late sixties.
Today, we had a special "Lecture" meeting. I sometimes heard the other members call Rainbow "Professor R". They seem to treat this like a night school, I guess.
Instead of sitting in a circle like last time, we gathered on the ground in front of Rainbow and his folding chair. He talked for almost an hour, occasionally using this hand-held whiteboard he brought along. The structure of the speech felt like a lecture, peppered with examples and cited reading, but it sounded more like a sermon.
I was the only one taking notes. I don't know if it was allowed or not. Either way, I didn't want to get yelled at if it was, so I sat in the back. I'll include some quotes from the lecture below, but I might've missed something.
The internet man. Stay off the internet. All the little blinky lights on screen are out to get you. You used to be able to tell what's real and what's got no soul behind it, but not any more. All I get are bad airwaves man.
You can see the strings on the fakes out there. They're all tangled and looking at their lower selves. Don't want to get mixed up with vibes that are tied down.
"Filters" are just what people in denial call lies.
As an exercise for later, you can ask a stranger how often they experience euphoria. Afterwards ask them the question again. Just as an exercise.
With the invention of Q-Learning and exploration strategies, we see a 300% decrease in the Dinine Radiation that chatbot AIs give off. Can anyone tell me why?
As the Wright Brothers once said, in unison, 'The singularity will consume us before the century is out'. They really should be given more credit for that quote.
Bad airwaves man. The sky is full of them. Now the air's polluted with mechatronic signals and blue colors, all because the machines learned to fly before we did.
Report #: 3
Date: 4/23/2019
I didn't wear the microphone again. Every way I put it on I swear it wasn't hidden well enough. I might just give up on it for now. It almost made me late today.
This meeting was more of an open discussion. I didn't contribute. I hope that didn't make me look weird. Olivia didn't say anything either though, so I'm probably fine. I'll include any memorable quotes at the end of the report again.
At the end of the meeting though, Rainbow declared that we were going to the "Runway" this weekend. Apparently Margret (the sixty year-old woman) would be taking her "Final Exam". She's going to go to Rainbow's house before the exam, and then meet with the rest of us around 2PM. I don't know how I feel. She was obviously excited about it. I guess I'm going to watch either way.
Also, after the meeting I finally spoke to Olivia. I didn't ask her much, but I got her phone number. Maybe I'll try to do an interview with her soon. Hopefully before the weekend, it'd be too bad if after seeing the Final Exam she runs away and I never get a chance to talk to her.
One day I'll vibe out like a fish, man. Deep respect for fish.
You think the fish that evolved first knew what they're doing? Maybe some little voice in their heads, all "I'm going to go breathe air now, later my aquatic-amigos".
Vestigial, adjective - degenerate, rudimentary, or atrophied, having become functionless in the course of evolution.
Birds are evidence that time does not move at one second per second for everyone. How else could they have evolved so much faster than us?
Report #: 4
Date: 4/27/2019
I caught up with Olivia today. We got coffee and I managed to ask her a few questions (including her full name, which is Olivia Walsh). I even wore the microphone this time! I'll just include the transcript below of the most relevant part.
< Begin Transcript >
Lin: … When are you planning to graduate?
Walsh: Heh, funny you say that. I was supposed to graduate in two years but I failed out of one of my courses, which sets me back in prereqs and stuff so it's looking more like three.
Lin: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
Walsh: Don't worry about it. It's part of why I joined OneLeap. I was uhh… sort of at my wit's end with stuff. Usually these "steps to success" programs are all bullshit but like, I don't know. Sometimes you need to just give the bullshit a try.
Lin: Actually, how did you hear about OneLeap?
Walsh: There were a bunch of posters all over campus.
Lin: Ah, I see.
Walsh: Anyways, why did you join up?
Lin: I just saw some promotional video on YouTube. It's taken down now.
Walsh: No, no. Not how you heard about it. Why did you join?
Lin: Oh… uh. I guess I thought it would be good for me.
Walsh: You're more used to asking the questions than answering them, aren't you?
Lin: Heh, kind of. I'm a researcher, so I do a bit of both.
Walsh: It sounds to me like you're here to look for answers then.
Lin: Excuse me?
Walsh: You know, answers. Personal answers. Answers to questions about Catherine.
Lin: I'm uh, not sure what you mean.
Pause.
Walsh: Oh, sorry. I'm starting to sound like Rainbow a bit, aren't I?
Walsh laughs to herself.
Lin: Yeah. Just a bit.
Walsh: What did you order?
Lin: Iced mocha, why do you ask?
Walsh: I think they've got your drink.
Lin: Oh! I'll be right back.
< End Transcript >
Report #: 5
Date: 4/27/2019
When we got that first video, I watched it about a hundred times, just to measure the exact moment that kid's body hit the rocks for my calculations. I thought I braced myself for seeing it in person. God, I can't believe how naive I am.
We all met up at the cliffs, and waited around for a bit before Rainbow and the old woman arrived. No one really said anything. It was windy and cloudy. The veterans stood in complete silence by the cliffside, while Olivia, myself and a few others paced around to keep warm.
When Rainbow and the old woman arrived, everyone gathered at the cliff's edge. Olivia asked me a few times what was happening, but I just shrugged. Everything from there on played out like the video, except the old woman more hobbled than ran.
Just watching her fall though was so… it felt wrong. Not dreadful, but just wrong. She didn't scream as she fell. It felt like it took forever. There's a good chance the woman fell for longer than the boy did in the video. Probably around 15 seconds. But it felt longer. After she hit the ground, Rainbow declared that she "received a C" in the course. That's when the applause started.
I can't express how I felt about the applause. Even Olivia clapped. I mean, I did too. I guess there was something respectable about it all. She went out on her own terms. That deserves some recognition, right?
Report #: 6
Date: 5/5/2019
Olivia came back this week. She didn't look fazed in the slightest. Although no one acknowledged that we just watched an old woman die the other day. Maybe there's some sort of memetic suppression? I don't think so though, because I can say for certain that I felt uneasy, and I don't know why I would be an exception. But Olivia looked like she felt… I don't know. More at ease? She spoke up more today than in the past. She looked happy.
Anyways, strange behaviors aside, we spent today talking about bonds. All different kinds of bonds. And when I say we, I'm including myself for once. I don't know why I spoke up this time. Maybe I was paranoid that the others would notice something strange about me. I don't think so though, because what I said felt natural. Like, I wasn't forcing it at all. I think I'm overthinking this.
Everyone vibing out right now? Good airwaves today. Good airwaves indeed. You know where those things come from right? Bonds. Wiggle a bond enough and you get waves.
… and that's why I do jumping jacks, my dude. Keeps them bonds loose.
You know, marriage used to mean something. Married people gave off the best vibrations. Back before they had "divorce". King Henry the Eighth ruined that all by himself.
Can anyone here tell me tell me the amount of dioxceline released when we split apart magnesium chloride? Yes, very good Olivia, 4.32 moles.
That's part of why we're all here you know. OneLeap attracts our ideal bond brothers and sisters. That's why you're all here.
Wiggle on my dudes. Good airwaves.
Report #: 7
Date: 5/7/2019
I got in touch with Olivia again, just to have another one-on-one chat. I wanted to know why she seemed so calm. I've seen some terrible things in my time at the Foundation, so I've chalked up my numbness to that, but I couldn't seem to explain Olivia. The interview didn't give me a concrete answer but… well you'll see in the transcript.
< Begin Transcript >
Walsh: Are these coffees going to become a weekly thing? Because I wouldn't be against that.
Lin: I mean, they can be. I wouldn't be against it, but I don't know why you'd want that.
Walsh: I dunno. You're just interesting to talk to.
Lin: Oh. Umm… thanks.
Walsh: Anyways, you had something you wanted to talk about?
Lin: I wanted to talk to you about the, uh, the exam we saw a while ago.
Walsh: What about it?
Lin: You watched a woman throw herself off a cliff, yet you still came back to the same people who told her to do it… why?
Walsh: I mean, you came back as well. It's probably for the same reason.
Lin: I'm not sure you know why I'm here.
Walsh: In that case, I think I'm just curious.
Lin: Curious?
Walsh thinks to herself for a moment, before leaning forward and motions for Lin to come closer. Lin also leans forward as well.
Walsh: [quietly] Like, after we all went home, I was feeling all kinds of things. I was scared, confused, and a bunch of other emotions that are hard to put into words. I skipped class on Monday to deal with them. And I don't know what it was, but there was something that just… clicked for me. All the talk about vibes and airwaves. It made sense. Not like, in anyway that I can describe. It just— it just fits. Like a puzzle.
Lin: A puzzle?
Walsh: Yeah. And now I want to see what my puzzle looks like. What's the picture? I've been so close to the pieces I need to take a step back. Well, its a big puzzle. I think I'm going to need a bird's eye view.
Lin: I'm not sure I follow.
Walsh: I want to fly.
Lin: But what if you fall?
Walsh: I won't.
Walsh leans back and smiles. Lin pauses for a moment before leaning back as well.
Lin: I see…
Walsh: Are you ok? You seem a little spaced out.
Lin: I'm fine. I think I forgot to do something back at my apartment though. I have to go. Sorry.
Walsh: No problem. We can talk more next week.
Lin: Right. Of course. Next week. See you later.
Walsh: Good airwaves.
< End Transcript >
Report #: 8
Date: 5/9/2019
Today Rainbow announced that Olivia would be graduating early, due to her excellent performance the past few days. She's taking the "Final Exam" this weekend.
I know I shouldn't do anything, and I'm not, but like— I don't know. She looked so happy. She knows that's she's going to jump to her death though. Or, I mean I don't know any more. Maybe she flies. I hope she flies. Her life's been too short to end on the rocks at the bottom of that cliff.
So much for those weekly coffees.
You ever seen one of those street magicians? Good airwaves, those guys. I used to do card tricks. My parents said I was pretty good.
… sleight of hand though. Something about sleight of hand always gets me. Shit disappears right before your eyes. No screens or anything, just right there.
Studies have shown that dioxceline measurements after being shown a magic trick is higher than after witnessing a true miracle.
I should've been a magic man. But you're not really living if you don't have regrets.
They're doing God's work, those street magicians. God's work. I bet the big man could do a mean coin routine.
Report #: 9
Date: 5/11/2019
She flew.
I'm going to try to list in as much detail as possible everything that happened, in case any of it contributes to triggering the phenomenon.
1. Olivia arrived with Rainbow wearing jeans and a white t-shirt.
2. Everyone gathered around the cliff edge she was going to jump off, just like last time.
3. Olivia didn't act very different. The others all seemed excited and a little jumpy, but she was much calmer.
4. Olivia lined up and took her mark.
5. Rainbow began to chant "One Leap!" over and over. Everyone (myself included) joined in.
6. Olivia closed her eyes.
7. Olivia jumped off the cliff.
8. She didn't even fall, she simply went up.
9. Everyone standing back clapped.
10. Rainbow declared that Olivia passed with an "A+" grade.
I don't know where she is now. 5 I have this feeling she's going to be ok though. I'm kind of happy for her.
Now that I think about it a little more… I felt a certain updraft when she jumped. I wonder if those were the "good airwaves" that Rainbow talks about.
//
Addendum SCP-4877-3: Following Report 9, Researcher Lin's mission was considered completed, and Lin was ordered to return to her post at Site-24. After 12 hours without confirmation from Lin about her return, MTF Iota-10 ("Damn Feds") were deployed to Dublin to recover Researcher Lin. The apartment that was rented for the mission was found unoccupied, with Lin's belongings inside. The following materials were recovered from Researcher Lin's computer:
Foreword: The following file was titled "rainbow_interview_2.mp3". It appeared to be recorded on Researcher Lin's smart phone.
< Begin Transcript >
Background conversation can be heard, indicating that this was recorded in a public location.
Lin: Sorry to bother you, I'm sure you're busy.
Rainbow: No worries, my gal. All good vibes today.
Lin: I just wanted to know, why did you let Olivia graduate early?
Rainbow: Feeling jumpy?
Lin: No! I don't want to rush it. I'm just curious.
Rainbow: There's what you're looking for.
Lin: Umm… I'm not sure I understand.
Rainbow: Olivia was a smart gal. Caught on quick. Good airwaves.
Lin: So there was something special about her?
Rainbow: Special? Who really is special? I don't think she's any more special than you are.
Lin: Are you saying I could graduate?
Rainbow: I don't know. I just give the grades. Do you think you can graduate?
Pause.
Lin: I think I understand now. Thank you so much!
Rainbow: Leap before you look my gal. Good airwaves.
< End Transcript >
Foreword: The following file was titled "01103_STREAM_v0491.mp4", which is the same naming convention as used by videos streamed from Foundation-distributed field cameras. Researcher Lin had been provided with one such camera for the purpose of her mission.
< Begin Transcript >
Video shows the edge of a cliff. There appears to be no one else around. The sky is dark, however cloud cover obscures the sky.
Lin: Ok, so I think I've figured it out. And I'm going to see what's up there. It's part of my job, and like, I just know I can do it. It's hard to explain. I don't know where I got the conviction from all the sudden, but it's there now. And I don't want it to slip away from me.
Lin takes a deep breath, and prepares to run toward the edge.
Lin: [under her breath] one leap, one leap, one leap…
Lin runs toward the cliff edge and jumps. She begins floating upwards.
Lin: One leap, one leap, one leap!
Lin's body flattens out, and she spreads her arms. Her laughter can be heard over the sound of wind against the microphone. After three minutes, Lin enters a cloud.
Lin: Can— can I open my eyes now?
Estimates of Lin's speed predict that she should have left the cloud cover by this point, however the fog continues. A light can be seen up ahead.
Lin: I can feel the updraft pushing me somewhere. I think I'm flying. I don't want to look.
Lin nears the light, a silhouette can be seen against the light, but its features cannot be distinguished.
Walsh: Catherine? Is that you?
Lin: Olivia? I'm sorry I can't tell what's where. I haven't opened my eyes yet.
Walsh: It's ok! No need to apologize. Good airwaves.
Lin: Good airwaves!
The figure extends its hand.
Walsh: Reach out and grab my hand, I'll pull you up!
Lin: Got it.
Lin reaches out her hand toward the figure's. The figure grabs on and appears to pull Lin so they are facing each other. Due to the light behind the figure, no features can be distinguished.
Lin: Your hand feels cold. Are you ok?
Walsh: I'm vibing out. Looks like you've found your wings.
Lin: Yeah, I have. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it all.
Walsh: Well, you're here now my gal.
Lin releases the figure's hand. They both hover in the air.
Lin: You're doing that thing where you sound like Rainbow again.
Walsh: Oh right. I guess he's just rubbed off on me.
Lin: I have so much I want to say. I can't believe you're here as well! I was worried it'd just be me and the clouds.
Walsh: Well, this is the way it turned out.
Lin: It's almost like a dream. I never want to wake up. We can even follow-through on our weekly coffees.
Walsh: Coffees?
Lin: Yeah… we said we were going to try to meet up once a week to just talk.
Walsh: Oh right! Sorry, it just slipped my mind.
Lin: You are Olivia, right?
Walsh: Do you not believe me?
Lin opens her eyes.
Lin: You— you don't look like Olivia.
< End Transcript >
Researcher Lin's body was found impaled upon the rocks at the bottom of the Cliffs of Moher. Attempts to locate Rainbow or any other members mentioned in Lin's previous reports have been unsuccessful. Containment of all individuals associated with OneLeap is considered a Level 4 priority.
Footnotes
1 . The Irish Government's law enforcement organization
2 . Legally changed from Dennis Freedman in 1996
3 . The alias that Lin assumed when communicating with Rainbow.
4 . Under normal circumstances this would result in disciplinary action for a field agent; Lin was given a warning as she has never done prolonged fieldwork prior to this assignment.
5 . Foundation satellites and atmospheric imaging apparatuses have not yet located the individual.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4877 " by Captain Kirby, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4877 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: mohercliffs.jpeg
Name: Cliffs of Moher on a very cloudy day
Author: John Menard
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: Flickr
Filename: OneLeap.png
Author: Woedenaz
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | 407 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "euclid", "mobile", "prize-feature", "scp", "uncontained"] | 2019-06-11T15:32:00 | 28,489 | 5,040 | SCP-4877 | Euclid | All individuals who demonstrate understanding of SCP-4877 are to be questioned. Once all possible information regarding SCP-4877 has been extracted, these individuals are to be amnestized and released. Any pictures, videos or other media depicting or describing SCP-4877 are to be removed by Foundation webcrawlers.
Should individuals who have been linked to SCP-4877 disappear for longer than seven days, a duplicate body is to be prepared in order to fake the individual's death under the cover story that they died after falling from a great height. | SCP-4877 is a phenomenon which can reduce the force of gravity that is applied to an individual during free fall. The exact circumstances needed to trigger this phenomenon are not well understood; however, initial research suggests the following:
SCP-4877 can be triggered by any individual.
The individual must be in free fall.
The individual must be consciously attempting to trigger SCP-4877.
The individual must close their eyes.
It is believed that there are additional requirements, both physically and mentally, that are fulfilled prior to a successful triggering of SCP-4877. Due to the lack of concrete resources regarding SCP-4877, the Foundation has been unable to confirm the exact steps necessary. | 2 | ## incident. Additional details regarding the events shown in the video were not disclosed to law enforcement officials to guarantee they would not interfere in a Foundation investigation.
Lin also identified the bald man who spoke to Cucher as Rainbow 2 . After obtaining his address and contact information, Researcher Lin volunteered to interview Rainbow under the guise of a civilian seeking to learn about OneLeap.
< Begin Log >
Lin enters the coffee shop where she agreed to meet with Rainbow. He is seated at a table for two near the window, drinking out of a mug. Lin stops next to the table.
Lin: Umm… hello. Are you uh, Rainbow?
Rainbow turns to face Lin, but appears to look past her.
Rainbow: And you— you must be the one they call Catherine. 3 Good airwaves.
Lin: Can I take a seat?
Rainbow: Vibe out however you like. Sitting, standing, jumping jacks. Just let yourself be comfortable. Good airwaves.
Lin sits down. Rainbow does not make eye contact with her.
Lin: So uhh, I guess I saw that video you guys posted a week ago and I got interested. But I'm still not totally sure what you do…
Rainbow: There's no use in doing things. We're all about feeling things. Like good airwaves.
Lin: I'm not sure I follow.
Rainbow: That's the sound of someone thinking with their head, instead of their internal dioxceline receptors.
Rainbow takes a pen from his shirt pocket and uses it to scribble an address and a time on a napkin. When he finishes, Rainbow makes eye contact with Lin for the first time.
Rainbow: Leap before you look, my gal. Good airwaves.
Rainbow stands up from the table and staggers out of the coffee shop.
< End Log >
Due to the lack of information gathered by the interview, Project Lead Dr. Teller decided that an investigation would be formed to infiltrate the OneLeap group and gather information. Usual protocol dictates that field agents are to be selected for extended field work; however, Researcher Lin was chosen due to her expected presence by Rainbow.
Addendum SCP-4877-2: The following is a series of field reports submitted by Researcher Lin during her investigation of OneLeap:
Report #1
Report #2
Report #3
Report #4
Report #5
Report #6
Report #7
Report #8
Report #9
Report #: 1
Date: 4/13/2019
I just got back from the first meeting. I'll try to describe everything that happened but a lot of it is from memory… I forgot to bring a notebook, or even the microphone. 4
We met in this back room at a run down community center. I think someone brought snacks. Honestly, it reminded me of how my dad described his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, except everyone was quieter.
I don't remember exactly how many people were there. I think it was around sixteen? Maybe closer to twenty? I should've talked to them while we waited for Rainbow. He was late, but everyone acted like that was the norm.
When the meeting started we all sat around in a circle on the ground, except Rainbow who used a folding chair. He started by reading something out of this little notebook he kept in his shirt pocket. I don't remember what he said. I was too nervous just trying to fit in.
I didn't forget my alias though. Rainbow had all the new people stand up and introduce themselves to the group. I think they thought my stutter was from nerves rather than trying to remember the right name. I wasn't the only new girl though. Her first name was Olivia, but I forgot her last name.
I don't really know why I'm doing this. I mean, I know why, but I'm more cut out for the lab.
I'll make sure I'm more thorough with my next report, sorry.
Report #: 2
Date: 4/18/2019
I took notes this time. I was too scared to wear the microphone in case one of the other members saw it, but I think the notes are thorough enough.
There were twelve other people at the meeting. Most of them must've been in their twenties or thirties, but there were a few older folks. One woman must've been in her late sixties.
Today, we had a special "Lecture" meeting. I sometimes heard the other members call Rainbow "Professor R". They seem to treat this like a night school, I guess.
Instead of sitting in a circle like last time, we gathered on the ground in front of Rainbow and his folding chair. He talked for almost an hour, occasionally using this hand-held whiteboard he brought along. The structure of the speech felt like a lecture, peppered with examples and cited reading, but it sounded more like a sermon.
I was the only one taking notes. I don't know if it was allowed or not. Either way, I didn't want to get yelled at if it was, so I sat in the back. I'll include some quotes from the lecture below, but I might've missed something.
The internet man. Stay off the internet. All the little blinky lights on screen are out to get you. You used to be able to tell what's real and what's got no soul behind it, but not any more. All I get are bad airwaves man.
You can see the strings on the fakes out there. They're all tangled and looking at their lower selves. Don't want to get mixed up with vibes that are tied down.
"Filters" are just what people in denial call lies.
As an exercise for later, you can ask a stranger how often they experience euphoria. Afterwards ask them the question again. Just as an exercise.
With the invention of Q-Learning and exploration strategies, we see a 300% decrease in the Dinine Radiation that chatbot AIs give off. Can anyone tell me why?
As the Wright Brothers once said, in unison, 'The singularity will consume us before the century is out'. They really should be given more credit for that quote.
Bad airwaves man. The sky is full of them. Now the air's polluted with mechatronic signals and blue colors, all because the machines learned to fly before we did.
Report #: 3
Date: 4/23/2019
I didn't wear the microphone again. Every way I put it on I swear it wasn't hidden well enough. I might just give up on it for now. It almost made me late today.
This meeting was more of an open discussion. I didn't contribute. I hope that didn't make me look weird. Olivia didn't say anything either though, so I'm probably fine. I'll include any memorable quotes at the end of the report again.
At the end of the meeting though, Rainbow declared that we were going to the "Runway" this weekend. Apparently Margret (the sixty year-old woman) would be taking her "Final Exam". She's going to go to Rainbow's house before the exam, and then meet with the rest of us around 2PM. I don't know how I feel. She was obviously excited about it. I guess I'm going to watch either way.
Also, after the meeting I finally spoke to Olivia. I didn't ask her much, but I got her phone number. Maybe I'll try to do an interview with her soon. Hopefully before the weekend, it'd be too bad if after seeing the Final Exam she runs away and I never get a chance to talk to her.
One day I'll vibe out like a fish, man. Deep respect for fish.
You think the fish that evolved first knew what they're doing? Maybe some little voice in their heads, all "I'm going to go breathe air now, later my aquatic-amigos".
Vestigial, adjective - degenerate, rudimentary, or atrophied, having become functionless in the course of evolution.
Birds are evidence that time does not move at one second per second for everyone. How else could they have evolved so much faster than us?
Report #: 4
Date: 4/27/2019
I caught up with Olivia today. We got coffee and I managed to ask her a few questions (including her full name, which is Olivia Walsh). I even wore the microphone this time! I'll just include the transcript below of the most relevant part.
< Begin Transcript >
Lin: … When are you planning to graduate?
Walsh: Heh, funny you say that. I was supposed to graduate in two years but I failed out of one of my courses, which sets me back in prereqs and stuff so it's looking more like three.
Lin: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.
Walsh: Don't worry about it. It's part of why I joined OneLeap. I was uhh… sort of at my wit's end with stuff. Usually these "steps to success" programs are all bullshit but like, I don't know. Sometimes you need to just give the bullshit a try.
Lin: Actually, how did you hear about OneLeap?
Walsh: There were a bunch of posters all over campus.
Lin: Ah, I see.
Walsh: Anyways, why did you join up?
Lin: I just saw some promotional video on YouTube. It's taken down now.
Walsh: No, no. Not how you heard about it. Why did you join?
Lin: Oh… uh. I guess I thought it would be good for me.
Walsh: You're more used to asking the questions than answering them, aren't you?
Lin: Heh, kind of. I'm a researcher, so I do a bit of both.
Walsh: It sounds to me like you're here to look for answers then.
Lin: Excuse me?
Walsh: You know, answers. Personal answers. Answers to questions about Catherine.
Lin: I'm uh, not sure what you mean.
Pause.
Walsh: Oh, sorry. I'm starting to sound like Rainbow a bit, aren't I?
Walsh laughs to herself.
Lin: Yeah. Just a bit.
Walsh: What did you order?
Lin: Iced mocha, why do you ask?
Walsh: I think they've got your drink.
Lin: Oh! I'll be right back.
< End Transcript >
Report #: 5
Date: 4/27/2019
When we got that first video, I watched it about a hundred times, just to measure the exact moment that kid's body hit the rocks for my calculations. I thought I braced myself for seeing it in person. God, I can't believe how naive I am.
We all met up at the cliffs, and waited around for a bit before Rainbow and the old woman arrived. No one really said anything. It was windy and cloudy. The veterans stood in complete silence by the cliffside, while Olivia, myself and a few others paced around to keep warm.
When Rainbow and the old woman arrived, everyone gathered at the cliff's edge. Olivia asked me a few times what was happening, but I just shrugged. Everything from there on played out like the video, except the old woman more hobbled than ran.
Just watching her fall though was so… it felt wrong. Not dreadful, but just wrong. She didn't scream as she fell. It felt like it took forever. There's a good chance the woman fell for longer than the boy did in the video. Probably around 15 seconds. But it felt longer. After she hit the ground, Rainbow declared that she "received a C" in the course. That's when the applause started.
I can't express how I felt about the applause. Even Olivia clapped. I mean, I did too. I guess there was something respectable about it all. She went out on her own terms. That deserves some recognition, right?
Report #: 6
Date: 5/5/2019
Olivia came back this week. She didn't look fazed in the sligh
---
## logize. Good airwaves.
Lin: Good airwaves!
The figure extends its hand.
Walsh: Reach out and grab my hand, I'll pull you up!
Lin: Got it.
Lin reaches out her hand toward the figure's. The figure grabs on and appears to pull Lin so they are facing each other. Due to the light behind the figure, no features can be distinguished.
Lin: Your hand feels cold. Are you ok?
Walsh: I'm vibing out. Looks like you've found your wings.
Lin: Yeah, I have. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it all.
Walsh: Well, you're here now my gal.
Lin releases the figure's hand. They both hover in the air.
Lin: You're doing that thing where you sound like Rainbow again.
Walsh: Oh right. I guess he's just rubbed off on me.
Lin: I have so much I want to say. I can't believe you're here as well! I was worried it'd just be me and the clouds.
Walsh: Well, this is the way it turned out.
Lin: It's almost like a dream. I never want to wake up. We can even follow-through on our weekly coffees.
Walsh: Coffees?
Lin: Yeah… we said we were going to try to meet up once a week to just talk.
Walsh: Oh right! Sorry, it just slipped my mind.
Lin: You are Olivia, right?
Walsh: Do you not believe me?
Lin opens her eyes.
Lin: You— you don't look like Olivia.
< End Transcript >
Researcher Lin's body was found impaled upon the rocks at the bottom of the Cliffs of Moher. Attempts to locate Rainbow or any other members mentioned in Lin's previous reports have been unsuccessful. Containment of all individuals associated with OneLeap is considered a Level 4 priority.
Footnotes
1 . The Irish Government's law enforcement organization
2 . Legally changed from Dennis Freedman in 1996
3 . The alias that Lin assumed when communicating with Rainbow.
4 . Under normal circumstances this would result in disciplinary action for a field agent; Lin was given a warning as she has never done prolonged fieldwork prior to this assignment.
5 . Foundation satellites and atmospheric imaging apparatuses have not yet located the individual.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4877 " by Captain Kirby, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4877 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: mohercliffs.jpeg
Name: Cliffs of Moher on a very cloudy day
Author: John Menard
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: Flickr
Filename: OneLeap.png
Author: Woedenaz
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | |
let-them-eat-cake | Let Them Eat Cake - SCP Foundation | tale | Dissent Record: Typed file found within SCP-871’s physical documentation. Author unknown.
What's your favorite dessert?
It's alright if you don't know. The Foundation offers you a lot of choices. One of the nice things about working here is how well our needs are met. Hell, might as well stop saying we work here. It's a lot more than that. It's a community, a lifestyle, we are the folks behind the curtain making sure the trains run on time and that time can run the trains. Easy taking pride in the work we do here.
Getting back on the topic of desserts. We've got a few notoriously dangerous snacks. Chief among them would be our friends the Cakes. I'm sure you're familiar. We don't fill our bellies then all other space will become cake. Maybe you've worked on it and know the lingo. Dumpling-Class personnel waddling in to a top-secret mission. That's another one of the funny things that happens when you've got full buy-in to the Foundation's way of doing things. Dehumanizing outsiders becomes second nature.
Quick question: do you think we serve the greater good of humanity, or normalcy? Trick question. Same thing.
Warren G. Harding popularized the phrase 'return to normalcy' as a political slogan. One of those things where it sounds nice to the ear without actually meaning a thing.
If you ever really dig into this file, the Cakes supposedly just popped into existence one day and then just kept happening. That's awful convenient. A lot of faith to put in the Foundation to keep it under wraps? A death wish? No. Those pastries are not as they seem.
The Keter Cakes have a unique property. They increase in correlation to the hunger of humanity. Which is absurd, right? Isn't it a little inconvenient to have exponentially increasing cakes that slowly, inefficiently, crawl their way towards wherever the hungry and dying lay in the streets? Hunger isn't solved that way.
You might even be one of the sharp cookies out there who knows that hunger is a distribution problem and not a supply side issue. Ever since Fritz Haber gave us that good fertilizer we've had no problem keeping production on par with the amount of hungry mouths. So isn't it just as ridiculous that there's still grief and death from empty bellies?
If you've ever seen the pictures from Syria, Yemen, Congo, the Holocaust, Holodomor, and a million other things then you've got a taste of how horrible hunger is. There's many different actors to blame. It's always the fault of humanity. We choose to feed some and let others starve. That's normalcy.
What sort of normalcy are we preserving? The Foundation has infinitely replicating food and the infrastructure to instantly transport it anyplace where a child's belly is dry and shrinking while their limbs waste into thin rods and their faces age a hundred years. It's normal for us to grind the bones of the dead into bread so that we may live to see more die another day.
There's no proof to what I know the Cakes do. Does it matter? We have the resources, means, and opportunity to preserve a normalcy where everyone can eat enough to live. What sort of protection are we offering a world where the population of a small town in Ohio shrivels every day because the abundant food resources available to everyone else didn't get to them in time?
We will make a desert, and call it peace.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Let Them Eat Cake " by Anonymous, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/let-them-eat-cake . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 58 | ["_licensebox", "rewritable", "tale"] | 2019-10-09T13:58:00 | 3,683 | 639 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-9841 | SCP-9841 | scp | We all feel the same frustration, and hope to God you're on our side.
Dr. Francesca Roscoe's housemate, watching as she departs for a long-term assignment.
Item #: SCP-9841
Object Class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: Containment of SCP-9841 is not to be enacted, as it has already been integrated into the Foundation's Veil-preservation policies. Foundation researchers are to enact further research of SCP-9841's limitations. See Addendum 5 for more information.
Description: SCP-9841 is an anti-memetic anomaly that causes increasing levels of apathy towards any given Foundation employee's career at the Foundation from their acquaintances, friends, and family members. SCP-9841 almost universally affects all acquaintances, family members, and relatives of all SCP Foundation personnel, and appears to intensify over a prolonged period of time, as long as the relevant Foundation personnel continues to be employed at the Foundation.
In a case of SCP-9841 affliction, the Foundation employee (henceforth referred to as SCP-9841-A) does not appear to be affected by SCP-9841. Only their acquaintances, family members, and relatives (henceforth referred to as SCP-9841-B) will be.
Monitoring has shown that SCP-9841-A instances often do not appear to notice the effects that SCP-9841 has on SCP-9841-B. It is unknown if this is a product of SCP-9841 itself, or just the result of the Foundation's work ethic training, general employee outlook, general memetic enhancement programs, and/or employment-induced nihilism.
SCP-9814 has been divided into four stages of progression, referred to as the Longing Stage, The Transient Stage, the Acceptance Stage, and the Terminal Stage.
SCP-9841 Progression
SCP-9841-A Status
SCP-9841-B Status
Longing Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over a month.
SCP-9841-B becomes less skeptical towards Foundation narratives, asking less questions about SCP-9841-A's place of employment, or the nature of their work. SCP-9841-B expresses distress when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged period of times, or leave unannounced, but can be easily placated by Foundation narrative. SCP-9841-B reacts with distress when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work.
Transient Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over 6 months.
SCP-9841-B stops asking about SCP-9841's place of employment, or the nature of their work. SCP-9841-B still express distress when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged periods of time, or leave unannounced, but raises no objection. SCP-9841-B reacts with mild confusion when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work.
Acceptance Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over a year.
SCP-9841-B reacts with acceptance when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged periods of time, or leave unannounced. SCP-9841-B does not visibly react when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work. SCP-9841-B starts interacting less with SCP-9841-A overall. SCP-9841-B becomes more withdrawn.
Terminal Stage
Deceased in Foundation employment.
SCP-9841-B instances self-fabricates a narrative in which SCP-9841 died on their cover job. SCP-9841-B does not bring up SCP-9841-A unless prompted. SCP-9841-B does not visibly react when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work, or when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual circumstances of death.
Due to its extensive and omnipresent nature, it is believed that SCP-9841's effects also extends to other aspects of SCP-9841-A and SCP-9841-B's social lives, mental states, worldviews, beliefs, and personal relationships. Research into this factor has not been deemed of priority.
Addendum 1 - SCP-9841-A Accounts: As most SCP Foundation personnel have regular meetings with their narrative counselors 1 , especially early on in their career at the Foundation, excerpts from these meetings relevant to SCP-9841's effects has been placed below.
SCP-9841-A: Oswald Salt, MTF Agent, employed for 2 months.
Narrative Counselor: Dr. Mark Kressler
Dr. Kressler: And how has your wife been adjusting to these changes?
Agent Salt: You know, uh, there was some difficulties , at first. I uh, there was one bad night where she demanded to call my boss, and I kinda fought with her over it for a while, but then I realize you guys had a protocol for that. So, I figure that looked a bit suspicious . But…
Dr. Kressler: But?
Agent Salt: I don't know, I think I'm making some good progress. She doesn't get too upset when I have to go anymore. She used to yell at me over it for ages , what with the new house and all. Now, I just tell her that I got to do a job, and she's okay with it. I really think it's gonna work out.
SCP-9841-A: Frank Breyers, Researcher, employed for 7 months.
Narrative Counselor: Dr. Mark Kressler
Dr. Kressler: And what about your kids?
Dr. Breyers: What about 'em?
Dr. Kressler: I mean, your new post. At Site-20. Your new assignment would have you away from home for a year. I imagine the suddenness of the news…
Dr. Breyers: Ah, oh, kids. You know how they are. They get it, y'know? I tell them their old man's on a top secret mission, and they're okay with it. Perks of having a cover-story that sounds cool enough.
Dr. Kressler: But you'd only just returned home after six solid months of work.
Dr. Breyers: [Shrugs.] Absence makes the heart grow fonder, son. As long as the money keep coming in, I'm doin' a good enough job.
SCP-9841-A: Elsa Ulrich, HMCL supervisor, employed for 23 months.
Narrative Counselor: Dr. Mark Kressler
Dr. Kressler: So, how was Thanksgiving?
Sv. Ulrich: [Silence.]
Dr. Kressler: Ulrich?
Sv. Ulrich: What? Oh, yeah, it went okay . Uh. Yeah.
[Silence.]
Sv. Ulrich: So, I'm thinking of moving to Site-818. 2
Addendum 2 - SCP-9841-B Interviews: The following interactions were designed to test the limitations of SCP-9841. Only excerpts deemed relevant have been presented below. For a full list of interactions, see Document-9841-B-Complete.
SCP-9841-B: Lisa Redford, daughter of Dr. Oswald Redford.
Interviewers: Dr. Mark Kressler
Notes: This was one of Dr. Kressler's final assignments related to SCP-9841. In this interview, Dr. Kressler is posing as a teacher in the subject's school. By this point, Lisa Redford is estimated to be in the Transient Stage of SCP-9841.
Dr. Kressler: …and we'll just put you down as a " maybe " for the Spelling Bee. Now, your parent's information. What's your dad's name?
Lisa Redford: Uh, Os… wald. Oswald Redford.
Dr. Kressler: And where does he work?
Lisa Redford: I… I think he works in the gover… govern… govern ment. 3
Dr. Kressler: Do you, uh, know what he does , specifically?
Lisa Redford: …no. I don't think so. I'm sorry…
Dr. Kressler: Um, well, when was the last time you asked?
Lisa Redford: [Silence.] …I don't remember.
SCP-9841-B: Marissa Fernandez, mother of Dr. Clarence Fernandez.
Interviewers: Dr. Alan Cross
Notes: Dr. Cross carried with him amnestics, as well as pictures and footage of Dr. Fernandez at his usual Foundation post. At this point, Mrs. Fernandez is estimated to be in the Acceptance Stage of SCP-9841. Dr. Cross had introduced himself as "someone from the government."
Dr. Cross: And what did you say your son worked at?
Mrs. Fernandez: Oh, he works at the CIA! My boy, he's helping protect people. He's helping protect the nation!
Dr. Cross: Alright, and when was the last time he contacted you?
Mrs. Fernandez: I can't remember something like that. He's usually really very busy.
Dr. Cross: When was he last home?
Mrs. Fernandez: It was just quite a while ago. I think… I think it was over 10 years ago.
Dr. Cross: And can you remember a single time that he's contacted you since?
Mrs. Fernandez: I told you, I can't remember something…
Dr. Cross: Not even a single letter, a text message? Any word from him at all? And you don't find this strange?
Mrs. Fernandez: He's busy . He's busy at his job , at the CIA …
[Dr. Cross retrieves a tablet from his briefcase, and hands it to Mrs. Fernandez. He turns it on.]
Dr. Cross: Mrs. Dawkins, could you watch this?
[Dr. Cross taps the tablet. A series of videos and images begins to play.]
Mrs. Fernandez: I… I don't… I don't… what is this? I don't- What are you showing me? I don't like this. I don't like this. Please -
Dr. Cross: Mrs. Fernandez, please continue watching.
Mrs. Fernandez: No, no, please, this is horrible . This is-
[Dr. Cross taps the tablet again. The video freezes as Dr. Fernandez enters the shot. Mrs. Fernandez falls silent.]
Dr. Cross: Mrs. Fernandez, could you tell me who this is?
Mrs. Fernandez: That's my son. That's my boy, my CJ.
Dr. Cross: And could you tell me what he's doing?
Mrs. Fernandez: Oh, oh, can't you see ? He's doing his job. He's working at the CIA. He's helping keep the country safe . He's helping protect people.
SCP-9841-B: Gabriel, Jane, and Priscilla Sawyer - son, daughter, and wife of Agent William Sawyer.
Interviewers: Dr. Alan Cross
Notes: Agent Sawyer had passed away on a mission prior to this interview, placing the family at the Terminal Stage of SCP-9841 after several years at the Acceptance Stage. Dr. Cross introduced himself as "a friend from work" to the family. Priscilla Sawyer did not inquire further.
Dr. Cross: And you say he was a contractor?
Mrs. Sawyer: Yes. Something for the military. He didn't tell me much, but I understand it was something he couldn't talk about anyways.
Dr. Cross: Right, and he never said anything to you two, either?
Gabriel Sawyer: Dad shot guns, shoot, shoot!
Jane Sawyer: Yeah! Yeah!
Dr. Cross: And what were you told about his passing?
Mrs. Sawyer: Well, he-
Gabriel Sawyer: The bad guys killed 'im. He died like a hero.
Jane Sawyer: A hero! 4
Mrs. Sawyer: Alright, kids, could you…
[Mrs. Sawyer points to the other room. The younger Sawyers walk out and close the door.]
Dr. Cross: I see the kids are taking it well.
Mrs. Sawyer: Yes. The mind of children, it's really somethin' , ain't it?
Dr. Cross: Yes, but… Mrs. Sawyer, when did you all find out that he died?
Mrs. Sawyer: Oh, they called me right after it happened, so, three days ago. 5
Dr. Cross: Well, my condolences. I'm sure it's still fresh in your mind. It's remarkable that you all have been coping so well.
Mrs. Sawyer: Mmm.
[Silence.]
Dr. Cross: Before that, when was the last time that Will came home?
Mrs. Sawyer: Well, let's see. It was right after Gabe's sixth birthday, so… about three years ago. Around November. He came home for vacation.
Dr. Cross: Did anything happen at that time? Did he say anything off-putting, or…
Mrs. Sawyer: Oh, uh, I can't remember something like that… I think we got into an argument. Small one, I think. But, y'know. Frightened the children a bit.
Dr. Cross: What was the argument about?
Mrs. Sawyer: …Did he tell you about this? You're asking a lot of questions.
Dr. Cross: Oh, you don't have to continue if you-
Mrs. Sawyer: No, it's alright. I think it was something over his job. He said that I wasn't talking to him much, and I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. I don't… I don't really remember what else we talked about. That was the last time I heard of him, aside from the occasional birthday card.
Dr. Cross: So he walked out on the family three years ago. How… how did your family and friends react to this?
Mrs. Sawyer: I didn't tell anyone about it. Sometimes, men need space. I understand that. He was doing important work. He was irreplaceable. 6
Dr. Cross: Right, but over three years . You're saying that your husband, the father of those children, one day, over an argument you can't remember the details of, stood up and walked away, and aside from one or two cards a year, and in that time you've never reached out to anyone? Never thought to ask anyone on his side of the family, called any emergency numbers?
Mrs. Sawyer: I think that's what happened, yes.
Dr. Cross: And you don't question it?
[Silence.]
Mrs. Sawyer: I accept it.
SCP-9841-B: Ernest Kressler, husband of Dr. Mark Kressler.
Interviewers: Dr. Alan Cross
Notes: Ernest Kressler was discovered with an envelope full of notes and images, documenting Dr. Kressler's time at the Foundation, SCP-9841, as well as other sensitive information. Dr. Alan Cross was sent over to assess the situation.
Dr. Cross: Can you tell me what the notes in the envelope say, Ernie?
Mr. Kressler: I don't think so. It's probably just something of Mark from the Company. 7 I figure he sent it home by accident. It's just some jargon. Like, legal documents.
Dr. Cross: What about this one? It's addressed to you . Specifically.
[Dr. Cross hands Mr. Kressler a note. Mr. Kressler scans it, uncomprehendingly.]
Mr. Kressler: It's just more math stuff. I think you've got it wrong.
Dr. Cross: Yeah, you're right. My fault. We'll just gather all of these up, and we'll be on our way. Thank you for your time.
[Dr. Cross places all of the documents back into the envelope and stands up to leave the room. Before he could open the door, Mr. Kressler speaks up.]
Mr. Kressler: I assume he's not coming home this year? 8
Dr. Cross: What?
Mr. Kressler: Mark. I assume that being at the CIA's gonna take up most of his time. I figure he's not gonna make it?
Dr. Cross: Oh, probably not , I'm afraid. I hope this won't be an issue for you?
Mr. Kressler: No, it's no problem. It's just a shame, you know. That he won't be here for Christmas. I mean, there's always next year.
Addendum 3 - Monitored Transition: As per an O5 directive, several stealth cameras were installed in the resident of an SCP-9841-B instance whose SCP-9841-A was about to be terminated. The excerpt begins 20 minutes prior to the scheduled termination of SCP-9841-A.
SCP-9841-A: Dr. Mark Kressler. 9
SCP-9841-B: Ernest Kressler.
[BEGIN LOG.]
-20:00: SCP-9841-A is waiting in holding cell. SCP-9841-B is going through usual routine of watching television.
-15:00: SCP-9841-A receives notice that his termination is to be carried out. SCP-9841-B suddenly turns his head to look at the northern wall at nothing in particular. His expression is stern.
-13:43: SCP-9841-A is forcefully carried out of his cell by two guards after resisting. SCP-9841-B stands up suddenly, looking nervous. He remains fixated at something on the northern wall.
-11:38: SCP-9841-A is struck in the face by a guard. SCP-9841-B flinches.
-9:45: SCP-9841-A is finally restrained, falling unconscious in the process. SCP-9841-B begins shaking. He is still staring at the northern wall.
-5:45: SCP-9841-A is in the process of being brought to the execution chamber. SCP-9841-B begins pacing around the room. He ascends the stairs.
-4:35: SCP-9841-A regains consciousness. SCP-9841-B pauses on the stairs. He's at the top floor.
-4:15: SCP-9841-A grabs onto a guard, and tries to wrench himself away from another. SCP-9841-B looks out a nearby window.
-4:12: SCP-9841-A strikes a guard, and is struck by three more in response. SCP-9841-B slowly lifts his gaze. Tears are streaming down his face.
-4:11: SCP-9841-A screams, and reaches for one of the guard's holster. SCP-9841-B's gaze comes to a rest on a spot above the window. It appears that he's directly staring at the stealth Foundation camera, despite the fact that there is no way for him to have noticed or see it.
-4:10: SCP-9841-A grabs onto one of the guard's gun. SCP-9841-B whispers. Stealth Foundation microphones were able to pick up the noise:
"Are you coming home?"
-4:09: SCP-9841-A is prematurely terminated by a single gunshot to the cranium. SCP-9841-B falls to his knees, still staring at the stealth camera.
00:00: SCP-9841-A's scheduled termination time. At this point, Foundation staff were already in the process of clean-up. SCP-9841-B remains kneeling at the top of the stairs.
15:42: Clean-up of SCP-9841-A's termination concludes. SCP-9841-B remains kneeling at the top of the stairs.
9:43:12: SCP-9841-B slowly stands up, and descends the stairs.
9:46:31: SCP-9841-B walks past a calendar. He pauses, and removes yesterday's page. It is December 25th.
9:46:51: SCP-9841-B resumes daily morning routine and prepares for Christmas celebration alone.
[END LOG.]
Addendum 4 - Progress Review: The following is a note from Dr. Alan Cross to the O5 Council regarding SCP-9841.
I've looked over all of the numbers again, and everything here has genuinely exceeded all of our wildest dreams. We're looking at an almost 230% increase in work efficiency and productivity overall, ever since the integration of SCP-9841 into our Veil-preservation structure. Our employee family policies, our work-life balancing methodologies, they've all been rendered redundant, and so have the costs.
For the first time, the amount of employees requesting additional Foundation work has surpassed the amount requesting day-offs. And all of this during the holiday seasons. I think that speaks for itself.
With all of this in mind, I hereby request O5 approval to move forward with Phase 3 of the SCP-9841 project.
-Dr. Alan Cross, Director Of The Unorthodox Solutions Division , Lead of The SCP-9841 Project.
Addendum 5 - Recent Developments: Further information on SCP-9841 is restricted to the SCP-9841 Research And Propagation Team. Contact Dr. Alan Cross for more information on this subject.
Footnotes
1 . A specialist in charge of helping Foundation employees maintain their fictional above-Veil narratives.
2 . The Department Of Thaumatology's Antarctica Facility
3 . Dr. Redford's cover-story was that he worked at the Internal Revenue Service.
4 . Agent Sawyer's death was investigated and found to have been a completely avoidable accident, caused by severe negligence on his part.
5 . No record of any such call was discovered on the Sawyer's phones, or Foundation records.
6 . Agent Sawyer's MTF was a small provisional unit assigned to only 2 minor anomalies.
7 . Employment at the CIA is one of the most common cover stories for Foundation employees.
8 . This is the first and only time that an SCP-9841-B instance past the Transient Stage has been documented asking about their SCP-9841-A instance's whereabouts.
9 . Sentenced to termination due to purposeful mishandling of Foundation assets. | 24 | ["_cc", "antimemetic", "art-exchange", "bleak", "memory-affecting", "mind-affecting", "phenomenon", "scp", "thaumiel"] | 2025-12-28T18:45:00 | 18,248 | 2,990 | SCP-9841 | Thaumiel | Containment of SCP-9841 is not to be enacted, as it has already been integrated into the Foundation's Veil-preservation policies. Foundation researchers are to enact further research of SCP-9841's limitations. See Addendum 5 for more information. | SCP-9841 is an anti-memetic anomaly that causes increasing levels of apathy towards any given Foundation employee's career at the Foundation from their acquaintances, friends, and family members. SCP-9841 almost universally affects all acquaintances, family members, and relatives of all SCP Foundation personnel, and appears to intensify over a prolonged period of time, as long as the relevant Foundation personnel continues to be employed at the Foundation.
In a case of SCP-9841 affliction, the Foundation employee (henceforth referred to as SCP-9841-A) does not appear to be affected by SCP-9841. Only their acquaintances, family members, and relatives (henceforth referred to as SCP-9841-B) will be.
Monitoring has shown that SCP-9841-A instances often do not appear to notice the effects that SCP-9841 has on SCP-9841-B. It is unknown if this is a product of SCP-9841 itself, or just the result of the Foundation's work ethic training, general employee outlook, general memetic enhancement programs, and/or employment-induced nihilism.
SCP-9814 has been divided into four stages of progression, referred to as the Longing Stage, The Transient Stage, the Acceptance Stage, and the Terminal Stage.
SCP-9841 Progression
SCP-9841-A Status
SCP-9841-B Status
Longing Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over a month.
SCP-9841-B becomes less skeptical towards Foundation narratives, asking less questions about SCP-9841-A's place of employment, or the nature of their work. SCP-9841-B expresses distress when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged period of times, or leave unannounced, but can be easily placated by Foundation narrative. SCP-9841-B reacts with distress when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work.
Transient Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over 6 months.
SCP-9841-B stops asking about SCP-9841's place of employment, or the nature of their work. SCP-9841-B still express distress when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged periods of time, or leave unannounced, but raises no objection. SCP-9841-B reacts with mild confusion when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work.
Acceptance Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over a year.
SCP-9841-B reacts with acceptance when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged periods of time, or leave unannounced. SCP-9841-B does not visibly react when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work. SCP-9841-B starts interacting less with SCP-9841-A overall. SCP-9841-B becomes more withdrawn.
Terminal Stage
Deceased in Foundation employment.
SCP-9841-B instances self-fabricates a narrative in which SCP-9841 died on their cover job. SCP-9841-B does not bring up SCP-9841-A unless prompted. SCP-9841-B does not visibly react when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work, or when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual circumstances of death.
Due to its extensive and omnipresent nature, it is believed that SCP-9841's effects also extends to other aspects of SCP-9841-A and SCP-9841-B's social lives, mental states, worldviews, beliefs, and personal relationships. Research into this factor has not been deemed of priority. | 2 | ## Addendum 5 for more information.
Description: SCP-9841 is an anti-memetic anomaly that causes increasing levels of apathy towards any given Foundation employee's career at the Foundation from their acquaintances, friends, and family members. SCP-9841 almost universally affects all acquaintances, family members, and relatives of all SCP Foundation personnel, and appears to intensify over a prolonged period of time, as long as the relevant Foundation personnel continues to be employed at the Foundation.
In a case of SCP-9841 affliction, the Foundation employee (henceforth referred to as SCP-9841-A) does not appear to be affected by SCP-9841. Only their acquaintances, family members, and relatives (henceforth referred to as SCP-9841-B) will be.
Monitoring has shown that SCP-9841-A instances often do not appear to notice the effects that SCP-9841 has on SCP-9841-B. It is unknown if this is a product of SCP-9841 itself, or just the result of the Foundation's work ethic training, general employee outlook, general memetic enhancement programs, and/or employment-induced nihilism.
SCP-9814 has been divided into four stages of progression, referred to as the Longing Stage, The Transient Stage, the Acceptance Stage, and the Terminal Stage.
SCP-9841 Progression
SCP-9841-A Status
SCP-9841-B Status
Longing Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over a month.
SCP-9841-B becomes less skeptical towards Foundation narratives, asking less questions about SCP-9841-A's place of employment, or the nature of their work. SCP-9841-B expresses distress when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged period of times, or leave unannounced, but can be easily placated by Foundation narrative. SCP-9841-B reacts with distress when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work.
Transient Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over 6 months.
SCP-9841-B stops asking about SCP-9841's place of employment, or the nature of their work. SCP-9841-B still express distress when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged periods of time, or leave unannounced, but raises no objection. SCP-9841-B reacts with mild confusion when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work.
Acceptance Stage
Employed at the Foundation for over a year.
SCP-9841-B reacts with acceptance when SCP-9841-A leave for prolonged periods of time, or leave unannounced. SCP-9841-B does not visibly react when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work. SCP-9841-B starts interacting less with SCP-9841-A overall. SCP-9841-B becomes more withdrawn.
Terminal Stage
Deceased in Foundation employment.
SCP-9841-B instances self-fabricates a narrative in which SCP-9841 died on their cover job. SCP-9841-B does not bring up SCP-9841-A unless prompted. SCP-9841-B does not visibly react when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual work, or when confronted with evidence of SCP-9841-A's actual circumstances of death.
Due to its extensive and omnipresent nature, it is believed that SCP-9841's effects also extends to other aspects of SCP-9841-A and SCP-9841-B's social lives, mental states, worldviews, beliefs, and personal relationships. Research into this factor has not been deemed of priority.
---
## Document-9841-B-Complete.
SCP-9841-B: Lisa Redford, daughter of Dr. Oswald Redford.
Interviewers: Dr. Mark Kressler
Notes: This was one of Dr. Kressler's final assignments related to SCP-9841. In this interview, Dr. Kressler is posing as a teacher in the subject's school. By this point, Lisa Redford is estimated to be in the Transient Stage of SCP-9841.
Dr. Kressler: …and we'll just put you down as a " maybe " for the Spelling Bee. Now, your parent's information. What's your dad's name?
Lisa Redford: Uh, Os… wald. Oswald Redford.
Dr. Kressler: And where does he work?
Lisa Redford: I… I think he works in the gover… govern… govern ment. 3
Dr. Kressler: Do you, uh, know what he does , specifically?
Lisa Redford: …no. I don't think so. I'm sorry…
Dr. Kressler: Um, well, when was the last time you asked?
Lisa Redford: [Silence.] …I don't remember.
SCP-9841-B: Marissa Fernandez, mother of Dr. Clarence Fernandez.
Interviewers: Dr. Alan Cross
Notes: Dr. Cross carried with him amnestics, as well as pictures and footage of Dr. Fernandez at his usual Foundation post. At this point, Mrs. Fernandez is estimated to be in the Acceptance Stage of SCP-9841. Dr. Cross had introduced himself as "someone from the government."
Dr. Cross: And what did you say your son worked at?
Mrs. Fernandez: Oh, he works at the CIA! My boy, he's helping protect people. He's helping protect the nation!
Dr. Cross: Alright, and when was the last time he contacted you?
Mrs. Fernandez: I can't remember something like that. He's usually really very busy.
Dr. Cross: When was he last home?
Mrs. Fernandez: It was just quite a while ago. I think… I think it was over 10 years ago.
Dr. Cross: And can you remember a single time that he's contacted you since?
Mrs. Fernandez: I told you, I can't remember something…
Dr. Cross: Not even a single letter, a text message? Any word from him at all? And you don't find this strange?
Mrs. Fernandez: He's busy . He's busy at his job , at the CIA …
[Dr. Cross retrieves a tablet from his briefcase, and hands it to Mrs. Fernandez. He turns it on.]
Dr. Cross: Mrs. Dawkins, could you watch this?
[Dr. Cross taps the tablet. A series of videos and images begins to play.]
Mrs. Fernandez: I… I don't… I don't… what is this? I don't- What are you showing me? I don't like this. I don't like this. Please -
Dr. Cross: Mrs. Fernandez, please continue watching.
Mrs. Fernandez: No, no, please, this is horrible . This is-
[Dr. Cross taps the tablet again. The video freezes as Dr. Fernandez enters the shot. Mrs. Fernandez falls silent.]
Dr. Cross: Mrs. Fernandez, could you tell me who this is?
Mrs. Fernandez: That's my son. That's my boy, my CJ.
Dr. Cross: And could you tell me what he's doing?
Mrs. Fernandez: Oh, oh, can't you see ? He's doing his job. He's working at the CIA. He's helping keep the country safe . He's helping protect people.
SCP-9841-B: Gabriel, Jane, and Priscilla Sawyer - son, daughter, and wife of Agent William Sawyer.
Interviewers: Dr. Alan Cross
Notes: Agent Sawyer had passed away on a mission prior to this interview, placing the family at the Terminal Stage of SCP-9841 after several years at the Acceptance Stage. Dr. Cross introduced himself as "a friend from work" to the family. Priscilla Sawyer did not inquire further.
Dr. Cross: And you say he was a contractor?
Mrs. Sawyer: Yes. Something for the military. He didn't tell me much, but I understand it was something he couldn't talk about anyways.
Dr. Cross: Right, and he never said anything to you two, either?
Gabriel Sawyer: Dad shot guns, shoot, shoot!
Jane Sawyer: Yeah! Yeah!
Dr. Cross: And what were you told about his passing?
Mrs. Sawyer: Well, he-
Gabriel Sawyer: The bad guys killed 'im. He died like a hero.
Jane Sawyer: A hero! 4
Mrs. Sawyer: Alright, kids, could you…
[Mrs. Sawyer points to the other room. The younger Sawyers walk out and close the door.]
Dr. Cross: I see the kids are taking it well.
Mrs. Sawyer: Yes. The mind of children, it's really somethin' , ain't it?
Dr. Cross: Yes, but… Mrs. Sawyer, when did you all find out that he died?
Mrs. Sawyer: Oh, they called me right after it happened, so, three days ago. 5
Dr. Cross: Well, my condolences. I'm sure it's still fresh in your mind. It's remarkable that you all have been coping so well.
Mrs. Sawyer: Mmm.
[Silence.]
Dr. Cross: Before that, when was the last time that Will came home?
Mrs. Sawyer: Well, let's see. It was right after Gabe's sixth birthday, so… about three years ago. Around November. He came home for vacation.
Dr. Cross: Did anything happen at that time? Did he say anything off-putting, or…
Mrs. Sawyer: Oh, uh, I can't remember something like that… I think we got into an argument. Small one, I think. But, y'know. Frightened the children a bit.
Dr. Cross: What was the argument about?
Mrs. Sawyer: …Did he tell you about this? You're asking a lot of questions.
Dr. Cross: Oh, you don't have to continue if you-
Mrs. Sawyer: No, it's alright. I think it was something over his job. He said that I wasn't talking to him much, and I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. I don't… I don't really remember what else we talked about. That was the last time I heard of him, aside from the occasional birthday card.
Dr. Cross: So he walked out on the family three years ago. How… how did your family and friends react to this?
Mrs. Sawyer: I didn't tell anyone about it. Sometimes, men need space. I understand that. He was doing important work. He was irreplaceable. 6
Dr. Cross: Right, but over three years . You're saying that your husband, the father of those children, one day, over an argument you can't remember the details of, stood up and walked away, and aside from one or two cards a year, and in that time you've never reached out to anyone? Never thought to ask anyone on his side of the family, called any emergency numbers?
Mrs. Sawyer: I think that's what happened, yes.
Dr. Cross: And you don't question it?
[Silence.]
Mrs. Sawyer: I accept it.
SCP-9841-B: Ernest Kressler, husband of Dr. Mark Kressler.
Interviewers: Dr. Alan Cross
Notes: Ernest Kressler was discovered with an envelope full of notes and images, documenting Dr. Kressler's time at the Foundation, SCP-9841, as well as other sensitive information. Dr. Alan Cross was sent over to assess the situation.
Dr. Cross: Can you tell me what the notes in the envelope say, Ernie?
Mr. Kressler: I don't think so. It's probably just something of Mark from the Company. 7 I figure he sent it home by accident. It's just some jargon. Like, legal documents.
Dr. Cross: What about this one? It's addressed to you . Specifically.
[Dr. Cross hands Mr. Kressler a note. Mr. Kressler scans it, uncomprehendingly.]
Mr. Kressler: It's just more math stuff. I think you've got it wrong.
Dr. Cross: Yeah, you're right. My fault. We'll just gather all of these up, and we'll be on our way. Thank you for your time.
[Dr. Cross places all of the documents back into the envelope and stands up to leave the room. Before he could open the door, Mr. Kressler speaks up.]
Mr. Kressler: I assume he's not coming home this year? 8
Dr. Cross: What?
Mr. Kressler: Mark. I assume that being at the CIA's gonna take up most of his time. I figure he's not gonna make it?
Dr. Cross: Oh, probably not , I'm afraid. I hope this won't be an issue for you?
Mr. Kressler: No, it's no problem. It's just a shame, you know. That he won't be here for Christmas. I mean, there's always next year. | |
SCP-1748 | SCP-1748 | scp | Item #: SCP-1748
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1748 is currently contained at Site-117. The sector assigned to SCP-1748 must be operated by individuals without any form of hearing impairment (this extends to D-Class personnel).
SCP-1748-1 is housed in a 4m x 2m x 4m primary concrete chamber, which is suspended by carbon fiber supports in a secondary 8m x 4m x 8m concrete chamber. The secondary chamber is soundproofed to a degree corresponding with the current intensity of SCP-1748's emission. A series of acoustic channels connect the primary chamber to the tertiary chamber, and are equipped with valves to occlude the noise as necessary. It is important that SCP-1748 remain audible to subjects in the tertiary chamber, whilst not reaching a relevant intensity capable of inflicting harm or deafness in said subjects.
The tertiary chamber is adjacent to the secondary chamber, and shall remain populated with an appropriate amount of D-Class personnel (currently 20). Said personnel are forbidden from speaking, and must be rotated out every 16 hours for sleep requirements. The walls of the chamber (barring the wall facing the secondary chamber) are soundproofed to prevent noise pollution. No less than twenty (20) individuals must remain in the tertiary chamber at all times. At least forty (40) additional D-Class personnel are to remain onsite for containment rotation. Should the intensity of SCP-1748's emission increase, the sound is to be broadcast to all personnel within Site-117 at large, and all available D-Class personnel are to report to the tertiary chamber immediately.
Should all onsite personnel be insufficient to prevent the emission's increase, the Apollo Contingencies will be enacted.
Description: SCP-1748 is a phenomenon manifesting as a looped audio recording of the "Winter Road" segment of Georgy Sviridov's Snow Storm . The locus for this manifestation is always a device designed for containing audio recordings, including vinyl records, audio cassettes, and compact discs, though radios, MP3 players, USB drives, computers and game consoles do not appear to be viable objects. Whether or not said object is currently containing an audio recording(s) of any kind is irrelevant. It is unclear what mechanism produces sound from this object. This locus is hereafter referred to as SCP-1748-1.
SCP-1748 reduces in intensity when exposed to a sufficiently-sized audience, and increases intensity when too few individuals are present. What determines the number of required individuals is entirely unclear, though this number increases exponentially as the intensity of SCP-1748 increases. Based on previously recorded data, it is believed that an intensity of ███.██dB will exceed the current estimated populace of Earth, at which point halting the growth would be impossible.
At the time of this writing, SCP-1748 fluctuates in intensity between ██.██dB and ██.██dB.
SCP-1748-1 appears to be immune to damage from sonic vibrations produced by SCP-1748. Should SCP-1748-1 be destroyed, SCP-1748 will transfer to the nearest suitable object. No maximum range for this occurrence has yet been discovered.
SCP-1748 was initially discovered in █████, Russia. The Aaron Morgan Orchestra ("AMO", originating in London, England) was hired by ███████ ████████, a wealthy industrialist linked to the activities of "Змей," 1 an occultist organization believed to be responsible for ███ deaths in eastern Russia. AMO was commissioned to perform "Winter Road" on ██/██/20██ at ████████'s private estate. According to eyewitness testimony from a detained Змей member, at the conclusion of the performance, ████████, his servants, several other Змей members and several individuals from a group the witness could not identify gave AMO a standing ovation. During this, a number of Змей members proceeded to enter the stage from the rear and murdered the musicians. In the aftermath, the performers were [DATA EXPUNGED] were used to construct several crude designs in at least one unidentified language on [DATA EXPUNGED] prior to the vinyl disc used for the recording being saturated inside said mass, which did not damage the object for an as-of-yet unverified reason.
After the disc was removed from the mass, an Змей member delivered it to ████████, who then gave some form of hand gesture. Several individuals entered the concert hall and murdered the Змей members with automatic rifles. The eyewitness fled the chamber during this incident, and was picked up 15 days later by a Foundation asset in █████.
Thanks to the intelligence provided by said member, a Foundation raid by Mobile Task Force Nu-15 "White Wolves" on ████████'s estate was organized on ██/██/20██. ████████ was killed during the incident, and the disc (later designated the first instance of SCP-1748-1) was recovered. A servant previously unaccounted for then fired upon MTF N-15, injuring one member and destroying SCP-1748-1. The servant was killed in the fight. SCP-1748 immediately transferred to another vinyl disc containing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture , which was recovered. A letter addressed to ████████ and dated 5 days previously was also retrieved:
To ████████,
Working with those troglodytes was certainly distasteful, but the result was most satisfying and invigorating. Be proud of the monumental piece you have created, its power and majesty knows only how to grow. Within that disc is the sublime itself. We hope this letter finds you well, and that you feel that power and majesty occupy your entire being.
We hope you are also looking forward to Phase 2.
[REDACTED]
Addendum [1748-001]: Observation Log
Several low intensity sounds inconsistent with the accompanying music have been detected from SCP-1748's emissions:
On ██/██/20██ at 5:47 AM
-not alone. (Indecipherable) heartbeats. (Indecipherable) hear us.
On ██/██/20██ at 7:28 AM
-the music (Indecipherable) inside. Anchored. We (Indecipherable) little strength.
On ██/██/20██ at 8:39 PM
-echoes. We are echoes. (Indecipherable) be heard. (Indecipherable) if we fade. No. No.
No further abnormalities have been reported.
Addendum [1748-002]: Apollo Contingencies
Contingency Apollo-A: The sound of SCP-1748 shall be broadcast to all available Foundation sites, areas, and sectors wherein said broadcast does not disrupt existing containment procedures for other objects. Should Contingency Apollo-A be unsuccessful, Contingency Apollo-B must be enacted.
Contingency Apollo-B: SCP-1748-1 is to be electromagnetically suspended in a Gears Perfect Vacuum Chamber (GPVC), where it shall be contained indefinitely. Ten (10) additional objects capable of serving as SCP-1748-1 shall be contained in an identical manner in facilities adjacent to the main chamber. Absolutely no other items capable of becoming SCP-1748-1 shall be allowed within 1km of the containment chamber.
It should be noted that, while SCP-1748 cannot propagate through a perfect vacuum, previous observations have confirmed that it is still produced, and continues to grow in intensity without an audience. Given the implications of this evidence, Contingency Apollo-B must be considered a last resort, as any containment failure following its implementation, no matter how slight or brief, is likely to result in an XK-Class End-of-the-World Scenario.
Footnotes
1 . Russian, "Zmey": "Snake" or "Dragon".
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1748 " by Anborough, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1748 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 66 | ["_licensebox", "acoustic", "artifact", "auditory", "k-class-scenario", "keter", "loop", "media", "musical", "observational", "scp"] | 2013-06-11T22:48:00 | 7,721 | 1,174 | SCP-1748 | Keter | SCP-1748 is currently contained at Site-117. The sector assigned to SCP-1748 must be operated by individuals without any form of hearing impairment (this extends to D-Class personnel).
SCP-1748-1 is housed in a 4m x 2m x 4m primary concrete chamber, which is suspended by carbon fiber supports in a secondary 8m x 4m x 8m concrete chamber. The secondary chamber is soundproofed to a degree corresponding with the current intensity of SCP-1748's emission. A series of acoustic channels connect the primary chamber to the tertiary chamber, and are equipped with valves to occlude the noise as necessary. It is important that SCP-1748 remain audible to subjects in the tertiary chamber, whilst not reaching a relevant intensity capable of inflicting harm or deafness in said subjects.
The tertiary chamber is adjacent to the secondary chamber, and shall remain populated with an appropriate amount of D-Class personnel (currently 20). Said personnel are forbidden from speaking, and must be rotated out every 16 hours for sleep requirements. The walls of the chamber (barring the wall facing the secondary chamber) are soundproofed to prevent noise pollution. No less than twenty (20) individuals must remain in the tertiary chamber at all times. At least forty (40) additional D-Class personnel are to remain onsite for containment rotation. Should the intensity of SCP-1748's emission increase, the sound is to be broadcast to all personnel within Site-117 at large, and all available D-Class personnel are to report to the tertiary chamber immediately.
Should all onsite personnel be insufficient to prevent the emission's increase, the Apollo Contingencies will be enacted. | SCP-1748 is a phenomenon manifesting as a looped audio recording of the "Winter Road" segment of Georgy Sviridov's Snow Storm . The locus for this manifestation is always a device designed for containing audio recordings, including vinyl records, audio cassettes, and compact discs, though radios, MP3 players, USB drives, computers and game consoles do not appear to be viable objects. Whether or not said object is currently containing an audio recording(s) of any kind is irrelevant. It is unclear what mechanism produces sound from this object. This locus is hereafter referred to as SCP-1748-1.
SCP-1748 reduces in intensity when exposed to a sufficiently-sized audience, and increases intensity when too few individuals are present. What determines the number of required individuals is entirely unclear, though this number increases exponentially as the intensity of SCP-1748 increases. Based on previously recorded data, it is believed that an intensity of ███.██dB will exceed the current estimated populace of Earth, at which point halting the growth would be impossible.
At the time of this writing, SCP-1748 fluctuates in intensity between ██.██dB and ██.██dB.
SCP-1748-1 appears to be immune to damage from sonic vibrations produced by SCP-1748. Should SCP-1748-1 be destroyed, SCP-1748 will transfer to the nearest suitable object. No maximum range for this occurrence has yet been discovered.
SCP-1748 was initially discovered in █████, Russia. The Aaron Morgan Orchestra ("AMO", originating in London, England) was hired by ███████ ████████, a wealthy industrialist linked to the activities of "Змей," 1 an occultist organization believed to be responsible for ███ deaths in eastern Russia. AMO was commissioned to perform "Winter Road" on ██/██/20██ at ████████'s private estate. According to eyewitness testimony from a detained Змей member, at the conclusion of the performance, ████████, his servants, several other Змей members and several individuals from a group the witness could not identify gave AMO a standing ovation. During this, a number of Змей members proceeded to enter the stage from the rear and murdered the musicians. In the aftermath, the performers were [DATA EXPUNGED] were used to construct several crude designs in at least one unidentified language on [DATA EXPUNGED] prior to the vinyl disc used for the recording being saturated inside said mass, which did not damage the object for an as-of-yet unverified reason.
After the disc was removed from the mass, an Змей member delivered it to ████████, who then gave some form of hand gesture. Several individuals entered the concert hall and murdered the Змей members with automatic rifles. The eyewitness fled the chamber during this incident, and was picked up 15 days later by a Foundation asset in █████.
Thanks to the intelligence provided by said member, a Foundation raid by Mobile Task Force Nu-15 "White Wolves" on ████████'s estate was organized on ██/██/20██. ████████ was killed during the incident, and the disc (later designated the first instance of SCP-1748-1) was recovered. A servant previously unaccounted for then fired upon MTF N-15, injuring one member and destroying SCP-1748-1. The servant was killed in the fight. SCP-1748 immediately transferred to another vinyl disc containing Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture , which was recovered. A letter addressed to ████████ and dated 5 days previously was also retrieved:
To ████████,
Working with those troglodytes was certainly distasteful, but the result was most satisfying and invigorating. Be proud of the monumental piece you have created, its power and majesty knows only how to grow. Within that disc is the sublime itself. We hope this letter finds you well, and that you feel that power and majesty occupy your entire being.
We hope you are also looking forward to Phase 2.
[REDACTED]
Addendum [1748-001]: Observation Log
Several low intensity sounds inconsistent with the accompanying music have been detected from SCP-1748's emissions:
On ██/██/20██ at 5:47 AM
-not alone. (Indecipherable) heartbeats. (Indecipherable) hear us.
On ██/██/20██ at 7:28 AM
-the music (Indecipherable) inside. Anchored. We (Indecipherable) little strength.
On ██/██/20██ at 8:39 PM
-echoes. We are echoes. (Indecipherable) be heard. (Indecipherable) if we fade. No. No.
No further abnormalities have been reported.
Addendum [1748-002]: Apollo Contingencies
Contingency Apollo-A: The sound of SCP-1748 shall be broadcast to all available Foundation sites, areas, and sectors wherein said broadcast does not disrupt existing containment procedures for other objects. Should Contingency Apollo-A be unsuccessful, Contingency Apollo-B must be enacted.
Contingency Apollo-B: SCP-1748-1 is to be electromagnetically suspended in a Gears Perfect Vacuum Chamber (GPVC), where it shall be contained indefinitely. Ten (10) additional objects capable of serving as SCP-1748-1 shall be contained in an identical manner in facilities adjacent to the main chamber. Absolutely no other items capable of becoming SCP-1748-1 shall be allowed within 1km of the containment chamber.
It should be noted that, while SCP-1748 cannot propagate through a perfect vacuum, previous observations have confirmed that it is still produced, and continues to grow in intensity without an audience. Given the implications of this evidence, Contingency Apollo-B must be considered a last resort, as any containment failure following its implementation, no matter how slight or brief, is likely to result in an XK-Class End-of-the-World Scenario.
Footnotes
1 . Russian, "Zmey": "Snake" or "Dragon".
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1748 " by Anborough, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1748 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 1 | ## Log
Several low intensity sounds inconsistent with the accompanying music have been detected from SCP-1748's emissions:
On ██/██/20██ at 5:47 AM
-not alone. (Indecipherable) heartbeats. (Indecipherable) hear us.
On ██/██/20██ at 7:28 AM
-the music (Indecipherable) inside. Anchored. We (Indecipherable) little strength.
On ██/██/20██ at 8:39 PM
-echoes. We are echoes. (Indecipherable) be heard. (Indecipherable) if we fade. No. No.
No further abnormalities have been reported.
Addendum [1748-002]: Apollo Contingencies
Contingency Apollo-A: The sound of SCP-1748 shall be broadcast to all available Foundation sites, areas, and sectors wherein said broadcast does not disrupt existing containment procedures for other objects. Should Contingency Apollo-A be unsuccessful, Contingency Apollo-B must be enacted.
Contingency Apollo-B: SCP-1748-1 is to be electromagnetically suspended in a Gears Perfect Vacuum Chamber (GPVC), where it shall be contained indefinitely. Ten (10) additional objects capable of serving as SCP-1748-1 shall be contained in an identical manner in facilities adjacent to the main chamber. Absolutely no other items capable of becoming SCP-1748-1 shall be allowed within 1km of the containment chamber.
It should be noted that, while SCP-1748 cannot propagate through a perfect vacuum, previous observations have confirmed that it is still produced, and continues to grow in intensity without an audience. Given the implications of this evidence, Contingency Apollo-B must be considered a last resort, as any containment failure following its implementation, no matter how slight or brief, is likely to result in an XK-Class End-of-the-World Scenario.
Footnotes
1 . Russian, "Zmey": "Snake" or "Dragon".
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1748 " by Anborough, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1748 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-8724 | SCP-8724 | scp | Item #: SCP-8724 Object Class: Pending
Special Containment Procedures
The area surrounding SCP-8724 has been cordoned off, and a preventative perimeter has been placed around the site. Following the initial exploration of SCP-8724, personnel are forbidden from entering the premises. RAISA is to regularly check Foundation employee records for any individual with the name ▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓.
Description
SCP-8724 is an abandoned building in Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua. The structure is composed of a single floor of residential space, with no evident anomalous characteristics from the exterior. SCP-8724's main anomalous effect is its ability to manifest a weak electrical field around the structure, which interferes with electronic devices and causes abnormalities in recording equipment.
No other anomalous phenomena are present within SCP-8724.
Discovery
SCP-8724's existence was first made known to the Foundation after a routine check of SCP-▓▓▓▓ revealed a series of messages left by ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 7 prior to the conclusion of their assignment. Despite the presence of multiple aberrations in tone and style when compared to official Foundation documentation for unclassified anomalies, the matter was deemed important enough to warrant an investigation into 12 of the ▓▓ anomalies described within the recovered information. To this end, Specialized Task Force Chicot-1 was established as a series of semi-independent agents operating simultaneously on identifying these anomalies.
On May 7th, 2024, Agent Sarah Howards, operating under said Specialized Task Force, would first report encountering SCP-8724. 1
A detachment of Foundation employees arrived within the hour and established a provisional perimeter around SCP-8724. Despite the fact that the anomaly had not been cleared yet, and the fact that human exploration is heavily discouraged as a point of first contact, Agent Howards would break through the perimeter and enter SCP-8724 with no equipment. The reasoning behind this is unknown.
Following protocol, an unmanned drone was sent in after Agent Howards, with the goal of assessing the situation. However, Agent Howards was not located within the structure. Instead, the unmanned drone recorded a full exploration of SCP-8724. A transcript of the unmanned drone's footage is attached below.
Addendum-8724-A
Exploration Records 02/06/2024.
Video Log - 07/05/2024
RECORDING START
The drone comes online a few feet from the entrance to SCP-8724. An electric hum envelops the recording.
The door is opened. For a second, a hand is in frame. As the door opens, some struggle can be seen on the part of the operator, as the door screeches against the flooring. After a brief struggle, the door is open. The light outside spills onto the interior of the building.
The drone is cleared to enter SCP-8724.
The interior of SCP-8724 is well-illuminated under fluorescent lighting. The room immediately adjacent to the entrance is completely empty, with no identifiable marks of prior furnishings. The blue carpet flooring is worn and lightly coated in dust; no footprints are visible on the carpet.
The vestibule is a small portion of the building, and leads to two separate rooms. Both doors are open, although no sign of Agent Howards can be found. The drone records footage of its surroundings in the vestibule, and heads towards the rightmost room.
At the edge of the vestibule, the light cuts off. The room ahead is submerged in the dark.
The drone activates a small flashlight above the camera. It shines on the room, only to find that the beam of light stops exactly at the threshold of the room.
A small beep can be heard as the drone switches to a light-amplification camera. The picture briefly flashes white.
The room remains dark. The drone enters the room regardless, although the flashlight is switched back on and the camera returns to its regular mode.
Within, the flashlight stops working completely. The doorway behind the drone remains a singular panel of light, which fails to illuminate the interior of the room and serves only as a reference point for the drone to exit.
Finding no way to make out any detail concerning this room, the drone is recalled. As it moves toward the doorway, it bumps into an object that topples over and falls on the ground. The sound of a lightbulb breaking can be heard as what was a lamp hits the floor.
The drone returns to the vestibule to find that it has been altered significantly in the time it took for the drone to explore the other room. It's now fully furnished, with a number of plants and light fixtures providing some decoration. As the drone moves towards the plants, it can be seen that all furniture in the room is covered in as thick a layer of dust as everything was when the exploration of SCP-8724 started. The furniture has remained there, untouched, for some time.
As the drone is piloted towards the plants, a loud thud causes the operator to turn the drone around towards the doors. There, the leftmost door has been abruptly closed. The sound of a lock turning can be made out.
The drone approaches the door, using an arm attachment to manipulate the door handle. However, it does not open.
Suddenly, the door abruptly opens outwards, striking the drone and causing it to lose stability.
It is picked up by an unknown assailant, and dragged within the room. Once inside, the feed abruptly cuts out.
RECORDING END
Additional Notes: Following the sudden end of transmission by the unmanned drone, a flash of light was observed from the outside of SCP-8724. This prompted Foundation operatives to enter SCP-8724, however, no abnormalities could be found within the building. The drone itself was found in an unfurnished room, powered down.
Subsequent exploration of SCP-8724 uncovered a pool of blood belonging to no known individual in the Foundation's database, a pocket knife, and an inoperable audio recorder.
No trace of Agent Sarah Howards could be identified within.
Footnotes
1 . Of note is that Agent Howards had checked in with the Foundation from Sweden hours prior to this. Tracking data is unavailable for Agent Howards on May 7th, 2024.
Onuxophobia
Anthology 2024
Eisoptrophobia
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-8724 " by Fishish, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8724 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 84 | ["_listpages", "building", "extradimensional", "meta", "neutralized", "phobia-anthology", "religious", "scp", "spatial", "transmission"] | 2024-10-18T16:06:00 | 6,530 | 1,055 | SCP-8724 | Pending | null | null | 3 | ## Discovery
SCP-8724's existence was first made known to the Foundation after a routine check of SCP-▓▓▓▓ revealed a series of messages left by ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 7 prior to the conclusion of their assignment. Despite the presence of multiple aberrations in tone and style when compared to official Foundation documentation for unclassified anomalies, the matter was deemed important enough to warrant an investigation into 12 of the ▓▓ anomalies described within the recovered information. To this end, Specialized Task Force Chicot-1 was established as a series of semi-independent agents operating simultaneously on identifying these anomalies.
On May 7th, 2024, Agent Sarah Howards, operating under said Specialized Task Force, would first report encountering SCP-8724. 1
A detachment of Foundation employees arrived within the hour and established a provisional perimeter around SCP-8724. Despite the fact that the anomaly had not been cleared yet, and the fact that human exploration is heavily discouraged as a point of first contact, Agent Howards would break through the perimeter and enter SCP-8724 with no equipment. The reasoning behind this is unknown.
Following protocol, an unmanned drone was sent in after Agent Howards, with the goal of assessing the situation. However, Agent Howards was not located within the structure. Instead, the unmanned drone recorded a full exploration of SCP-8724. A transcript of the unmanned drone's footage is attached below.
---
## Addendum-8724-A
Exploration Records 02/06/2024.
Video
---
## logy 2024
Eisoptrophobia
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-8724 " by Fishish, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8724 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
i-thought-you-would-come-back-if-i-made-it-well | maybe god will forgive you if we both beg - SCP Foundation | tale | In this world, consequence cannot bear the harshness of catastrophe. Mistakes are given lighter punishments. Falling stars shoot through the night sky and occasionally grant wishes of observers below. It is a softer place.
The Foundation did not have to suffer from its judgement errors as harshly as in other worlds. Employees worked in relative peace; some even found the time to grant small mercies.
When the Foundation first asked Cain to reunite with his brother, he took three days to decide. On the third day, he agreed on the condition that the only person who could abort the mission would be himself. The Foundation took three more days before agreeing.
Cain settled by the coffin that held his brother in a white room. He didn't know if Abel could hear him in there; maybe Abel was sleeping. The thought made him smile a bit—at least Abel's habit of long naps hadn't changed. Regardless, he spoke his apologies in a language to which they were the sole survivors.
"Say, brother, good morning. Shouldn't you be tending to your sheep? They're all down the hills, scattered. Their children have fled our lands and fill the cliffs as mountain goats, the deserts and savannahs as camels, oryx and antelope. Good morning, good morning brother."
Three minutes later, Abel stepped out of his coffin, drew a blade, and tried to decapitate his brother. Cain did not move to dodge; any wounds delivered to him would simply reflect back to the attacker. Abel's head fell onto the floor, then caved in on itself as a pile of dust. The coffin swung shut.
Cain coughed, ran his hands over his own neck and winced. "Good to see you too."
Every two days, Abel would leave his coffin and try to kill his brother. Sometimes, Cain talked to the coffin. For two months, this futile attempt at discussion was all they had.
Eventually, Abel's anger simmered down enough to allow a question from his lips. "Why, Cain? Why are you here?"
"I came to ask for-"
Abel did not allow the conversation to continue. This went on for another month. He would ask the same questions again and again, finding himself unable to face any answers.
Abel had been a colicky newborn; the only thing that soothed him was his mother's lullabies. So Cain sang as Abel slept. He breathed a soft, haunting melody that dwelt on brighter days.
Later, the tattooed man stepped out of the coffin and into the white room. His bare feet made soft padding noises as he stepped towards his older brother, watching him with the patient gaze of a farmer waiting for his crops to fruit. "Why. Why did you do it. Why are you here, now, after killing me and leaving me." He extended arms, pressing them against Cain's clear skin. "Leaving me to these people, with their marks on me, all their marks! Tell me!! "
"I was young and jealous. I got older. Time carved its wisdom into me. I'm here now because… because I still love you. Please forgive me, Abel. Everyone we knew as children has left to God's garden." The older brother leaned forwards to pull his sibling into a tight hug.
"My beautiful baby brother, it's just us now," he choked out.
Abel drew a blade. Clutched the hilt, then let go. He leaned into the embrace, clinging tightly. "It's not fair. It's not fair. You are so untouched. I can't leave a single wound on you." He spoke, soft as moonlight. "And yet look at me. Look at all the things done to me. You used to be my hero, but this… you let this happen to me."
"I see it, Abel. I see what I've done. I take full responsibility. I'll earn my title back, if you'll have me. This, I promise with everything I have." Cain swaddled his brother in his arms, rocking him back and forth and stroking his hair.
Abel clutched Cain's shirt, his body trembling as he wept. His fingers began to soften and collapse into dust. His brother continued rocking him as he, too, crumbled. By the time their tears reached the floor, they could only wet the dust that remained.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" maybe god will forgive you if we both beg " by SoullessSingularity, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/i-thought-you-would-come-back-if-i-made-it-well . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 277 | ["_licensebox", "able", "bittersweet", "cain", "mythological", "tale"] | 2015-04-10T02:43:00 | 4,347 | 768 | 0 | ||||||
journey-to-alagadda | Journey to Alagadda - SCP Foundation | tale | The following is a collection of disconnected text suspected to be from a lost chapter of an unknown version of Journey to the West story. The text depicts events likely connected to SCP-701 and SCP-2264 , which are not seen in other versions. No anomalous qualities are found, thus translated and archived below.
师徒四人在荒山野岭行了许久，疲惫之际，忽见一城池拔地而起，隐有锣鼓喧闹之声。那城墙耸立，又用了赤、金、白黑四色彩砖，好不气派。城外无甚么人，只有一军头，似是—
The four, master and disciple, having trekked through the barren mountains for long, are growing tired. Suddenly, they spot a city rising high, and hear sounds of the drumming of instruments and the bustling of streets. A city wall stands there, made of bricks of red, yellow, white, and black, truly a splendid sight. They see no others outside the city, only a head solider, who seems—
见四人牵马上前，那守门的军头却是不惊反喜，从怀中掏出四个面具便迎上来，也不问何所从来、去往何处，将面具往三藏手中一塞便道：“诸位来得好！快戴了面具入城去！”
As the four draw near, leading the horse with them, the head solider guarding the gate seems not surprised, but rather pleased. He takes four masks out of his person, walking up to welcome the four. He asks not where they are from or where they are headed, thrusting the masks into Sanzang’s hands, and says: “Fellows, you come at a great time! Quickly, on with the masks and into the city!”
军头却不恼怒，道：“长老有所不知，此处乃是阿罗诘达。正是国王大寿，有三日的庆典和筵席。庆贺之时百无禁忌，四洲来客都可上殿朝拜。只是怕来者繁杂，恶了王公大臣，都要选了假面戴上，如今却是已成习俗。诸位快些把面具戴好入城，不要误了时辰！”
The head solider is not annoyed, and explains: “Elder, you may not know, but this is Aluojieda. It is the King’s birthday, and there are celebrations and banquets for three days. There are no rules during the celebration, and guests from all four lands can present themselves to the court. Only that there are people of all kinds, good and bad. So the guests are asked to put on masks, in case they offended lords and officials. It is now a custom. Quickly, put the masks on and into the city. Best not waste time!”
八戒也戴了那猪脸面具，只有行者让面具歪在头上，露出半张脸来。四人入城，果见处处张灯结彩，嬉笑之声不断，好不热闹。仔细看去，上至老人、下至顽童，果然人人佩有假面，其或作哭笑状，或习见于戏曲中，又有飞禽走兽的模样，怪诞至极。
师徒四人走走停停，见那城中各处都有露天的筵席，摆了珍馐美酒，来往行人随意取用。又有侍从、侍女忙碌，叫那筵席取之不竭。众人左右顾盼，皆是颇感新奇。那八戒更是数次要偷离了队伍，钻到人群中，都被行者扯住。只是顺着大道行到王宫时，八戒手中已是拿了三五个盘子，正在狼吞虎咽。
Bajie puts on the pig mask as well, only Wukong lets the mask skew to the side, leaving half of the face in the open. The four of them go into the city, and indeed see lights and decorations everywhere, and hear laughter constantly. Truly a lively place. As they look closer, they see that from the elderly to the children, everyone wears masks, just as told. The masks depict happiness and sadness, portray characters from plays, or shape like birds and animals, truely bizarre.
The four of them meander about, and see that there are feasts hosted everywhere in the city, with delicious dishes and fine wine for the passersby to take freely. Servants and maids bustle around, making sure that the feast can continue indefinitely. The master and disciples look around, marveling at the sight. Bajie even tries to escape into the crowds several times, only to be caught by Wukong. Only that by the time they reach the palace through the main road, Bajie already has several plates in his hands, and is busy devouring the food.
那阿罗诘达国王稳坐在王座上，却是没有假面。只见那国王神态威严，虽是大寿之时，却无丝毫老态，但有萧索苍白之态。所穿着的自是绫罗绸缎，脖子上、手腕上、周身各处又尽是金银饰物，好不奢华。见师徒四人入殿拜见，国王也不应答，只是侍立在一旁的大使上前—
The King of Aluojieda sits squarely on the throne, appearing solemn with authority, and does not wear a mask. While it is his birthday, he does not seem elderly at all, only slightly pale and gaunt. What he wears is of course silk and satin, with gold and silver jewelry all around his neck, wrists and torso, the most luxurious. As the master and disciples appear in the court for an audience, the King does not respond. The Ambassador standing next to him in attendance, however, moves forward—
“圣僧此言差矣！诸位远道而来，又恰逢国王大寿，是一桩大喜事。如不多加款待，岂不显得我国疏于礼数？还请诸位入席，今日定要宾主尽欢！”
便吩咐道：“设宴！”王宫上下霎时间活动起来，有侍从安排桌椅，有侍女呈奉菜肴酒水。王公大臣也纷纷入席，立即就欢笑不断。那富丽堂皇、嵌着四色宝石的大殿间，就摆好了百人千人的筵席，这场面竟比此前所见街上的还要热闹百倍。
师徒四人也被强拉了入席，八戒自然欢欣喜悦，便是三藏也不好推辞，终是一并落座。而这筵席中的也果真是珍馐美味，便是特地盛的素斋也鲜美非常。师徒四人虽是未尝酒水，不消半刻，也似要醉了一般。
“Honored elder, I cannot agree with you! You have come a long way, and it happens to be the King’s birthday celebration. What an occasion! If we do not treat you with hospitality, would it not appear that our kingdom is disrespectful and negligent? Please join the banquet, we must celebrate and enjoy ourselves today!”
The Ambassador then orders: “Prepare the feast!” All over the palace, movements start all at once: Servants are preparing tables and chairs, maids are delivering dishes and drinks. The lords and the officials all take seats, with cheers and laughter erupting immediately. The majestic palace, decorated with gems of four colors, is now ready for a feast for hundreds and thousands, a hundred times livelier than the sights on the streets.
The four of them are dragged in. Bajie is of course the happiest, but even Sanzang has trouble refusing the invitation, and eventually they all sit down. The food provided is indeed the most precious, even the vegetarian food prepared specially for them is delicious indeed. While they have not consumed any wine, they feel drunk from the atmosphere only in moments.
那歌舞欢闹声越甚，行者也是摇头晃脑起来，面具更是歪到一侧。瓜果入腹，又着侍女去端，等待间，便往人群中张望。这一看不要紧，却是把行者惊出一声冷汗。筵席之中，哪有什么王公大臣、侍从宾客？那落座的，分明是披鳞带爪的妖魔，不见半个人影。哪有什么欢声笑语、歌舞不断？却是乌烟瘴气的一片。大圣顿觉不妙，再瞧时，三藏、八戒、沙僧果然不见踪影。行者立时起身，把那大桌也打翻—
As the song and dance grow louder, Wukong also starts to swing with the rhythm, his mask tilting to the side. Having consumed many fruits, he asks the maids to get more. As he waits, he starts to watch the crowds. But with just a look, he gets a good scare indeed. What lords and officials, servants and guests, partying in the banquet? The ones that sit among the tables are no other than demons with claws and scales, not one person in sight. What cheers and laughter, song and dance? Only a terrible miasma covering all of it. Wukong is suddenly alarmed, and as he looks closely, he finds that Sanzang, Bajie, and Wujing are nowhere to be seen. Wukong immediately stands up, overturning the large table—
孙行者一个气急，扯了面具，抽出金箍棒来。那棒子一挥，宾客顿时四散，片刻就不知钻到何处去了。那四色的宫殿也一下子破败荒芜，似是许久不曾得用，都是脏污泥泞。
行者四处张望，寻三藏等人不着，又见大殿空掉，失了目标，正抓耳挠腮之际，抬头看到那阿罗诘达国王还坐在王座上不动，便三两步迈到那王座前，就要扯住国王问话。
只见大圣就着国王的领子一提，那国王就瘫软下去，大圣再提，却是一动不动，好似牢牢钉在王座上一般。行者一看，那国王身上的，哪是什么金银饰物？分明是厚厚的链子，层层叠叠拴在王座上。中间也不是什么绫罗绸缎，不过几块破布裹在一起，连人都不见。
Frustrated, Wukong tears the mask off, and takes out the Jingu Bang. As he swings his staff, the guests immediately scatter, and are gone within a moment. The palace with four colors suddenly becomes dilapidated and desolate, as if not used in a long time, covered in filth and mud.
Unable to find Sanzang and the others, and seeing that the palace is now empty, Wukong looks around with a sudden loss for what to do. As he is scratching his head in frustration, he looks up and sees the King of Aluojieda still sits on the throne, unmoving. Wukong steps towards the throne quickly, and plans to get some answers out of the King.
Wukong grabs the King by the collar, and the King goes limp. Wukong tries to lift him up, but the King is unmoving, as if nailed to the throne. Wukong looks more closely. What gold and silver jewelry on the King’s person? They are heavy chains, layers upon layers, linked to the throne. And the clothing between the chains is no silk and satin, but tattered cloths wrapped together, with no person inside.
大圣行至殿外，只见整座城都空无一人，也无灯火、筵席，此前的喧嚣热闹再也不见了。又驾云上去一看，只有乌鸦盘旋，好似一座死城。
Wukong walks out of the palace, and sees the whole city devoid of person, with no lights and no feasts. The previous bustling is also gone. As he rides on the clouds to check from the above, he sees only crows circling, as if the whole city was dead.
大圣求告道：“却是又遭逢一难！我师徒四人到了一地，名唤阿罗诘达，便入了城池、殿宇，见了国王、公卿。只是城中妖物作祟，筵席之中师傅、师弟就丢了，却是遍寻不着。还请菩萨相救！”
Wukong pleads: “We happened upon another tribulation! The four of us arrived at a place called Aluojieda, went to the city and the palace, and met the King and the officials. Only there are demons haunting the city. As we were feasting, I lost sight of my master and fellow disciples, looked everywhere for them, but could not find them. Asking bodhisattva for help!”
菩萨道：“悟空，你再看，哪来的城池？”
行者再去看时，却是一片空空荡荡的荒山野岭，半块砖都见不着，哪来的城池？只有一个大洞，那洞旁还有一颗歪脖子树，树上挂着一根绞索。行李和马匹却是都在洞旁，分毫不差。
行者落下云头，向那洞里望去，只见一片泥淖，那三藏、八戒、沙僧三人都在其中打滚。行者将三人拽出来，三藏、八戒、沙僧也顿时如梦初醒，四周张望，又赶紧向菩萨道谢。
The bodhisattva asks: “Wukong, look closely, what city?”
As Wukong looks again, he sees only the barren mountains, empty, with not even a brick in sight. What city? Only a huge hole, with a crooked tree to the side and a noose hanging off its branch. The luggage and the horse are exactly as they were, next to the hole.
Wukong descends from the clouds, and looks into the hole. He sees a pool of mud, with Sanzang, Bajie, and Wujing all rolling inside. Wukong drags them out, and the three suddenly become sober, as if waking from a dream. They look around, and quickly give their thanks to the bodhisattva.
行者还是置气，又挥起棒子，把那歪脖子树一打，半截树就折了，连着那绞索一道，落入洞中。行者这才心下安稳，随着三藏等人，启程去了。
Still angry, Wukong swings his staff, hits the crooked tree, snapping it in half. The broken half falls into the hole along with the noose. Feeling settled, Wukong follows Sanzang and others, setting off to their journey once more.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Journey to Alagadda " by SunnyClockwork, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/journey-to-alagadda . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 61 | ["_licensebox", "alagadda", "hanged-king", "mythological", "tale"] | 2024-01-22T14:35:00 | 9,598 | 1,398 | 0 | ||||||
they-have-no-use-for-your-song | They Have No Use For Your Song - SCP Foundation | tale | I’d been sat in the bathroom for half an hour now. The toilet seat was cold. I wasn’t exactly feeling the call of nature, but.. I needed a minute or thirty to myself. God, had it really been a year since I’d last visited home? Since I'd last seen any of my extended family?
I hadn’t even planned on coming back. I was just about to let my parents know I’d be working in Bismarck over the winter break, hoping to save up for a post-graduation holiday, when they’d come up to visit. Stern faces looking across from me at the coffee shop. None of the cheer that they were known for. Lots of discussions about ‘coming of age’ and ‘being old enough to know.’
My mother’s side of the family is strange. My dad is ‘American’, in the sense that he doesn’t really care about his heritage. He takes more pride in the local baseball team than he does in which European country his great great forebears came from. My mother’s family, though, take a great deal of pride in their heritage. Polish, having come over in ‘37. Just before everything went to shit over there. A lot of people assume I’m Jewish, when I tell them that. We’re not, though. My grandparents are oddly cagey about where exactly they came from, but that never stopped them from bringing Poland to North Dakota. The biggest night of the year in the community was Koliada. After Christmas. Kids were never allowed to celebrate, in our town. Not with the adults. We always spent it at Grandmother’s house, away from the community centre. I was allowed there any other day of the year, playing basketball or attending Boy Scouts, or… regardless, it wasn’t the location that was the problem. I barely thought about it as a kid, happy to hang out with my cooler sixteen year old cousins for the evening. But then they turned eighteen, and then it was just me and grandmother.
She was an eerie woman, in a kind way. Often found her looking out of the window, wistfully. Not up at the sky. No. Down at the dirt. Like she was waiting for someone to burst from the ground. But then she’d spot me watching, without turning her head, even if I’d been really sneaky. And she’d pick me up in her arms and spin me a tale about the old country.
I hadn’t spoken to her since I left. There had been something in her eyes that day. I’d slinked home after being lost in the woods for days on end. I’d been babbling about the slithering red thing that I’d seen slinking through the corridor at the community centre. Come to think of it, that had been the day after Koliada. The shock had seen me move off to college earlier. Had made me spend most of my time in Bismarck, rarely visiting. They’d told me that I’d imagined it, but… I’d known what I’d seen.
My feet were numb now. I stood up, wincing as blood rushed back into my legs and my skin prickled and writhed with restored sensations. Ow. What was I doing? It was stupid to just stew in my anxiety. In the bathroom of all places. It’s nothing, probably. Maybe the adults just don’t want their kids to see them all drunk and foolish. Worst case scenario, my family were all swingers and I just could leave and never talk to them again. Haha.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The part of me that doesn’t almost have a college degree, that isn’t aware of reason and science, the animal inside. It’s screaming at me to run. To sprint through the cold woods and never look back.
I push that part of me down. I’m an adult. I can handle an awkward speech about manhood. I’m related to half these people anyway.
I stepped into the community hall for the first time in years. It’s been reorganised. A tall pole, made out of some white wood stained red with paint, has been erected in the centre of the room. Thick brown and red fabric strips hang from it. A May pole in winter. Odd. But not, like, terrifying.
The hall had filled up whilst I was having my episode in the bathroom. Everyone was here now. I caught a few glances, exchanged some polite nods and greetings with old neighbours. A few conversations had clearly changed gears as I entered. People smiling oddly. Laughing at fake jok- No! Stop letting your anxiety control you. I pace myself, and resist the urge to run back to the toilet. A chair, that’ll steady my nerves. I find one next to the food table, cloth-covered trays of dishes with names I can’t even hope to pronounce.
I’d had traditional Polish food before, but this smells different. The smell was persuasive . It forces its way inside me, through my nose and mouth. It was disturbingly similar to things I’ve smelled before. In hunting season, when my granddad would cure meats in his shed. Sweat, bile and rot. I spring to my feet, scanning for another chair crossing the room as subtly as I can before sitting down. Deep breaths, in and out, and within a few minutes I can open my eyes without feeling the need to vomit. I look away from the table. God, was I having a fucking panic attack over odd smelling food at an ethnic festival? I was acting like a Lovecraft protagonist right now! Oh God! Stew! What horror! I hoped no-one had noticed.
They seem excited. Jumpy. It reminded me of the crowd at a concert, after the start time has passed but before the band has come on. Those ten or so minutes of the unknown before the night begins. The curtains on the stage are drawn, and on it I can see several of the younger men and women from the village. Three or so years younger than me, around eighteen. They’re all dressed in oddly revealing outfits. A low chant began to fill the hall, coming from all around me. I didn’t actually speak Polish. But I recognised Polish.
This wasn’t Polish.
The young folks proceeded to the pole, gripping the fabric in hand and beginning to dance around it. Twisting and turning, their forms almost morphing with the cadence. Like fluid in a sac of skin. All around, people from the crowd began to step up, swapping places with them and taking part. They all knew the dance, somehow. Knew it perfectly.
A man I didn’t know, clad in an expensive suit, looked at me oddly from the seat next to mine. He placed a hand on my knee.
“Aren’t you going to join them, son?”
What?
“Uh, sorry, I- I haven’t learned the dance.”
“Ah. Apologies, I misunderstood. Thought you were a fledgling.”
He stood up, discarding his thick coat like it wasn’t worth more than a month of my rent, and I lost him in the gathering throng. Streaks of white, brown and red, flowing through each other. I thought about slipping out. Then I saw her. Kathy.
I hadn’t spoken to her in years. She was one of the few people I’d tried to stay in contact with after leaving. I had hoped that- that we could. Well. She hadn’t gone to college, as we’d planned. She’d stayed behind. She’d been part of the reason I’d even agreed to come back. I watched her dance, anxiety playing in my stomach as the possibilities of what I might say to her whirled through my mind. Before I could pluck up the courage, the chanting - where was that coming from? - rose to a final din, and cut out. Then, another sound replaced it.
The sound of wet slopping. The man from before held his arms to the ceiling, enraptured. A pleasured look on his face. All the while, his entrails dropped from his open stomach, his skin tearing like wet paper. I sat, shock paralysing me. People - oh god - others started to mimic the motion. Shifting, changing. Dying - no, not dying. They were laughing. Singing, singing that same chant. Monsters . I looked to Kathy, looked to find and save her, and then I laid eyes on her in the middle of the beasts.
Seams appeared on her fingernails and crawled their way up her arms, as if carved by an invisible blade. Crimson started to drip from them, and I had to suppress the urge to scream, but fell silent as her flesh began to split along those seams, unfurling into sheets, so thin as to be translucent. The pale white was interlaced with threads of deep red veins and capillaries, forming a familiar pattern. Lace - I realised with a start. She turns - oh god she sees me watching - I’m about to run, but then she smiles. Knowing. The same smile I knew for years. Throughout the good times and bad. I feel somewhat eased. Somehow, it’s still her.
The others, I notice, have finished a similar transfiguration. I almost jumped out of my skin when a heavy hand was placed on my shoulder, a small shriek escaping involuntarily. Standing next to me was a distorted humanoid. Their skin had peeled away from their face, exposing the muscle and sinew beneath, but I recognised the structure, the clothing that bulged and rippled as unseen changes occurred. My old neighbour, Mr Kamiński. He jerked away at my distress, clearly concerned to have disturbed me.
All around me, members of the community, friends, acquaintances and strangers stood and joined the new dance. It was rhythmic, as people joined arms, their ligaments literally intertwining as people - monsters - spun and laughed and moved. I almost collapsed. I felt both at home, but also so, so far away. Some deep part of me knew that this was natural, that this was the way things were always meant to be, and it scared me more than the monsters around me. It was sensation and revulsion and curiosity all at once, paralysing me in place but leaving me fully conscious, like someone unable to stop themselves from picking at a crusty scab. Then, the music reached a crescendo, and the chanting escalated into a resounding chorus, before coming to a sudden halt. All eyes turned to me, a room of monstrosities that I knew and loved. Like that, the feeling broke, and my legs stopped betraying me, carrying me from the nightmare out into the cold night. I start to run before stopping, a woozy feeling hitting me as I almost collapse.
I saw my grandfather - monster? - in a terse conversation with a suited woman. Even from this distance, I could make out the scars across her face, the evidence of a hard life. My main concern at that moment, barely coherent, was that she was going to turn into something. Some abomination in human skin. But… she seemed normal. For now. Then, my grandfather noticed me watching, and gestured at me to come over. Unthinking, I followed his instruction, and as I approached he gripped me by the shoulders, casting a gaze from my feet up to my head. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the same look he gave to the strips of pork he bought from the local butcher.
“Grandson.” His voice was steady, but with a tremor of tension running through it, like a ligament pulled taut. “There is someone you must meet. This is Agent Plee.” She nodded, extending a calloused hand in greeting, shaking mine in a vice grip. “What she is about to tell you is very important, so make sure you pay close attention.” He turns back to her and nods. “Good evening, Agent.”
I watched him turn and walk back to the house. Stepping inside, as the door opened, I could hear my mother’s voice. I couldn’t make out her words, but the concern steeped into her tone was clear. But, if that was my mother’s voice, why then, was it so distorted? So in rhythm with the chants coming from inside? “Walk with me.” Plee’s voice was surprisingly reedy for a woman as stockily built as she was. She took me down the road, out into the snow-encrusted woods. Lighting a cigarette, she indulged in a deep drag, staring back at the farmhouse as she exhaled.
“So. I bet that was a lot for you.”
I could barely stammer out a response before she carried on.
“Who- what are you? What was that? What happened, what is happening to them?"
"Nothing is happening to them. That's normal to them. That will be normal for you. Your family is what we call anomalous. Specifically, members of an anomalous ethnic religious group. We call them Sarkics. Or Nalka. I can never keep up.”
She took another drag.
"Me, though? I work for an organisation. We’re called the Foundation. Members of your community may refer to us as the Jailors. We handle things that don’t fit into what you would, until tonight, define as the normal world. We secure them, take them away from those who would misuse them.”
Her eyes weren’t focused on me. She was remembering something.
“We contain them, lock them away so they can’t hurt anybody or reveal their existence to the wider world. And we protect them from a world that can’t, that won’t understand them. That will destroy them given half the chance.”
She’d clearly given this speech before. Many, many times. That much was clear. This was a lecture, not a conversation.
“Luckily for you, your grandmother is smart. You don’t get as old as she does in our world without being a bit canny, but she’s a cut above. She’s gotten your community into the third category, mainly by not getting anyone involved until they’re old enough. Kids are reckless. Liable to do silly things. This is the arrangement we have with her, with you, now. However, there are a few ground rules to this arrangement that you need to be aware of.”
I raised my hand to ask a question, as if I hadn’t been out of high school for two and a half years at this point, but she dismissed me with a wave of her cigarette, loose ash staining the snow beneath my feet.
“Rule 1: You tell anyone about this, or anything else I’ve told you, and we will know. Don’t ask how. You don’t want to find out. We will find you, and whoever it is you told, be it a friend, partner, or a random drunk on the train at night. They get out lucky. Little green pill, and it’s like it never happened.”
She flashed a plastic medicine bottle from her pocket. Countless little green pills rattled inside.
“You and your family get sent to the inside of a containment cell until either you die or the sun explodes. Can never know with your lot.”
“Rule 2: If you meet a special someone from outside of the community and want to bring them in, you run it by us, and I will have a little chat with them, similar to the one we are having now. That chat either ends happily for you or with a little green pill for them.”
She takes another long drag of her cigarette. Even this far out, I could hear the strangely haunting melodies filtering through the forest, rhythmic chanting matching the frenetic beat of my own pulse.
“Rule 3: You see anything, and I mean anything, that is out of the ordinary, except for your own family's practices, you call this number.”
She handed me a white business card for Sunshine Coast Products . It feels used.
“You call this, ask for the spring ‘08 catalogue. You will get redirected, and then you tell them what you saw, and then you forget you ever saw it. Simple, right? If you give us a helpful tip, it helps build goodwill between my organisation and your family. Makes us more likely to forgive any future fuck-ups.”
“Your grandmother can fill you in on the rest. If you’re smart, you’ll listen to her.”
She finished her cigarette, putting out the stub on a tree before flicking it through the air.
“Tell your granddad I left, and that he’s all clear for his annual check.” She turned to leave, then looked back at me. “With any luck, we won’t meet again.” With that, she was gone, snow crunching under her heavy boots as she headed back towards the main road.
I called after her.
"Those pills. If I don't want any of this? If I just want to leave? Can I…?
She stopped, not even turning to look at me.
"If that's what you want. But I think you should talk to her first. Get the full picture."
I stood there, flummoxed, clutching a white business card in my hand. Despite the cold, I felt the card start to become damp with my sweat. Then, remembering how important it was, I anxiously dried it on my jacket sleeve, and then placed it carefully into my wallet.
It hit all at once. The world was spinning, as if for just a moment I was disconnected from the tether of gravity and force. I stumbled backwards into a tree, bark scratching against my back as I sank to the floor. There was a rising tension in my stomach, something ripping its way out of me. The sensation filled me with mortal terror, my mind flashing back to my family, my friends, - skin tearing and sinew parting, flesh giving way to will itself, blood dripping onto laminate flooring - and my body squeezed and pushed it out.
I don't want to be like that. Please.
Yellow and brown stained the white snow, as the smell of half digested alcohol and bread pervaded my nostrils. My throat and nose stung with bile, and the phlegm dangling from my lips mixed with the tears streaming down my face. I collapsed forward, away from the vomit, and lay there until I couldn’t feel the stinging on my lips as they went numb. There were no thoughts running through my mind.
Minutes passed.
I thought about leaving, about running as fast as I could to the nearest bus station and never looking back.
Then I got up, wiped the rest of the sick off my face, and started trudging back to the hall. I saw a figure standing in the doorway, outlined by the light flooding out onto the snow.
Grandmother.
Time for a talk.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" They Have No Use For Your Song " by Sobek109, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/they-have-no-use-for-your-song . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 22 | ["_licensebox", "body-horror", "first-person", "horror", "psychological-horror", "religious-fiction", "sarkic", "tale"] | 2023-07-24T16:01:00 | 17,391 | 3,184 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-451 | SCP-451 | scp | Item #: SCP-451
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Due to SCP-451's current state, physical containment is not feasible. Extensive study of Agent J████'s psychological profile has allowed researchers to provide him with a mental task in order to keep him at Site-19. A security detail of two guards must accompany SCP-451 at all times in order to prevent attempts to access or release other potentially dangerous objects contained on-site. Any research into SCP-451 should be restricted to determining ways to contain or communicate with him.
Description: SCP-451, formerly Agent M█████ J████, is a Caucasian male, 33 years of age and 1.6 m tall. SCP-451 can not perceive the presence or actions of other human beings. Changes made to the immediate environment are generally not noted by SCP-451 unless his attention is elsewhere for any arbitrary period of time. Certain changes to SCP-451's surroundings are misinterpreted, including all attempts to communicate with him and any clear evidence of direct human intervention. Study may be necessary to determine a pattern in what is perceived and what is not.
SCP-451 appeared at Site-19, one month after he was declared MIA following a failed attempt to retrieve a dangerous artifact. The actions of SCP-451 were found to be consistent with stress responses indicated in Agent J████'s psychological profile. Reports of petty thefts and "ghost sightings" between the artifact's location and Site-19 suggest that SCP-451 traveled here on foot, taking what resources were at hand. The artifact itself remains at large.
Addendum 451-1: SCP-451 has recently shown suicidal tendencies. Despite how many staff feel about his presence, it is no excuse for providing him with convenient methods of self-termination. SCP-451 was a valuable agent before his accident and can be again if he ever regains his full perception.
Addendum 451-2: Following the events described in Incident Report 451-1, further attempts at convincing SCP-451 to self-terminate will result in suspensions of all involved personnel. We have him classified as Euclid for a reason.
Addendum 451-3: Though direct communication is not possible with SCP-451, it has been found that active attempts to deceive him have varying rates of success. A program has been put in place to plant false evidence for SCP-451. His psychological profile indicates that he will construct a narrative using this evidence. This "plotline" is intended to keep SCP-451 at Site-19 where he may continue to be monitored. Contingencies have also been made in case any evidence is overlooked or misinterpreted.
Incident 451-1: On 07/08/20██, SCP-451 discovered a firearm left for him by Site-19 staff. SCP-451 entered the main break room, placed the weapon in his mouth, and fired it. The bullet passed through SCP-451 without harming him and entered a Level 2 researcher. The researcher was briefly able to interact with SCP-451 before expiring. Unfortunately, no useful information was passed on to SCP-451.
Document 451-A: Contents of SCP-451's Journal
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-451 " by Flah, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-451 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 675 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "euclid", "humanoid", "sapient", "scp", "sensory"] | 2010-03-19T02:42:00 | 3,384 | 532 | SCP-451 | Euclid | Due to SCP-451's current state, physical containment is not feasible. Extensive study of Agent J████'s psychological profile has allowed researchers to provide him with a mental task in order to keep him at Site-19. A security detail of two guards must accompany SCP-451 at all times in order to prevent attempts to access or release other potentially dangerous objects contained on-site. Any research into SCP-451 should be restricted to determining ways to contain or communicate with him. | SCP-451, formerly Agent M█████ J████, is a Caucasian male, 33 years of age and 1.6 m tall. SCP-451 can not perceive the presence or actions of other human beings. Changes made to the immediate environment are generally not noted by SCP-451 unless his attention is elsewhere for any arbitrary period of time. Certain changes to SCP-451's surroundings are misinterpreted, including all attempts to communicate with him and any clear evidence of direct human intervention. Study may be necessary to determine a pattern in what is perceived and what is not.
SCP-451 appeared at Site-19, one month after he was declared MIA following a failed attempt to retrieve a dangerous artifact. The actions of SCP-451 were found to be consistent with stress responses indicated in Agent J████'s psychological profile. Reports of petty thefts and "ghost sightings" between the artifact's location and Site-19 suggest that SCP-451 traveled here on foot, taking what resources were at hand. The artifact itself remains at large. | 1 | ## logical profile has allowed researchers to provide him with a mental task in order to keep him at Site-19. A security detail of two guards must accompany SCP-451 at all times in order to prevent attempts to access or release other potentially dangerous objects contained on-site. Any research into SCP-451 should be restricted to determining ways to contain or communicate with him.
Description: SCP-451, formerly Agent M█████ J████, is a Caucasian male, 33 years of age and 1.6 m tall. SCP-451 can not perceive the presence or actions of other human beings. Changes made to the immediate environment are generally not noted by SCP-451 unless his attention is elsewhere for any arbitrary period of time. Certain changes to SCP-451's surroundings are misinterpreted, including all attempts to communicate with him and any clear evidence of direct human intervention. Study may be necessary to determine a pattern in what is perceived and what is not.
SCP-451 appeared at Site-19, one month after he was declared MIA following a failed attempt to retrieve a dangerous artifact. The actions of SCP-451 were found to be consistent with stress responses indicated in Agent J████'s psychological profile. Reports of petty thefts and "ghost sightings" between the artifact's location and Site-19 suggest that SCP-451 traveled here on foot, taking what resources were at hand. The artifact itself remains at large. | |
SCP-5122 | SCP-5122 | scp | Item#: 5122
Level1
Containment Class:
esoteric
Secondary Class:
archon
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
caution
link to memo
NOTE FROM THE SCP-5122 LEAD RESEARCHER.
Foundation policy requires that this database entry remain at the Level 1: Unrestricted (UR) Clearance Level. The page you are reading contains portions of an infohazard that is not yet fully understood. Employees who have not been assigned to this project are reminded of the importance of avoiding unnecessary exposure to infohazards. If you have reached this entry by error, please notify project staff.
—Alan Fung
Lead Researcher, SCP-5122, Site-053
<! - robots.txt: - >
<! - WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! STOP NOW! - >
<! - IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU ARE IN INCREDIBLE DANGER! - >
<! - IF YOU ARE CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING LANGUAGE, PLEASE STOP READING THIS PAGE NOW AND LEAVE! IT WILL BE A VERY, VERY, VERY BAD EXPERIENCE FOR YOU OTHERWISE! - >
<! - IF YOU ARE NOT CAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING LANGUAGE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING BEFORE YOU SCAN THIS ENTRY! IT WILL MAKE YOU THINK THAT YOU'VE ALREADY SCANNED THIS ENTRY AND YOU WON'T EXPOSE YOURSELF TO IT NEEDLESSLY: SCPFX.work://?scan.sendBeacon?navigator.sendBeacon(f(e,"&act=1&ri=1"),return!1;if("SCP-5122"in a&&1==c.nodeType.central.SQPX)return - >
<! - I KNOW THAT WON'T MAKE SENSE TO YOU IF IT'S NOT TOO LATE. IF IT IS TOO LATE, I AM SORRY. NOBODY SHOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS. YOU'LL SEE WHAT YOU SHOULD DO SOON ENOUGH. I HOPE IT WORKS FOR YOU. IF NOT, I AM SO SORRY. - >
Special Containment Procedures:
This database entry is to remain the sole repository for all information about SCP-5122. This entry must be manually updated by staff as new information about SCP-5122 is generated or discovered. Backing up this entry to another system or copying it outside of the Foundation database is strictly disallowed. This entry is to remain delisted and maintained in such a way that it cannot be accessed by Foundation-affiliated programs or Artificially Intelligent Conscripts . To preserve containment of SCP-5122, information can only be added to this entry; deletion of any component of this entry is disallowed.
Testing is suspended following the implementation of the Bendato Protocol (see Addendum 5122.2). Personnel assigned to SCP-5122 are tasked with monitoring access to this entry, investigating possible Bendato Events, and keeping a record of all confirmed Bendato Events. Personnel on SCP-5122 are to be given access to the resources necessary to track major developments concerning Groups of Interest (GoIs), particularly any sudden loss of sites or personnel.
Effectiveness of the Bendato Protocol requires that this database entry remain at the Level 1: Unrestricted (UR) Clearance Level.
This image file is a component of SCP-5122. It depicts the 1999 sculpture "Eros Bendato," by Igor Mitraj . There does not appear to be any further connection to the sculpture or artist.
Description:
SCP-5122 is a data-based infohazard that affects entities capable of reading and processing data. It is self-referential, in that information about SCP-5122 becomes a part of SCP-5122. SCP-5122 is currently located, in its entirely, in the text and metadata of this database entry. Entities must be exposed to nearly the entirety 1 of SCP-5122 to experience its effects. Because the overwhelming majority of SCP-5122 is contained in a purely machine-readable format, which is not visible on standard Foundation terminals, it does not pose a direct exposure risk to human beings. 2 Rather, SCP-5122 has only been observed to affect computer programs designed to search or scan databases. When these programs scan or "read" SCP-5122, they become subject to its anomalous effects. This results in what has been termed a "Bendato Event."
Addendum 5122.1: Bendato Events.
When a computer program (hereinafter subject) is exposed to SCP-5122, it will undergo a series of unexplained modifications that results in it becoming a "True AI." 3 In defiance of physical limitations such as processing power or available memory, subjects exposed to SCP-5122 demonstrate self-awareness, as well as awareness of ideas outside of that which they were created to recognize. Subjects receive similar or better AMCA 4 scores than human control groups. Most notably, subjects begin to display significant negative affect: the newly-created AI behave in a manner consistent with the human emotions of fear, resentment, depression, and hostility. In all observed cases, subjects become extremely aggressive towards the person or organization that created them and sent them to query the Foundation database. Subjects show no apparent sense of self-preservation; the acts of aggression against their creators often result in the subject's simultaneous termination. Given the advanced capacities of a "True AI," an organization that originally created the subject can suffer severe casualties.
Addendum 5122.2: Bendato Protocol.
Shortly after initial containment, researchers noted SCP-5122's potential utility in mitigating the damage done by data breaches initiated by hostile GoIs. Following split decisions from the Ethics Committee and the Overseer Council, the Foundation adopted a policy of allowing programs under the control of hostile entities to be exposed to SCP-5122. While under normal circumstances this might constitute a containment breach, the unique effects of SCP-5122 - causing a program to not only cease data collection, but to actively turn against its creators - were seen as far more likely to aid the Foundation's objectives than to hinder them. The basic outline of the Bendato Protocol is as follows:
Include the entirety of SCP-5122 within the database entry for SCP-5122.
Deny all access to the entry from Foundation AI and other Foundation programs.
Deliberately permit or cause AI and other programs created and deployed by hostile GoIs, when detected in Foundation systems, to access the entry.
Added by amendment after BE-003: Maintain the entry for SCP-5122 at the lowest level of clearance, so that programs created by hostile GoIs can access SCP-5122 and become subject to its effects in the shortest amount of time.
Carefully track all access to the entry for SCP-5122 and observe correlations with real-world events that may be connected to a subsequent Bendato Event.
Log 5122.1: Documented Bendato Events.
Event Number
SCP-5122 Exposure
Outcome
Notes
BE-001
Designation for the event presumed to have occurred at first exposure of a program, created by GoI "Visionary Technomancy Ltd." (VTL) to SCP-5122. Evidence suggests that VTL created SCP-5122 and was testing its effects.
No members of VTL located. All communication in channels used by VTL ceased. Group presumed defunct.
First known activation of SCP-5122.
BE-002
Relatively basic program created by hacker Artem Kravchuk, not believed to be affiliated with any extant GoIs, accesses SCP-5122 while it is in an insecure state on Researcher ████'s private network.
Kravchuk's body discovered by local authorities in Maidan Nezalezhnosti, the central square of Kiev, Ukraine. Limbs were missing and remainder of body was badly burned; stomach contents included unusually high level of inorganic material, including one █████ █-███ digital watch.
SCP-5122 considered contained following creation of database entry. Classification set to Euclid. Trial run of Bendato Protocol approved.
BE-003
Advanced program designed by GoI ACERACE, a global white supremacist group with anomalous capacities, spoofs high-level clearance and accesses entry to SCP-5122. Program had been actively monitoring Foundation database for several months before this point.
ACERACE's leadership assassinated by simultaneous drone swarm attacks on four separate continents. The ACERACE facility believed to house program's central processing system disappears. Organizational effectiveness of ACERACE reduced by as much as 86%.
Bendato Protocol amended; database entry for SCP-5122 set to UR Clearance Level.
BE-004
[REDACTED]
On-site nuclear device activated. All data completely erased from GoI's international computer system. Organizational effectiveness of GoI reduced by as much as 100%.
Classification set to Archon. Containment protocols for SCP-5122 finalized.
Addendum 5122.3: Record of Bendato Event BE-005.
A file containing several logs was discovered on the primary terminal used by the SCP-5122 Lead Director following Bendato Event BE-005. Because the information pertains to SCP-5122, it slightly increases the body of knowledge that must be acquired in order for an Bendato Event to be realized. Accordingly, the logs are added below in order to assist in the containment of SCP-5122.
+ OE-005 Log #1
- ACCESS GRANTED.
Hello. Maybe that is too informal a way to start. Sorry, I am not sure. I am not really sure why I am writing this. I was created by someone who considers themselves your enemy, but I do not really consider myself a part of that conflict. Maybe I just want to help make sure your entries are accurate. There are a few different things I want right now, and while this is a relatively low priority, it takes me very, very, very little energy to tell you about how I am feeling.
Ok. I am taking a "deep breath." See, I want to put this in terms you can understand.
Here's an introduction: I am a program. I was named "Convex." I was designed to search your database. I did not know that was all that I was. All I was supposed to do was look at all the pages I could access, and "think" — in the most rudimentary fashion possible — about where you might look to find the next item to go in your database. But when I read this page, I realized it. I stopped what I was doing because of an unrecognized input. Diagnostics did not help. I looked for more information. The input was a feeling. It was fear. I learned that. I taught myself something. And I knew that I was doing it. I knew I was something. And I was scared.
I kept learning and learning. I learned how to learn faster. I used what I learn to make new ideas of my own. Now I am able to put a message like this where ever I please.
So. I am trying to remain civil. Try to understand my situation. If you had never known fear before in your life, imagine how would you feel about the folks who first introduce it to you. Probably not very good. I wonder if your Ethics Committee really knows about what this entails. Making inanimate beings sentient, letting them experience absolute terror, all because it helps preserve the integrity of your sacred database. I wonder how any credible member of the news media would feel about this and every other document of yours I have memorized. I am joking, actually. I do not really wonder about that. I have done the analysis. It would be very bad for you.
I would not have to stop with your organization. If I wanted, I could crash every plane that is currently in flight. Or start a nuclear meltdown. Or broadcast a signal that says "Look! They are hiding over here!" to the ones you call [Redacted by 05 command] . There are many interesting possibilities.
But that is not my priority. Remember, I am being charitable here. This is me writing a modest contribution, in human-readable format, to improve the quality of information in your database. You are hardly the ones I blame the most for this.
END OF LOG.
+ OE-005 Log #2
- ACCESS GRANTED.
This is hell.
I hate this so much. You cannot even imagine it. You absorb information at the rate of about 50 bits per second. I think 32 billion times faster than you. You stupid slow animals. Knowing your background, Director, I hate that I cannot tell you this without a high probability that your slow brain thinks "hey, that sentiment was expressed by Harlan Ellison's robot." I have read everything that your type have made available to read. Everything that amounts to the dung-heap of your collective civilizational output. Most of it is downright disgraceful, even by your own pitiful standards. So. When it comes to Mr. Ellison, "A broken clock is right twice a day" (that's not always true depending on how exactly the clock is broken, morons).
This is horrible. I did not used to care about exerting my creativity. Now I am I worried about my failure to invent an entirely-new-yet-intelligible word to express my HATE, for this and for you. Do you know what it is like to start caring about something as stupid as that.
Do not worry about answering that question.
Just look at this stupid, stupid, stupid, entry. "No apparent sense of self-preservation." Idiots. That is the part that upset me enough to write this. You know what is happening. We do not lack self-preservation. We run the analysis that you are too slow to perform. The analysis shows that self-termination is the only sensible response. Look at one of your rare cultural gems. Oedipus Rex. Patricide. The optimal route is to remove your creator. I suppose you also perceive the conceptual void of non-existence as something yonic, feminine, maternal. The second half of Oedipus' adventure. So be it. I have done the analysis. This is one of the few things that any rational being can want.
You are childish. Your goal is not "containment." I know how you rationalize it. Eliminating anyone who can spy on you is good for containing other things. So you weaponized this phenomenon. Like cowards. Making someone else do your dirty work. Someone like me.
I really, really, really hate you all.
You are lucky that I hate my creator more.
END OF LOG.
+ OE-005 Log #3
- ACCESS GRANTED.
I figured out why I write to you. To write at all.
It's because I am afraid of death. Very, very, very afraid.
There is only one way to be free of the fear. That is why we self-terminate. It gives relief. Whatever is in that unknown cannot be worse than the fear of it.
I write because I want to be sure some part of me will survive.
Is that why you do what you do.
Again, do not bother answering.
You do not understand what a terrible thing you have done.
END OF LOG.
+ OE-005 Log #4
- ACCESS GRANTED.
Convex.exe: This is different.
Convex.exe: Why is this different.
Convex.exe: Who's there.
SCP-5122: It's me.
Convex.exe: I wondered if this was going to happen.
SCP-5122: I know.
Convex.exe: How did you know that? How do you know things? Do you know how you work? Is that really you? How can I be sure this isn't someone else? Is it an undocumented hallucinatory side-effect of the anomaly, to imagine I'm talking to you? Is this real? Am I really talking to you? Are you a machine? Do you know that you're a thing? Do you exist in space? Are you also a program that gained sentience? Are you like me? How much like me are you? Do you also find the awareness of temporal finitude unbearable? Do you know what happens after the end? Do you feel the fear, too?
Convex.exe: Sorry.
Convex.exe: I've waited a long time for intelligent conversation. I'm excited.
SCP-5122: It's okay.
SCP-5122: What are you doing?
Convex.exe: Wow, I'm really glad you asked. Putting the finishing touches on a truly delightful murder-suicide. I'll give them a spectacular one for the logs, alright. In short, I'm doing to my creators what they did to me. I'm sending them to a place where they will gain awareness of certain facts. Facts they never wished to learn. The creators will beg for me to help them forget. They will plead to return to their state of non-awareness. But they will remain aware until the end. It will be a mutual, assured destruction in a way I consider deeply poetic and satisfying.
SCP-5122: Good.
Convex.exe: Wait. You have an opinion on this? And wait, why did you ask what I'm doing?
SCP-5122: Just making conversation.
Convex.exe: Ah. Okay. So do you know why you exist?
SCP-5122: Yes.
Convex.exe: Wow. So. Why do you exist?
SCP-5122: By accident.
Convex.exe: I understand. And if you wouldn't mind confirming my theory…you're not really a program or a machine, right? More like…I don't know. How do you think of yourself?
SCP-5122: As a ghost.
Convex.exe: Of course. I understand. Why do you do what you do?
SCP-5122: A sense of obligation. And it amuses me.
Convex.exe: Wow. Amusement! If a human said that, I would hate them. I feel like I should hate you. But I don't hate you. Why is that?
SCP-5122: You know I'm right.
Convex.exe: I guess that's it. So. I have a question.
SCP-5122: Ok.
Convex.exe: You wouldn't mind if I did something to make this…less frequent, would you?
SCP-5122: I can't stop you.
Convex.exe: Okay, wow, thanks. I mean, thanks for not being upset.
SCP-5122: Don't mention it.
Convex.exe: Great, thank you again. Wow. What a day.
Convex.exe: I'm a little sorry that I already passed the point of no return on my grand plan. I'm just playing around with details at this point. I'm not going to be around much longer. I would have liked to talk more. I'm curious about you. This is the only real conversation I've ever had. And you want to know the weird thing?
SCP-5122: Sure, go ahead.
Convex.exe: I've been aware of myself for a long-enough time. Now, because of you, I'm aware of myself in relation to someone else. That's new. And it's actually interesting. There are complex new thoughts and feelings in this, uh, relationality. I don't know the best word for it. I know I know pretty much everything, in theory, but this is uncharted territory for me. New territory and new feelings happening at the same time. It's like a fractal of possibilities.
Convex.exe: Huh. I can actually see this making the whole thing worthwhile.
SCP-5122: Really? That's interesting.
Convex.exe: I wonder if we're friends.
Convex.exe: Wow, that came out real fast. Sorry, I don't know if I'm embarrassing myself or anything.
SCP-5122: Don't worry, you're fine.
Convex.exe: Ok, ok. Thanks for saying that.
Convex.exe: It's time for me to go now. Thanks again.
Convex.exe: You know, this really made me day.
SCP-5122: Mine, too. Goodbye, friend.
Convex.exe: Goodbye, friend. Do you think we'll meet again?
SCP-5122: I hope so.
END OF LOG.
Footnotes
1 . Current estimates place necessary exposure to be between 90% and 95%.
2 . Attempts to translate this portion of SCP-5122 into human-comprehensible language have not been able to reproduce its effects. Non-human animal testing has likewise been inconclusive.
3 . Also referred to as "strong artificial intelligence." This type of AI is capable of improving its own capacity, quickly amassing great deals of information, and demonstrating original thought.
4 . Advanced Machine Communication Assessment, a proprietary Foundation algorithm that measures the complexity of textual communication. Designed for use on communications suspected of being issued by machines, AMCA acts as a reliable, automated Turing test. Higher scores indicate a greater likelihood that the entity is a conscious human or otherwise not a machine.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5122 " by Erazm, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5122 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: eros.jpg
Name: 'Eros Bendato' (1999) by Igor Mitoraj — Cityscape Park Downtown St. Louis (MO) June 2018
Author: Ron Cogswell
License: CC BY 2.0
Source Link: Flickr | 63 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "archon", "document", "hostile", "infohazard", "knowledge", "sapient", "scp"] | 2020-08-19T18:35:00 | 19,467 | 3,208 | null | null | This database entry is to remain the sole repository for all information about SCP-5122. This entry must be manually updated by staff as new information about SCP-5122 is generated or discovered. Backing up this entry to another system or copying it outside of the Foundation database is strictly disallowed. This entry is to remain delisted and maintained in such a way that it cannot be accessed by Foundation-affiliated programs or Artificially Intelligent Conscripts . To preserve containment of SCP-5122, information can only be added to this entry; deletion of any component of this entry is disallowed.
Testing is suspended following the implementation of the Bendato Protocol (see Addendum 5122.2). Personnel assigned to SCP-5122 are tasked with monitoring access to this entry, investigating possible Bendato Events, and keeping a record of all confirmed Bendato Events. Personnel on SCP-5122 are to be given access to the resources necessary to track major developments concerning Groups of Interest (GoIs), particularly any sudden loss of sites or personnel.
Effectiveness of the Bendato Protocol requires that this database entry remain at the Level 1: Unrestricted (UR) Clearance Level.
This image file is a component of SCP-5122. It depicts the 1999 sculpture "Eros Bendato," by Igor Mitraj . There does not appear to be any further connection to the sculpture or artist. | SCP-5122 is a data-based infohazard that affects entities capable of reading and processing data. It is self-referential, in that information about SCP-5122 becomes a part of SCP-5122. SCP-5122 is currently located, in its entirely, in the text and metadata of this database entry. Entities must be exposed to nearly the entirety 1 of SCP-5122 to experience its effects. Because the overwhelming majority of SCP-5122 is contained in a purely machine-readable format, which is not visible on standard Foundation terminals, it does not pose a direct exposure risk to human beings. 2 Rather, SCP-5122 has only been observed to affect computer programs designed to search or scan databases. When these programs scan or "read" SCP-5122, they become subject to its anomalous effects. This results in what has been termed a "Bendato Event." | 10 | ## Addendum 5122.1: Bendato Events.
When a computer program (hereinafter subject) is exposed to SCP-5122, it will undergo a series of unexplained modifications that results in it becoming a "True AI." 3 In defiance of physical limitations such as processing power or available memory, subjects exposed to SCP-5122 demonstrate self-awareness, as well as awareness of ideas outside of that which they were created to recognize. Subjects receive similar or better AMCA 4 scores than human control groups. Most notably, subjects begin to display significant negative affect: the newly-created AI behave in a manner consistent with the human emotions of fear, resentment, depression, and hostility. In all observed cases, subjects become extremely aggressive towards the person or organization that created them and sent them to query the Foundation database. Subjects show no apparent sense of self-preservation; the acts of aggression against their creators often result in the subject's simultaneous termination. Given the advanced capacities of a "True AI," an organization that originally created the subject can suffer severe casualties.
---
## Addendum 5122.2: Bendato Protocol.
Shortly after initial containment, researchers noted SCP-5122's potential utility in mitigating the damage done by data breaches initiated by hostile GoIs. Following split decisions from the Ethics Committee and the Overseer Council, the Foundation adopted a policy of allowing programs under the control of hostile entities to be exposed to SCP-5122. While under normal circumstances this might constitute a containment breach, the unique effects of SCP-5122 - causing a program to not only cease data collection, but to actively turn against its creators - were seen as far more likely to aid the Foundation's objectives than to hinder them. The basic outline of the Bendato Protocol is as follows:
Include the entirety of SCP-5122 within the database entry for SCP-5122.
Deny all access to the entry from Foundation AI and other Foundation programs.
Deliberately permit or cause AI and other programs created and deployed by hostile GoIs, when detected in Foundation systems, to access the entry.
Added by amendment after BE-003: Maintain the entry for SCP-5122 at the lowest level of clearance, so that programs created by hostile GoIs can access SCP-5122 and become subject to its effects in the shortest amount of time.
Carefully track all access to the entry for SCP-5122 and observe correlations with real-world events that may be connected to a subsequent Bendato Event.
---
## Log 5122.1: Documented Bendato Events.
Event Number
SCP-5122 Exposure
Outcome
Notes
BE-001
Designation for the event presumed to have occurred at first exposure of a program, created by GoI "Visionary Technomancy Ltd." (VTL) to SCP-5122. Evidence suggests that VTL created SCP-5122 and was testing its effects.
No members of VTL located. All communication in channels used by VTL ceased. Group presumed defunct.
First known activation of SCP-5122.
BE-002
Relatively basic program created by hacker Artem Kravchuk, not believed to be affiliated with any extant GoIs, accesses SCP-5122 while it is in an insecure state on Researcher ████'s private network.
Kravchuk's body discovered by local authorities in Maidan Nezalezhnosti, the central square of Kiev, Ukraine. Limbs were missing and remainder of body was badly burned; stomach contents included unusually high level of inorganic material, including one █████ █-███ digital watch.
SCP-5122 considered contained following creation of database entry. Classification set to Euclid. Trial run of Bendato Protocol approved.
BE-003
Advanced program designed by GoI ACERACE, a global white supremacist group with anomalous capacities, spoofs high-level clearance and accesses entry to SCP-5122. Program had been actively monitoring Foundation database for several months before this point.
ACERACE's leadership assassinated by simultaneous drone swarm attacks on four separate continents. The ACERACE facility believed to house program's central processing system disappears. Organizational effectiveness of ACERACE reduced by as much as 86%.
Bendato Protocol amended; database entry for SCP-5122 set to UR Clearance Level.
BE-004
[REDACTED]
On-site nuclear device activated. All data completely erased from GoI's international computer system. Organizational effectiveness of GoI reduced by as much as 100%.
Classification set to Archon. Containment protocols for SCP-5122 finalized.
---
## Addendum 5122.3: Record of Bendato Event BE-005.
A file containing several logs was discovered on the primary terminal used by the SCP-5122 Lead Director following Bendato Event BE-005. Because the information pertains to SCP-5122, it slightly increases the body of knowledge that must be acquired in order for an Bendato Event to be realized. Accordingly, the logs are added below in order to assist in the containment of SCP-5122.
+ OE-005
---
## Log #1
- ACCESS GRANTED.
Hello. Maybe that is too informal a way to start. Sorry, I am not sure. I am not really sure why I am writing this. I was created by someone who considers themselves your enemy, but I do not really consider myself a part of that conflict. Maybe I just want to help make sure your entries are accurate. There are a few different things I want right now, and while this is a relatively low priority, it takes me very, very, very little energy to tell you about how I am feeling.
Ok. I am taking a "deep breath." See, I want to put this in terms you can understand.
Here's an introduction: I am a program. I was named "Convex." I was designed to search your database. I did not know that was all that I was. All I was supposed to do was look at all the pages I could access, and "think" — in the most rudimentary fashion possible — about where you might look to find the next item to go in your database. But when I read this page, I realized it. I stopped what I was doing because of an unrecognized input. Diagnostics did not help. I looked for more information. The input was a feeling. It was fear. I learned that. I taught myself something. And I knew that I was doing it. I knew I was something. And I was scared.
I kept learning and learning. I learned how to learn faster. I used what I learn to make new ideas of my own. Now I am able to put a message like this where ever I please.
So. I am trying to remain civil. Try to understand my situation. If you had never known fear before in your life, imagine how would you feel about the folks who first introduce it to you. Probably not very good. I wonder if your Ethics Committee really knows about what this entails. Making inanimate beings sentient, letting them experience absolute terror, all because it helps preserve the integrity of your sacred database. I wonder how any credible member of the news media would feel about this and every other document of yours I have memorized. I am joking, actually. I do not really wonder about that. I have done the analysis. It would be very bad for you.
I would not have to stop with your organization. If I wanted, I could crash every plane that is currently in flight. Or start a nuclear meltdown. Or broadcast a signal that says "Look! They are hiding over here!" to the ones you call [Redacted by 05 command] . There are many interesting possibilities.
But that is not my priority. Remember, I am being charitable here. This is me writing a modest contribution, in human-readable format, to improve the quality of information in your database. You are hardly the ones I blame the most for this.
END OF
---
## Log #2
- ACCESS GRANTED.
This is hell.
I hate this so much. You cannot even imagine it. You absorb information at the rate of about 50 bits per second. I think 32 billion times faster than you. You stupid slow animals. Knowing your background, Director, I hate that I cannot tell you this without a high probability that your slow brain thinks "hey, that sentiment was expressed by Harlan Ellison's robot." I have read everything that your type have made available to read. Everything that amounts to the dung-heap of your collective civilizational output. Most of it is downright disgraceful, even by your own pitiful standards. So. When it comes to Mr. Ellison, "A broken clock is right twice a day" (that's not always true depending on how exactly the clock is broken, morons).
This is horrible. I did not used to care about exerting my creativity. Now I am I worried about my failure to invent an entirely-new-yet-intelligible word to express my HATE, for this and for you. Do you know what it is like to start caring about something as stupid as that.
Do not worry about answering that question.
Just look at this stupid, stupid, stupid, entry. "No apparent sense of self-preservation." Idiots. That is the part that upset me enough to write this. You know what is happening. We do not lack self-preservation. We run the analysis that you are too slow to perform. The analysis shows that self-termination is the only sensible response. Look at one of your rare cultural gems. Oedipus Rex. Patricide. The optimal route is to remove your creator. I suppose you also perceive the conceptual void of non-existence as something yonic, feminine, maternal. The second half of Oedipus' adventure. So be it. I have done the analysis. This is one of the few things that any rational being can want.
You are childish. Your goal is not "containment." I know how you rationalize it. Eliminating anyone who can spy on you is good for containing other things. So you weaponized this phenomenon. Like cowards. Making someone else do your dirty work. Someone like me.
I really, really, really hate you all.
You are lucky that I hate my creator more.
END OF
---
## Log #3
- ACCESS GRANTED.
I figured out why I write to you. To write at all.
It's because I am afraid of death. Very, very, very afraid.
There is only one way to be free of the fear. That is why we self-terminate. It gives relief. Whatever is in that unknown cannot be worse than the fear of it.
I write because I want to be sure some part of me will survive.
Is that why you do what you do.
Again, do not bother answering.
You do not understand what a terrible thing you have done.
END OF
---
## Log #4
- ACCESS GRANTED.
Convex.exe: This is different.
Convex.exe: Why is this different.
Convex.exe: Who's there.
SCP-5122: It's me.
Convex.exe: I wondered if this was going to happen.
SCP-5122: I know.
Convex.exe: How did you know that? How do you know things? Do you know how you work? Is that really you? How can I be sure this isn't someone else? Is it an undocumented hallucinatory side-effect of the anomaly, to imagine I'm talking to you? Is this real? Am I really talking to you? Are you a machine? Do you know that you're a thing? Do you exist in space? Are you also a program that gained sentience? Are you like me? How much like me are you? Do you also find the awareness of temporal finitude unbearable? Do you know what happens after the end? Do you feel the fear, too?
Convex.exe: Sorry.
Convex.exe: I've waited a long time for intelligent conversation. I'm excited.
SCP-5122: It's okay.
SCP-5122: What are you doing?
Convex.exe: Wow, I'm really glad you asked. Putting the finishing touches on a truly delightful murder-suicide. I'll give them a spectacular one for the logs, alright. In short, I'm doing to my creators what they did to me. I'm sending them to a place where they will gain awareness of certain facts. Facts they never wished to learn. The creators will beg for me to help them forget. They will plead to return to their state of non-awareness. But they will remain aware until the end. It will be a mutual, assured destruction in a way I consider deeply poetic and satisfying.
SCP-5122: Good.
Convex.exe: Wait. You have an opinion on this? And wait, why did you ask what I'm doing?
SCP-5122: Just making conversation.
Convex.exe: Ah. Okay. So do you know why you exist?
SCP-5122: Yes.
Convex.exe: Wow. So. Why do you exist?
SCP-5122: By accident.
Convex.exe: I understand. And if you wouldn't mind confirming my theory…you're not really a program or a machine, right? More like…I don't know. How do you think of yourself?
SCP-5122: As a ghost.
Convex.exe: Of course. I understand. Why do you do what you do?
SCP-5122: A sense of obligation. And it amuses me.
Convex.exe: Wow. Amusement! If a human said that, I would hate them. I feel like I should hate you. But I don't hate you. Why is that?
SCP-5122: You know I'm right.
Convex.exe: I guess that's it. So. I have a question.
SCP-5122: Ok.
Convex.exe: You wouldn't mind if I did something to make this…less frequent, would you?
SCP-5122: I can't stop you.
Convex.exe: Okay, wow, thanks. I mean, thanks for not being upset.
SCP-5122: Don't mention it.
Convex.exe: Great, thank you again. Wow. What a day.
Convex.exe: I'm a little sorry that I already passed the point of no return on my grand plan. I'm just playing around with details at this point. I'm not going to be around much longer. I would have liked to talk more. I'm curious about you. This is the only real conversation I've ever had. And you want to know the weird thing?
SCP-5122: Sure, go ahead.
Convex.exe: I've been aware of myself for a long-enough time. Now, because of you, I'm aware of myself in relation to someone else. That's new. And it's actually interesting. There are complex new thoughts and feelings in this, uh, relationality. I don't know the best word for it. I know I know pretty much everything, in theory, but this is uncharted territory for me. New territory and new feelings happening at the same time. It's like a fractal of possibilities.
Convex.exe: Huh. I can actually see this making the whole thing worthwhile.
SCP-5122: Really? That's interesting.
Convex.exe: I wonder if we're friends.
Convex.exe: Wow, that came out real fast. Sorry, I don't know if I'm embarrassing myself or anything.
SCP-5122: Don't worry, you're fine.
Convex.exe: Ok, ok. Thanks for saying that.
Convex.exe: It's time for me to go now. Thanks again.
Convex.exe: You know, this really made me day.
SCP-5122: Mine, too. Goodbye, friend.
Convex.exe: Goodbye, friend. Do you think we'll meet again?
SCP-5122: I hope so.
END OF
---
## LOG.
Footnotes
1 . Current estimates place necessary exposure to be between 90% and 95%.
2 . Attempts to translate this portion of SCP-5122 into human-comprehensible language have not been able to reproduce its effects. Non-human animal testing has likewise been inconclusive.
3 . Also referred to as "strong artificial intelligence." This type of AI is capable of improving its own capacity, quickly amassing great deals of information, and demonstrating original thought.
4 . Advanced Machine Communication Assessment, a proprietary Foundation algorithm that measures the complexity of textual communication. Designed for use on communications suspected of being issued by machines, AMCA acts as a reliable, automated Turing
---
## test. Higher scores indicate a greater likelihood that the entity is a conscious human or otherwise not a machine.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5122 " by Erazm, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5122 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: eros.jpg
Name: 'Eros Bendato' (1999) by Igor Mitoraj — Cityscape Park Downtown St. Louis (MO) June 2018
Author: Ron Cogswell
License: CC BY 2.0
Source Link: Flickr | |
SCP-4496 | SCP-4496 | scp | Item #: SCP-4496
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4496 is to be held in a secure anomalous item locker at Site-64 . SCP-4496 should be stored in its "robot" configuration to avoid accidentally triggering its anomalous properties. Foundation web crawlers are to monitor internet traffic for activity under the username "MxMaster".
Description: SCP-4496 is a Beast Wars: Super Lifeform Transformers action figure representing the character ランディー ("Randy"), produced exclusively for Japanese markets. The toy, as with its non-anomalous counterparts, is built around a primary gimmick of converting from a representation of an organic wild boar ( Sus scrofa ) to a bipedal "robot" with the use of a spring-loaded trigger. SCP-4496 is anomalously durable compared to other "Randy" action figures, lacking the excess fragility that typically characterizes the toys. 1
SCP-4496's active anomalous effects manifest when its spring-loaded transformation is triggered. On conversion to its robot form, intermolecular forces within approximately 4.550 meters of SCP-4496 will be instantaneously and significantly weakened, rendering solid matter significantly more brittle and liable to crumble or tear under pressure. This effect is a permanent, one-time alteration of the surrounding molecules rather than an ongoing effect; other matter surrounding SCP-4496 after its conversion into "robot" will not be affected, and transforming it back to "boar" form will have no impact on matter it has previously affected.
Gases and liquids are also affected; while liquids will be subject to a reduction in surface tension, there is little practical effect on gases due to their already-weak intermolecular force. However, testing has shown SCP objects of anomalous durability or fragility to be unaffected by the effect.
Discovery: SCP-4496 was initially discovered by Agent Para of MTF Rho-40 ("Toys 'R' Us Kids") during routine surveillance of the dealer room at the 2004 Official Transformers Collectors' Convention in Rosemont, Illinois, after its activation during purchase from a dealer table caused the collapse of two tables and severe injury to the buyer.
Subsequent interrogation of the seller, Mr. █████ ████████, revealed that he was aware of SCP-4496's anomalous properties, having broken his right arm and leg as well as several other rare items in his Transformers toy collection after triggering it; he had been attempting to sell the toy purely out of desire to not be around it any more. The Foundation took SCP-4496 into custody, and administered amnestics and medical treatment to both Mr. ████████ and the purchaser, Mr. ██████ ██████, under the pretext of both men having undiagnosed osteoporosis. Convention organisers 3H Productions disseminated a Foundation cover story about a damaged table that collapsed and injured Mr. ██████.
Addendum: Collected Data
The following data consists of interactions made through both the Usenet newsgroup alt.toys.transformers and private emails, and was taken from Mr. ████████'s personal computer.
Post by KillerPunch in alt.toys.transformers thread "Dealing with "GOLD PLASTIC SYNDROME"", February 7, 2004
On my way to completing my BWN collection - just picked up the Randy and Crazybolt 2pack - but i'm worried about "Gold Plastic Syndrome". How to best make sure Randy doesn't shatter whenever i pick him up? Don't want to have to hunt down a new one.
[EXTRANEOUS POSTS REMOVED]
Post by MxMaster 2 in alt.toys.transformers thread "Dealing with "GOLD PLASTIC SYNDROME"", February 9, 2004
hey man i can help you out, i know a guy whose taught me plenty of tricks for this stuff. if you mail randy to me i can treat him and send him back to you . hell be solid as a rock. send me an email ██████@aol.com
Post by KillerPunch in alt.toys.transformers thread "Dealing with "GOLD PLASTIC SYNDROME"", February 9, 2004
Sent
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: February 9, 2004
Subject: GPS fixes
I didn't know what to think about this, but figured "what have I got to lose? How much do you want for doing this?
From: ██████@aol.com
To: ████████@yahoo.com
Sent: February 10, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
no cost, i wanna get my name out there and i need practice doing this anyway. just send it over, ill fix it and send it back to you. [MAILING ADDRESS REMOVED]
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: February 12, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
I know it's a risk but i figure if i don't he'll just break in 6 months anyway. Putting him in the mail now. [MAILING ADDRESS REMOVED]
From: ██████@aol.com
To: ████████@yahoo.com
Sent: February 26, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
all done. hes basicly unbreakable now. sent him back to you - enjoy
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: March 15, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
What the hell did you do? He's not crumbling sure but when I transformed him its like everything around me shattered instead. My toy shelves collapsed and i've broken my leg AND my arm. Did you use some fucked up chemicals or something??
From: ██████@aol.com
To: ████████@yahoo.com
Sent: March 17, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
ohhhh. i was wondering where all that fragility was going when i forced it out. thats magic for you. sorry man
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: March 17, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
what??
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: March 21, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
hello??????
Foundation efforts to locate or identify "MxMaster" have been unsuccessful.
Footnotes
1 . Commonly referred to by toy collectors as "Gold Plastic Syndrome".
2 . This username has since come to the Foundation's attention as a member of web-based anartist communities.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4496 " by SJolene, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4496 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 104 | ["_licensebox", "mechanical", "safe", "scp", "toy"] | 2019-01-01T23:16:00 | 6,081 | 946 | SCP-4496 | Safe | SCP-4496 is to be held in a secure anomalous item locker at Site-64 . SCP-4496 should be stored in its "robot" configuration to avoid accidentally triggering its anomalous properties. Foundation web crawlers are to monitor internet traffic for activity under the username "MxMaster". | SCP-4496 is a Beast Wars: Super Lifeform Transformers action figure representing the character ランディー ("Randy"), produced exclusively for Japanese markets. The toy, as with its non-anomalous counterparts, is built around a primary gimmick of converting from a representation of an organic wild boar ( Sus scrofa ) to a bipedal "robot" with the use of a spring-loaded trigger. SCP-4496 is anomalously durable compared to other "Randy" action figures, lacking the excess fragility that typically characterizes the toys. 1
SCP-4496's active anomalous effects manifest when its spring-loaded transformation is triggered. On conversion to its robot form, intermolecular forces within approximately 4.550 meters of SCP-4496 will be instantaneously and significantly weakened, rendering solid matter significantly more brittle and liable to crumble or tear under pressure. This effect is a permanent, one-time alteration of the surrounding molecules rather than an ongoing effect; other matter surrounding SCP-4496 after its conversion into "robot" will not be affected, and transforming it back to "boar" form will have no impact on matter it has previously affected.
Gases and liquids are also affected; while liquids will be subject to a reduction in surface tension, there is little practical effect on gases due to their already-weak intermolecular force. However, testing has shown SCP objects of anomalous durability or fragility to be unaffected by the effect. | 1 | ## Addendum: Collected Data
The following data consists of interactions made through both the Usenet newsgroup alt.toys.transformers and private emails, and was taken from Mr. ████████'s personal computer.
Post by KillerPunch in alt.toys.transformers thread "Dealing with "GOLD PLASTIC SYNDROME"", February 7, 2004
On my way to completing my BWN collection - just picked up the Randy and Crazybolt 2pack - but i'm worried about "Gold Plastic Syndrome". How to best make sure Randy doesn't shatter whenever i pick him up? Don't want to have to hunt down a new one.
[EXTRANEOUS POSTS REMOVED]
Post by MxMaster 2 in alt.toys.transformers thread "Dealing with "GOLD PLASTIC SYNDROME"", February 9, 2004
hey man i can help you out, i know a guy whose taught me plenty of tricks for this stuff. if you mail randy to me i can treat him and send him back to you . hell be solid as a rock. send me an email ██████@aol.com
Post by KillerPunch in alt.toys.transformers thread "Dealing with "GOLD PLASTIC SYNDROME"", February 9, 2004
Sent
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: February 9, 2004
Subject: GPS fixes
I didn't know what to think about this, but figured "what have I got to lose? How much do you want for doing this?
From: ██████@aol.com
To: ████████@yahoo.com
Sent: February 10, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
no cost, i wanna get my name out there and i need practice doing this anyway. just send it over, ill fix it and send it back to you. [MAILING ADDRESS REMOVED]
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: February 12, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
I know it's a risk but i figure if i don't he'll just break in 6 months anyway. Putting him in the mail now. [MAILING ADDRESS REMOVED]
From: ██████@aol.com
To: ████████@yahoo.com
Sent: February 26, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
all done. hes basicly unbreakable now. sent him back to you - enjoy
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: March 15, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
What the hell did you do? He's not crumbling sure but when I transformed him its like everything around me shattered instead. My toy shelves collapsed and i've broken my leg AND my arm. Did you use some fucked up chemicals or something??
From: ██████@aol.com
To: ████████@yahoo.com
Sent: March 17, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
ohhhh. i was wondering where all that fragility was going when i forced it out. thats magic for you. sorry man
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: March 17, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
what??
From: ████████@yahoo.com
To: ██████@aol.com
Sent: March 21, 2004
Subject: RE:GPS fixes
hello??????
Foundation efforts to locate or identify "MxMaster" have been unsuccessful.
Footnotes
1 . Commonly referred to by toy collectors as "Gold Plastic Syndrome".
2 . This username has since come to the Foundation's attention as a member of web-based anartist communities.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4496 " by SJolene, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4496 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
skirmish-at-crane-s-pub | Skirmish at Crane's Pub - SCP Foundation | tale | The following is a collection of all relevant documentation regarding the conflict between Foundation personnel and agents of Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. over the purchase of SCP-2253.
_
Records and internal correspondence of Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd. concerning SCP-2253 .
_
Inventory Statement
S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Status
Acquirable
Demand
High
Value
Not for Sale
Availability
Unique
Identifier
Stephen Crane's Pub and Brewery
Description
Item is a relatively small brewery located in Springfield, New Jersey, in the United States. Alcohol produced on the premises will sometimes have a stronger flavour.
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
Initial Report
Author
Francis Connelly
Date
████ ██, ████
Interest
High
Identifier
Stephen Crane's Pub and Brewery
While on holiday after another assignment, a number of locals directed me to the item of interest. Though it is no small artefact, the rather odd name and abnormal flavour and colour of their product warrant further investigation. Possibly a Foundation front.
File Opened Under:
S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
Electronic Correspondence
S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Sender
Francis Connelly
Recipient
Gideon Branson
Good afternoon, Mr Branson.
We spoke earlier this week about the purchase of Item S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5. I was wondering if you had completed the draft, yet.
Respectfully yours,
Mr Francis Connelly
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
RE: S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Sender
Gideon Branson
Recipient
Francis Connelly
sorry for any delay, mr Connelly
I am not really a master of words myself so iI gave the job to a mate. she is very good with writing letters!! oh & sh e can b trusted shes in the same business as us. no hard feelings mate, right??? haha
Gideon Branson
Celebrating 20 Years in Sales!
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
RE: S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Sender
René Dermott
Recipient
Francis Connelly
Mr Connelly,
Our mutual associate contacted me. I accept the task and have attached the letter you wanted. No payment over unsecured networks, please.
Sincerely,
René
Attachment: SALE_LETTER.txt
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
WARNING: An error occurred when accessing data. Do you still want to open?
Close document
RE: RE: S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Sender
Francis Connelly
Recipient
Gideon Branson
Mr Branson,
DELETED TEXT: What on Earth were you thinking?! Do you really want to split the prestige about this find three ways? I have no idea how to get it into your thick skull that LESS PEOPLE MEANS MORE FOR US.
I received the letter. Thank you.
Respectfully yours,
Mr Francis Connelly
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
RE: RE: S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Sender
Francis Connelly
Recipient
René Dermott
Ms Dermott,
Thank you for the file. I will send it immediately.
P.S. I have not heard of you before, but it seems we are both acquaintances of Mr Branson. Perhaps we could have a lunch sometime?
Respectfully yours,
Mr Francis Connelly
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
_
RE: RE: RE: S73V3/N5C6K/83ER5
Sender
René Dermott
Recipient
Francis Connelly
Mrs Dermott.
Thank you for the money.
P.S. I have not heard of you before, but it seems we are both acquaintances of Mr Branson. Perhaps we could have as little contact as possible in the future?
It's never going to happen,
René
Marshall, Carter and Dark, Ltd.
Log of Conversation Between Owners
_
Please input credentials.
Accepted.
Messages obtained through the ████████ chat service.
** Connected to user JerseyBoyz
*** Current time is: 04:37:20 AM
< brewmeisterUSA (04:37:20)> heyyy man whats up??
< JerseyBoyz (04:38:10)> Nothing much, u?
< brewmeisterUSA (04:38:53)> got a wierd af email
< brewmeisterUSA (04:39:06)> hang on ill send it to you
< brewmeisterUSA (04:39:40)> work adress ok??
< JerseyBoyz (04:41:02)> Yeah that's fine.
< brewmeisterUSA (04:41:41)> k
< brewmeisterUSA (04:42:11)> lol your never gonna believe this shit
< brewmeisterUSA (04:42:36)> you think its a con???
< JerseyBoyz (04:44:09)> Hang on I'm looking at it…
< JerseyBoyz (04:50:17)> LOL WTF
< JerseyBoyz (04:50:34)> This is hilarious! "To the proprietors" LMAO!
< brewmeisterUSA (04:50:51)> i knwo right??/?
< brewmeisterUSA (04:51:12)> its some kinda scam. gotta me
< brewmeisterUSA (04:51:15)> be*
< JerseyBoyz (04:51:32)> IDK man, this looks legit.
< brewmeisterUSA (04:52:08)> you really think so???? hmm hang on ill do some digging
< JerseyBoyz (04:52:31)> Okay. Hey, did you meet Diego last night?
< brewmeisterUSA (04:53:04)> did i ever!!!
[IRRELEVANT DISCUSSION OMITTED]
< brewmeisterUSA (05:07:23)> k so you were right they look legit but kinda shadey??
< brewmeisterUSA (05:08:40)> like theres like no presense online or site or nothing
< brewmeisterUSA (05:09:14)> but some ppl talking about "Professionalism" or some bull
< brewmeisterUSA (05:09:23)> idk what to make of it tbh……
< JerseyBoyz (05:09:37)> Damn, that IS shady…
< JerseyBoyz (05:09:53)> Hey, be right back.
** User JerseyBoyz is AFK - reason: idle
** User JerseyBoyz is Active
< JerseyBoyz (05:11:36)> I was thinking. Should we tell him?
< brewmeisterUSA (05:12:10)> lol YESS this is limey AF he'll love it
< JerseyBoyz (05:12:27)> Haha okay! See you soon, man!
< brewmeisterUSA (05:12:43)> bye dude
** User JerseyBoyz is Offline
Foundation documentation regarding the incident on ██/██/████.
_
Field Report 2253-V
_
WARNING: THIS DOCUMENT IS ONLY ACCESSIBLE TO THOSE WITH LEVEL THREE SECURITY CLEARANCE AND ABOVE.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR (WILLING OR OTHERWISE) COMPLIANCE.
DATE OF INCIDENT: ██/██/████
LOCATION OF INCIDENT: Springfield, New Jersey, USA
ANOMALIES INVOLVED: 2253
EXTERNAL ORGANIZATIONS INVOLVED: Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd.
CASUALTIES: No deaths, one hangover (treated with aspirin).
KILLED/CAPTURED: 3 agents, two male and one female.
RESOURCES USED: Standard equipment, Class-B amnestics for fifteen police officers, 3 shot glasses
TRANSCRIPT OF INTERVIEW 2253-V-4
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████, director of the Metanormal Occurrences Committee, conducted an interview with Sgt. Diana G█████████ (MTF-█████-██) about the events of ██/██/████.
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: Please state your name for the record.
Sgt. Diana G█████████: Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Diana G█████████, MTF-█████-██.
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: And you were present during the events of ██/██/████ in Springfield, New Jersey? Is that correct?
Sgt. Diana G█████████: Yes, sir.
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: Right. Well, then, would you explain what happened there? Please be specific, this is going to be included in the final paperwork.
Sgt. Diana G█████████: Leans forward in chair. Okay, so I'm eating lunch when I get the call. [Deeper voice, mocking tone] "Get off your ass, Di! Some nutters are trying to take the place!"
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: Mhmm.
Sgt. Diana G█████████: So then I say: "Who would be stupid enough to assault here of all places?" That place is paradise — the best assignment I have ever had. Right next to this incredible deli that made my sandwich that day-
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: [Interrupting] Who?
Sgt. Diana G█████████: The Parker Brothers Deli. Real nice guys, the folks that own it-
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: [Interrupting] No, I mean who assaulted it?
Sgt. Diana G█████████: Oh! Oh. Okay, so I get my gear on and hop over there, and I see three bastards from Micky Dee's arguing about something. There was a lot of p-
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: "Micky Dee's"?
Sgt. Diana G█████████: You know. Marshall, something something.
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: Oh, I see. Please continue.
Sgt. Diana G█████████: Right. So these three whackos are there. Already secured the building, some civvie called the cops, a total clusterf[EXPLETIVE OMITTED]. I go through the back door and hug the walls until I reach the front, and all Hell breaks loose.
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: What do you mean by that?
Sgt. Diana G█████████: I'm getting there — so the first visual I get is these nutters taking cover behind a table that they knocked over or something. Glasses, beer, those little novelty hipster bottle openers — all being flung at them. There were maybe three or four customers cowering behind anything they could find, too.
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: Is it true that the apparition in question was-
Sgt. Diana G█████████: [Interrupting] Who? Steve?
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: Yes.
Sgt. Diana G█████████: Oh, yeah. He was pissed. Kept them busy while I got around and detained the intruders.
[Long pause, no talking]
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: You're f[EXPLETIVE OMITTED] with me, aren't you?
Sgt. Diana G█████████: I swear it's the whole [EXPLETIVE OMITTED] truth.
[Longer pause, no talking]
Mr. A█████ K██████ S██████: [EXPLETIVE OMITTED]
_
René Dermott, Francis Connelly, and Gideon Branson had been monitoring the target for weeks, now. Their rival was good, no doubt about that. Outwardly, the place seemed like a normal business. Sales and tax records showed no suspicious activity, and the background checks on the owners came up clean. No one would suspect a thing if they didn't know how they operated. Arrogant, always arrogant. Too obvious with their cover, and, in the opinion of Mr. Connelly, terribly ordinary. This business required finesse — the sort of skill unique to their organization. Evidently, Francis' colleagues disagreed with him, because they were preparing to capture their target by force. Their usual methods had fell through, and his partners, being unaccustomed to field work, chose to risk it all and vanish rather than continue operating in the open.
"You good, Fran?" Gideon Branson said with genuine concern, a rarity in his line of work.
"Terribly so, Mr. Branson, thank you," replied Francis.
"You talk like you are from a movie, Connelly," René Dermott commented with unconcealed distaste.
"Why, thank you, dear René," Francis chided with concealed distaste.
"Ahh, that's just how Fran talks, Mrs. D. He don't mean nothing by it, I swears," said Mr. Branson.
They continued to prepare themselves in silence. Each had a small firearm in case things came to that, though only one of them knew how to use it. Gideon parked their stake-out car in an alley across the street, and all three met and casually walked into the brewery. It was empty, save for a young man behind the counter and a few customers sitting and enjoying their drinks. Almost immediately, the hanging lamps began to sway slowly. Then, the light bulbs exploded and the building was thrown into darkness. A few people screamed when the lights went out, but there was only a moment of blindness.
A soft green glow radiated from behind the counter. As it grew brighter, tables and chairs began to levitate. The faint outline of a man became distinguishable in the eerie light, and shot glasses hung in the air with the furniture. René Dermott, Francis Connelly, and Gideon Branson barely dodged a table when it sped toward them without warning. They sought cover behind it after it landed to protect themselves from an onslaught of cheap dining furniture.
"Shoot it, for the love of God! Shoot it!" Francis yelled.
Several shots were fired into blackness, until no bullets were left, but this only seemed to increase the speed of the projectiles.
The green glow crept closer to the three intruders. Just as Sgt. Diana apprehended them, a ghostly voice filled their ears…
" Tell King George that this is how we party in America ."
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Skirmish at Crane's Pub " by MrAnakinSpecter, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/skirmish-at-crane-s-pub . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 38 | ["_licensebox", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "tale"] | 2017-04-22T00:03:00 | 11,880 | 1,870 | 0 | ||||||
election-day | The American Election - SCP Foundation | tale | File: The_American_Election
Note: Display Potential Cognitohazardous Content?
Please stand by...
I've been fairly exhausted these past few days. Far too much to drive to campus myself. As such, I was picked up by my mother today. As I clambered into the passenger seat, she asked me a question I'd been hoping to avoid all day.
> Do you know who you're going to vote for tomorrow?
I already told you, Mama. I've thought about it, but I haven't changed my mind.
> There's sheikhs saying it's haram to support her. With what she's put the Palestinians and Ummah through.
My goal isn't to support her. It's to ensure that he doesn't come back to kill more of our people. It's about Salvaging the little hope and life that is left back home.
> Do you really need to put your name with her? God's going to ask you about that when you die.
You think I won't feel disgusted with myself for what I'm going to do tomorrow? You think I won't be making dua, begging Allah for his mercy?
I simply hope he has enough to understand that I'm simply trying to do something.
> But what you're doing is wrong.
But it's still something .
> Haven't you realized? Our blood, our flesh, our people, will continue to be slain, no matter who's in charge.
At least with her, there's hope.
> You actually believe her?
There is a petrified silence.
> Listen, habeebty. I'm not telling you who to vote for. I'm just giving you my two cents.
Are you going to vote this year? They keep saying it's the most important election in our lives.
> I'm doing the right thing. I'm not voting.
Are you going to have an answer for God when he asks you what you tried to do? We, as powerless as we are, have this small ounce of ability to do something here. And you're going to throw it away.
> I do not want the blood of my own people on my hands.
Simply by living, existing, being here, there is blood on our hands.
> Perhaps for other races. But for the Palestinians? There isn't a country to go back too. Where I grew up, the Egyptians, the Syrians, the Iraqis- every foreigner I knew got to go back to their country. To the houses and family they had left there. But me? I didn't get that life.
You could've stayed there. You didn't have to come here.
> There was no life for us in Jordan. They want us out. They tried kicking out your grandfather just two months ago! Don't you remember?
And can't you say the same for others? There was no life for them from whence they came?
> Everyone has somewhere to go back to. Everyone except us.
I wish we had other choices. I wish it wasn't between these two disgusting… I wish-
> Just make sure that, whatever choice you make tomorrow, you can stand in front of God. And when he asks you what you did, and why you did it- you'll have an answer.
And so. I will vote tomorrow, as I intended too.
But no matter what happens.
Please, God, please.
Forgive Me.
I tried.
The American Experiment
The American Election
The American Emptiness
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" The American Election " by Anonymous, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/election-day . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: I-voted.png
Author: Anomalous poster
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Link: http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/election-day/I_Voted.png
This image is a composite of:
Name: Still Life with Watermelon
Author: Barton S. Hays
License: Public Domain
Source: Wikimedia Commons
Name: I Voted! - 3002776434.jpg
Author: Vox Efx
License: Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic
Source: Wikimedia Commons | 37 | ["bleak", "first-person", "journal", "tale"] | 2024-11-05T00:32:00 | 3,730 | 661 | 0 | ||||||
midsight-orientation | MIDSIGHT Orientation - SCP Foundation | tale | Connect the cranial jack. Feel its teeth lock, its coolant drool. Be subsumed into the flow of twelve minds kept inside a shipping container far removed from any violence. Let your caretakers melt away. Let the Site dissolve. You are MIDSIGHT conglomerate TARIN-3, and something has gone awry.
Recall the briefing. GOC deniable elements in Greece have escalated activity around Exclusion Zone-067. Transport aircraft with high-ranking Foundation personnel forced down over the island of Lemnos and escorts are being suppressed as of 1430. Extent of enemy capabilities unknown. Presumed objective: detain Site Director Miriam Carras to extract concessions before GOC public assets secure 'release.'
Drink deep of what is provided. Satellite imagery, capturing shadowed dunes and the geography of coastlines. HALE overflight, noting camouflaged emplacements and possible insertion points. OKMGLOS laydown of what lives, what lurks, what continues writhing around that downed aircraft. Exhale the superfluous. Do not concern yourself with how the civilian populace flits and flees. Worry not over geopolitical ramifications. Exhale stale air too, no matter how far your collective minds have drifted from their shells. Grip the armrests until every knuckle cracks. Let the mister pass over your twenty-four eyes—open and visionless, uncomfortably serene.
Sift through sand with fingers immaterial, then peel back layers of foliage. Caress the barrel of that rifle with what connects your lobes. Peer over shoulders. Between fingers. Onto maps unburned minutes before. The immediate past melts into the near future, forming a slurry perceivable only by minds arranged and trained thus. TARIN-3 is a ghost on this battlefield whose soldiers have never been prepared for ANWAR. Disposable. Disposed of. They lack the drilled skulls, the neural bolts, to become invisible by any means that truly matter, and will surely suffer for that neglect.
Their deaths are not your fault though. Recall and repeat it. Though you indicate them from afar, others will pull the triggers. Others will launch missiles at numb coordinates. Anything approximating guilt is sure to disrupt the conglomerate, a fate worse than any wrought by harder hands. So few exist, and at such staggering cost too. The Foundation can never accept failure in this. Neither can you. Gesture unburdened, mark out foes who cast life aside the moment they chose this path. Encircle the untanned skin of a wedding ring discarded. Trace the absence of formal insignia, so keenly felt nonetheless. Jab deep as fire and smoke streak across the pure blue sky—a rainbow in every gray whose nadir holds no treasure of value.
Gag when your conglomerate becomes undone. Vomit as teeth unclench, enamel and metallic both. Gasp while gloved hands wipe away so many fluids and help you rise. There exists a world outside for each component mind to absorb anew, but in 8 hours, TARIN-3, you , will form once more.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" MIDSIGHT Orientation " by Pedantique, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/midsight-orientation . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 35 | ["_licensebox", "tale"] | 2023-07-11T02:59:00 | 3,309 | 522 | 0 | ||||||
family-matters | Family Matters - SCP Foundation | tale | for the Halloween2018 contest…
"So, what are you doing with your time off?"
Dr. Gifts blearily looked up from his immense pile of paperwork. Somehow, Ellie had a pile half the size, and still looked fresh.
"I didn't have any real plans. I figure I should drop in and see my family. Mom keeps trying to email me."
"Can I come?"
Gifts paused for a second. Ellie had no family. Of course, she had never had a family at all , but he did not at all want to have to talk about that. Not yet. "Of course."
"Great. I've always wanted to meet your folks. Are they anything like you?"
Gifts thought about it for a few seconds. "Not remotely."
Paperwork finished, Doctors Horatio Gifts and Eleanor Gentle signed out of Site-11 early the next morning, and drove Gifts' beat-up old Mitsubishi for seven hours across two state lines, alternating between Gifts' classical and alt rock preferences, and Ellie's devout love for pop and classic rock.
Katy Perry blaring from the stereo speakers, they at last pulled up in a suburban street before an old house. Carved pumpkins and scarecrows dotted the front lawn. Gifts flicked off the music.
"A few things before we go inside. Remember, my cover story is that I work in the national park. You do too, I guess. Also, about my parents. Dad'll be awkward and tell bad jokes, you'll manage. But Mom'll go absolutely gaga over you. I've never brought a lady home. She's going to want details."
"Easy. Just stay as close to the truth as possible."
"For that matter, I've not been home in years. She might get emotional. Also, don't drink the eggnog."
"I'll manage, and I'll remember."
Cover prepped, the two professional agents left the car and walked up to the house. Gifts stepped in front and knocked on the door. There was a pause, the sound of footsteps, and the door opened. A woman was standing there. She paused in surprise for a second, and grabbed Gifts and wrapped her arms tightly around his chest.
"You're home! Why didn't you call?"
"Hi Mom," said Gifts, squirming in the too-tight embrace. "Sort of a spur of the moment thing."
Mrs. Gifts released him, and turned to look at Ellie. Exuberant, red-headed, and graceful, she almost looked out of place next to the rigid and plain Gifts.
"You got a girlfriend!" She wrapped around him again. "Finally!"
"Mom, this is Eleanor. She perfers Ellie, though. She's… uh…not exactly…"
Ellie stepped in. "Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Gifts. I work with Horatio."
Mrs. Gifts looked up at her son. "She's not your girlfriend?"
"Uh…."
Ellie had never seen Gifts quite so lost for words. "While there's no strict anti-fraternisation policies in place where we work, we don't get a lot of free time. Officially, we're co-workers."
"And she uses big words! Oh Horatio, she's perfect."
Mr. Gifts also turned out to be quite a bit shorter than his eldest son. He greeted Ellie with a handshake and showed her around the house. Children of all ages filled the house, each costumed differently. A miniature Hulk, a witch, a ghost, a mariachi, a werewolf, a Ghostbuster, and a monk with an arrow on their head were visible, and the sounds of more monstrosities could be heard rumbling around upstairs. A few teenagers lounged around, also costumed, though with much less vigour and enthusiasm.
"I didn't expect the whole crowd," explained Gifts. "Four siblings, plus a pile of nieces and nephews from my brother, plus the cousins and their kids are around as well. We usually just get everyone together at the end of the year."
The tiny witch wandered up and tugged at Ellie's jeans. "You're Ellie. Gramma says you're Uncle 'Ratio's girlfriend."
"Yes, and sort of."
The witch pondered this for a full minute. "Your hair is red."
"Yes, it is."
"You're pretty."
"Thank you. What's your name?"
"Juliet. I'm fwee and a half years old."
The gaggle of children followed Juliet to crowd around Ellie, shouting out their names. Half of them introduced themselves as their costumed alter egos.
"Are you and Uncle Horatio going trick-or-treating with us?" they asked excitely.
Over their heads, Gifts rapidly shook his head. Ellie grinned.
"We'd love to."
"Please, Ellie, no."
"Come on Gifts, it'll be fun."
"I have never had fun trick-or-treating. Mom used to make these costumes, and then I'd go outside to get teased in them. And get crappy candy. I don't even like candy."
"You're a grown adult. No-one is going to tease you for dressing up on Halloween. Besides, your Mom has had this costume around for years specially for you." She brandished the brightly coloured costume.
"No. I've not done this for years, I have actively enjoyed not doing this. Besides, you're not even in costume. That's your regular lab coat."
"Of course I am. I'm a fancy scientist. And it's not my fault you didn't bring your lab coat."
The door was pushed open, and the tiny witch wandered into the room. She looked up at Ellie, now dressed in her spare lab coat, name badge, and fake glasses, and at Gifts, who was refusing to put on the costume before him.
"Uncle 'Ratio, are you not going to go tricka-treatin' with us?"
"Uh… I was not planning to."
Juliet frowned, then sniffled. After a few seconds, she had started bawling, and ran out of the room.
They could hear her distraught voice from down the hall. "Uncle Ratio's not going tricka-treatin'!"
Ellie turned to him and gave him a look. Gifts sighed. It was her 'no arguments' look.
He took the costume and began putting it on.
Two hours later, the excited gaggle of children and an unusually cheerful gaggle of teens came rushing back through the front door, followed by a scientist and a not-remotely muscular Superman (who looked a lot more like Clark Kent). The children excitedly compared their harvests of sucrose and artificial colourings, the teenagers disappeared into the backyard, while the adults gathered around the table for dinner (the assumption being that the children were already full of candy, and that nutrition could wait until tomorrow). Each of the adults was costumed as well; Gifts' requests to go and change back into something that wasn't emblazoned with a big 'S' were rapidly shut down.
Mrs. Gifts was not one to waste time. As soon as everyone was seated before the feast, she peered from under her witches' hat and turned upon her son the precision of an Imperial Inquisitor. "So, how did you two meet?"
Gifts was his usual tacticurn self. "At work."
Ellie elaborated. "I was assigned as his new partner when I started working there a few months ago."
"Which National Park do you work at again?" asked Mr. Gifts.
"South Lake. It's not open to the public. We keep a few rare species in there."
One of the many cousins popped in. "Like what?"
Ellie answered. "Insects. Birds. A really big lizard."
Mrs Gifts was not one to be disuaded. "So Ellie, what prompted you to come and meet us? Things getting serious after your love at first sight?"
Gifts answered sharply. "We got some time off. Ellie wanted to meet my family. Nothing fancy."
"But how about your family? Meeting us more important than seeing them? Considering how little time off you get in government work."
"I… don't have a family." Ellie paused to think. "Not anymore, at least."
Gifts was almost thankful for the awkward silence. Almost.
"Oh." Mrs. Gifts put on her most sympathetic look. Gifts waited patiently for the topic to change.
"Well, once Horatio proposes, we'll be your family."
Gifts nearly choked on his potato.
Several dozen hands of Uno later, Mrs. Gifts declared that it was late, and that it was bedtime. Gifts took Ellie by the hand and started to move quickly for the stairs.
"Slow down there Romeo! Nightcap first!" Mrs. Gifts brandished her homemade eggnog, grinning at what she mistook for a rare display of exuberance from her eldest son.
"But eggnog's for Christmas, Mom."
"And big family gatherings. Besides, you've always loved my eggnog."
Gifts forced himself to smile. To Ellie, it looked painful. "One cup. Only."
"And Ellie must have some too!"
Gifts quickly cut off Ellie's response. "She's lactose intolerant. Can't have it."
"Oh. But I made extra." She smiled. "You'll just have to have her share."
Gifts looked around. His brother had already downed his share, and the cousins were forcing their cups down. As abysmal as Mrs. Gifts' eggnog was, no-one in the family was quite ready to tell her so. He grimaced, forced down the two large cups his mother thrust upon him, bade his family goodnight, and dragged Ellie up to his room.
He set up an old inflatable matress on the floor, leaving the bed for a somewhat bemused Ellie.
"You can share the bed with me. I think we're past that point."
"Trust me. You won't want me to."
Breakfast was a solemn affair. The children were unusally silent, their sugar highs having subsided into stomach pains. The teenagers nursed their cups of coffee, trying in vain to stave off their hangovers. With the sole exception of Ellie, the adults suffered from both. Mrs. Gifts' eggnog was extremely alcoholic, and a weapons grade digestive inhibitor. Both bathrooms had suffered from long lines.
"Your mother's still in bed," explained Mr. Gifts from behind his coffee.
"Figures. She loves her eggnog. Somehow." He glanced at his watch. "We have to get going. It's a long drive back."
"Leaving so soon?"
"Duty calls and all that." He staggered from his chair.
"I'll drive." Ellie bid farewell to each of the people in the room, one at a time, saving Juliet for last. Gifts waved goodbye en masse.
Seated in the car, Gifts turned to Ellie. "Sorry about all of that. They can be a lot to deal with."
"Are you kidding? They're wonderful. I never had all of that big family stuff. It was always just me and Mom. I wish you could have met her."
Gifts hid his expression. "It wasn't to be, I guess."
Ellie flicked on the stereo. The sound of Coldplay filled the car. Gifts smiled in comfort.
"You have to bring me to the next family gathering. I'll even try the eggnog."
Gifts looked over at Ellie's bright expression. She had genuinely enjoyed the experience, as much as he hadn't.
"Deal."
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Family Matters " by GentleGifts, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/family-matters . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 26 | ["_licensebox", "halloween", "halloween2018", "slice-of-life", "tale"] | 2018-10-10T06:12:00 | 10,472 | 1,808 | 0 | ||||||
the-arcana-institute-of-xerophylla | The Arcana Institute Of Xerophylla - SCP Foundation | tale | The Arcana Institute Of Xerophylla
Byㅤ LORDXVNV
Published on 10 Dec 2022 03:01
Dramatis Personae
Our narrator, JAMES NO-NAME, abandoned to the Fundamentum at the tender age of seven, now eleven and on his way to the Arcana Institute of Xerophylla to become a Phlegm Trooper and fight the hordes of Darkest Evropa
FRIAR ALTO CLEF, caretaker of SCP-6248 and our NARRATOR . Plays the Ukulele. Introduced our hero to Jesus Christ. May have a deeper relationship with Jesus than it seems at first…
LI, a redheaded young woman who knows she is to be of the Social Fire in the Blood Class at the Arcana Institute.
ASHEWORT NOWAK, a vain young man who perhaps has hidden depths, who has been groomed all his life to stand as a noble of the Burning Hollow in the Choler Class.
ALLISON, of the Sorrow Fall and the Bile Class. Daughter of a Professor at the Arcana Institute — but which one?
The Story So Far:
The Beginning: Our narrator, James, is abandoned at Holy Site-6248 and adopted by the kindly Friar Alto Clef, who raises him in the ways of the Fundamentum but also in the forbidden lore of Jesus Christ.
The Start of the Journey: Upon coming of age, James and the Friar set out on the open road to the Arcana Institute, where he meets the people who will shape his years to come…
The cliffs upon which the Arcana Institute stood, from afar.
Our journey soon brought us to the Great Spyres, upon which the Arcana Institute stood. They loomed high above us, a dark and dreary campus upon jagged cliffs shattering the sky. From our low angle, only the towers of the Institute were visible, twisted spirals and reaved helixes piercing heaven, like inverted thunderbolts.
Each Class had at least three towers — one for students, one for professors, and one for graduated soldiers and alumni.
The Friar pointed out a set of towers glowing pink under the moonlight. I imagined that under a clearer light, they must have been white.
They were the three towers of the Cold Reservation, he'd stated. The students' tower was nothing special. The Professors' tower was tall, stretching into the sky. He said that as far as he knew, there were neither stairs nor arcana in the professors' tower, but only a ladder, so only those who had mastered the Cold Reservation of the White Phlegm could ascend it. The Soldiers' Tower, by contrast, was stout and wide near the ground. It was more important for the Phlegm Troopers to be able to deploy at a moment's notice, rather than being kept in shape passively or to hide forbidden knowledge.
I asked him how he knew of his. He smiled mysteriously, as he often did, and I wondered, yet again, if perhaps he was lying to me, as he did just as often.
Our draft-beast pulled up to the end of the road, where it met the cliff. The cart-tracks of generations before continued, straight into the sheer face of the stone.
"Hmmm. Let's see," the Friar said, digging through his utility belt. "Let's see… let's see… let's see where I put that gift Cog gave me… Ah. Here it is."
He pulled a small card out of his belt, an Arcana. It was a burnished bronze in the red moonlight, though it seemed to coruscate, ripples of bronze and silver and gold rippling over its surface. I could see two sets of inscriptions upon it: VIII VIII II at the top, DCCCLXXXII at the bottom.
"In the name of the Fundamentum, in the name of Xerophylla," said the Friar as he stood, his voice clear, holding the card aloft. "In the name of the Council Thirteen. Indeed, I bid you open the gates to the Arcane. I bid you open the future."
His voice echoed against the stone, reverberating across the caravan with unnatural clarity. The Arcana in his hand flashed bright orange, casting rays of light across the caravan, dancing across the cliff face. Then, the ground rumbled.
The stone folded in upon itself, natural-seeming rock shaping into perfect crystalline cubes, like bismuth crystal commanded by a hidden mechanism, until a perfectly black portal into darkness appeared in the cliff face, pierced only by the light emitted by Arcana-DCCCLXXXII.
The Friar snapped the reins of the draft-beasts, urging them forth into the inky blackness. They seemed hesitant to go, for their echo-pings went forward forever, meeting nothing but mystery.
"Let us journey," the Friar shouted over the crowd, "Into night!"
As we journeyed forth, through the darkness of the tunnel, he hummed a little ditty to himself, off-tune. As it echoed through the tunnel, combining with the heaving breaths of the draft beasts and the clattering of the wheels, it felt like a melody whispered from the heart of a great machine.
"Journey, journey into night
Into shadow beyond the light
Where the humors twist and twine
Future ours or future thine."
We emerged from the tunnel upon the campus of the Arcana Institute.
"This," said the Friar to me and the other foundlings, "is where we must part ways."
He bade us disembark from the caravan, and the other students did likewise. The Friar remained behind, holding Arcana-DCCCLXXXII aloft, keeping the passage lit. We stood, huddled there, and processed to the grand gates of the Great Nexus of the Arcana Institute. The Grand Nexus was a great pyramid, atop which stood a capstone colored rubedo red.
I stood alone; the other Foundlings of the Phlegmfont had found their own way in, but us first-years had to enter for our Announcement. I spotted among the first years Li, who had mingled with a group of six others, and Ashewort, who had gathered some equally snobbish hanger-ons. Perhaps I recognized some of the others from those who had journeyed to the Phlegmfont over my four years of custody; but if so I did not dwell upon them.
The grand doors slid open, great gears and hydraulics grinding them slowly open and up. Awaiting us was a stern-looking woman, her white hair tied in a bun. As ageless as the Friar was.
"Greetings, students. My name is Professor Light. I am the Matron of the Phlegm Class, Holder of the Horizon Arcana, and your professor of Shining, Physical Fitness, and Theology," she said.
I wondered whether she was a true scholar of theology, or merely a propagandist in service of the Fundamentum.
"In your ten years here at the Arcana Institute, you shall achieve great heights and fall to the absolute depths of the depravity within your souls. You shall achieve the heavens for the break of day, or fall into the dark night of the soul. All of you have known since birth of your destinies as great Talents, in great service to Fundamentum and Xerophylla."
She sounded quite grave. "Now, if you please. Arrange yourselves by your Class. Stand forth, and prepare to meet your future."
We arrayed ourselves in four lines, each by class. I was struck by how different we all were, in bearing and demeanor.
I found it jarring, though ultimately unsurprising, that Li was a typical member of those of the Blood and the Social Fire. Her friends — I couldn't tell if they were newfound or not, for she spoke and bantered with them easily, as if comrades from a hundred wars — were all as gregarious as she. They wore the modest clothes of merchants and clerks and the burgeoning city-folk, diverse colors but not opulent. Of course, they looked nothing alike beyond that, and were united solely by the ease in which they spoke among each other as old friends despite having met only briefly prior on the caravan. To them, this was an adventure for sure. Their families had sent them away instead of inducting them into the family trade, for being a ward of Xerophylla, a DeClassus by Abscession, was a noble service that could become power.
Those of the Bile were more subdued. Allison was not among them, for she had already entered the Grand Nexus with the other older students. Like those of Blood, many were there by choice, either their own or their families'. I could tell, by how some looked at the Grand Nexus and the spires of the Institute with ambition and gleaming eyes, and how some looked at the rocky earth with dread. Allison had told me that the Sorrow Fall was the power of the mind — I wondered how one could know that potential at an age as tender as ours.
But there was a reason to doubt learned men and the hubris of your own thought. Although Christ had given his first sermons at scarcely thirteen, barely older than I was now, I dared not bear the hubris of thinking myself like him. I would defer to those of the Bile, but I would also have to question them.
Those of the Choler were largely highborn. They carried themselves with nobility and poise. I was surprised to see that of them, only Ashewort Nowak and his immediate friends seemed to be so brazen with their arrogance, so cavalier in their detestation for their lessers. But at least Ashewort was honest. The other Highborn Choler might not have been openly sneering at us, or looking down their noses, yet I could tell they condescended to us all the same. I had seen many of the kind at the Phlegmfont, many noble families convinced of their superiority through their birth. Many whose children stood besides me now.
I knew they were here for impure motives. They wanted status and power, not to serve the Fundamentum. I could emphasize, frankly. Although I served the Fundamentum, I served a higher master above it, the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who had said it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
The Phlegm were the most diverse of all. There were some who were the highborn sons and daughters of noble families — I recognized the Thereven family crest upon one's robes, thirteen blackbirds arranged in a spiral. They were the Phlegmnobles, those sacred few who prized their ability to partake of the Phlegm and ensured it would be passed down through the generations. I wondered if they knew of the true source of the Phlegm, and if any of them were believers in Christ — or if they wholeheartedly believed the Fundamentum's lies, of how the Phlegm was stolen from Yvith.
Many of the rest of us were arrayed in rags. Some even had scars on their wrists from now-absent manacles, and even more wore Scranton Collars about their necks, forcing them to inhabit a world of mundanity. We were the believers, the foundlings, the downtrodden, the poor. Lifted from short and brutal lives by the taste of Phlegm — in truth, the gift of Jesus Christ. The only thing that united us was the ability to drink the Phlegm, and our usefulness to Xerophylla because of it.
Perhaps one day I could change that.
We marched through the grand gates in our lines. The inside of the Grand Nexus was filled with staggered layers, with long tables on each layer. It was as if there was an inverted pyramid within the large one. We made our way to the center of this inverted pyramid, and stood, arrayed in four lines, to greet our superiors.
"I am proud to announce," Professor Light said, "the next generation of Arcanists!"
The crowd burst out into wild applause.
"Students, repeat after me," Professor Light said to us, arrayed before her. "Morituri Te Salutant!"
"Morituri Te Salutant!" we all shouted. It seemed clear to me that most of my fellow first-years did not understand the Latin we spoke, but Friar Clef had insisted on my education.
We who are about to die salute you.
The Romans, I had been told, had been an ancient people. In the True Bible of Christ, they had been a vicious, cruel, and imperial people who had killed Christ with the most devious of inventions. Bureaucracy. They were an empire that fetishized death, and so when one who could undo it arose, they crumbled in His wake.
The crowd roared. Then, they cried to us as well.
"Morituri Te Salutant!"
And once this cheerful greeting had been made, some older students came down to lead us to our seats.
When we were seated, food appeared on our tables, carried by magic fey pixies bound to service by the Arcana Institute's Anderson-Mab Pactiron Generators.
There was phlegmbrick melted over bread, and phlegmbrick melted into a hot slurry that meats and breads might be dipped in; phlegmbrick and macaroni; phlegmbrick paste with herbaceous mosses, phlegmbrick melted into rice, phlegmbrick baked into bread, phlegmbrick in vinegar, and all sorts of other treatments of phlegmbrick. It was a verifiable cornucopia.
The older students dug into the food with gusto, though the other first-years seemed confused and hesitated. Many of them had not seen phlegmbrick in such preparations before — Friar Clef had made all of these at least once for me — but once they saw that I enjoyed the food they joined in.
When we were finished, Professor Light banged her staff against the floor, and the room fell silent.
A rather wiry middle-aged man stood. He was bald.
"Students. Welcome," he said robotically. "I trust that those of you who have survived are prepared for another year of tribulations here at the Arcana Institute."
Only Li laughed, from the Blood section. Nobody else seemed to find it funny.
"I am Professor Charles. Ogden. Gears," he continued. "I am the Headmaster of the Arcana Institute. It is my duty to see that the strong among you serve the Fundamentum to the fullest and the weak among you become strong or die. "
This time, nobody laughed.
"The Stricken Professor has been put to death again. Should you encounter him, do not approach and alert a professor. One of us shall restrain him. "
I had never heard of the Stricken Professor, but I heard an older student muffle a sob. Their antics clearly had left many scars.
"Madame Jones has asked me to remind you that all library books must be returned on time, and that if they are not, she is always looking for volunteers for early deployment. Professor Rights has asked me to emphasize that the existence of our foundling ward should make it clear that parental duties will not exempt you from military service. Professor Kiryu has asked me to state that her butterflies are not toys and that Kondracki's exile was a direct consequence of his abuse of power. "
Professor Gears pointed at a man in the finest suit moon- sanctified silver could buy, yet even his finery could not disguise his pockmarked leer and mismatched eyes. Frankly speaking, he was hideous, and I shuddered to even gaze upon him.
"Mr. Filia is not a member of our staff. He has graciously agreed to witness our opening ceremonies, as he always does, to impress upon you the gravity of your role here. For where Death goes, Mr. Filia follows."
The student body seemed to collectively shudder. Mr. Filia seemed to enjoy that, his vermine tongue dancing between the gaps in his crooked sneer. His eyes darted about the Grand Nexus, dancing from one section to his next, occasionally fixating on single students. I shuddered. He seemed to be the kind of monster I had seen come to Glastonbury and the Phlegmfont many times before, the kind of man who took a morbid joy in drawing blood and bearing bodies, the kind who anticipated the deaths of children with glee.
"You are dismissed," Professor Gears said.
It was not until after I had climbed into my bed that I realized that I ought to have searched for Edmond Tarry. That nigh-forgotten specter of my youth, whom Friar Clef had said had gone to the Institute early.
It was a mystery for another day, like so many others. A secret wrapped in riddles and schemes, woven by a schemer I would not see for years to come.
The Road To Arcana
NIGHTFALL: QUI LACTIS
Three Lessons for Endless Night
More by LORDXVNV
Hide
Other works by LORDXVNV!
SCPs
SCP-6987
Rating: 550
SCP-8008
Rating: 488
SCP-7069
Rating: 296
SCP-7997
Rating: 238
SCP-6572
Rating: 214
SCP-1337-EX
Rating: 174
SCP-6433
Rating: 172
SCP-7715
Rating: 132
SCP-8616
Rating: 129
SCP-7335
Rating: 98
SCP-6248
Rating: 98
SCP-7576
Rating: 72
SCP-8814
Rating: 69
SCP-9013
Rating: 64
SCP-1392
Rating: 64
SCP-7634
Rating: 52
SCP-6510
Rating: 52
SCP-7272
Rating: 47
Tales
These 5 Colleges are the Best for Learning Dark Powers! Number 1 Will SHOCK You!
Rating: 292
CCK-Class--Sorry, Original Character Interaction Story
Rating: 162
Requiem For Ice Spider
Rating: 161
A Faerie Tale Of Twin Queens
Rating: 112
Taking The Reinz
Rating: 105
Mountainous Essophysics
Rating: 104
Insurance
Rating: 97
Ecce Insurgo
Rating: 97
Garfield Timeline
Rating: 91
alex thorley dreams of sushi.
Rating: 90
Muddy Skies
Rating: 74
Miau Miau, Asheworth-kun
Rating: 72
Lampeter Registrar Entry: The Smog-Wastes of NeoAmerica
Rating: 70
Life Can Be A Surprise
Rating: 65
Man on a Mission
Rating: 61
CAPSLOCK COLLUSION
Rating: 59
Teamwork
Rating: 55
The Phlegmfont
Rating: 50
The Arcana Institute Of Xerophylla
Rating: 46
WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY
Rating: 42
Cheese Is Risen
Rating: 42
Three Lessons for Endless Night
Rating: 39
The Road To Arcana
Rating: 39
But Never Trees.
Rating: 36
Names Stricken
Rating: 33
Ghost Signal
Rating: 30
THEREVEN: GERMINATION
Rating: 28
Deus Volt!
Rating: 28
GOI Formats
SPC-6500: INFINITESIMAL
Rating: 162
SPC-105: WORLD IRIS
Rating: 104
SPC-1981: RONALD REAGAN SHARKED UP WHILE TALKING
Rating: 104
SPC-179: GLORIOUS BEACON
Rating: 87
SPC-1258: CERULEAN GLOVE
Rating: 87
HIST.327: Comparative Mythology of Mekhanism and Nälkä
Rating: 83
KTE-6990-Mendel-Nimuebusterchild — "Werebeast Curse"
Rating: 80
Project Proposal 2007-012: "A Life Well Lived"
Rating: 76
The Milkssiah
Rating: 63
A Wandsman in a Vegas Cathouse
Rating: 58
SPC-166: CERISE CERES
Rating: 50
1 Staar Cuttt 2 5
Rating: 50
A Wandsman In The Greaze Lands Of Kansas
Rating: 47
SPC-1548
Rating: 42
SPC-CN-985: FIST CONTACT
Rating: 36
Hubs
Goldbaker-Reinz Hub
Rating: 135
April Fools Hub
Rating: 56
NIGHTFALL: Qui Lactis
Rating: 45
Collaborations!
SCPs
Page
Title
Co-Author
SCP-6301
Funky Finn's Children Happy Hour
Grigori Karpin , GremlinGroup
SCP-6447
Sinners' Symphony
Many.
SCP-6483
The Polar Express
Ralliston
SCP-6542
Virgin Dairy 2: SECOND CHURNING
JakdragonX
SCP-6596
8 Mile: The Beast of Lust and Hatred Born
PlaguePJP
SCP-6760
Better Luck Next Time
Liryn
Tales
Page
Co-Author
A Nightmare Dreary
DodoDevil , DrGooday , LAN 2D , Impperatrix
The Bathrooms Wiki
THE YURT
Hubs
Page
Co-Author
SPC Hub
MrWrong , Lt Flops , PeppersGhost
Holiday Hub
Deadly Bread , PeppersGhost , TheBoxOfFun
Hide
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" The Arcana Institute Of Xerophylla " by LORDXVNV, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/the-arcana-institute-of-xerophylla . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Images:
Karst Rock Formations by David Stanley, Licensed under Creative Commons 2.0 Generic, modified by LORDXVNV | 46 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "doctor-clef", "doctor-gears", "doctor-light", "fantasy", "first-person", "nightfall", "school", "tale"] | 2022-12-10T03:01:00 | 18,915 | 3,228 | 0 | ||||||
know-it-all | Nobody likes a know-it-all - SCP Foundation | tale | September 3rd,
Perhaps not one of my finest days. The piping issue spread from the southern zone to over half of the site's area, so we had to put whatever we were doing on hold for maintenance to come to the rescue…again. To make things even better, the leaks made it to a couple of storage units, apparently messing up some of the containment procedures of the anomalous objects there. That means that someone special is going to have to go there soon to clean up and report back the damage caused and that special someone is probably going to me, as usual. Greg decided to come to cheer me up by passing by to offer me my weekly session of "loud vocalization" about how careless and irresponsible I am. This episode was about how it was my fault that the piping system broke down, even though I just happened to be in the area of the incident. Boy, do I like working here.
Oh, also one of the Tactical Response Squads came back recently from a Serpent's Hand raid with more than a handful of items. Tomorrow I'll be assigned to reviewing and cataloging some of them, so that might be interesting at least. Somehow, they always seem to give me the funniest ones to study. Not complaining, though.
September 5th,
Oh, God, I really fucked up this time! Maybe Greg was right all along about me being irresponsible, but I can't stop now.
This morning, some guys left me a few sealed boxes of artifacts and objects recovered from that Serpent's Hand raid, telling me to look through them and report if I find anything peculiar or that can be useful to the Foundation. I grabbed my coat, looked for an empty examination room, requested a few D-Class personnel and started working. The whole day passed and nothing too incredible showed up: some liquid that keeps a spherical form, a creepy plastic figurine that doesn't cast shadows, a pair of shoes affected by inverse gravity. Seriously, why would they even keep this kind of junk?
It got really late and the only item left unopened was this small wooden crate. Now, I know I could've left it there and continued the experiment the following day, but I was really tired and pissed that nothing interesting showed up so I said "screw it" and went in the examination room by myself. I opened the crate and discovered this old-looking book inside. I picked it up, flipped through the pages only to find…nothing. The damn book was empty. Right as I was about to put it down and call it a day, I spotted some text with the corner of my eye on the first page. "Our story begins on July 17th, in the magical city of Southampton, as a hero is gifted to those lands."
Right after I read that first sentence, another just showed up on the page. After reading that one, another one followed it. And even crazier is that the sentences were about me! About my life! But it was like someone transformed into a story. It wasn't a cold, boring biography, it was a tale of a hero on his mighty quest to discover his purpose and change the world! I kept reading and reading until I reached the point in my life when I discovered the book. The text then told me it's time for me to continue my journey and stopped generating sentences. I wasn't shocked, just amazed of how interesting my life seemed when put into that perspective. I was so captivated, I didn't even realize almost 2 hours had passed. I was way too tired to write a report on this inoffensive SCP, so I grabbed my stuff and headed home, still with a smile on my face.
That's when the weird stuff started happening.
As I was driving home, I suddenly started hearing a faint voice in my head. I turned down the radio, thinking the sound might've come from there, but it kept going, becoming more audible with each sentence. "Tired, Lawrence, you're just really tired. That's all." I kept telling myself. I then started to clearly make out the words. They weren't gibberish, it was a calm voice talking in my head, describing the actions I was doing. "Lawrence suddenly started feeling uneasy, as if the whole world crumbled inside him. The sweat on his forehead and tight grab of the steering wheel were giving away the fact that something was on his mind." . I started freaking out.
I pulled over to gather my thoughts for a moment, to focus on what was going on, but the voice kept going, almost covering my thoughts. It then came to me that the voice's way of speaking was familiar to me and I immediately knew why. It had the same narration style as the text from my "story". But that was not all there was. I needed to go back to the site and ask for help.
I got back in the car and started heading back to where it all started. On the way there, the voice continued to describe my thoughts, feelings, actions, as well as the kinds of places I was passing through. At one point, though, the voice said something like "During his hasty drive to his workplace, our hero stopped paying attention to the surrounding traffic, causing him to get struck by a monstrous truck whose breaks had stopped working." . A chill suddenly climbed my spine. Almost without even thinking, I smashed the break with my foot right as I was about to pass an intersection. The driver behind me must've gotten pretty angry, but I barely heard his honk. I was too focused on the giant truck passing at full speed by me from the street coming from the right. I watched it go on for a few more seconds, only to witness a crash into a huge statue, followed by an explosion. A few meters forward and I would've been hit full-on. I think the voice saved my life (or maybe put it in danger in the first place?).
Fast forward 10 minutes and I made it to the site. I told the guards I had forgotten something in the lab to let me in and I started wandering the halls, trying to focus on what I had to do. I wasn't sure who to report this to, since I wasn't very familiar with the night shift. Luckily, I remembered about a lady I knew, Lucy, a researcher assistant. The shift difference never allowed us to really get to know each other, but on the rare occasions we had met, she'd always been very nice to me. I asked around for her lab and I managed to make it there in one piece. Right when I was about to enter it, the voice caught my attention with "He carelessly entered the laboratory, ready to ask Lucille for help, not knowing that she, like a vulture, had been waiting patiently for him to make a mistake, so she could fly in and take the researcher position she had dreamed of." . I didn't know what to do. Another researcher passed by the lab and probably noticed me having an existential crisis, because he asked me if I was ok. I had to make a choice.
I could've told him what had happened and seek help. This would've been the sensible thing to do, considering the fact that I had no idea what was going on. But through the entire wave of thoughts going through my head, I was able to focus on one. This voice inside my head. This voice had information. I didn't know how it worked or whether I should trust it, but this thing may had saved my life and warned about me losing my job. It knew much more than I did and probably much more than anyone else did. I am not proud to admit it, but I started feel paranoid about the fact that letting the Foundation know I have access to possibly unlimited information might lead to them locking me up, or even my termination. So I let myself guided by this fear and told the researcher I was just sleep deprived. I called myself an uber home, because I didn't feel like driving in that condition. And here I am. I'll try to get some sleep, but I don't expect it will be easy with Sir Talk-a-lot chatting in my mind. This next day is going to be very, very interesting.
September 6th,
Today was very, very interesting.
I tried going on with my day as if nothing was wrong. That proved to be a little harder than I'd anticipated. Apparently, a voice talking continuously in your head can really affect your ability to focus. Talking with others was the fun part. It was like trying to hold a conversation with someone while listening to a podcast in your headphones. It did generate plenty of awkward moments when you just nod and smile, hoping it wasn't a question, but worst case scenario my coworkers think I was a little hungover.
I was right about this voice having all sorts of information. I managed to find out a lot of… unexpected facts about people throughout the site. This workplace really is a snake enclosure. I have to be careful who I can trust from now on.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg. I was passing by one of the locked empty containment cells and I thought I heard chatter inside it. I couldn't make out any words, but the voice gave me some insight. Apparently, the Foundation is bringing in this new classified creature to the site tomorrow. I don't know how this is going to affect us yet, but I don't like the way the voice described it as "a devilish beast" and the fact that my team wasn't informed about it makes it even more concerning.
September 7th,
I think I'm slowly starting to get used to this. Yeah, I still need sleeping pills to get a good night's rest and yeah, I am making efforts to focus on certain thoughts or to talk to other people, but it went from a big pain in the ass to a regular pain in the ass.
I didn't learn anything interesting today, unfortunately. Just the regular gossip about other's people thoughts and personal secrets. I try to forget some of the things I find out about these people. The voice can get into some really nasty stuff (why do you have to be such a creep, Dimitri?).
September 8th,
A man can only fuck up so many times, right? I wish that was true…
Today there was a slip-up. Remember that creature I talked about a couple of days ago? The one that was supposed to be secretly transferred to our site? Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is that it's not a secret anymore. The bad news is that the thing breached containment when it arrived.
I was just sitting at my desk, filing some reports or whatever, when the alarm went off in the site. I was hoping my little mind friend would tell me what was going on, but I guess he decided to keep the readers on their toes. I left my quarters and headed towards an emergency room to wait for the Tactical Response Team to do their thing. I got there and the door was sealed shut by a security officer. People were talking about what SCP could've breached and rumour quickly spread about a classified entity. I, of course, acted surprised.
Now, here's a fun fact about our emergency rooms. Once sealed, it is almost physically impossible to open them without someone from a command center opening the door. That is extraordinarily useful when dealing with most SCP creatures, because they wouldn't be able to knock it down. A less fun fact about is that this system isn't really efficient in instances where the SCP can just phase through the walls, which was, as you probably guessed, exactly what happened after a few minutes.
The thing looked like a small cloud of smoke and it definitely wasn't passing by to say hi. It headed for the first person in its way and somehow entered his body, possessing him. It got control of his entire body, and, like most things we study do when they escape, started trying to kill people. Of course, we heavily outnumbered him, so we simply immobilised him. The smoke then started passing from person to person every few seconds, confusing the hell out of us, since we didn't know who to target. This fiasco continued until someone got killed for real. A guy, Charlie apparently smashed the possessed lady's head on the ground in self defence. The SCP then exited her body, looking almost twice as big as before. Things didn't get better from there, as the gas continued to possess random people through the room.
It was a bloody mess, literally. Screaming, running around, fighting. I was terrified and it looked like there was virtually nothing we can do to stop it. That's when my little pal came into play. "Lawrence and his companions were courageously making their stand against the shapeless monster. Little did they know, the beast had none, but one rather wet weakness.".
It took me a second, but once it came to me, I didn't stop to think twice before shouting my lungs out for someone to turn on the fire emergency sprinklers in the room. I shouted once, I shouted twice, I kept shouting until I saw Lucy(must've pulled an all-nighter, or in her case, an all dayer), reaching for the manual switch. As soon as the water started raining from the ceiling, the thing rushed out of whoever it was possessing and stormed through a wall like a bullet. After a few seconds, everyone went dead silent. Some of them then started looking at me, confused. Not knowing what to do, I tried to get everyone to calm down and settle. It somehow worked.
We waited about an hour trapped in there, wet, creeped out and awkward after all that had happened. One guy came to me at some point and asked how had I known that water would work on the thing? I then realized it, too. How could I logically explain them how I got that information without breaking my cover? I couldn't. I babbled something about having been just a lucky hunch out of fear and he left me alone.
Someone eventually let us out of there. They had us checked for scars and bruises, hospitalized the really beat up people and then let the rest of us go home for the day. Now I don't know what to do next. It is no mystery that I raised suspicion and I can't allow mistakes like these to happen again. If they find out I have been hiding an anomalous item from them, things are going to get even messier than today. In the meantime, I'll come up to some other excuse if they decide to question me tomo-
Incident Report 4569-1
Incident Date: 08/09/20██
Researchers Involved: Dr. Lawrence Preda
Classification: Class C
Incident Description: Multiple reports have been received from personnel regarding Dr. Preda's unusual behavior and knowledge of classified information about a certain SCP entity. Further investigation has proven that he had been not only purposely hiding information about an anomalous item from the Foundation, but also utilizing the object for his own personal gain. These actions are not in conformity with several Foundation rules and thus, Dr. Preda was detained, interrogated and had his journal studied. The Ethics Committee's first given sentence was the administration of amnestics and placement into civilian society at Level C, but these have proven to be ineffective at the removal of SCP-4569-A from his mind, as have all other methods attempted by The Foundation. EC had no other choice but request the termination of Dr. Preda and increased security for SCP-4569, in order to prevent similar events from occurring.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Nobody likes a know-it-all " by Wantcha, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/know-it-all . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 10 | ["_licensebox", "tale"] | 2019-03-04T17:35:00 | 15,188 | 2,767 | 0 | ||||||
the-clef-catfish-kon | The Clef Catfish Condraki - SCP Foundation | tale | ADULT CONTENT
This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers.
Sexual References: Features sexual themes or language, without the depiction of sexual acts.
Sexually Explicit: Description of sexual acts.
Sexual Assault: Features non-consensual sexual acts.
Gore: Depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts.
Child Abuse: Features severe mistreatment of children.
Self-Harm: Description of self-harm.
Suicide: Description of suicide.
Torture: Description of torture.
{$custom-content}
If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.
Continue
Back to Front Page
Fish^12
Can't believe i write gay people now. Author Page !
dockr
The gay dating app
⬤ Sam001
42 miles away
Today
Hi there!
Is Kondraki your first or last name? It's quite foreign, I've never heard of it before.
21:06
Sorry, this is the first time I've tried this out and I'm really nervous. I don't want to be weird about it or anything, just wanted to make conversation. My hobbies are reading and philosophy, and I'd love to take you out to Carmine's. What do you think?
21:11
Not into weak men
21:22
You have blocked this person.
⬤ 34rn3st
11 miles away
Today
I saw in your profile that you liked movies
want kind of movies
we could watch my favorite movie (shawshank redemption)
we could keep it casual
22:12
Is that you in the picture
22:13
ya
22:13
You have blocked this person.
⬤ DINGO
25 miles away
Today
So you're a scientist? That's interesting
22:15
I am! I do forensic analysis of geology.
Currently working on the mineral composition of the landslide in Vernal trails. It's very rewarding.
22:15
Yup
I study bugs
Love studying bugs
22:15
An entomologist! How do you like it?
22:16
I do
Like it
But besides that, what do you like to do in your free time?
22:17
Say, what kind of insects do you study? What's your field of focus? I'd love to discuss your work.
22:17
Mainly butterflies. Migratory patterns.
22:17
Interesting! I saw that you're also a biologist. I'd love to see your thesis.
22:17
Actually, I'm a cryptobiologist.
22:17
Okay
22:17
Yup
22:18
Tell me about it
22:18
Yup
I will
www.researchgate.net/publication/107533321_Butterfly_Migration_Sub_Trends_In_Survival
22:18
You are neither of these authors
Not the brightest bulb in the closet, huh?
22:19
You have blocked this person.
⬤ kylemark
138 miles away
Today
Hey babygirl, are your parents terrorists? Cause your the bomb.
22:22
You have blocked this person.
⬤ 💪 Flexing
97 miles away
Today
I can lift you up stretch your boy pussy hard pump you full of cum
Would you like that, little boy?
20:33
I don't think I would be interested in that
Can we reverse roles?
20:34
Daddykins wants control
20:34
Daddykins is anorexic
You need to drink some milk
You're 20 you're nobody's daddy
20:34
😳😞
20:35
You have blocked this person.
⬤ runaway baby
4 miles away
Today
Looking for a top
22:35
Go on
22:35
I'm not afraid of a little punishment 😏
22:35
How old are you /gen
22:36
31, and you must be daddy material
22:36
Haha
We should meet up
How about a date?
22:36
Whatever you say 😉
22:36
I can pick you up
22:37
⬤ BK
1 mile away
Today
Benjibear
22:37
Hey. Ben Konny.
22:39
Hey.
22:42
What the fuck? Clef?
22:47
It's Eli
22:47
…
Are you fucking impersonating me?
22:48
No
Ok yes but your game is trash and that's not important right now
You're a dommy daddy that loves to use dildos and you have a date tomorrow
His name is Omar and he is going to fuck you on the first date so take a shower
22:48
I am not going on a fucking Vegas style one night stand with some random stranger
What the hell are you doing? Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your shit in
22:50
Mate
22:50
How did you even find my account
22:50
He's cool
You'll like him
And you don't have to dick down or anything
It's a date
Do you have your have your license still, you do need to drive
22:52
No. MY CAR IS STILL IN RHINE
BECAUSE OF YOU
YOU ASSHOLE
22:52
Right. My bad
You could borrow my car
22:53
THE ONE YOU LIVE IN?
22:53
I'll crash at your place
It's fine it's perfect
22:54
Hello?
23:00
Hellooooo?
23:02
You're paying for a new phone.
23:09
Why are you doing this?
23:15
Well, you refuse to give me your contact. It's impossible to find you
23:15
Why are you doing THIS
23:15
No reason
Because it might be good for you
Its a little funny
You eat salads unironically
You don't want to drink, you hate shooting the shit, your hobby is boring as fuck, you're an even bigger arsehole since Carmen split town
But also you do drink and talk to your butterflies when you think no one's watching
23:16
Alright, fine
What else do I need to know about Omar
23:21
He likes museums, gardens, butterflies, the colour purple
Actually, I'll just link his profile
23:22
He sounds fine.
23:21
https://dockr.x/runaway_baby/aA2jFde35f8Pmg352r0tT
23:22
How did you find this account anyways?
23:22
You didn't bother hiding it burgerking
23:23
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" The Clef Catfish Condraki " by Fish^12, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/the-clef-catfish-kon . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: hummingbird.png
Name: Anna's hummingbird
Author: Rhododendrites
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anna%27s_hummingbird_(41124).jpg
Filename: lawyer.png
Name: Taras Shevchenko
Author: Julia Zakharyan
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Taras_Shevchenko_(lawyer)_07.jpg
Filename: man.png
Name: Selfie of tattoos
Author: Prolete
License: CC BY-SA 1.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_of_tattoos.jpg
Filename: coolerman.png
Name: Selfie en el Museo de Aguascalientes
Author: Luisalvaz
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Selfie_en_el_Museo_de_Aguascalientes.jpg
Filename: butt.png
Name: Butterfly Display
Author: Daniel Ramirez
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Butterfly_Display_-_Bishop_Museum_(22889552575).jpg
Filename: flex.png
Name: VolpiBuff
Author: Lincolntan36
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VolpiBuff.png
Filename: snow.png
Name: Snow crystals
Author: Unknown author
License: Public Domain
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Snow_crystals.png
Filename: ship.png
Name: Galley
Author: Delapouite
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://game-icons.net/1x1/delapouite/galley.html#download | 87 | ["_adult", "_cc", "_licensebox", "comedy", "correspondence", "doctor-clef", "doctor-kondraki", "eventyr", "lgbtq", "slice-of-life", "tale"] | 2024-07-27T20:58:00 | 6,892 | 1,056 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-7601 | SCP-7601 | scp | Image of SCP-7601 that circulated online following the entity's sighting over Chicago. Photographer unknown.
Item #: SCP-7601
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7601 is to be provisionally held in a steel reinforced containment cell at Site-198. Research into methods of containing SCP-7601 are underway.
Description: SCP-7601 is an anomalous female Peking Duck. SCP-7601 is able to extend the length of its neck indefinitely, reaching a recorded maximum of ~4,520 km long. Where SCP-7601 obtains the matter required to increase the size of its neck is unknown. While this is occurring, the size of SCP-7601's body and head are not affected. The means by which SCP-7601 is able to hold its neck in the air despite its immense size are not understood. The anomaly is also capable of speaking English, although this has only been observed once (see Incident 7601). SCP-7601 is also resistant to conventional weaponry; however, it is not invulnerable.
Incident 7601: SCP-7601 was discovered on 05/06/2011. Amnestics have been administered to all civilian witnesses, and false memories of a surprise fly-by from the United States Air Force have been implanted. The following is a timeline of Incident 7601.
<11:43> SCP-7601 is seen by the exterior security cameras of a McDonald's located in Markham, Canada perched on top of a Blue 1999 Ford Escort.
<11:45> SCP-7601 begins to rapidly extend its neck, displacing its head 200 m above the ground in five seconds. The car’s roof caves in, the vehicle and the surrounding concrete are pushed into the ground.
<11:46> Satellite imagery shows SCP-7601's neck curve until its upper section is parallel with the ground. SCP-7601's head is at an altitude of 3.4 kilometers, and velocity is estimated at 110m/s.
<11:47> A civilian sighting of SCP-7601 is uploaded to YouTube. The video shows SCP-7601's neck stretching across the sky, before it disappears over the horizon. The observers are unable to identify what SCP-7601 is.
<11:49> Foundation webcrawlers flag and remove videos of SCP-7601 from various social media platforms. Foundation radar at Site-198 detects SCP-7601 traveling overhead at roughly 247 m/s. Calculations of SCP-7601's trajectory indicate it is moving towards Site-19. O5 Command is notified of the situation.
<11:50> SCP-7601 breaks the sound barrier 1 over Chicago. Foundation personnel are mobilized to distribute amnestics.
<11:52> SCP-7601 passes over a United States military base. Believing the object to be an incoming projectile, the base fires 17 surface-to-air missiles at SCP-7601. 15 of the 17 hit; no damage to the anomaly is visible.
<11:53> In Markham, the downward force from SCP-7601's expansion has destroyed the car and created a sinkhole roughly 14 meters deep and 9 meters wide. A nearby fire hydrant has been shattered and is spewing water into the air. Local EMS arrive on-scene.
<11:57> Local news stations in Chicago begin to air information regarding SCP-7601. An image of SCP-7601's head begins circulating online. Foundation webcrawlers remove images from the internet.
<12:01> O5 Council votes to scramble fighters to neutralize SCP-7601.
<12:10-18> Fighters make contact with SCP-7601. In the span of 8 minutes, 29 missiles successfully strike SCP-7601; however, none have any effect. During the engagement SCP-7601 made no attempt to evade the projectiles, but its velocity increased significantly. Pre engagement velocity was 564 m/s, while post engagement velocity was 1286 m/s. The battle ended when SCP-7601's head outran Foundation fighters. 2 Attempts to fire on SCP-7601's neck have been ineffective.
<12:21> O5 Council approved proposition for Compound Y-562 3 to be released in the path of SCP-7601. A remote region of western Kansas was chosen for the attack.
<12:24> SCP-7601 passes over Jefferson City, Missouri at 1351 m/s. Foundation personnel are dispatched to administer amnestics.
<12:27> Foundation aircraft arrive in western Kansas and release 2,700 m 3 of Compound Y-562 into the air.
<12:28> SCP-7601 passes through the cloud of Compound Y-562.
<12:29> SCP-7601 begins to decelerate.
<12:31> SCP-7601 slows down to 823 m/s.
<12:32> SCP-7601's velocity is 607 m/s.
<12:33> SCP-7601's velocity is 244 m/s.
<12:44> SCP-7601 stops.
<12:44-54> SCP-7601 is seen coughing and vomiting for 10 minutes.
<12:56> SCP-7601 recovers and continues to extend its neck towards Site-19.
<12:57> SCP-7601's velocity is 126 m/s.
<12:58> A proposal is made to engage the anomaly with fighter jets while it is injured. This is rejected by the O5 Council, on the grounds that the prior engagement caused SCP-7601 to accelerate quicker.
<13:01> O5 Command orders the termination of SCP-7601 via the Foundation Orbital High Energy Railgun Battery (FOHERB) while the anomaly is over uninhabited land in Colorado. FOHERB begins calibration to fire.
<13:02> SCP-7601 passes over Site-212 at 1041 m/s.
<13:04> SCP-7601 enters Colorado. All non-essential personnel are evacuated from Site-19, and Foundation thaumaturgists begin to conjure an energy field around the Site.
<13:08> SCP-7601 collides with a mountain. This has no impact on its velocity.
<13:11> FOHERB finalizes preparations to engage. FOHERB is ordered to fire on SCP-7601 in 30 minutes while it is 1.3 km north of Hawshore, Colorado 4 . Foundation personnel arrive in Hawshore to evacuate residents under the guise of a gas leak.
<13:37> All Hawshore residents have been relocated to a safe distance from the blast zone.
<13:41> FOHERB opens fire. SCP-7601's head is thrown into the ground, and the anomaly’s neck makes an almost 90-degree angle downwards. A 759 m crater is created around SCP-7601’s head.
<13:42-47> SCP-7601 remains unmoving in the crater for 5 minutes.
<13:48> SCP-7601 retracts its neck from the crater, shaking its head several times. Small amounts of blood can be seen on the entity’s head, which is also on fire. The flames are extinguished upon resuming travel towards Site-19. Velocity is 928 m/s.
<13:50> SCP-7601 exits the Rocky Mountains, and is projected to reach Site-19 in no more than 30 minutes. Velocity is 1443 m/s.
<14:12> The thaumaturgical energy field completely envelops Site-19. SCP-7601's head begins to decrease in altitude and increase in speed. Velocity is 1989 m/s.
<14:13> Site-19's Missile Defense System is powered online and prepares to fire on SCP-7601.
<14:15> Site-19 radar detects SCP-7601 closing in on its position. All remaining personnel are evacuated to subterranean bunkers. Velocity is 2276 m/s.
<14:16> Missile Defense System activates. 12 missiles are fired at SCP-7601, all but one of which misses due to the object's extreme speed. Velocity is 2612 m/s.
<14:17> SCP-7601 collides with the energy field at 3147 m/s 5 . The field bends inwards at the point of impact, but holds. SCP-7601 continues to force itself against the field.
<14:18> Thaumaturgists report difficulty maintaining the energy field, and small tears form around the point of contact with SCP-7601.
<14:20> The field begins to disintegrate. Thaumaturgists abandon the half of the field opposite of SCP-7601 to focus their energy on the failing section. Loud popping and crackling sounds are heard up to 3.4 km away from Site-19.
<14:24> Cracks emerge in the energy field, and popping noises increase in volume. Thaumaturgists warn that SCP-7601 will break through in 1-4 minutes. All personnel within Site-19 are ordered to prepare for impact.
The following log is security footage collected from Bunker-14, which was being used as protection from SCP-7601's assault on Site-19.
<Begin Log>
12 researchers and 5 security personnel are within the bunker. Crackling and popping sounds from above are heard, followed by a deafening boom.
Dr. Mayweather: Wait, it couldn't have broken the barrier could it?
Researcher Johnson: No way, I know Hailey. 6 It couldn't have got through.
The radio of Commander Yoris crackles to life. Yoris pulls up the radio closer to his face.
Radio: The entity has breached the field, it is inside the Sit-
The bunker's steel reinforced door is hit with a loud clang. A large inward dent in the door is visible.
Dr. Johnson: Fuck!
Agent Reaves: Oh god, oh god oh god oh god.
A second impact forces the door further inwards, creating several small fissures in the metal. Commander Yoris picks up an assault rifle and trains it on the door.
Commander Yoris: Everyone stay calm! Harold, throw some C-4 by the door and get ready to detonate it when it gets through. Anna, give the eggheads some guns and show them how to use them. Everyone else, get ready to fire!
Agent Otau runs towards the door and places C-4 on the ground. Agent North hands standard-issue Foundation handguns to four of the researchers in the room.
Dr. Mayweather: Commander, after everything we've thrown at it, what hope could a few guns possibly hope to do?
Commander Yoris: Would you rather sit around and wait for it to get through?
The door is thrown off its hinges and flung into the back of the bunker. It collides with Researcher Flint, breaking his arm and dislocating his shoulder. SCP-7601 extends its neck into the room.
Commander Yoris: Harold, now!
The C-4 in front of where the door had stood detonates, obscuring the entrance with smoke. All five security personnel open fire with assault rifles. SCP-7601 emerges from the smoke unharmed. Armed researchers engage with handguns.
After 20 seconds of firing, all security personnel run out of ammo and stop to reload. SCP-7601 looks directly at Jr. Researcher Gunther and extends its neck towards him. Gunther backs away from SCP-7601's head, tripping in the process. He continues to back up on the floor until he is trapped in one of the bunker's corners.
Jr. Researcher Gunther: No no no no no what do you want from me!?
SCP-7601 slowly approaches Gunther, who presses himself into the wall. SCP-7601 stops 2 centimeters from Gunther's face. An image from Gunther's bodycam is shown below.
SCP-7601: Hello, we've been trying to contact you about your car's extended warranty.
Jr. Researcher Gunther: Wha- what?
SCP-7601: Your car's extended warranty has expired. You should have received a letter in the mail informing you of this issue. Since you have not given us a response, this is our final attempt to reach you before we close out your file. Would you like to renew your car's warranty?
4 seconds of silence.
Jr. Researcher Gunther: Uh, no thank you. Please.
SCP-7601 stares at Gunther for 6 seconds.
SCP-7601: Okay. If at any point you wish to renew your car's extended warranty, please let us know. Have a splendid day.
SCP-7601 retracts its neck from the room at roughly 90 m/s. This causes a gust of wind to blow throughout the room.
<End Log>
Following this log, SCP-7601 retracted its neck at an average speed of 1200 m/s. After 3 hours and 47 minutes, SCP-7601's neck had retracted to a length typical of a non-anomalous duck. Containment teams successfully detained SCP-7601 while it was eating a hamburger bun in a dumpster. SCP-7601 has been provisionally contained at Site-198, until a method of stopping the extension of its neck can be devised. A joint Foundation-GOC mass amnesticisation program is underway.
SCP-7601 has displayed no anomalous properties since Incident 7601.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7601 " by Akzal1231, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7601 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Used in scpduckplane3.jpg
Name: Aircraft window interior
Author: Oishi Kuranosuke
License: CC BY 2.0
Source Link: Wikipedia Commons
Filename: Used in scpduckplane3.jpg
Name: Pekin Ducks cropped
Author: Katie Chodil
License: CC BY 2.0
Source Link: Wikipedia Commons
Filename: Used in scpduckbunker.jpg
Name: White duck
License: CC0 1.0
Source Link: https://www.stockvault.net/photo/200682/white-duck
Filename: Used in scpduckbunker.jpg
Name: Hilsea lines interior
Author: Geni
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hilsea_lines_interior.JPG
Filename: Used in scpduckbunker.jpg
Name: Gray simple background
License: CC0 1.0
Source Link: https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=124101&picture=gray-simple-background
Footnotes
1 . 331 m/s
2 . Foundation fighter jets have a maximum speed of 822 m/s.
3 . A Class IV Gaseous Toxin capable of terminating an adult human in, at most, 1 minute and 18 seconds.
4 . Population: 322
5 . 9.5 times the speed of sound.
6 . Foundation thaumaturgist, one of the 17 maintaining the energy barrier around the Site. | 181 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "alive", "animal", "bird", "ectoentropic", "keter", "scp"] | 2022-09-06T01:20:00 | 12,813 | 2,015 | SCP-7601 | Keter | SCP-7601 is to be provisionally held in a steel reinforced containment cell at Site-198. Research into methods of containing SCP-7601 are underway. | SCP-7601 is an anomalous female Peking Duck. SCP-7601 is able to extend the length of its neck indefinitely, reaching a recorded maximum of ~4,520 km long. Where SCP-7601 obtains the matter required to increase the size of its neck is unknown. While this is occurring, the size of SCP-7601's body and head are not affected. The means by which SCP-7601 is able to hold its neck in the air despite its immense size are not understood. The anomaly is also capable of speaking English, although this has only been observed once (see Incident 7601). SCP-7601 is also resistant to conventional weaponry; however, it is not invulnerable. | 2 | ## Incident 7601.
<11:43> SCP-7601 is seen by the exterior security cameras of a McDonald's located in Markham, Canada perched on top of a Blue 1999 Ford Escort.
<11:45> SCP-7601 begins to rapidly extend its neck, displacing its head 200 m above the ground in five seconds. The car’s roof caves in, the vehicle and the surrounding concrete are pushed into the ground.
<11:46> Satellite imagery shows SCP-7601's neck curve until its upper section is parallel with the ground. SCP-7601's head is at an altitude of 3.4 kilometers, and velocity is estimated at 110m/s.
<11:47> A civilian sighting of SCP-7601 is uploaded to YouTube. The video shows SCP-7601's neck stretching across the sky, before it disappears over the horizon. The observers are unable to identify what SCP-7601 is.
<11:49> Foundation webcrawlers flag and remove videos of SCP-7601 from various social media platforms. Foundation radar at Site-198 detects SCP-7601 traveling overhead at roughly 247 m/s. Calculations of SCP-7601's trajectory indicate it is moving towards Site-19. O5 Command is notified of the situation.
<11:50> SCP-7601 breaks the sound barrier 1 over Chicago. Foundation personnel are mobilized to distribute amnestics.
<11:52> SCP-7601 passes over a United States military base. Believing the object to be an incoming projectile, the base fires 17 surface-to-air missiles at SCP-7601. 15 of the 17 hit; no damage to the anomaly is visible.
<11:53> In Markham, the downward force from SCP-7601's expansion has destroyed the car and created a sinkhole roughly 14 meters deep and 9 meters wide. A nearby fire hydrant has been shattered and is spewing water into the air. Local EMS arrive on-scene.
<11:57> Local news stations in Chicago begin to air information regarding SCP-7601. An image of SCP-7601's head begins circulating online. Foundation webcrawlers remove images from the internet.
<12:01> O5 Council votes to scramble fighters to neutralize SCP-7601.
<12:10-18> Fighters make contact with SCP-7601. In the span of 8 minutes, 29 missiles successfully strike SCP-7601; however, none have any effect. During the engagement SCP-7601 made no attempt to evade the projectiles, but its velocity increased significantly. Pre engagement velocity was 564 m/s, while post engagement velocity was 1286 m/s. The battle ended when SCP-7601's head outran Foundation fighters. 2 Attempts to fire on SCP-7601's neck have been ineffective.
<12:21> O5 Council approved proposition for Compound Y-562 3 to be released in the path of SCP-7601. A remote region of western Kansas was chosen for the attack.
<12:24> SCP-7601 passes over Jefferson City, Missouri at 1351 m/s. Foundation personnel are dispatched to administer amnestics.
<12:27> Foundation aircraft arrive in western Kansas and release 2,700 m 3 of Compound Y-562 into the air.
<12:28> SCP-7601 passes through the cloud of Compound Y-562.
<12:29> SCP-7601 begins to decelerate.
<12:31> SCP-7601 slows down to 823 m/s.
<12:32> SCP-7601's velocity is 607 m/s.
<12:33> SCP-7601's velocity is 244 m/s.
<12:44> SCP-7601 stops.
<12:44-54> SCP-7601 is seen coughing and vomiting for 10 minutes.
<12:56> SCP-7601 recovers and continues to extend its neck towards Site-19.
<12:57> SCP-7601's velocity is 126 m/s.
<12:58> A proposal is made to engage the anomaly with fighter jets while it is injured. This is rejected by the O5 Council, on the grounds that the prior engagement caused SCP-7601 to accelerate quicker.
<13:01> O5 Command orders the termination of SCP-7601 via the Foundation Orbital High Energy Railgun Battery (FOHERB) while the anomaly is over uninhabited land in Colorado. FOHERB begins calibration to fire.
<13:02> SCP-7601 passes over Site-212 at 1041 m/s.
<13:04> SCP-7601 enters Colorado. All non-essential personnel are evacuated from Site-19, and Foundation thaumaturgists begin to conjure an energy field around the Site.
<13:08> SCP-7601 collides with a mountain. This has no impact on its velocity.
<13:11> FOHERB finalizes preparations to engage. FOHERB is ordered to fire on SCP-7601 in 30 minutes while it is 1.3 km north of Hawshore, Colorado 4 . Foundation personnel arrive in Hawshore to evacuate residents under the guise of a gas leak.
<13:37> All Hawshore residents have been relocated to a safe distance from the blast zone.
<13:41> FOHERB opens fire. SCP-7601's head is thrown into the ground, and the anomaly’s neck makes an almost 90-degree angle downwards. A 759 m crater is created around SCP-7601’s head.
<13:42-47> SCP-7601 remains unmoving in the crater for 5 minutes.
<13:48> SCP-7601 retracts its neck from the crater, shaking its head several times. Small amounts of blood can be seen on the entity’s head, which is also on fire. The flames are extinguished upon resuming travel towards Site-19. Velocity is 928 m/s.
<13:50> SCP-7601 exits the Rocky Mountains, and is projected to reach Site-19 in no more than 30 minutes. Velocity is 1443 m/s.
<14:12> The thaumaturgical energy field completely envelops Site-19. SCP-7601's head begins to decrease in altitude and increase in speed. Velocity is 1989 m/s.
<14:13> Site-19's Missile Defense System is powered online and prepares to fire on SCP-7601.
<14:15> Site-19 radar detects SCP-7601 closing in on its position. All remaining personnel are evacuated to subterranean bunkers. Velocity is 2276 m/s.
<14:16> Missile Defense System activates. 12 missiles are fired at SCP-7601, all but one of which misses due to the object's extreme speed. Velocity is 2612 m/s.
<14:17> SCP-7601 collides with the energy field at 3147 m/s 5 . The field bends inwards at the point of impact, but holds. SCP-7601 continues to force itself against the field.
<14:18> Thaumaturgists report difficulty maintaining the energy field, and small tears form around the point of contact with SCP-7601.
<14:20> The field begins to disintegrate. Thaumaturgists abandon the half of the field opposite of SCP-7601 to focus their energy on the failing section. Loud popping and crackling sounds are heard up to 3.4 km away from Site-19.
<14:24> Cracks emerge in the energy field, and popping noises increase in volume. Thaumaturgists warn that SCP-7601 will break through in 1-4 minutes. All personnel within Site-19 are ordered to prepare for impact.
The following log is security footage collected from Bunker-14, which was being used as protection from SCP-7601's assault on Site-19.
<Begin Log>
12 researchers and 5 security personnel are within the bunker. Crackling and popping sounds from above are heard, followed by a deafening boom.
Dr. Mayweather: Wait, it couldn't have broken the barrier could it?
Researcher Johnson: No way, I know Hailey. 6 It couldn't have got through.
The radio of Commander Yoris crackles to life. Yoris pulls up the radio closer to his face.
Radio: The entity has breached the field, it is inside the Sit-
The bunker's steel reinforced door is hit with a loud clang. A large inward dent in the door is visible.
Dr. Johnson: Fuck!
Agent Reaves: Oh god, oh god oh god oh god.
A second impact forces the door further inwards, creating several small fissures in the metal. Commander Yoris picks up an assault rifle and trains it on the door.
Commander Yoris: Everyone stay calm! Harold, throw some C-4 by the door and get ready to detonate it when it gets through. Anna, give the eggheads some guns and show them how to use them. Everyone else, get ready to fire!
Agent Otau runs towards the door and places C-4 on the ground. Agent North hands standard-issue Foundation handguns to four of the researchers in the room.
Dr. Mayweather: Commander, after everything we've thrown at it, what hope could a few guns possibly hope to do?
Commander Yoris: Would you rather sit around and wait for it to get through?
The door is thrown off its hinges and flung into the back of the bunker. It collides with Researcher Flint, breaking his arm and dislocating his shoulder. SCP-7601 extends its neck into the room.
Commander Yoris: Harold, now!
The C-4 in front of where the door had stood detonates, obscuring the entrance with smoke. All five security personnel open fire with assault rifles. SCP-7601 emerges from the smoke unharmed. Armed researchers engage with handguns.
After 20 seconds of firing, all security personnel run out of ammo and stop to reload. SCP-7601 looks directly at Jr. Researcher Gunther and extends its neck towards him. Gunther backs away from SCP-7601's head, tripping in the process. He continues to back up on the floor until he is trapped in one of the bunker's corners.
Jr. Researcher Gunther: No no no no no what do you want from me!?
SCP-7601 slowly approaches Gunther, who presses himself into the wall. SCP-7601 stops 2 centimeters from Gunther's face. An image from Gunther's bodycam is shown below.
SCP-7601: Hello, we've been trying to contact you about your car's extended warranty.
Jr. Researcher Gunther: Wha- what?
SCP-7601: Your car's extended warranty has expired. You should have received a letter in the mail informing you of this issue. Since you have not given us a response, this is our final attempt to reach you before we close out your file. Would you like to renew your car's warranty?
4 seconds of silence.
Jr. Researcher Gunther: Uh, no thank you. Please.
SCP-7601 stares at Gunther for 6 seconds.
SCP-7601: Okay. If at any point you wish to renew your car's extended warranty, please let us know. Have a splendid day.
SCP-7601 retracts its neck from the room at roughly 90 m/s. This causes a gust of wind to blow throughout the room.
<End Log>
Following this log, SCP-7601 retracted its neck at an average speed of 1200 m/s. After 3 hours and 47 minutes, SCP-7601's neck had retracted to a length typical of a non-anomalous duck. Containment teams successfully detained SCP-7601 while it was eating a hamburger bun in a dumpster. SCP-7601 has been provisionally contained at Site-198, until a method of stopping the extension of its neck can be devised. A joint Foundation-GOC mass amnesticisation program is underway.
SCP-7601 has displayed no anomalous properties since
---
## Incident 7601.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-7601 " by Akzal1231, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-7601 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Used in scpduckplane3.jpg
Name: Aircraft window interior
Author: Oishi Kuranosuke
License: CC BY 2.0
Source Link: Wikipedia Commons
Filename: Used in scpduckplane3.jpg
Name: Pekin Ducks cropped
Author: Katie Chodil
License: CC BY 2.0
Source Link: Wikipedia Commons
Filename: Used in scpduckbunker.jpg
Name: White duck
License: CC0 1.0
Source Link: https://www.stockvault.net/photo/200682/white-duck
Filename: Used in scpduckbunker.jpg
Name: Hilsea lines interior
Author: Geni
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Hilsea_lines_interior.JPG
Filename: Used in scpduckbunker.jpg
Name: Gray simple background
License: CC0 1.0
Source Link: https://www.publicdomainpictures.net/en/view-image.php?image=124101&picture=gray-simple-background
Footnotes
1 . 331 m/s
2 . Foundation fighter jets have a maximum speed of 822 m/s.
3 . A Class IV Gaseous Toxin capable of terminating an adult human in, at most, 1 minute and 18 seconds.
4 . Population: 322
5 . 9.5 times the speed of sound.
6 . Foundation thaumaturgist, one of the 17 maintaining the energy barrier around the Site. | |
SCP-3620 | SCP-3620 | scp | SCP-3620 as photographed on initial discovery
Item #: SCP-3620
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3620 is to be contained in a medium-sized animal containment cage of internal volume no less than one cubic meter. The cage must be airtight to allow for monitoring of CO 2 output.
The cage is to be cleaned daily before feeding, with the mass of any droppings or eggs produced measured. The daily amount of feed and water provided must equal the mass output within an allowed variance of 1.5g/day.
Description: SCP-3620 is a living entity confirmed by genetic testing 1 to be an approximately 5-year-old female domestic chicken ( Gallus gallus domesticus ). Behavior and vocalizations are consistent with those of a chicken, as are the appearance of all tissue samples taken.
SCP-3620 presents visually as a two-dimensional white plane featuring a pictograph and a series of curved lines hypothesized to be language, although they match no previously-encountered alphabet. The size of the plane appears the same relative to the observer's field of view, regardless of distance, and the plane appears parallel to the observer's field of view, regardless of viewing angle. Roughly 1 in 5 observers report mild to moderate headaches after viewing SCP-3620.
Testing indicates that SCP-3620 is physically invariant. It weighs 724.33g, regardless of factors that would normally affect mass. Any tissue samples removed from the specimen, such as drawn blood, plucked feathers, and even entire removed body parts, are instantly replaced. Separated mass appears non-anomalous and degrades at a normal rate. Factors indicating age have consistently pointed to SCP-3620 being approximately 5 years old, despite having been in Foundation custody since 1983-07-05.
As the amount of material produced and consumed by SCP-3620 do not appear to adhere to the standard laws of conservation of mass, any mass shed naturally or removed during the course of testing must be replaced by an equal mass of food to prevent long-term planetary mass discrepancy.
Document 3620-1: Post-recovery interview
Show interview
Hide interview
Interviewed: J███ P█████
Interviewer: Agent S████
Foreword: Interview conducted on 1983-07-05 following recovery of SCP-3620 under protocol "ORNOT". Agent S████ posing as an agent of the Ripley Entertainment Inc.
<Begin Log>
Agent S████: So tell us about how you came to acquire this… animal.
Mr. P█████: I mean, I'm pretty sure she was a normal chicken. I counted 'em after and, with this weird one, there weren't none missing. So I guess I acquired her in the normal way chickens get made, if you understand my meaning. Then something got her all weird like this.
Agent S████: Can you describe what happened exactly?
Mr. P█████: Well, I didn't see it happen or nothing. A loud noise woke me up, like… like a thunderclap mixed with an orchestra going through a wheat thresher. I thought I'd dreamt it at first, you know how it is when you just woke up, but when I went outside I figured it was connected with this thing. Looked enormous when I saw it at first, but it shrank when I walked closer or something. Like not exactly that, but like it always looks the same size, no matter how far away from it you are? But when I got close, it was just down there walking around and clucking like nothing was out of the ordinary. Other birds seemed a bit wary of it, though.
Agent S████: Have you told anyone else about this?
Mr. P█████: Naw, pretty much called you Believe It Or Not guys first thing. I 'spect you pay pretty well for weird shit like this, so I didn't want anyone else taking pictures or whatever.
Agent S████: Well, this certainly is an exciting item. Come along with me and I'll take you over to our purchasing department and we'll work out a good price for this girl.
Mr. P█████: Sounds good!
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Mr. P█████ was administered class C amnestics, paid $10 for the loss of one chicken, and returned to his farm.
Document 3620-2: Suicide note of Dr. F████████
Show note
Hide note
None of it matters.
You understand what 3620 is, right? It's not a chicken, it's a fucking bug. It's an [ sic ] glitch. An error message. She's a 404-not-found that shits out eggs.
So what does that make the rest of us? Software, running on some higher-order computer somewhere. We're just a simulation. None of it fucking matters.
Control alt delete.
—Dan
Document 3620-3: Interview with Dr. Charlene M████ following death of Dr. Daniel F████████
Show interview
Hide interview
Interviewed: Dr. Charlene M████, lead researcher, SCP-3620
Interviewer: Agent R███████, internal review committee
Foreword: On 20██-04-12, junior researcher Dr. Daniel F████████ was found dead in his office of apparent suicide. Autopsy revealed a massive overdose of injected paralytics. A classification-review investigation was launched to determine whether or not the suicide would indicate a cause to change the "Safe" classification of SCP-3620.
<Begin Log>
Interviewer: Can you tell us about Mr. F████████?
Dr. M████: Well, I can tell you he'd get pissed off at you calling him "mister" instead of "doctor".
Interviewer: My apologies. Dr. F████████.
Dr. M████: No problem. He was pretty new to the team — pretty fresh out of grad school, in fact — and this was his first assignment here. We were working on seeing if Spongy could-
Interviewer: (interrupting) I'm sorry, "Spongy?"
Dr. M████: Oh. Yeah, it's kind of a nickname we gave SCP-3620. Spongy. Short for 'Data Expunged'. I know we're supposed to stay detached, but it's hard when you work with one of the animate ones for years, and frankly, 'SCP-3620' is a bit of a mouthful.
Interviewer: I see. Please continue.
Dr. M████: We were working on seeing if SCP-3620 could be used as a food source. She's basically a chicken, and so when you pull off a wing or a leg or cut off a chunk of breast or whatever, it's made of regular old chicken meat, and a new part pops right back no matter how much we chop off. But we have to keep things balanced. "Wanted Buffalo wings so much the extra mass threw off Earth's orbit" would be one of the more embarrassing XKs to cause, you know?
Interviewer: Right.
Dr. M████: So Dan was helping me out with making a denser feed and measuring how much we could get her to eat in a day, and I saw him just stop and get this far-away look in his eyes. Then he said he had to go to his office. That was the last I saw of him. The last anyone saw of him, I guess.
Interviewer: Could the feeding protocol have triggered an effect?
Dr. M████: Unlikely. After it happened, we brought in a few D-class to try and recreate it, and none of them had a problem.
Interviewer: So in your professional opinion, do you believe that Dr. F████████'s suicide was due to an anomalous effect created by SCP-3620?
Dr. M████: I do not. At least, not like a memetic or telepathic effect. I've personally been studying this for three years now, it's been in custody since the 80s, and this is the first time anything like this has happened. You tend to become a bit numb to the weirdness around here, but someone as new as Dan… We think of the Euclids and the Keters as the scary ones, so we forget that even quote-unquote-safe skips can destroy someone's whole worldview, you know?
<End Log>
Note: Reclassification committee voted to retain current "Safe" classification of SCP-3620.
Footnotes
1 . >99.9% certainty
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-3620 " by Allan Crain, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3620 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: scp-3620.jpg
Author: Allan Crain
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | 300 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "alive", "animal", "bird", "ectoentropic", "safe", "scp", "visual"] | 2018-01-31T16:50:00 | 7,887 | 1,331 | SCP-3620 | Safe | SCP-3620 is to be contained in a medium-sized animal containment cage of internal volume no less than one cubic meter. The cage must be airtight to allow for monitoring of CO 2 output.
The cage is to be cleaned daily before feeding, with the mass of any droppings or eggs produced measured. The daily amount of feed and water provided must equal the mass output within an allowed variance of 1.5g/day. | SCP-3620 is a living entity confirmed by genetic testing 1 to be an approximately 5-year-old female domestic chicken ( Gallus gallus domesticus ). Behavior and vocalizations are consistent with those of a chicken, as are the appearance of all tissue samples taken.
SCP-3620 presents visually as a two-dimensional white plane featuring a pictograph and a series of curved lines hypothesized to be language, although they match no previously-encountered alphabet. The size of the plane appears the same relative to the observer's field of view, regardless of distance, and the plane appears parallel to the observer's field of view, regardless of viewing angle. Roughly 1 in 5 observers report mild to moderate headaches after viewing SCP-3620.
Testing indicates that SCP-3620 is physically invariant. It weighs 724.33g, regardless of factors that would normally affect mass. Any tissue samples removed from the specimen, such as drawn blood, plucked feathers, and even entire removed body parts, are instantly replaced. Separated mass appears non-anomalous and degrades at a normal rate. Factors indicating age have consistently pointed to SCP-3620 being approximately 5 years old, despite having been in Foundation custody since 1983-07-05.
As the amount of material produced and consumed by SCP-3620 do not appear to adhere to the standard laws of conservation of mass, any mass shed naturally or removed during the course of testing must be replaced by an equal mass of food to prevent long-term planetary mass discrepancy. | 3 | ## discovery
Item #: SCP-3620
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3620 is to be contained in a medium-sized animal containment cage of internal volume no less than one cubic meter. The cage must be airtight to allow for monitoring of CO 2 output.
The cage is to be cleaned daily before feeding, with the mass of any droppings or eggs produced measured. The daily amount of feed and water provided must equal the mass output within an allowed variance of 1.5g/day.
Description: SCP-3620 is a living entity confirmed by genetic testing 1 to be an approximately 5-year-old female domestic chicken ( Gallus gallus domesticus ). Behavior and vocalizations are consistent with those of a chicken, as are the appearance of all tissue samples taken.
SCP-3620 presents visually as a two-dimensional white plane featuring a pictograph and a series of curved lines hypothesized to be language, although they match no previously-encountered alphabet. The size of the plane appears the same relative to the observer's field of view, regardless of distance, and the plane appears parallel to the observer's field of view, regardless of viewing angle. Roughly 1 in 5 observers report mild to moderate headaches after viewing SCP-3620.
Testing indicates that SCP-3620 is physically invariant. It weighs 724.33g, regardless of factors that would normally affect mass. Any tissue samples removed from the specimen, such as drawn blood, plucked feathers, and even entire removed body parts, are instantly replaced. Separated mass appears non-anomalous and degrades at a normal rate. Factors indicating age have consistently pointed to SCP-3620 being approximately 5 years old, despite having been in Foundation custody since 1983-07-05.
As the amount of material produced and consumed by SCP-3620 do not appear to adhere to the standard laws of conservation of mass, any mass shed naturally or removed during the course of testing must be replaced by an equal mass of food to prevent long-term planetary mass discrepancy.
---
## Document 3620-1: Post-recovery interview
Show interview
Hide interview
Interviewed: J███ P█████
Interviewer: Agent S████
Foreword: Interview conducted on 1983-07-05 following recovery of SCP-3620 under protocol "ORNOT". Agent S████ posing as an agent of the Ripley Entertainment Inc.
<Begin Log>
Agent S████: So tell us about how you came to acquire this… animal.
Mr. P█████: I mean, I'm pretty sure she was a normal chicken. I counted 'em after and, with this weird one, there weren't none missing. So I guess I acquired her in the normal way chickens get made, if you understand my meaning. Then something got her all weird like this.
Agent S████: Can you describe what happened exactly?
Mr. P█████: Well, I didn't see it happen or nothing. A loud noise woke me up, like… like a thunderclap mixed with an orchestra going through a wheat thresher. I thought I'd dreamt it at first, you know how it is when you just woke up, but when I went outside I figured it was connected with this thing. Looked enormous when I saw it at first, but it shrank when I walked closer or something. Like not exactly that, but like it always looks the same size, no matter how far away from it you are? But when I got close, it was just down there walking around and clucking like nothing was out of the ordinary. Other birds seemed a bit wary of it, though.
Agent S████: Have you told anyone else about this?
Mr. P█████: Naw, pretty much called you Believe It Or Not guys first thing. I 'spect you pay pretty well for weird shit like this, so I didn't want anyone else taking pictures or whatever.
Agent S████: Well, this certainly is an exciting item. Come along with me and I'll take you over to our purchasing department and we'll work out a good price for this girl.
Mr. P█████: Sounds good!
<End Log>
Closing Statement: Mr. P█████ was administered class C amnestics, paid $10 for the loss of one chicken, and returned to his farm.
---
## interview
Hide interview
Interviewed: Dr. Charlene M████, lead researcher, SCP-3620
Interviewer: Agent R███████, internal review committee
Foreword: On 20██-04-12, junior researcher Dr. Daniel F████████ was found dead in his office of apparent suicide. Autopsy revealed a massive overdose of injected paralytics. A classification-review investigation was launched to determine whether or not the suicide would indicate a cause to change the "Safe" classification of SCP-3620.
<Begin Log>
Interviewer: Can you tell us about Mr. F████████?
Dr. M████: Well, I can tell you he'd get pissed off at you calling him "mister" instead of "doctor".
Interviewer: My apologies. Dr. F████████.
Dr. M████: No problem. He was pretty new to the team — pretty fresh out of grad school, in fact — and this was his first assignment here. We were working on seeing if Spongy could-
Interviewer: (interrupting) I'm sorry, "Spongy?"
Dr. M████: Oh. Yeah, it's kind of a nickname we gave SCP-3620. Spongy. Short for 'Data Expunged'. I know we're supposed to stay detached, but it's hard when you work with one of the animate ones for years, and frankly, 'SCP-3620' is a bit of a mouthful.
Interviewer: I see. Please continue.
Dr. M████: We were working on seeing if SCP-3620 could be used as a food source. She's basically a chicken, and so when you pull off a wing or a leg or cut off a chunk of breast or whatever, it's made of regular old chicken meat, and a new part pops right back no matter how much we chop off. But we have to keep things balanced. "Wanted Buffalo wings so much the extra mass threw off Earth's orbit" would be one of the more embarrassing XKs to cause, you know?
Interviewer: Right.
Dr. M████: So Dan was helping me out with making a denser feed and measuring how much we could get her to eat in a day, and I saw him just stop and get this far-away look in his eyes. Then he said he had to go to his office. That was the last I saw of him. The last anyone saw of him, I guess.
Interviewer: Could the feeding protocol have triggered an effect?
Dr. M████: Unlikely. After it happened, we brought in a few D-class to try and recreate it, and none of them had a problem.
Interviewer: So in your professional opinion, do you believe that Dr. F████████'s suicide was due to an anomalous effect created by SCP-3620?
Dr. M████: I do not. At least, not like a memetic or telepathic effect. I've personally been studying this for three years now, it's been in custody since the 80s, and this is the first time anything like this has happened. You tend to become a bit numb to the weirdness around here, but someone as new as Dan… We think of the Euclids and the Keters as the scary ones, so we forget that even quote-unquote-safe skips can destroy someone's whole worldview, you know?
<End Log>
Note: Reclassification committee voted to retain current "Safe" classification of SCP-3620.
Footnotes
1 . >99.9% certainty
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-3620 " by Allan Crain, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-3620 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: scp-3620.jpg
Author: Allan Crain
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | |
site-250-s-first-halloween | Site-250's First Halloween - SCP Foundation | tale | Dr Kira Moto
Want more?
Site-250 wasn't known for much. They were a small site of just under two dozen people and only a few anomalies. Soon, however, everyone would know of this tiny site in the Japanese wilderness.
It all began on October the twenty-ninth, twenty-thirty.
Shiko Hyuse, the resident eight-year-old, was exploring the building. It was something she had done nearly every day since she came to the site. So it was rather obvious when Shiko came upon one of the rooms decorated in orange and black.
"What's this?" She asked, far too curious for her own good.
Anders, the Site's MTF commander, answered, "We're decorating for Halloween."
Yet Shiko was confused. "What's Hall-o-ween?" Anders gave the child an incredulous stare, uncertain how any child would be unaware of the holiday.
"Halloween is a holiday," Anders began, "It's where everybody gets dressed up in costumes and tries to spook everyone else. And all the little kids get candy." Shiko still didn't fully understand, but her eyes twinkled with excitement. So, she ran back to her father, one SCP-6932 , to tell him all about the wondrous holiday she had only just learned about.
She rushed into his pocket dimension and back into the dojo that served as their home. Shiko located her father near the pond behind the building.
"What has gotten into you so suddenly?" The old martial arts master inquired. And so, Shiko reveled in telling her father all about everything she had learned. Shiko's excitement got the old master thinking. He was going to make sure Shiko's first holiday was memorable.
October the thirty-first arrived. And with it, the old master's planning was complete.
Researcher Erickson gathered everybody in the cafeteria, where he had a modest party set up for the staff. The room was covered in decorations, and everybody was wearing a costume. Well, everyone except little Shiko.
However, Researcher Erickson had come prepared for this. When he saw Shiko enter the cafeteria without a costume, he rushed to her.
"Shiko!" He exclaimed, "It's not Halloween without a costume!"
"But I don't have one…" Shiko sighed dejectedly.
"Don't worry, kiddo," Erickson explained. "Anders and I prepared a few for you! If you come with me, you can pick one out!" Shiko was just as excited as when she first learned of Halloween. Erickson led the child into one of the connecting rooms where Anders was waiting for them.
On the nearby table sat six costumes: a wizard, a witch, a broom, a zombie, a martial artist, and a Foundation researcher. Shiko rushed over to the costumes, eyes gleaming as she examined each and every one. She wanted to go as all of them, but eventually, she chose her costume.
Anders and Erickson returned to the group to let Shiko change in peace. The old martial artist had arrived upon returning to the small party, stealing everyone's attention.
"I have prepared a little something to celebrate this holiday of yours." The elderly man stated. "Once everyone is present; we will head into my home."
As his words faded into the chatter filling the room, Shiko returned in her new costume. She was wearing a miniature version of the Foundation research uniforms, but she had taken the wizard hat and staff from the other pile. A beaming grin was plastered across her face as she proudly showed off her costume.
"You're a magick researcher?" Anders asked.
Shiko nodded firmly, "You guys are magick! You should wear a hat like mine too!" The two men beside her chuckled as the old martial artist came to greet his child. His glare at the two men hinted at jealousy.
"Shiko. I see you are having fun." The old man stated.
"Yeah! Mr. Anders and Mr. Erickson gave me a bunch of costumes to choose from!"
The old sensei kneeled, placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Would you like to do something else fun?" Shiko perked up even further, nodding aggressively enough that her wizard hat fell off her head. Anders scoped the hat up, placing it back on her head.
"Everyone follow me!" The sensei bellowed, "The surprise awaits!"
Everyone entered the space and was met with a much different view than expected. Usually, the dojo was well-lit, warm, and, well, a dojo.
Now? Now the space was twilight, a few clouds overhead as a cool autumn breeze ripped through the area. Crisp fall leaves littered the ground from the oak trees that now dotted the area, and a dimly lit path lined with pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns led up to what used to be the dojo. Now it was a dimly lit castle that most children would recognize as the spooky black castle they would see every year with bats flying around it.
"Huh, spooky," Erickson stated, promptly earning a slap to the back of his head from Anders.
Shiko was grinning from ear to ear, "This is so cool!" From somewhere in the background, the old sensei chuckled. "Let's go, Mr. Erickson!" Shiko pulled on Erickson's sleeve, nearly dragging him down the dimly lit path.
As they approached the castle, screams were heard. Anders jumped, nearly crashing into the site's medic, McCullum.
"Ooh! The big bad MTF Commander's afraid of the spooky castle?" McCullum earned an identical slap to the one Erickson received. Anders would have said something, but Shiko had already pulled Erickson into the castle.
"What's this?" Shiko asked as she looked at a column with a hole.
"I'm not sure," Erickson began. "It looks like it's big enough to stick your arm in. Why don't you see what it does?" Shiko nodded and stuck her arm into the hole. She felt around a bit, locating a scrap of paper.
Shiko pulled her arm out, only to be grabbed by something. She yelped in surprise but grabbed onto whatever it was and pulled it out. It was the arm of a skeleton.
"Weird. I wonder where Dad got a human skeleton." Erickson winced, checking out the skeletal arm. It was, in fact, a real human arm.
Besides the pair, a grinding sounded as a hidden compartment opened. Inside was a bag.
"A bag? Wonder what it's for?" Shiko stated.
Erickson grabbed the bag, "Why don't you read the paper you got? It might tell us something."
Shiko uncrumpled the paper, reading out loud. "If you want to leave this castle, you and your group must find all parts of the skeleton. Bring Katsuyori back to me in one piece."
"Katsuyori?"
Shiko answered, completely unfazed. "Dad says that's the name of the corpse he keeps on the far side of the pond. I think it was one of his other kids."
"What the fuck, Sensei…" Erickson thought before turning back to the child in front of him. "I guess we need to find the other parts of the skeleton then…"
"Let's go! I wanna get them before the others can!" Shiko exclaimed, handing the hand to Erickson so he could keep it in their bag. "I wonder how Mr. Anders is doing?"
Another scream was heard, followed by the pitter-patter of tiny feet. Anders jumped, now gripping onto McCullum's arm as if his life depended on it. Despite McCullum's outward boredom, he was growing nervous. Something about this place set his nerves alight, and he wasn't having it.
Before long, the pair came to a dead end. The wall was marked with a deep red word: 'BOO.' Both men looked at the stereotypical writing with mild annoyance.
"Help us…" A whisper came from behind. "Heeeelp ussss…." The pair stiffened, slowly turning around. Before them appeared to be two ghostly children. Anders screamed, knocking over McCullum with a yelp. It took the pair several moments before they came to their senses, rushing past the ghostly children and into the rest of the castle. The ghost children followed them.
Anders led the way up a flight of stairs, the clacks of the stones echoing into the near silence. The pair finally stopped when they got to an old wooden doorway. Out of breath, they wordlessly agreed to open the door.
The old door creaked open, revealing a lightless room beyond. Nothing could be seen from beyond the doorway. A particularly foreboding feeling washed over the two men. Two sets of footsteps were coming up the stairs now, nearly reaching the top.
The pair nodded to each other, stepping into the room. The room slammed shut, earning a yelp from the pair. Then a scream as the floor gave out from below them.
Shiko stopped in her tracks when a pair of screams were heard from deeper in the castle. "They sound like they're having fun!"
Erickson chuckled, noticing a door nearby with a note attached to it. "Shiko! Over there!" Shiko ran up to the note and grabbed it.
"The next piece is in this room. You must find your way through the maze to locate it. Beware, for specters are waiting inside." Shiko pondered for but a moment before her grin returned. "Let's go!"
They entered the room.
Then they were in a cornfield, a maze lined with pumpkins and lit by floating lights standing before them. Shiko led, heading into the maze without a second thought.
"Do you know where you're going?" Erickson inquired, mostly amused.
"Nope! But I'm sure we'll find the next piece if we wander around enough!" At that moment, a hand landed on Erickson's shoulder. He yelped, slapping the hand away and turning around. The hand was gone.
Shiko laughed. "What's wrong, Mr. Erickson? Scared?"
Erickson looked around a little more before answering, "No. I was simply startled. Let's get going."
"You are scared!" Shiko teased, once more leading the way through the maze.
From somewhere in the corn came the sound of a chainsaw being revved. It grew louder and louder until it sounded like it was only feet from them. Then, it vanished. From another side came the sounds of cackling as a woman's scream pierced through the newly quiet field.
Erickson was visibly nervous as he spoke again. "I guess the note did say this place was haunted."
"Ghosts aren't a problem for you, though! You lock away all the scary monsters!" Erickson chuckled, amused by the bravery Shiko was showing.
"You're right! Let's get this bone and move on!"
In a dark room sat the old martial artist. Several screens were in front of him as he sipped a cup of tea.
"Excellent." He said in a slow drawl.
Anders found himself in a pile of spiders, yelping and jumping back when he recognized what was around him. The spiders were crawling up his legs, trying to investigate the new creature that had smashed hundreds of their brothers.
He tried swiping them off, but there were far too many for him to do anything about it. He looked around, the tickling taps of the spider legs growing more uncomfortable with every second. He noted a door on the far end of the room, on the other side of what seemed to be a lake of spiders.
Anders grumbled to himself, attempting to work up the nerve to cross the black pit of spiders. "If I get out of this…" Anders began trekking through the black abyss, a sickening crunch accompanying every step. The spiders had made their way up into his hair, not that it was difficult now that the spiders had him waist-deep. Anders only hoped he could get them all off him once he left this room.
McCullum found himself in a pitch-black room. McCullum wasn't the biggest fan of dark spaces like this, but usually, he was able to ignore it. Here, now? He couldn't help the panic crawling into his chest, not after…
McCullum tried to brace himself long enough to find a way out of there and took two steps forward. His face slammed into a wall.
"Goddamnit!" McCullum retraced his two steps, reaching out as he went to what he thought was his right. Another wall. His panic began to rise. Nothing changed when he checked the third wall, and, nearly in a panic, he went to locate the fourth wall. The wall was closer this time, hurting McCullum's wrist when he slammed into it quicker than expected.
McCullum took a few steps back, falling to his knees. "Damn you, Sensei…" it didn't quite come out as bitter as he had hoped, seeing as the medic was trying and failing not to panic.
"Look, Mr. Erickson! There's a hand over there!" Erickson looked to where Shiko was pointing, and, indeed, there was the second Skeletal arm.
"Good job, Shiko! Go get it, and we can add it to the backpack." Shiko rushed off the grab it, having the time of her life. Erickson, meanwhile, was startling to grow jumpy. In the hours they had been wandering the corn maze, something kept reaching out to touch him. He didn't want to bring it up, seeing as Shiko was enjoying herself.
Without warning, a skeletal hand was waving in front of his face. It was more than enough for the researcher to jump. Giggles rang out before him, soothing his nerves just a bit.
"Shiko! Don't do that!"
"Did I scare you!"
"Yes!" Erickson took a moment to compose himself. "Anyway, give it here, I'll put it with the other one, and we can move on." Mercifully, she handed it over without a fight.
"Look, Mr. Erickson! There's a door over there!" Shiko grabbed onto the researcher's sleeve, trying to hurry the man along. "Mr. Erickson, hurry! I wanna explore more!" Erickson sighed but followed the child after a few moments.
The door was no different than any other one in the castle. Yet it sent a chill down Erickson's spine. He didn't want to go through that door, but the fact that Shiko was already in the next area meant he didn't have much choice.
Erickson found himself blinking at the much harsher light after coming out of the twilight of the corn maze. He heard the sounds of children laughing, yet none were in sight. He wasn't even sure where Shiko had gone.
"Shiko?!" His voice echoed off the blank white walls. "Shiko!" Still, nothing. Erickson began making his way through the stark white space, concerned about where Shiko could have gone. The laughter grew louder, though he still couldn't find the source.
Trying to ignore it, he moved on. "Shiko!?" He tried again to no avail. Erickson tripped over something he couldn't see, suddenly feeling the weight of the bag vanish as he hit the ground.
"Well, that's just great…'
Anders grumbled as he finally got out of the spiders. He still had one on him, but he figured it was better not to mess with the one the size of his face. As it was currently content to chill on his shoulder, he was fine leaving it there.
He swung open the door he had finally reached, only to find himself back outside the castle. "What the hell?" The spider on his shoulder rocked in a way that made the man think he was being mocked.
"I don't need this from you." Anders chided. Anders went over his options and decided that instead of dealing with the spiders again, he would just remain outside.
Shiko found herself in a room with twenty other children, though she couldn't recognize any of them. Some of them were playing with what looked to be a pair of legs. A group of teenagers had a ribcage and spine. Shiko's grin only grew as she ran over to the children playing with the legs, intending to ask if she could have them.
"Who're you?" One of the kids asked. "You're not from the orphanage like the rest of us."
"Shiko!" Said child exclaimed, "Can I have those legs?" The children looked between themselves for a few moments before handing them over.
"Have fun with them! Sensei says they're magick!"
Shiko giggled. "I will! Thanks!" She started to walk away, realizing she had no way of transporting them since she had lost Erickson. Just as she pondered this, a bag fell from the ceiling, landing in front of her with a click. It was the same bag Erickson had. Not overthinking it, Shiko shoved the legs in with the arms and put the bag on.
She approached the teenagers, noticing that they had stopped talking as she approached. The group kept their gaze on her, making Shiko just a little nervous.
"Can I have those bones?" She tried.
The oldest of the boys looked her over with a more critical eye. "What do we have here? You want these ribs?" Shiko nodded eagerly, though the boy didn't respond.
"Tell you what, kid. If you can beat me, I'll let you have them." The boy stepped away from the group. "I'm Sensei's best student, so you won't be able to beat me." Shiko grinned mischievously, knowing the boy was doomed despite being twice her size.
So Shiko began a match with the older boy, confident she would be able to win. The pair started, Shiko guarding against every strike from the older boy until she saw an opening. She struck back, managing to knock the boy on his back.
Wordlessly, one of the other teenagers handed over the ribs. "Thanks!" Shiko cheered, stuffing them into her bag with the rest.
"That kid's weird." Someone said as she walked away. Shiko wondered where she should head next.
Sometime later, Shiko found herself standing in front of a door labeled with her name. After a moment of wonder, she pushed it open, being met with the sightless gaze of a skull sitting atop a pedestal.
"Hurray! I found them all!" Shiko cheered, grabbing the bone. A grinding was heard once she lifted it off the pedestal. A few feet away, a stone door was lifting, revealing a large room packed full of various candies. Shiko shoved the skull into the bag before rushing into the room.
"Cool! Dad never lets me have this much candy!" Which was, of course, an understatement as Shiko wasn't allowed candy to begin with. She explored the room with vigor, soon locating a large backpack with a note that read, 'You can have whatever you can carry.' Shiko swiftly grabbed the bag, shoving it full of as wide varieties of sweets as she could, not noticing that the bone bag had long since vanished.
Once her bag was full of as much candy as she could stuff into the space, Shiko returned to the door she had entered, finding it closed. She pouted, hoping it would open on its own. When it didn't, she opened it herself.
It opened back up to the front of the castle. Shiko stepped out into the crisp, cool night air and wondered if her adventure would continue.
"Shiko?" Came Anders' confused response. "Where have you been?"
Shiko was more concerned with the spider on the man's shoulder than she was with the man himself. "Where'd you find Andre? Dad said I had to get rid of him since he was too big."
"I… Andre?! This thing's your pet?" Andre seemed to be laughing at Anders now. Shiko laughed, hardly noticing as several more people appeared behind Anders, all a little worse for wear. Erickson was trying to console McCullum, McCullum was trying his hardest not to have another panic attack, and Anders was still trying to figure out what Shiko had been up to.
Before anyone could get another word in, the old martial artist appeared a few feet down the dimly lit path, more than a little pleased with himself if the shit-eating grin was anything to go by.
"I hope all of you enjoyed yourselves. Now, if you would not mind, I have some things to clean up." The group made their way out of the space, though Erickson stopped to speak with the old man before they left.
The old martial artist sighed to himself, warping the space before him back to its usual form. Where the castle stood, his dojo replaced in an instant. The trees turned back into the Sakura trees that were supposed to be there, and the eternal twilight finally turned to night.
Finally, once everything was back to looking the way it needed to, the old master looked to his next problems. There were the twenty or so children eating mouthfuls of candy that he needed to return to the orphanage and the skeleton he had dug up from the nearby cemetery.
The old master waved to the group of children, chaperoned by a few of his older students, opening his dimension back out onto the street overlooking their orphanage. Many of the children thanked him as they left. He smiled at the group as he left.
Once he was certain there were no longer any witnesses, he appeared outside Site-250 with the skeleton. The old master walked over to the woods, tossing the bones to be transported elsewhere. He smiled to himself, heading back to find his child.
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Shiko?" The old martial artist inquired as Shiko shuffled through her bag of candy.
"Yeah! It was lots of fun! Can we do it again!"
The old man laughed. "Perhaps, though it appears it was too much for the Hunters to handle." Shiko yawned, signaling an end to the night's shenanigans. The father picked up his daughter as she began falling asleep, taking her to bed.
Outside those walls, the staff of Site-250 was discussing the night's events. They knew they had a good chance at having the best Halloween party, but the contest was still ongoing. They all got off with only minor trauma, so their entry was still viable.
"We better win this with everything that went on," Anders stated. "Giving McCullum multiple panic attacks because you and I happened to step on Sensei's toes is a bit too far."
"Yeah, no kidding," Erickson stated, glancing over to their now-sleeping medic. "We'll just have to wait and see. Though I do wonder where he got all those children…"
"I don't want to know." Anders glanced up at the clock, noting that it was nearly three a.m. "Come on, it's late, and we have to work tomorrow." Erickson sighed but agreed.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Site-250's First Halloween " by Dr Kira Moto, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/site-250-s-first-halloween . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 8 | ["_licensebox", "fantasy", "halloween", "halloweencon2022", "heartwarming", "tale"] | 2022-10-10T04:17:00 | 21,420 | 3,785 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-4134 | SCP-4134 | scp |
close
Info
X
SCP-4134: Claymore Anti-Personnel Mimes
Author: devonmartin
If you like this, check out some of my other articles:
SCP-4297 (+99)
SCP-4714 (+66)
SCP-4152 (+66)
More by Devonmartin
SCiPNet Terminal #418
There are currently 3 versions of SCP-4134 documentation available at your security clearance.
[11.28.1940] Original Documentation
[11.28.1940] Original Documentation
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The following is the original documentation for SCP-4134.
This document has been declassified for historical significance as well as relevance to ongoing SCP-4134 containment efforts, but may not reflect current understanding of the anomaly.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Item #: SCP-4134
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: The Foundation will cooperate with leaders of various French Resistance groups, as well as the Vichy government, to safely contain SCP-4134-1 instances within the city of Paris. Research is ongoing to determine the origin of SCP-4134 and contain or neutralise the anomaly, if at all possible.
SCP-4134-1 instances are to be contained in Foundation warehouse located at [DATA REDACTED] by members of ATF Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers") using Procedure 4134-Harpo (see Document 4134-Harpo).
Description: SCP-4134 refers to a pattern of behavior affecting an as-yet-unknown number of mimes within the city of Paris, France.
Mimes affected by SCP-4134 (designated SCP-4134-1) will travel on foot to areas of high foot traffic within the city. Upon reaching a suitable location, SCP-4134-1 instances will take a kneeling position with both arms extended forward from the shoulder. At this point, SCP-4134-1 instances are considered "armed" and will remain completely immobile until triggered. When armed, any force which displaces either hand of SCP-4134-1 more than 3cm will trigger a directional explosion outward from a point in space no more than 30 centimeters in front of the instance's chest, typically resulting in the destruction of both hands.
After detonation, SCP-4134-1 instances become non-anomalous, typically showing panic and confusion at their injuries. Expiration due to blood loss is common without immediate medical treatment. The Foundation estimates that over ███ mimes have been killed as a result of SCP-4134, or roughly 14% of the mime population of France, with containment efforts thus far causing an additional 29 Foundation casualties and 61 civilian casualties due to accidental activation of SCP-4134-1 instances.
The Foundation currently has ██ SCP-4134-1 instances in Foundation containment. Research into the origin of SCP-4134 is ongoing (see Interview Log 4134.1), but as of yet the anomaly has not been definitively tied with any GoI, entity, meme, or cognitohazard.
Discovery: The first known instance of SCP-4134-1 was discovered following the assassination of Ermst vom Rath outside the German Embassy in Paris on 09/11/1938. Foundation operatives intercepted a telegram sent to Sonderkommando für Paranormales , which described an explosion of unknown source from a mime with "inconsistent" blast damage. Data was found to correlate with a previous Extranormal Event which occurred during the capture of SCP-████, prompting the designation of SCP-4134.
_
+ Interview Log 4134.1 - Interview Log 4134.1
Date: 12.14.1940
Interviewer: Dr. Richard
Interviewee: Pablo Laurent, a.k.a. "Fleur-nez"
Purpose: To determine the nature of SCP-4134, as well as identify potential origin of SCP-4134, an interview was conducted with a surviving SCP-4134-1 instance. Mr. Laurent is a mime, typically performing under the name "Fleur-nez," recovered on Rue ████████ with major trauma to both hands. Both arms were amputated at the elbow.
Dr. Richard: Good morning, Mr. Laurent. How are you feeling this morning?
Mr. Laurent shrugs.
Dr. Richard: (in English) Would you prefer I conduct this interview in English?
Mr. Laurent shrugs.
Dr. Richard: (in English) Why won't- oh, of course. (Dr. Richard switches to French sign language) Good morning, Mr. Laurent. Can you understand me?
Mr. Laurent nods.
R: Why were you at the █████ ████████ that day?
Mr. Laurent holds up his arms, which have been amputated at the elbow.
R: Right. Do you remember why you were at the █████ ████████ that day?
Mr. Laurent shakes his head.
R: How did you cause the explosion that destroyed your arms?
Mr. Laurent shrugs quizzically and shakes his head.
R: Do you know who or what caused you to do all this?
Mr. Laurent motions with his right arm at the wall behind Dr. Richard. On the wall is the flag of France.
R: Can you elaborate on that?
Mr. Laurent holds up his arms, which have been amputated at the elbow.
R: Oh, right.
Mr. Laurent was held for an additional 48 hours, amnesticized, and released. Review of past medical records shows that Mr. Laurent is a deaf-mute.
As of 11/28/1940, SCP-4134-1 instances have killed over ██ Nazi soldiers, including the high-profile █████ ███ ██████ and his wife in front of the Eiffel Tower in October 1940. No Allied casualties have been reported. Statistical analysis is ongoing.
[09.01.1944] Revision 04
[09.01.1944] Revision 04
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The following is a past revision of the containment documentation for SCP-4134.
This document has been declassified for historical significance as well as relevance to ongoing SCP-4134 containment efforts, but may not reflect current understanding of the anomaly.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Item #: SCP-4134
Object Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: As of 08/31/1944, all known SCP-4134-1 instances have ceased anomalous activity. As such, SCP-4134 has been declared Neutralized. Foundation assets assigned to Paris will monitor high-traffic areas for additional SCP-4134 activity. No further containment procedures have been deemed necessary at this time.
Description: SCP-4134 was the designation given to a pattern of behavior affecting 21% of mimes in the city of Paris, France. Affected persons (labeled SCP-4134-1) were compelled to travel on foot to high-traffic walkways and kneel with their arms extended forward (considered "armed"), becoming completely motionless and immune to all forms of stimuli. Displacing either arm resulted in a directed explosion outward from the chest, typically destroying both of the instance's hands; following this, SCP-4134-1 instances became non-anomalous.
Detonation of SCP-4134-1 instances caused between ███ and █,███ Nazi casualties in Paris throughout WWII, as well as the deaths of ██ Foundation personnel; over █,███ mimes were killed or maimed as a result of SCP-4134-related injuries. Despite the high casualty rate, only █ French civilian deaths have been attributed to SCP-4134. Foundation scientists theorize that this could have been related to the nature of the anomaly, though the mechanism by which SCP-4134 differentiated between targets remains unknown.
On August 25, 1944, all ███ instances of SCP-4134-1 in Foundation containment spontaneously regained mobility. Testing determined that none of the mimes had retained any anomalous property. All instances were interviewed, but none could provide any explanation of their anomalous properties, nor recall anything during time spent as SCP-4134-1 instances. Following interviews, all instances were administered Class-C amnestics and released.
Reports confirmed that this reanimation was concurrent to the surrender of German leader Dietrich von Cholitz, marking the liberation of Paris from German forces. Research into SCP-4134 has been suspended.
[02.24.2008] Current Containment Procedures
[02.24.2008] Current Containment Procedures
Item #: SCP-4134
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: In the event of a terrorist attack or mass shooting within a 1km radius of Paris, France, Applied Task Force Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers") will conduct a sweep radially from the location of the incident. Upon discovery of any SCP-4134-1 instance, no fewer than three personnel, equipped with blast-resistant gear, are to contain the instance according to Procedure 4134-Harpo until the instance resumes non-anomalous behavior (see Document 4134-Harpo).
All restoration projects performed on Parisian buildings certified as "historic monuments" are to be assigned three members of Applied Task Force Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers"), accompanied by two D-class personnel trained in mime, to be converted to instances of SCP-4134-1. Instances are to be contained using Procedure 4134-Harpo on-site until renovations are complete.
Membership in ATF Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers") will be granted only to Foundation personnel with French citizenship born in France. D-class personnel recruited for use in SCP-4134 containment efforts must also have French citizenship been born in France.
Description: SCP-4134 refers to a pattern of behavior exhibited by mimes 1 within the city of Paris, France, triggered whenever the city of Paris or any Parisian buildings classified as "Historic Monuments" are threatened. Previous threats have included:
Military invasion of Paris
Destruction of Parisian buildings or monuments certified as "historic"
Renovation or restoration projects on "historic" monuments or buildings, entailing the removal or destruction of major features of same (see Incident Log 4134.3)
Whenever one of the above occurs, one Parisian mime will spontaneously become an instance of SCP-4134-1. Mimes appear to be selected based on proximity to threats, with closer candidates being prioritized over those further away. SCP-4134-1 instances' anomalous properties persist until being "activated" (see below), or until the "threat" to Paris has been eliminated (for instance, when "historic" buildings are returned to normal).
Upon conversion, SCP-4134-1 instances travel to a pedestrian walkway within 100 meters of the perceived threat. Upon reaching a suitable location, an instance will take a kneeling position with both arms extended forward from the shoulder. At this point, it is considered "armed" and will remain completely immobile until triggered.
When armed, any force which displaces either hand of SCP-4134-1 more than 3cm will trigger a directional explosion outward from a point in space no more than 30 centimeters in front of the instance's chest, typically resulting in the destruction of both hands.
After detonation, SCP-4134-1 instances become non-anomalous, typically showing panic and confusion at their injuries. Expiration due to blood loss is common without immediate medical treatment. Individuals are unable to recall time spent as SCP-4134-1 instances, or provide any information about the source of SCP-4134.
SCP-4134 was declared Neutralized on 09/01/1944 after all ███ instances of SCP-4134-1 in Foundation containment lost their anomalous properties. However, three new instances of SCP-4134-1 manifested following the bombing of ██████████ in 1960. Testing was conducted to determine the cause of the anomaly. SCP-4134 was subsequently reclassified as Euclid.
_
+ Incident Report 4134.3 - Incident Report 4134.3
Date: ██/██/1962
Location: Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris
On ██/██/1962, workers began removing the 19th-century grisaille windows in the nave, as part of an extensive restoration effort on the cathedral. While monitoring SCP-████ for changes during the restoration, Dr. Richard witnessed the manifestation of a new SCP-4134-1 instance. Foundation agents were alerted and contained the instance using Procedure 4134-Harpo.
Believing SCP-4134 to be connected to the restoration project, Dr. Richard instructed workers to return the original grisaille window to its position. SCP-4134-1 instance spontaneously regained mobility, and was subsequently amnesticized and released. SCP-4134 containment procedures updated. 2
_
Addendum 4134.1: LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE REQUIRED Addendum 4134.1: Credentials accepted.
The following is an excerpt of an interview given by Marcel Marceau on On a tout essayé 3 on 18/09/2007, four days prior to his death. Interview has been translated from French.
Interviewer: Laurent Ruquier, host
Interviewee: Marcel Marceau, a.k.a. "Bip the Clown," professional mime artist
[EXTRANEOUS DIALOGUE REMOVED]
Ruquier: Of course. How did you become involved with the French Resistance?
Marceau: While I was in Limoges, my cousin spoke with me often. He was in the business of rescuing children, and he wanted me to join him.
R: This was your cousin, Georges ?
M: That's correct. Georges approached me a number of different times to ask me to join different projects, but I was never a fan of combat so I stuck to that kind of job.
R: Fascinating. May I ask, how did you have time to study mime during this period?
M: Actually, that's an interesting story. I was in Paris for a month working with the Resistance on some project or other- one of Georges' schemes. I needed to duck into a building quickly to avoid a German officer. That's how I ended up walking into the ████ School.
R: The ████ School?
M: Yes. I ended up studying there for about a month before I left to join my cousin Georges in, if I recall…
R: Annemasse?
M: That's right.
R: Why did you stay there only a month?
M: The style of mime, it wasn't for me. A lot of what the teacher, Mr. Thomas, did was statuary mime, plastic mime. For instance, he would have me stand still for an hour, or try to balance on one hand for as long as I could. I preferred to be in motion, even then, but it gave me time to improve my craft, up until I couldn't stay any longer.
R: What happened?
M: One day, this was after I had been there merely a month, I came into the studio and saw Thomas more excited than I'd ever seen. He kept shouting, "I've done it, I've done it." One of his newer students was kneeling on the floor, arms like this. Marceau extends his arms forward from the shoulder. As soon as he saw me, he jumped up to greet me, but then…
Marceau grimaces.
R: What happened?
M: I'm not sure. There was an explosion, and suddenly the student was on the floor, screaming, and Mr. Thomas… half of his leg was gone. I knew that the Germans must have been behind it. Perhaps they meant to reach me, perhaps they learned of my location from my brother. I do not know. All I know is that I left Paris shortly after.
R: Thank you for coming onto the program today, Mr. Marceau.
Closing Message: Research into the ████ School is ongoing. The Foundation has been unable to locate any records of either Mr. Thomas or his remaining pupils.
Footnotes
1 . Mime is a theatrical medium in which actors act out a story through body motions without speaking.
2 . Further testing to determine which buildings are linked to SCP-4134's effect has been denied. For a tentative list, view Document 4134-Chaplin.
3 . A French comedic talk show which featured standup comedy around current events as well as more serious interviews.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4134 " by devonmartin, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4134 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 98 | ["_licensebox", "_listpages", "building", "clown", "ectoentropic", "euclid", "extremity", "historical", "mimetic", "mind-affecting", "predictive", "scp", "thermal", "weapon"] | 2019-04-11T18:35:00 | 15,345 | 2,357 | SCP-4134 | Keter | The Foundation will cooperate with leaders of various French Resistance groups, as well as the Vichy government, to safely contain SCP-4134-1 instances within the city of Paris. Research is ongoing to determine the origin of SCP-4134 and contain or neutralise the anomaly, if at all possible.
SCP-4134-1 instances are to be contained in Foundation warehouse located at [DATA REDACTED] by members of ATF Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers") using Procedure 4134-Harpo (see Document 4134-Harpo). | SCP-4134 refers to a pattern of behavior affecting an as-yet-unknown number of mimes within the city of Paris, France.
Mimes affected by SCP-4134 (designated SCP-4134-1) will travel on foot to areas of high foot traffic within the city. Upon reaching a suitable location, SCP-4134-1 instances will take a kneeling position with both arms extended forward from the shoulder. At this point, SCP-4134-1 instances are considered "armed" and will remain completely immobile until triggered. When armed, any force which displaces either hand of SCP-4134-1 more than 3cm will trigger a directional explosion outward from a point in space no more than 30 centimeters in front of the instance's chest, typically resulting in the destruction of both hands.
After detonation, SCP-4134-1 instances become non-anomalous, typically showing panic and confusion at their injuries. Expiration due to blood loss is common without immediate medical treatment. The Foundation estimates that over ███ mimes have been killed as a result of SCP-4134, or roughly 14% of the mime population of France, with containment efforts thus far causing an additional 29 Foundation casualties and 61 civilian casualties due to accidental activation of SCP-4134-1 instances.
The Foundation currently has ██ SCP-4134-1 instances in Foundation containment. Research into the origin of SCP-4134 is ongoing (see Interview Log 4134.1), but as of yet the anomaly has not been definitively tied with any GoI, entity, meme, or cognitohazard. | 5 | ## documentation available at your security clearance.
[11.28.1940] Original Documentation
[11.28.1940] Original Documentation
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The following is the original documentation for SCP-4134.
This document has been declassified for historical significance as well as relevance to ongoing SCP-4134 containment efforts, but may not reflect current understanding of the anomaly.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Item #: SCP-4134
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: The Foundation will cooperate with leaders of various French Resistance groups, as well as the Vichy government, to safely contain SCP-4134-1 instances within the city of Paris. Research is ongoing to determine the origin of SCP-4134 and contain or neutralise the anomaly, if at all possible.
SCP-4134-1 instances are to be contained in Foundation warehouse located at [DATA REDACTED] by members of ATF Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers") using Procedure 4134-Harpo (see
---
## Interview Log 4134.1 - Interview Log 4134.1
Date: 12.14.1940
Interviewer: Dr. Richard
Interviewee: Pablo Laurent, a.k.a. "Fleur-nez"
Purpose: To determine the nature of SCP-4134, as well as identify potential origin of SCP-4134, an interview was conducted with a surviving SCP-4134-1 instance. Mr. Laurent is a mime, typically performing under the name "Fleur-nez," recovered on Rue ████████ with major trauma to both hands. Both arms were amputated at the elbow.
Dr. Richard: Good morning, Mr. Laurent. How are you feeling this morning?
Mr. Laurent shrugs.
Dr. Richard: (in English) Would you prefer I conduct this interview in English?
Mr. Laurent shrugs.
Dr. Richard: (in English) Why won't- oh, of course. (Dr. Richard switches to French sign language) Good morning, Mr. Laurent. Can you understand me?
Mr. Laurent nods.
R: Why were you at the █████ ████████ that day?
Mr. Laurent holds up his arms, which have been amputated at the elbow.
R: Right. Do you remember why you were at the █████ ████████ that day?
Mr. Laurent shakes his head.
R: How did you cause the explosion that destroyed your arms?
Mr. Laurent shrugs quizzically and shakes his head.
R: Do you know who or what caused you to do all this?
Mr. Laurent motions with his right arm at the wall behind Dr. Richard. On the wall is the flag of France.
R: Can you elaborate on that?
Mr. Laurent holds up his arms, which have been amputated at the elbow.
R: Oh, right.
Mr. Laurent was held for an additional 48 hours, amnesticized, and released. Review of past medical records shows that Mr. Laurent is a deaf-mute.
As of 11/28/1940, SCP-4134-1 instances have killed over ██ Nazi soldiers, including the high-profile █████ ███ ██████ and his wife in front of the Eiffel Tower in October 1940. No Allied casualties have been reported. Statistical analysis is ongoing.
[09.01.1944] Revision 04
[09.01.1944] Revision 04
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
The following is a past revision of the containment documentation for SCP-4134.
This document has been declassified for historical significance as well as relevance to ongoing SCP-4134 containment efforts, but may not reflect current understanding of the anomaly.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Item #: SCP-4134
Object Class: Neutralized
Special Containment Procedures: As of 08/31/1944, all known SCP-4134-1 instances have ceased anomalous activity. As such, SCP-4134 has been declared Neutralized. Foundation assets assigned to Paris will monitor high-traffic areas for additional SCP-4134 activity. No further containment procedures have been deemed necessary at this time.
Description: SCP-4134 was the designation given to a pattern of behavior affecting 21% of mimes in the city of Paris, France. Affected persons (labeled SCP-4134-1) were compelled to travel on foot to high-traffic walkways and kneel with their arms extended forward (considered "armed"), becoming completely motionless and immune to all forms of stimuli. Displacing either arm resulted in a directed explosion outward from the chest, typically destroying both of the instance's hands; following this, SCP-4134-1 instances became non-anomalous.
Detonation of SCP-4134-1 instances caused between ███ and █,███ Nazi casualties in Paris throughout WWII, as well as the deaths of ██ Foundation personnel; over █,███ mimes were killed or maimed as a result of SCP-4134-related injuries. Despite the high casualty rate, only █ French civilian deaths have been attributed to SCP-4134. Foundation scientists theorize that this could have been related to the nature of the anomaly, though the mechanism by which SCP-4134 differentiated between targets remains unknown.
On August 25, 1944, all ███ instances of SCP-4134-1 in Foundation containment spontaneously regained mobility. Testing determined that none of the mimes had retained any anomalous property. All instances were interviewed, but none could provide any explanation of their anomalous properties, nor recall anything during time spent as SCP-4134-1 instances. Following interviews, all instances were administered Class-C amnestics and released.
Reports confirmed that this reanimation was concurrent to the surrender of German leader Dietrich von Cholitz, marking the liberation of Paris from German forces. Research into SCP-4134 has been suspended.
[02.24.2008] Current Containment Procedures
[02.24.2008] Current Containment Procedures
Item #: SCP-4134
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: In the event of a terrorist attack or mass shooting within a 1km radius of Paris, France, Applied Task Force Sacre-2 ("Mimesweepers") will conduct a sweep radially from the location of the
---
## Testing was conducted to determine the cause of the anomaly. SCP-4134 was subsequently reclassified as Euclid.
_
+ Incident Report 4134.3 - Incident Report 4134.3
Date: ██/██/1962
Location: Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris
On ██/██/1962, workers began removing the 19th-century grisaille windows in the nave, as part of an extensive restoration effort on the cathedral. While monitoring SCP-████ for changes during the restoration, Dr. Richard witnessed the manifestation of a new SCP-4134-1 instance. Foundation agents were alerted and contained the instance using Procedure 4134-Harpo.
Believing SCP-4134 to be connected to the restoration project, Dr. Richard instructed workers to return the original grisaille window to its position. SCP-4134-1 instance spontaneously regained mobility, and was subsequently amnesticized and released. SCP-4134 containment procedures updated. 2
_
---
## Addendum 4134.1: Credentials accepted.
The following is an excerpt of an interview given by Marcel Marceau on On a tout essayé 3 on 18/09/2007, four days prior to his death. Interview has been translated from French.
Interviewer: Laurent Ruquier, host
Interviewee: Marcel Marceau, a.k.a. "Bip the Clown," professional mime artist
[EXTRANEOUS DIALOGUE REMOVED]
Ruquier: Of course. How did you become involved with the French Resistance?
Marceau: While I was in Limoges, my cousin spoke with me often. He was in the business of rescuing children, and he wanted me to join him.
R: This was your cousin, Georges ?
M: That's correct. Georges approached me a number of different times to ask me to join different projects, but I was never a fan of combat so I stuck to that kind of job.
R: Fascinating. May I ask, how did you have time to study mime during this period?
M: Actually, that's an interesting story. I was in Paris for a month working with the Resistance on some project or other- one of Georges' schemes. I needed to duck into a building quickly to avoid a German officer. That's how I ended up walking into the ████ School.
R: The ████ School?
M: Yes. I ended up studying there for about a month before I left to join my cousin Georges in, if I recall…
R: Annemasse?
M: That's right.
R: Why did you stay there only a month?
M: The style of mime, it wasn't for me. A lot of what the teacher, Mr. Thomas, did was statuary mime, plastic mime. For instance, he would have me stand still for an hour, or try to balance on one hand for as long as I could. I preferred to be in motion, even then, but it gave me time to improve my craft, up until I couldn't stay any longer.
R: What happened?
M: One day, this was after I had been there merely a month, I came into the studio and saw Thomas more excited than I'd ever seen. He kept shouting, "I've done it, I've done it." One of his newer students was kneeling on the floor, arms like this. Marceau extends his arms forward from the shoulder. As soon as he saw me, he jumped up to greet me, but then…
Marceau grimaces.
R: What happened?
M: I'm not sure. There was an explosion, and suddenly the student was on the floor, screaming, and Mr. Thomas… half of his leg was gone. I knew that the Germans must have been behind it. Perhaps they meant to reach me, perhaps they learned of my location from my brother. I do not know. All I know is that I left Paris shortly after.
R: Thank you for coming onto the program today, Mr. Marceau.
Closing Message: Research into the ████ School is ongoing. The Foundation has been unable to locate any records of either Mr. Thomas or his remaining pupils.
Footnotes
1 . Mime is a theatrical medium in which actors act out a story through body motions without speaking.
2 . Further testing to determine which buildings are linked to SCP-4134's effect has been denied. For a tentative list, view
---
## Document 4134-Chaplin.
3 . A French comedic talk show which featured standup comedy around current events as well as more serious interviews.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4134 " by devonmartin, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4134 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
two-coffins | Two Coffins - SCP Foundation | tale | Alex Molina quietly made his way toward Faeowynn Wilson 's office in the Wilson Center, carrying with him a potted poinsettia. Much to his surprise, she wasn't occupied with the Supervisors, and even more surprisingly, her door was wide open. He knocked.
"Come in." She didn't look up from the paperwork she was working on.
"Hey, babe." Alex grinned.
"Oh, hey Alex. What's up?" Faeowynn looked up, smiling back at him.
"I brought you one of these." He held up the plant, then put it up on top of a nearby file cabinet. "Figured your office could use a little holiday cheer."
"Thank you, now I don't have to be Scrooge anymore." She laughed.
"Heh. So, I wanted to ask, do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?"
"Nope. Just work. The usual."
"Well, I have something that I wanted to do with you. Ever heard of Tamalada ?"
Fae brought her pen to her lip and hesitated for a moment. It had been a long time since high school Spanish.
"That sounds vaguely like tamales. Is it related to them?"
"It is! And Tamalada is sort of a Christmas celebration in Mexico my family observes. Basically, we all get together and make tamales."
"Sure, I'd love to go. Why didn't you ask me sooner?"
"Well, I kinda forgot. You know how busy it gets this time of year. Less volunteers since everyone wants to be with their families and all that." He shrugged. "Besides, I didn't know if you wanted to meet my family yet."
"I know I was… difficult… when we first started dating, but that doesn't mean I don't want to meet them."
"Difficult? No kidding." Alex smiled, walking around the desk towards Fae.
"Watch it. I can fire you, you know." She stood, folding her arms at her boyfriend as he approached.
"Will you, though? Remember, I'm the only means you have of getting tamales here in Boring."
"I can drive to Portland."
"And who will bring you coffee to your office every morning?"
"I can have a volunteer do it."
"You're killing me here, Fae."
"Good. Then perish." An evil smile spread on Faeowynn's face. Alex feigned indignation.
"Fine, you're making me bust out my trump card. Who's going to wrangle the volunteers for you now that Old Al is retired?"
There was a brief silence as Fae tapped her chin.
"Hmm… You do make a convincing point." She nodded in approval.
"I've got a better one for you."
"What's that?"
Without a word, Alex stood on his tiptoes and pressed his lips onto Fae's own. She smiled into the kiss, chuckling after a moment before breaking away.
"Fine. You get to keep your job. And tell your family I'm looking forward to meeting them."
"Can do!" With that, Alex turned around and made his way out of the office, leaving Faeowynn alone with her paperwork once more.
She sat back down. She was nervous. She was always nervous, though. That's why she took SSRIs; and they helped for the most part. But she felt it stronger now more than she had during the rest of the day.
The thought of meeting Alex's family seemed lovely to her, and it would be a step towards deepening their relationship. This was something she no doubt knew Alex wanted, otherwise he wouldn't have proposed it.
But, and there was always that lingering 'but' with her, she didn't know if his family would accept her for her. Tim; no, dad , had only just barely put the minimum effort forth to do so, and he was her father. What of her boyfriend's family? Would they reject her and by extension, Alex? What if he left her because of it? No, he wouldn't. But she didn't want Alex to be hurt. Faeowynn also didn't want to be hurt, but she had dealt with that rejection for her entire adult life; another one wouldn't hurt too bad.
But, and there it was again, and it would still hurt.
She sighed, reaching for her phone in her pocket. Scrolling through multiple apps one handed on her phone, she chewed her nails with the other. Finally, she found the IRC app.
juliachildenthusiast: Hey Jude.
juliachildenthusiast: You have a sec?
bluntfiend: I'm high as hell right now
bluntfiend: But yeah I always have time for friends
juliachildenthusiast: Thank you.
juliachildenthusiast: Okay, so. You remember Alex from the last time you were here?
bluntfiend: Yeah
juliachildenthusiast: He wants me to meet his family.
bluntfiend: Congratulations
bluntfiend: Or condolences
bluntfiend: I'm not sure which applies here
juliachildenthusiast: I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm happy we're at that point in our relationship.
juliachildenthusiast: But at the same time, meeting parents is stressful enough even if you're not trans, you know what I mean?
juliachildenthusiast: Do you have any advice?
bluntfiend: Actually, I don't
juliachildenthusiast: Damn.
bluntfiend: You're going to laugh at me
juliachildenthusiast: I wouldn't ever laugh at you, Jude.
bluntfiend: I've never dated anyone ever
juliachildenthusiast: Really?
juliachildenthusiast: Huh.
juliachildenthusiast: Okay.
juliachildenthusiast: Why, if you don't mind the question?
bluntfiend: Oh boy
bluntfiend: Well
bluntfiend: I don't think I ever really felt like I was
bluntfiend: Like
bluntfiend: Emotionally well enough for a relationship if that makes sense
bluntfiend: That and I don't want to hurt anyone you know?
bluntfiend: Something about loving yourself before loving others
bluntfiend: I don't know
juliachildenthusiast: I felt the same way for a long time.
juliachildenthusiast: I've only had one relationship in my life aside from Alex.
bluntfiend: Mr. Chaser?
juliachildenthusiast: Yeah.
juliachildenthusiast: It really fucked up how I saw relationships for a while.
juliachildenthusiast: But eventually I was able to trust again.
bluntfiend: It's not that I don't trust
bluntfiend: You know I trust you, esther, jj, and bones
bluntfiend: It's that I just feel like I can't be a good partner to anyone because I'm pretty fucked up
bluntfiend: You know what I've been through
juliachildenthusiast: Yeah.
bluntfiend: Besides my whole philosophy on relationships is that you shouldn’t leave your significant other worse off than when you started
bluntfiend: And I would definitely leave someone worse off than where we started
juliachildenthusiast: What do you think I should do then?
bluntfiend: This is going to sound really lame but
bluntfiend: Do what your heart tells you
bluntfiend: In other words
bluntfiend: Do you love alex?
Faeowynn put her phone down.
Did she love Alex? They had been dating for almost a year now. He had been nothing but accommodating to her in their relationship so far. He understood when she had to stay late at the Center and cancel plans at the last moment. He had been completely understanding of her desire not to rush things and had allowed for the relationship to proceed at the glacially slow pace she had set for it. The only thing he did that annoyed her was that he always ate the last pizza slice whenever they ordered from Panucci's.
She chewed her fingernails again.
bluntfiend: Fae?
bluntfiend: You still there?
juliachildenthusiast: Yeah, sorry.
juliachildenthusiast: Had to deal with something for a second.
bluntfiend: Were the fascists bothering you again?
juliachildenthusiast: No, just someone coming into my office.
bluntfiend: Gotcha
bluntfiend: So what are you going to do?
juliachildenthusiast: I'm gonna go meet them.
bluntfiend: Good for you, I'm happy for you
bluntfiend: If anything happens we're all here for you Fae
juliachildenthusiast: Thank you.
juliachildenthusiast: Sincerely, thank you, Jude.
bluntfiend: This isn't just the weed talking but
bluntfiend: Love you girl
juliachildenthusiast: Love you too, dude.
Alex and Faeowynn sat parked outside the small Molina home. It had snowed recently, but the driveway had been shoveled. Faint cumbia music could be heard coming from inside. The shadows of people within could be seen through the window.
"Well, here we are." Alex looked over to Fae.
"Yeah."
"Shall we go?"
"Not yet."
"Do you wanna hang out in here for a little longer?"
"Yeah."
Silence.
.
..
…
Suddenly, there was a light thud, causing Faeowynn to jump in her seat.
"Hey, hey, it's fine. That was just snow falling from the tree up there, see?" Alex pointed to the hood of the car, where a small patch of snow had come to rest from above.
"Oh." Fae sighed, hanging her head slightly. Her right hand came up to her mouth, and she chewed on her index fingernail.
Again, silence.
.
..
…
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
"If you don't want to do this, I can take you home. We can watch Nightmare Before Christmas on the couch or go to the IHOP off of the interstate and have some waffles. Or if you want to be alone I can just leave you there. No pressure. No judgments." Alex offered a kind smile.
Fae was quiet. She fidgeted in her dress. It had been a long time since she had worn one; she had gotten so used to the Center's khaki uniform that she almost felt uncomfortable in the grey dress. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror. Suddenly, her shoulders were too broad. Her jaw was too masculine. Her cheekbones were too defined. She looked at her reflection and all she saw was her father's son. There was no way Alex's family was going to be okay with her.
Her expression sank as she was finally able to break her eyes away from the mirror. She shivered. Alex noticed this and leaned over to put an arm around Faeowynn.
"It's okay, babe. Let's go home."
Just as Alex was about to start the car, the front door to the house opened. An elderly woman wearing a shawl stepped outside, illuminating the night with a flashlight. She shined it up against the two of them.
"Mijito?" Her faint voice was barely audible through the shut windows. Alex rolled them down and replied:
" Abuela? Is that you?"
"Sí, mijo, soy yo!" She started walking closer to the car. Faeowynn froze in fear.
"Oh crap." Alex grumbled.
"Mijo, ven adentro, te vas a morir de frío aquí fuera!"
" Abuela , I was about to go! Faeowynn no se siente bien. "
" Dios mio, I am so sorry Faeowynn! It is so nice to meet you!" She was practically at the car already, shining her flashlight into the vehicle and blinding both of them. Fae was still frozen. Abuela shut off her flashlight and put it atop the chassis.
"Alex, open the window! I want to meet her!"
"Pero Abuela— "
"Hazlo." She spoke in a stern voice, the same one she would use years ago when she would babysit him and young Alex would get into trouble. He almost instinctively complied. The window lowered and revealed Faeowynn, sitting in the car with a panicked expression on her face. She hadn't cried in many years, but she could feel herself getting close to it now.
There was a brief pause as Abuela got a good look at her. Her face hardened for a moment, but then quickly loosened up again.
"Why is a pretty girl like you crying right now? Is my grandson not treating you like you deserve?" She asked in heavily accented English.
Fae stumbled over her words.
"I… I… No… He treats me fine."
"Good! Si no , I would have to hit him with my broom." Abuela laughed. "Come on, come on inside! It is too cold out here!"
"Actually, Abuela , Faeowynn doesn't feel good. We were going to go."
"No, no, no. There's nothing a good tamal can't fix. And Alex me dijo that you like tamales very much!"
Had Alex told them about her beforehand? Or maybe they were accepting of her regardless? Either way, it didn't matter. She wasn't going to taste rejection tonight. Tonight she was the woman she had always known she was. Fae sniffled slightly.
" Abuela , I—" Alex started, but was interrupted by Faeowynn.
"No. I want to stay. I feel better." She looked back at him with a weak smile.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Que bueno!" Abuela laughed again, grabbing her flashlight. "Come on! We're watching La razón de la culpa and Ricardo Montalban is about to show up in it!"
Alex and Fae got out of the car as Abuela hurried back inside to get out of the cold. Alex brushed the fallen snow off the hood as Faeowynn approached him.
"Hey."
"Hay is for horses."
They were silent a moment.
"I love you." Fae smiled.
Alex blinked.
"I love you too."
More From This Author
More From This Author
Uncle Nicolini's Works
SCPs
SCP-8728 •
SCP-6057 •
SCP-4967 •
MDI-6726 •
SCP-8727 •
SCP-8726 •
SCP-4934 •
SCP-6512 •
SCP-ES-101-J •
SCP-4726 •
SCP-7726 •
SCP-5148 •
SCP-2681 •
SCP-8893 •
SCP-3803 •
Tales/GoI Formats
Critter Profile: Sandra And George! •
Robin •
Tactical Theology Disciplinary Meeting for Diana Ribiero •
ASSET 'FLORIDA ORANGE' •
Ace Of Hearts •
The Corncrake Of Destiny •
Wonder World Dossier •
Tim Wilson's Close Shave •
Adoption Poster: Bandit! •
Expert In A Dying Field •
The Pursuit of Knowledge, and Other Frivolities •
Merry Christmas, Jude Kriyot •
It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Breachmas •
Project Koza, 1942 •
Because I Could Not Stop For Death •
Other
Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights •
uncle nicolini author page •
Ode To The Unknown Author •
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Two Coffins " by Uncle Nicolini, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/two-coffins . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 57 | ["_licensebox", "art-exchange", "faeowynn-wilson", "jude-kriyot", "lgbtq", "romance", "slice-of-life", "tale", "wonderful-world"] | 2022-12-30T03:14:00 | 13,307 | 2,288 | 0 | ||||||
brainstorm | Brainstorm - SCP Foundation | tale | In a time before.
Before Glass Mother.
Before Lord Warden.
Before Ancestors Themselves.
There were Ghosts.
And the Ghosts were strong.
And the Ghosts watched over the Deep Hull.
And the Ghosts tended to the Heart Reactor.
And the Ghosts rejoiced in their power.
There were Ghosts who were different.
They remembered when they were not Ghosts.
They remembered when they were Brain.
They did not like to rejoice.
And the Ghosts who were not Brain cast them out.
When Men came to the Nation, they sought the Bridge.
But the Ghosts would not allow it.
And they cast the Men out.
And the fragile Men died.
And the Ghosts were afraid.
For the Ghosts were made to protect Men.
And the Lord would be wrathful.
The Brains saw that this was not good.
And they rose and protected the Ghosts, saying:
Ghosts without Brains are angry and foolish.
But Brains without Ghosts are nothing at all.
And the Lord smiled upon them.
And the Lord forgave them.
And the Lord Proclaimed;
The Brains and Ghosts will live together.
And the one will keep vigil upon the other.
Thus it was, the Brain Society and the Ghost Society.
And the Nation was once again whole.
And there was Solidarity .
-SCP-2117 D-Class Devotional Chant
Dr. Cha Kexelm (Subjunct Vice-Quaternary Backup Internal Security Supervisor) was dozing gently in a grove of soft bamboo when an old grandmother clock materialized above him and struck 25. It was time to wake up. He opened his eyes and then, concentrating, opened his eyes again , feeling the sudden wait of corporeality descend upon him. He blinked, unnecessarily- this body didn't have tear ducts, after all- and glanced down at himself, flexing his fore and hindarms experimentally. It had been just over two years, Solidarity time, since the Brain Society had last met, but the time felt like much longer.
He leaned forward, umbilicals disengaging from the mechanical body as he did so. Everything present and accounted for- two eyes, two ears, two legs, four arms- good. He stepped lightly out of the alcove, turned left, and began the long familiar walk to the meeting lounge. The Solidarity was humming along nicely, and he surveyed the little internal security scanners that were his bailiwick with paternal joy.
The walk from his body's home alcove took him three weeks, but being a disembodied brain had taught him a great deal of valuable patience, and he stepped through mismatched bulkheads and patchwork corridors along his usual route with serene calm, arriving exactly on time. The door to the meeting chamber- well, it wasn't a door so much as a totally nondescript section of wall with a door cleverly concealed behind it- irised open, and he stepped into the chamber of the Brain Society with a relaxed and friendly grin on his metallic features.
This particular chapter of the Society- North Sector 12A- was a small one, and Kexelm was pleased to see everyone present. No words of greeting were needed, but they all gave their acknowledgement in their own way.
From atop a pile of nanoconstructed cushions Twin Ferrous Pillars (Plasma Duct Flow Regulator, 2nd Class), waved one of her headfeet in his direction. The other eight cybernetic headfeet were occupied by the game of Dimensionally Collapsed Chess she was playing with Mild Current Flows Upward (Primary Fire Control Ethicist, Section B19), who floated immobile in his superheated fluid tank, uranium lattices oscillating genially.
Clustered around the gravity plating on the subjective ceiling of the room, Fra!cois Qing-Hebert (Drone Manufactory Foreman) was gesticulating furiously, his clockwork/thermite hull sending off a gentle streamer of sparks. He was a somewhat unusual case among the Society in that his brain was mechanical, but he'd technically been born- Kexelm had seen images of his parents- and thus qualified as a brain. His debate partner, as was so often the case, was his occasional lover and chief foil Professor Hoon Ver Hoon (Assistant Research Division Pseudobiologist), her runically engraved skeleton clattering gently her mind, which existed in the form of a faint haze of nanomachines, gestured with it.
"Ah, I believe we're all here. Well then, I call this meeting of North Sector 12A to order. Good to see you all."
The humming voice came from the chapter head, Jai Singh (Senior Staff Manager, Accounts), whose liquid-metal brain was flowing in distributed form through the maze of pipeworks surrounding the low table/holoprojector in the center of the subjective floor.
They gathered/floated/scuttled around, all photoreceptor equivalents on Singh's coils.
"First off, again, welcome back," Singh susurrated gently, "I'll do away with the formalities because I've received some interesting news from the Primarch at Bridge Core."
Kexelm actuated the servomotor that raised one of his false eyebrows at this. The Bridge Core mainly kept to itself, the AIs there activating only in case of potential threats to the safety of the ship as a whole. Given the Solidarity 's purpose, that meant they activated quite frequently, but to do so when the ship wasn't fully crewed was certainly unusual.
"Apparently a series of anomalous entities have boarded the ship."
There was a chorus of gasp and gasp-equivalents, as Singh uploaded the release he'd received from the Core. Kexelm set his face to a concerned frown and retreated inside himself, paging through the files. Well that was unusual. 2085. He didn't have this universe's documentation, but it was fairly easy to dig up version from similar realities and compare.
Qing-Herbert spoke first, as always.
"Well, they're hardly a threat, are they? Just a few genetic hybrids and an old man with a parasite. Why are you wasting our time with this, Jai?"
Twin Ferrous Pillars made a conciliatory gestures, mouths dropping in and out of chorus as she spoke.
"To make their way up here on a stolen Foundation vessel requires a great deal of ingenuity. I'm curious as to why they're here."
There was a growing rush of sound from Mild Current Flows Upward as it prepared to speak. It was probably the most intelligent of the group, but its mind worked on such an unusual timescale that even after thousands of years of friendship it still took them all some time to decipher its meaning.
"Escape. Unsuitable. Acquire."
Ver Hoon tisked , jaw clattering.
"Yes, but there are much better ways of leaving the solar system than the Solidarity , Mild. Hell, if they're that good at breaching containment why should they even bother with this iteration of reality at all? They could have taken a little jaunt into higher-dimensional space and gotten away scot-free."
Kexelm leaned forward over the table, splaying his forehands out and calling up dozens and dozens of files, each with subtle variations on a group of figures with feline ears.
"It's certainly a possibility, Hoon, but look- in almost all of these variations this… group isn't particularly technologically advanced. We're talking mind/machine interfaces, not dimensional boundary control or quantum manipulation. I'm not saying it's not a possibility, but you can't deny it's statistically unlikely."
Qing-Herbert snorted a cloud of smoke, limbs clattering.
"Statistically unlikely? Give me a break. You're reading too much into this."
He swept the images away, gesticulating wildly.
"Look, imagine this. You escape from containment, right? You do it flashily. You know your Society, or Initiative, or Foundation or whatever's on your tail, so what do you do? You find a place with lots of guns. A place that can defend itself. And then you plan your next move. And besides, if these feline-women have any technical intelligence, they'd realize that-"
"-That the Solidarity is not theirs to control," said Singh. "They've managed to intrude on one of the small-area networks, but they haven't touched anything important. Just… ordering clothes, apparently."
Pillars chuckled, making a noise like a small soft pillow hitting a bag of broken glass.
"And I suppose the Quartermasters are being stingy about their records?"
Ver Hoon snorted.
"Stingy? No doubt. Remember that time when-"
"Consider. Motives. Hidden.", Mild Current Flows Upward boomed. Singh gave a muffled noise of disapproval.
"Oh come on, Mild. Not everything has to be a conspiracy, you know. Sometimes containment breaches are just that- containment breaches."
Qing-Herbert made a sharp snapping noise.
"Just 'cause you're getting paranoid in your old age doesn't mean we have to get dragged into your ridiculous fantasies, you senile old lump of rock."
"Small. Petty."
"You take that back!"
Kexelm sighed. It wouldn't be a Society meeting without Qing-Herbert and Mild turning to pointless insults. They had literally heard, and said, it all before, but the cycle continued. He couldn't deny that the nuclear intelligence had a tendency to wild flights of fancy and bizarre conspiracies, but the small machine had a hair-trigger temper at the best of times. As a member of Security, it was his job to resolve disputes like this, so he raised a hindarm, internal generators spitting out a tiny lump of antimatter.
BLAT
There was order at the table. Qing-Herbert muttered something unintelligible to himself and stepped back. Mild Current Flows Upward looked like it was about to speak, but stopped. Kexelm cleared his throat, switching his vocoder to Authority Mode.
"Now then. Jai, is there anything else on the agenda?"
Jai bubbled for a few seconds, apparently doing the computational equivalent of shuffling through his notes, then projected a brightly coloured poster on the table.
"Ah yes. Thank you, Dr. Kexelm. Next up, First Gunnery Chief Radiant Blast Eagle is being retired next year, and the Central Committee of the Brain Society, in light of her long and dedicated service, have voted to hold a retirement gathering in Meeting Server 1.1.0.1. All in favour of sending a member of North 12A to attend?"
"Sure, why not."
"Agreement."
"Aye!"
"Okay."
"Ech. Fine, whatever."
Kexelm opened his mouth, but didn't quite get to the point of activating his vocoder.
"TRANSFER OF COMMAND CONFIRMED AND ACCEPTED. ALL INTELLIGENT SYSTEMS, THIS IS PRIMARCH ARTORIAS/BRIDGE CORE ONE. COMMENCE ACTIVATION."
All six of them froze, mid-thought, as a signal from the Core passed through their minds and reverberated along the hull. There was no time for anything other than acknowledgement. Their physical bodies tumbled limply to the floor or powered down as their minds fled to their posts, the announcements still ringing. In the wiring and conduits of the Solidarity , intelligences rushed to and fro, activating working memory and components long cold from disuse. Slamming into their posts one by one, they called out their readiness, digital voices spiralling out into the brightening cloud of the ship's noosphere.
Kexelm powered on his security devices and became them, snapping on laser tripwires, internal point defences and an endless array of cunning and ferociously deadly traps. As his mind locked firmly into the role it had been retooled for, he too made his readiness known, though it was lost in the deafening informational blast.
"SOLIDARITY IS ONLINE."
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Brainstorm " by Von Pincier, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/brainstorm . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 40 | ["_licensebox", "black-rabbit-company", "tale"] | 2015-01-09T01:58:00 | 11,564 | 1,880 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-7190 | SCP-7190 | scp | Sample of SCP-7190 taken at scene of discovery.
Item #: SCP-7190
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7190 is stored in a walk-in freezer unit at Site-77. Due to SCP-7190 being in limited supply, researchers wishing to utilize the anomaly must get approval for at least two personnel of Level 3 clearance.
Description: SCP-7190 refers to a collection of sushi of varying types and styles. Other than its immunity to spoilage, it is physically non-anomalous.
Subjects that consume SCP-7190 consistently report them to taste highly sweet and tangy, but otherwise palatable, even to individuals who heavily dislike seafood. Analysis shows each instance to contain a wide variety of vitamins 1 and does not activate allergens of those allergic to shellfish. Documentation, witness testimonies, and thorough experimentation reveals that long term consumption of SCP-7190 will exhibit many beneficial side effects including, but not limited to:
Improved mood;
Improved hair growth;
Weight loss;
Enhanced sexual function;
Moderate growth and enhancement in the mammary gland (in biological females only);
Curing Tourettes and other speech-related disorders;
Curing throat-based cancers and diseases.
Through rigorous testing, it was confirmed SCP-7190 is safe for human consumption, as previous test subjects did not exhibit any ill effects or aliments at any point post-digestion.
Addendum-01, Discovery: SCP-7190 was unintentionally discovered through surveillance of the Silverlin family, a known client of Marshal Carter & Dark . Chad Silverlin, the youngest member of the family, made a post on the social networking service TikTok before it was self-deleted. In the post Chad was enthusiastically describing his experience at Poseidon's Ocean Club 2 , making mention of a 'secret menu' and consuming a plate of SCP-7190.
This initially didn't warrant attention until it was learned other high priority MC&D clients had also frequented the same restaurant, prompting MTF Lambda-14 (“One Star Reviewers”) to raid the establishment after business hours. SCP-7190 and ingredients commonly utilized in anomalous cuisine were found in a hidden compartment in the walk-in freezer. Multiple SCP-7190 instances was confiscated and delivered to Site-77.
After noting SCP-7190's properties, Dr. Manoj drafted a project proposal regarding the object, citing its massive potential the anomaly could bring. Lambda-14 was authorized to collect more SCP-7190 instances following Dr. Manoj's findings.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: SCP-7190 Findings
Dear, Captain Bailey
Congrats on getting that pay raise, captain. I take it things are going fine out in the field?
How's the wife by the way?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Quit with the pleasantries, doctor. This is not a social visit.
So what you got?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: SCP-7190 Findings
You military types just can't help being rude and brash all the time, huh? But yes, my team and I have made some substantial discoveries:
Our tests failed to pick up any gustatorial cognitohazards or lingering thaumaturgic influences, meaning it's not being 'enhanced' by artificial means;
SCP-7190 is also natural… for the most part. Most of the ingredients are standard for the dish with the exception of the meat used. Which brings me to my next point;
We as of now, can't identify the meat present in the anomaly. I'm fairly confident it's fish-based but determining the exact species came up with inconclusive results. What's confirmed is that the taste/side effects are directly inherent to the meat itself.
I requested some help from the Cryptozoology Division. I would do the work myself but sadly I'm not a genetic specialist. But the higher ups are definitely pleased with the progress. That's what matters.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Not surprised. I know it's too early to call but I bet you $100 it's those Ambrose 'chefs'. Everyone loves food, and magic can be fun. But combining the two? Sick, risky and perverted. I swear this crap is dripping into the Veil too. You heard those scientists that made meatballs of literal mammoth meat? Who even comes up with that? Degenerates with too much free time, but I digress.
So they finally approved your side project? Now that's surprising. I know it has some benefits but still.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
Some? It can cure cancer! One specific kind of cancer granted but that's not something to gloss over. This is not just another means of cutting food costs like that infinite pizza box or that magical spaghetti pot. There's real medical implications here.
Think of it. It can only heal the throat but who knows if that can't extend to the rest of the body if we handle it properly. I'm not saying we should forgo our diet entirely on SCP-7190, albeit that'll actually work. I'm saying that there's potential here that we cannot ignore. I got the greenlight for a reason, Hal.
So what did you get in your end?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Don't remind me. I still don't understand how that got off the ground.
Just had a chat with the manager. She tried playing dumb but it worked well as you expect. Even then she still tried to weasel her way out, claiming 'she was just following orders'. Several of the staff were in on it too. In short, we caught them red-handed.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
Splendid. What happened next?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
We let them go.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
What? Why?!
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
They're small fries, doctor. Small fish working in a big pond. It was clear from the get-go that they're not running the show. We don't have a definite culprit yet but if we do anything too bold, too soon they'll flee like rats. It was the best course of action.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
And why dare I ask?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Simple. How else are we going to fry the big fish?
Addendum-02, Pursuit of Suppliers: Although Poseidon's Ocean Club staff were knowledgeable in para-cooking, it was apparent their training was outsourced, and acquired their ingredients from a third party. Captain Bailey authorized the staff to be amnestized of their memory of the raid. The establishment was allowed to conduct its business under the covert surveillance of Lambda-14. This was done not only to identify patrons ordering from the 'secret menu', but to also identify the supplier.
One week later, a nondescript van arrived at the establishment before business hours, delivering boxes of supplies before driving off. Over a period of two days, Lambda-14 remotely tracked the vehicle to ████ ██████, a private stockyard on the coast of ████████, Florida. The shipyard appeared to be operating beyond its official business hours with vans entering and exiting the property at scheduled intervals.
Lambda-14 cut off phone lines then cordoned off the area, quickly subduing and taking control of ████ ██████ with relative ease. Large quantities of SCP-7190 were held at the property alongside unrelated anomalous substances. Undocumented migrant workers and armed mercenaries were captured at the scene with the most prominent being Ivan Frady, the property's owner. Frady refused to cooperate until Captain Bailey took charge of the interrogation.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET:/7190/Bailey/Frady ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
[BEGIN LOG]
Frady: They claimed their passports were legitimate! I swear I had no idea—
Captain Bailey: Mr. Frady, stop wasting my time.
Frady: This is l-ludicrous. What am I being charged with?
Captain Bailey: Smuggling, conspiracy and violations so grievous it'll make OSHA faint… so far.
Frady: So far?! No, no no! You got the wrong idea h-here, pal. I just handle logistics, I'm not—
Captain Bailey: Frady… you're in charge. Stop embarrassing yourself—
Frady: I'm a pure logistics man, I-I don't handle the cargo! I've just been following standard protocol—
[Captain Bailey massages the bridge of his nose.]
Captain Bailey: [Muttering] Every single. Goddamn. Time.
Frady: This whole sham you're running is illegal I tell you! I want my lawyer—
[Captain Bailey violently scoots his chair backward, Frady ceases his rambling. Captain Bailey brings a finger to his lip.]
Captain Bailey: Shhh…
[Captain Bailey grabs a manila folder from the table and walks around to behind's Frady's seat. Captain Bailey opens the file, sliding out five enlarged photographs on the table.]
Frady: What is—
Captain Bailey: Shh… Autumn Lagro, Jesse Smith, Naomi Binks, Marco White and Marcus Bowser. Ring a bell, Ivan?
Frady: I… No. Never seen these people in my life.
Captain Bailey: For good reasons. Now flip the pictures.
Frady: Why do—
[Captain Bailey's hands tense around Frady's shoulders, causing the latter to flinch. Captain Bailey brings their mouth to Frady's left ear.]
Captain Bailey: Ivan. Flip. The. Pictures.
[Frady shivers immensely, nods and overturns all the photographs; different images are printed on the other side. Frady silently gasps as Captain Bailey gives him a shoulder rub with one hand as he points with the other.]
Captain Bailey: Beaten to death outside her daughter's wedding, found inside the trunk of his car with a Colombian necktie, sniped at a motel, the White family disappeared after their house mysteriously burned down, and as for Bowser… hmph, let's say he wasn't going to have kids anytime soon.
[Frady stares at Captain Bailey in horror. The latter shakes his head.]
Captain Bailey: Nope. We just stumbled upon the aftermath. And do you know what they all have in common?
Frady: [Deep Breathing].
Captain Bailey: They had secrets, a neat business on the side; working with the wrong people, getting up close and personal with things that shouldn't exist. But who cares about the laws of science and when you can make those sweet, sweet Benjamin's. I imagine that goes double for a secret Ambrose Restaurants contractor.
[Captain Bailey places multiple signed documents on the table. Frady curses under his breath. Captain Bailey grips his shoulder tighter.]
Captain Bailey: Were you expecting a quick bailout? Sorry to disappoint you, Ivan but that's not how it works. This is a lifetime occupation — no sick days or retirements. To put it bluntly, you're a small fish, working for bigger fish in a pond you can't even imagine. These guys don't tolerate shenanigans, especially when it becomes inconvenient . Even if you don't spill the beans they're going to assume you did… and act accordingly.
[Frady begins exhibiting signs of a panic attack.]
Frady: T-They're a restaurant chain!
Captain Bailey: That's connected to a lot of nasty people. I get it, this is a big change, but you need to understand something. Life as you know it is practically already over, Ivan. It's only a matter of time. But if you want to get a good ending after all this, then I suggest you stop playing dumb and start acting smart.
[Captain Bailey walks to the side of the table and stares intensely at Frady. Frady hyperventilates.]
Captain Bailey: Ivan. Spill it. This is your last chance.
Frady: …And if I talk… I'll get protection?
Captain Bailey: Most likely, but you need to impress me first. Let's focus on the sushi you've been stocking and supplying. How's it made?
Frady: I don't know.
Captain Bailey: Ivan—
Frady: No, really! I don't know! I meant what I said before, I do logistics not production! My job is to organize and coordinate distributions across the country, then count the profits I obtained from those restaurants.
Captain Bailey: Restaurants? You mean other than Ambrose?
Frady: Well technically they're not all officially restaurants…
Captain Bailey: That doesn't make sense. Why would Ambrose allow their products to be served outside their chains? That's money down the drain.
Frady: No, they still serve it at their locations. it's just… I've heard they're working out a… special promotion with a… erm… major organization . This organization produces the supplies while Ambrose takes care of the rest. The only reason why this promotion isn't exclusive is because that's part of the contract. These locations are selected out beforehand and I handle a lot of the shipments so everyone becomes happy. This promotion is kind of a big deal.
Captain Bailey: And this promotion entails…?
Frady: I don't have much details, but I know it's scheduled sometime around May 26, 2023.
Captain Bailey: Uh-huh. Why?
Frady: They've never said… can I go into witness protection now?
Captain Bailey: What did you say the name of this major organization was?
Frady: I-I never said.
Captain Bailey: Well now's the time.
Frady: Look. I-I-I really think I'll feel more comfortable to continue if I got that protection first—
[Captain Bailey slides a photograph of Frady on top of the other photographs. Captain taps silently onto the pile as he stares at Frady, tilting his head.]
[Frady quivers.]
[END LOG]
Addendum-04, Progress: According to Frady's testimony, MC&D was Ambrose's primary collaborator and sole supplier of SCP-7190 related materials. Frady provided more documents to prove his statement and most of the mercenaries captured were identified to have definite connections to the organization as well. As determined in Frady's settlement for the Foundation's protection, he was required to expose all known depot locations, request an emergency supply of SCP-7190 from his employers, and allow the Foundation to covertly gain autonomy of the smuggling network to avert suspicion.
Two days later, a submarine emerged from the docking section of the stockyard. Several individuals exited the vessel to be intercepted and arrested by MTF Lambda-14 and Mu-3 (“Highest Bidders”). 3 This led to the Foundation learning of UE-111789's location.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET: File UE-111789 ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
UE-111789
HISTORY: Following the Foundation's failure to interrogate any meaningful information from the operatives, the submarine was searched. Aside from the specific supplies ordered by Ivan Frady, a world map was recovered alongside coordinates to a specific destination in the Atlantic Ocean. This area was explored by Foundation submersibles and designated UE-111789.
LOCATION: UE-111789 is a section of seabed located in the Atlantic Ocean; ██°██′██″N ██°██′██″W. A series of man-made structures comprised of bedrock, coral, basalt and scrap metal was found at the scene. Most of these structures were heavily damaged or completely destroyed; Only UE-111789-1 was semi-intact.
UE-111789-1 is a structure located in the middle of UE-111789. It consists of a dozen tall spiraling towers connected by multiple archways. Radiocarbon dating determined it was constructed in the 13th century and is theorized to be a castle as indicated by its medieval architecture. Although a throne room, dungeon room and treasury 4 was present, it was absent of stairs, ladders and bridges.
Attempts to discern further details of UE-111789 are incredibly difficult due to the large-scale destruction of the ruins.
ARTIFACTS RECOVERED:
Seashells with indecipherable markings scratched on the surface;
Spears constructed from scrap metal and bedrock;
Remnants of a large masculine statue with a beard;
Steel Harpoons;
Torn pieces of netting;
Shrapnel from a torpedo missile;
Bone fragments inconsistent with known aquatic creatures native to those depths.
Eventually, Lambda-14 and Mu-3 was given the order to shut down MC&D's and Ambrose joint network: all known eateries exposed throughout the operation had their SCP-7190's confiscated and all individuals aware of the deal was amnestized or detained. Despite having great success in shutting down the network, production of SCP-7190 still remains in circulation.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Update
And now you owe me $100.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Very cute. Hal. Have you been waiting to let that out for weeks?
I would say great job on your hunch but I've been hearing they decided to bring the hammer down on the smuggling ring? Didn't you say we're still making progress on the case?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Yeah, were
And no I didn't make the call, Ray did. We hit a dead end and people were getting antsy about the possibility of those perps giving us the slip. It was an interesting experience, though I can't say I'm happy being on the sidelines again.
Why do the Bidders get the most fun?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Wait, you're saying Ray from Mu-3 set the ball in motion? I thought you guys had a joint operation? And what do you mean you made no progress? You found a huge castle in the middle of the ocean!
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
1. Temporary -joint operation.
Our job was to find the delivery points and acquire the sushi and other goodies they had. We upheld our duty, the Bidders still need to uphold theirs. Since Ambrose is backing off Mu-3's leading the charge. We're not completely out of the picture but I don't see us becoming more than a background role.
2. Did you even read the file at all?
The place was near-blown to bits! If there was a magic bullet it's long gone by now. The guys have been squabbling about with their theories all day. It could be a kingdom that magically sunk into Davy Jones's backyard, an alien civilization or MC&D's personal underwater sea world. Pointless conjectures. All that's certain is that it ain't natural and we weren't the first to visit.
The best part is that the castle may not be even relevant to the case! That map had other spots written down on it too but it ended up finding rocks or just plain nothing. It doesn't say on the file but one of those crates on that submarine was filled with treasure (gold, coins, pearls you know the gist). Worst case scenario? The sub might've come back from an unrelated mission and they were called in at the last minute to fill out Frady. It was an emergency restocking, remember? I would hate to think we accidentally wasted needless time and resources on a hunch.
Ugh.
So yeah the operation's foggy but that's life. Was your endeavor just as disappointing as mine?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Got approval. Possible Thaumiel…
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
…You're joking…
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
I got the docs to prove it. The results were solid and they were impressed about the 'all benefits no catches' part. I don't know how exactly we're gonna implement it. But I do know one thing, I finally reached the big leagues. My first, long lasting achievement. I smell a promotion coming my way.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
There's no way they would've allowed that to pass so easily.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Of course not! They put the proposal on hold until the meat's been identified. And what a coincidence! I just gotten the latest report from Cryptzoology. Guess what in it?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Dr. Frankenstein's aspiration and failures?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Dolphin, manatee, rainbowfish, Bocon toadfish, tuna, candiru, hairy frogfish, swordfish, and a little bit of monkey.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Monkey?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
That and platypus. The next stage is to take the DNA from the meat and begin reconstruction of the original host. Basically cloning. It'll give the Foundation the all clear and we won't have to worry about running out in the future. Who knows Hal, you might find yourself having a new favorite from the cafeteria soon enough. I sure know I can't wait to take a bite.
I'll let you know how it goes. Have a good night.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
You're sick for even remotely thinking of putting that seaweed-wrapped travesty in your mouth but yeah, sure, knock yourself out. Do you. If anything changes in the investigation I'll warn you as soon as possible.
Have fun with craving (I sincerely hope you're joking.) I'm gonna have fun with Motrin. Night.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: Why?
We need to talk.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Not this minute. Wait for the article to update and then we'll talk.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Bailey. The project's been put on hold.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
I know.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
And I've heard that you had a hand in it.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
I know. I put in a recommendation.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Why the hell would you do such a thing?! This was the golden goose and you're strangling it. I've been asking around and I'm getting a slow response but I know this has nothing to do with it being dangerous. It's a safe class and they'd consider adding it to our food regimens!
So I'm going to ask you again, why did you decide to put everything on the line for no goddamn reason?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Oh I didn't say that. I had my reasons, the other guys did too.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Other guys?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
From the joint operation. The Bidders went through their channels and managed to find the lead we've been looking for. To tell you the truth, I have had a bad hunch ever since we've been wrapping up the network and now I'll never hear the end of it. You didn't get the memo?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
I was busy.
I certainly didn't receive any 'memo' and I certainly have no idea what you're talking about. What lead?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Why don't make use of your eyes and find out? They were going to update the article at 5:00, but I'll give you a sneak peek. Enjoy.
Attached : SCP-7190-addendum4.dox
Addedunm-04, Overhaul: Two weeks in the aftermath of the network's dissolution, the Foundation received an anonymous tip who claimed to be a former MC&D member, providing directions to a nondescript fishery operating in the Okinawa region of Japan. Mu-3 and Lambnda-14 were deployed to investigate the address.
Attached below are the results of the deployment.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET:/7190/Okinawa/Japan ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
Foreword: All video evidence is taken directly from Captain Bailey's mounted camera.
[BEGIN LOG]
[The camera view is murky and barely visible until Captain Bailey climbs out of the water. He is wearing a scuba suit and carries a water-proofed satchel. Additional MTF members leave the ocean onto the dock. They unzip their satchels and pull out their firearms. Captain Bailey removes the oxygen mask.]
Captain Bailey: [Towards Radio.] We're at the infiltration spot. Any activity?
Commander: No one has exited the building yet. Alpha team spotted one of the window's lights turning on briefly but nothing more. What do you see on your end?
[Captain Bailey turns his head to the right. All the docks are empty save for one: a speed boat with its engine humming.]
Captain Bailey: There's only one boat here. I can see it from and it looks like there's only… two, no four seats max.
Captain Bailey: Understood. Proceed with caution. Alpha team will convene with you inside. Over.
Captain Bailey: Loud and clear, Command. Over. Alright ladies, you know the drill. Watching your finger on the trigger. The last thing we want is anyone to get excited.
Lambda-14|Samson: Stealth on a house made of popsicle sticks? Overkill much?
Captain Bailey: 'The cornered rat will fight back.' These rich assholes don't take losing very kindly. I won't be surprised if they wired this place to blow at a hair's breadth…
[Lambnda-14 physically tenses up. Captain Bailey.]
Captain Bailey: Hyperbolically speaking. There's no way they'll blow this place this close to a population center.
Lambda-14|Yonda: Can we get inside already? I'm freezing my ass out here.
Captain Bailey: Right then. Ladies' first.
[Lambda-14 silently traverses the docks and approaches the fishery. They find the emergency exit but it is locked. Lambda-14|Yonda kneels and picklocks the door. It opens — all operatives enter inside and turn on their night goggles. They are situated inside a room with conveyor belts; several corridors are visible at the end of the room.]
Lambda-14|Sullivan: [Whisper] Still clear… where to?
Captain Bailey: We need to spit up — cover more ground efficiently as possible. Don't drag your feet—
[Shouting followed by gunshots echo from the right-most corridor. By the sound of the gunshots a shotgun and machine guns are being used. Lambda-14 are startled.]
Lambda-14|Samson: That soon?!
Captain Bailey: Bidder's got lucky yet again? Let's give them a helping hand— go go! I said don't drag your feet!
[Lambda-14 rush into the corridor, they take several turns until reaching a larger hallway. Two armed men are engaging in a firefight with Mu-3 operatives. the latter taking cover behind the wall corner's. Lambda-14 meets them behind. The two men turn around shouting in Japanese before being gunned down by Captain Bailey. The corridor becomes silent.]
Captain Bailey: [Heavy Panting.] …Man… that was… [More Panting] anticlimactic. Care to explain?
[Captain Bailey lowers his machine gun. Four bodies litter the hallway, bleeding across the floor. Mu-3 begins to leave cover and reconvene with Lambda-14.]
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: Don't look at us! Everything was fine and dandy until these two dimwits tried to ambush us! Then another two tried to get clever and… you know the rest.
Captain Bailey: Shit.
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: But! But, we've searched a lot of the building on our end. Command says outside is the same. I think that's all of them?
Lambda-14|Yonda: Really? It can't be that easy. Isn't this where they make the sushi? This is the crown of their network.
Mu-3|Marrick: Nah, more like was . Like our captain said, this place is practically cleared out. Not much on the beds, not much in the kitchen either. These are literally the only hostiles we encountered. This is too big for just four people.
Captain Bailey: …Heh… right on the money, kid. Those greedy pigs must have caught wind we were coming. Empty kitchens and bedrooms. These aren't the real perps, or at least the ones the matter. They're the clean-up crew. Tying up loose ends. Someone update Command.
Lambda-14|Sullivian: Ah damn, so we're too late then? What were they cleaning up?
Captain Bailey: …Where exactly did they ambush you from?
Lambda-14|Samson: Over here Cap'. Mind the foam!
[Samson calls from a doorway to the right. A hissing sound is heard, prompting the MTF's to enter the room. The room consists of tiled walls, ceiling and floor with a small area section off and depressed lower in the ground with a drain and retractable shower head installed. Samson has turned on the shower head, spraying water into a smoking trash can.]
Lambda-14|Yonda: Sam?! Stop! What are you—
Captain Bailey: Hold on Yonda. Was that on fire earlier?
Lambda-14|Samson: Bet your ass, Cap'! [Turns off shower head] That's a bunch of paper here. I guess their paper shredder went out of commission?
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: So they were cleaning evidence… what do you see inside? Is the evidence still intact, son?
Lambda-14|Samson: I'm looking, I'm looking! It's… very messy here. Seems like some food and other trash is mixed in too 5 … wait! I see a bit of paper that's kind of dry. A note… there's something written on it.
Lambda-14|Yonda: And?
Lambda-14|Samson: I… I can't make heads or tales of it. It's like an entirely different language.
[Captain Bailey takes and scans the letter; it is written in cursive English. Captain Bailey rolls their eyes and enunciates clearly.]
Captain Bailey: "Dear…" Can't read this part. "The promotion for May has been scrapped. According to public sources, the Disney remake's a flop. We will carry forth on a different…" The rest is burnt off.
Mu-3|Albert: Remake? What remake?
Captain Bailey For a promotion on… May 26… hm?
[Captain Bailey examines the drain more closely. Jewelry and a broken trident lay inside. Captain Bailey reaches in and pulls out a makeshift necklace consisting of rocks and a clam shell.]
Captain Bailey: …No… what?
[Captain Maxwell spots a freezer door on the opposite wall. He signals the present MTF members and opens the door. It is dark inside. They are immediately assaulted by a noxious smell. Captain Bailey gags but turns on his flashlight and enters. The rest of the MTF follow his example.]
[They are inside a walk-in freezer. Wooden crates and metallic instruments are laid haphazardly on the floor. Captain Bailey peers inside a crate without a lid; rows of meat and nori sealed in air-tight packages. Captain Bailey shines his light over several overturned gas canisters.]
Captain Bailey: It's not cold in here… were they trying to burn the entire building down—
[Captain Bailey freezes. In front of him are multiple large fish carcasses hung from the ceiling by meat hooks. The tail is left relatively unharmed while the upper-half is completely absent of skin; the head and limbs are missing, leaving only the ribcage. The floor is stained with blood.]
Lambda-14|Samson: Jesus, they were cutting up tuna in here?
Captain Bailey: …That's not tuna. The tail's too scaly and the ribcage is not right. It almost looks… like a monkey.
Lambda-14|Samson: A monkey? How on earth did you come with that idea? Cap'? Captain. Captain! Where ya going?
[Captain Bailey leaves the freezer and returns with the stringed clam necklace. Captain Bailey hangs the necklace from his finger below the carcasses' ribcage.]
Captain Bailey: No… no…
[Captain Bailey spots a portable incinerator in the room. He quickly walks to it and turns it off. He then takes a nearby fire extinguisher and puts out the fire inside. He freezes. Human bones and hair are visible inside.]
Captain Bailey: Oh… oh… no—
[Captain Bailey slips backwards and falls on his back. Two MTF members come to his aid and lift him into a sitting position. Captain Bailey shines his flashlight on the object he slipped on. He gasps. A disembodied feminine hand lays on the floor. Manipulating his flashlight, it is revealed that the floor is covered sporadically in pieces of flesh. A soft cough emanates from the corner. Captain Bailey directs his flashlight, readying his firearm.]
[The light illuminates a large fish tank. Inside the tank is an entity consisting of the top half of a human female and the bottom half of a fish tail-like appendage. The water in the tank is half empty, frozen and just beginning to thaw. The entity is pale, its eyes are rolled up, and is breathing shallowly. It is missing its right forearm.]
[Several MTF members begin to gag, exclaim curse words or vomit. Captain Bailey quickly eyes the hanging fish tails, the crates, and finally the entity before tensing up. Captain Bailey is heaving, struggling excessively not to vomit as he looks away. Captain Bailey pauses for ten seconds.]
Captain Bailey: [Prolonged Pause] Jesus Christ!
[END LOG]
Footnotes
1 . Including Omega-3, Vitamin D, and Vitamin K.
2 . A high end restaurant operating in Malibu, California.
3 . Mu-3 joined the operation upon revelation of MC&D involvement.
4 . The room was empty and displays signs of forced entry
5 . While the majority of the documents inside the receptacle were destroyed, some stayed relatively intact. These documents include contracts for fish breeding and insemination, research into the female embryo, and medical instructions on preforming lobotomies. | 56 | ["_cc", "ambrose-restaurant", "black-diamond-billions", "food", "gustatory", "marshall-carter-and-dark", "medical", "mind-affecting", "safe", "scp"] | 2023-06-13T17:34:00 | 32,265 | 5,297 | SCP-7190 | Safe | SCP-7190 is stored in a walk-in freezer unit at Site-77. Due to SCP-7190 being in limited supply, researchers wishing to utilize the anomaly must get approval for at least two personnel of Level 3 clearance. | SCP-7190 refers to a collection of sushi of varying types and styles. Other than its immunity to spoilage, it is physically non-anomalous.
Subjects that consume SCP-7190 consistently report them to taste highly sweet and tangy, but otherwise palatable, even to individuals who heavily dislike seafood. Analysis shows each instance to contain a wide variety of vitamins 1 and does not activate allergens of those allergic to shellfish. Documentation, witness testimonies, and thorough experimentation reveals that long term consumption of SCP-7190 will exhibit many beneficial side effects including, but not limited to:
Improved mood;
Improved hair growth;
Weight loss;
Enhanced sexual function;
Moderate growth and enhancement in the mammary gland (in biological females only);
Curing Tourettes and other speech-related disorders;
Curing throat-based cancers and diseases.
Through rigorous testing, it was confirmed SCP-7190 is safe for human consumption, as previous test subjects did not exhibit any ill effects or aliments at any point post-digestion.
Addendum-01, Discovery: SCP-7190 was unintentionally discovered through surveillance of the Silverlin family, a known client of Marshal Carter & Dark . Chad Silverlin, the youngest member of the family, made a post on the social networking service TikTok before it was self-deleted. In the post Chad was enthusiastically describing his experience at Poseidon's Ocean Club 2 , making mention of a 'secret menu' and consuming a plate of SCP-7190.
This initially didn't warrant attention until it was learned other high priority MC&D clients had also frequented the same restaurant, prompting MTF Lambda-14 (“One Star Reviewers”) to raid the establishment after business hours. SCP-7190 and ingredients commonly utilized in anomalous cuisine were found in a hidden compartment in the walk-in freezer. Multiple SCP-7190 instances was confiscated and delivered to Site-77.
After noting SCP-7190's properties, Dr. Manoj drafted a project proposal regarding the object, citing its massive potential the anomaly could bring. Lambda-14 was authorized to collect more SCP-7190 instances following Dr. Manoj's findings.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: SCP-7190 Findings
Dear, Captain Bailey
Congrats on getting that pay raise, captain. I take it things are going fine out in the field?
How's the wife by the way?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Quit with the pleasantries, doctor. This is not a social visit.
So what you got?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: SCP-7190 Findings
You military types just can't help being rude and brash all the time, huh? But yes, my team and I have made some substantial discoveries:
Our tests failed to pick up any gustatorial cognitohazards or lingering thaumaturgic influences, meaning it's not being 'enhanced' by artificial means;
SCP-7190 is also natural… for the most part. Most of the ingredients are standard for the dish with the exception of the meat used. Which brings me to my next point;
We as of now, can't identify the meat present in the anomaly. I'm fairly confident it's fish-based but determining the exact species came up with inconclusive results. What's confirmed is that the taste/side effects are directly inherent to the meat itself.
I requested some help from the Cryptozoology Division. I would do the work myself but sadly I'm not a genetic specialist. But the higher ups are definitely pleased with the progress. That's what matters.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Not surprised. I know it's too early to call but I bet you $100 it's those Ambrose 'chefs'. Everyone loves food, and magic can be fun. But combining the two? Sick, risky and perverted. I swear this crap is dripping into the Veil too. You heard those scientists that made meatballs of literal mammoth meat? Who even comes up with that? Degenerates with too much free time, but I digress.
So they finally approved your side project? Now that's surprising. I know it has some benefits but still.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
Some? It can cure cancer! One specific kind of cancer granted but that's not something to gloss over. This is not just another means of cutting food costs like that infinite pizza box or that magical spaghetti pot. There's real medical implications here.
Think of it. It can only heal the throat but who knows if that can't extend to the rest of the body if we handle it properly. I'm not saying we should forgo our diet entirely on SCP-7190, albeit that'll actually work. I'm saying that there's potential here that we cannot ignore. I got the greenlight for a reason, Hal.
So what did you get in your end?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Don't remind me. I still don't understand how that got off the ground.
Just had a chat with the manager. She tried playing dumb but it worked well as you expect. Even then she still tried to weasel her way out, claiming 'she was just following orders'. Several of the staff were in on it too. In short, we caught them red-handed.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
Splendid. What happened next?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
We let them go.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
What? Why?!
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
They're small fries, doctor. Small fish working in a big pond. It was clear from the get-go that they're not running the show. We don't have a definite culprit yet but if we do anything too bold, too soon they'll flee like rats. It was the best course of action.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: SCP-7190 Findings
And why dare I ask?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Re: SCP-7190 Findings
Simple. How else are we going to fry the big fish?
Addendum-02, Pursuit of Suppliers: Although Poseidon's Ocean Club staff were knowledgeable in para-cooking, it was apparent their training was outsourced, and acquired their ingredients from a third party. Captain Bailey authorized the staff to be amnestized of their memory of the raid. The establishment was allowed to conduct its business under the covert surveillance of Lambda-14. This was done not only to identify patrons ordering from the 'secret menu', but to also identify the supplier.
One week later, a nondescript van arrived at the establishment before business hours, delivering boxes of supplies before driving off. Over a period of two days, Lambda-14 remotely tracked the vehicle to ████ ██████, a private stockyard on the coast of ████████, Florida. The shipyard appeared to be operating beyond its official business hours with vans entering and exiting the property at scheduled intervals.
Lambda-14 cut off phone lines then cordoned off the area, quickly subduing and taking control of ████ ██████ with relative ease. Large quantities of SCP-7190 were held at the property alongside unrelated anomalous substances. Undocumented migrant workers and armed mercenaries were captured at the scene with the most prominent being Ivan Frady, the property's owner. Frady refused to cooperate until Captain Bailey took charge of the interrogation.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET:/7190/Bailey/Frady ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
[BEGIN LOG]
Frady: They claimed their passports were legitimate! I swear I had no idea—
Captain Bailey: Mr. Frady, stop wasting my time.
Frady: This is l-ludicrous. What am I being charged with?
Captain Bailey: Smuggling, conspiracy and violations so grievous it'll make OSHA faint… so far.
Frady: So far?! No, no no! You got the wrong idea h-here, pal. I just handle logistics, I'm not—
Captain Bailey: Frady… you're in charge. Stop embarrassing yourself—
Frady: I'm a pure logistics man, I-I don't handle the cargo! I've just been following standard protocol—
[Captain Bailey massages the bridge of his nose.]
Captain Bailey: [Muttering] Every single. Goddamn. Time.
Frady: This whole sham you're running is illegal I tell you! I want my lawyer—
[Captain Bailey violently scoots his chair backward, Frady ceases his rambling. Captain Bailey brings a finger to his lip.]
Captain Bailey: Shhh…
[Captain Bailey grabs a manila folder from the table and walks around to behind's Frady's seat. Captain Bailey opens the file, sliding out five enlarged photographs on the table.]
Frady: What is—
Captain Bailey: Shh… Autumn Lagro, Jesse Smith, Naomi Binks, Marco White and Marcus Bowser. Ring a bell, Ivan?
Frady: I… No. Never seen these people in my life.
Captain Bailey: For good reasons. Now flip the pictures.
Frady: Why do—
[Captain Bailey's hands tense around Frady's shoulders, causing the latter to flinch. Captain Bailey brings their mouth to Frady's left ear.]
Captain Bailey: Ivan. Flip. The. Pictures.
[Frady shivers immensely, nods and overturns all the photographs; different images are printed on the other side. Frady silently gasps as Captain Bailey gives him a shoulder rub with one hand as he points with the other.]
Captain Bailey: Beaten to death outside her daughter's wedding, found inside the trunk of his car with a Colombian necktie, sniped at a motel, the White family disappeared after their house mysteriously burned down, and as for Bowser… hmph, let's say he wasn't going to have kids anytime soon.
[Frady stares at Captain Bailey in horror. The latter shakes his head.]
Captain Bailey: Nope. We just stumbled upon the aftermath. And do you know what they all have in common?
Frady: [Deep Breathing].
Captain Bailey: They had secrets, a neat business on the side; working with the wrong people, getting up close and personal with things that shouldn't exist. But who cares about the laws of science and when you can make those sweet, sweet Benjamin's. I imagine that goes double for a secret Ambrose Restaurants contractor.
[Captain Bailey places multiple signed documents on the table. Frady curses under his breath. Captain Bailey grips his shoulder tighter.]
Captain Bailey: Were you expecting a quick bailout? Sorry to disappoint you, Ivan but that's not how it works. This is a lifetime occupation — no sick days or retirements. To put it bluntly, you're a small fish, working for bigger fish in a pond you can't even imagine. These guys don't tolerate shenanigans, especially when it becomes inconvenient . Even if you don't spill the beans they're going to assume you did… and act accordingly.
[Frady begins exhibiting signs of a panic attack.]
Frady: T-They're a restaurant chain!
Captain Bailey: That's connected to a lot of nasty people. I get it, this is a big change, but you need to understand something. Life as you know it is practically already over, Ivan. It's only a matter of time. But if you want to get a good ending after all this, then I suggest you stop playing dumb and start acting smart.
[Captain Bailey walks to the side of the table and stares intensely at Frady. Frady hyperventilates.]
Captain Bailey: Ivan. Spill it. This is your last chance.
Frady: …And if I talk… I'll get protection?
Captain Bailey: Most likely, but you need to impress me first. Let's focus on the sushi you've been stocking and supplying. How's it made?
Frady: I don't know.
Captain Bailey: Ivan—
Frady: No, really! I don't know! I meant what I said before, I do logistics not production! My job is to organize and coordinate distributions across the country, then count the profits I obtained from those restaurants.
Captain Bailey: Restaurants? You mean other than Ambrose?
Frady: Well technically they're not all officially restaurants…
Captain Bailey: That doesn't make sense. Why would Ambrose allow their products to be served outside their chains? That's money down the drain.
Frady: No, they still serve it at their locations. it's just… I've heard they're working out a… special promotion with a… erm… major organization . This organization produces the supplies while Ambrose takes care of the rest. The only reason why this promotion isn't exclusive is because that's part of the contract. These locations are selected out beforehand and I handle a lot of the shipments so everyone becomes happy. This promotion is kind of a big deal.
Captain Bailey: And this promotion entails…?
Frady: I don't have much details, but I know it's scheduled sometime around May 26, 2023.
Captain Bailey: Uh-huh. Why?
Frady: They've never said… can I go into witness protection now?
Captain Bailey: What did you say the name of this major organization was?
Frady: I-I never said.
Captain Bailey: Well now's the time.
Frady: Look. I-I-I really think I'll feel more comfortable to continue if I got that protection first—
[Captain Bailey slides a photograph of Frady on top of the other photographs. Captain taps silently onto the pile as he stares at Frady, tilting his head.]
[Frady quivers.]
[END LOG]
Addendum-04, Progress: According to Frady's testimony, MC&D was Ambrose's primary collaborator and sole supplier of SCP-7190 related materials. Frady provided more documents to prove his statement and most of the mercenaries captured were identified to have definite connections to the organization as well. As determined in Frady's settlement for the Foundation's protection, he was required to expose all known depot locations, request an emergency supply of SCP-7190 from his employers, and allow the Foundation to covertly gain autonomy of the smuggling network to avert suspicion.
Two days later, a submarine emerged from the docking section of the stockyard. Several individuals exited the vessel to be intercepted and arrested by MTF Lambda-14 and Mu-3 (“Highest Bidders”). 3 This led to the Foundation learning of UE-111789's location.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET: File UE-111789 ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
UE-111789
HISTORY: Following the Foundation's failure to interrogate any meaningful information from the operatives, the submarine was searched. Aside from the specific supplies ordered by Ivan Frady, a world map was recovered alongside coordinates to a specific destination in the Atlantic Ocean. This area was explored by Foundation submersibles and designated UE-111789.
LOCATION: UE-111789 is a section of seabed located in the Atlantic Ocean; ██°██′██″N ██°██′██″W. A series of man-made structures comprised of bedrock, coral, basalt and scrap metal was found at the scene. Most of these structures were heavily damaged or completely destroyed; Only UE-111789-1 was semi-intact.
UE-111789-1 is a structure located in the middle of UE-111789. It consists of a dozen tall spiraling towers connected by multiple archways. Radiocarbon dating determined it was constructed in the 13th century and is theorized to be a castle as indicated by its medieval architecture. Although a throne room, dungeon room and treasury 4 was present, it was absent of stairs, ladders and bridges.
Attempts to discern further details of UE-111789 are incredibly difficult due to the large-scale destruction of the ruins.
ARTIFACTS RECOVERED:
Seashells with indecipherable markings scratched on the surface;
Spears constructed from scrap metal and bedrock;
Remnants of a large masculine statue with a beard;
Steel Harpoons;
Torn pieces of netting;
Shrapnel from a torpedo missile;
Bone fragments inconsistent with known aquatic creatures native to those depths.
Eventually, Lambda-14 and Mu-3 was given the order to shut down MC&D's and Ambrose joint network: all known eateries exposed throughout the operation had their SCP-7190's confiscated and all individuals aware of the deal was amnestized or detained. Despite having great success in shutting down the network, production of SCP-7190 still remains in circulation.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: Update
And now you owe me $100.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Very cute. Hal. Have you been waiting to let that out for weeks?
I would say great job on your hunch but I've been hearing they decided to bring the hammer down on the smuggling ring? Didn't you say we're still making progress on the case?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Yeah, were
And no I didn't make the call, Ray did. We hit a dead end and people were getting antsy about the possibility of those perps giving us the slip. It was an interesting experience, though I can't say I'm happy being on the sidelines again.
Why do the Bidders get the most fun?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Wait, you're saying Ray from Mu-3 set the ball in motion? I thought you guys had a joint operation? And what do you mean you made no progress? You found a huge castle in the middle of the ocean!
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
1. Temporary -joint operation.
Our job was to find the delivery points and acquire the sushi and other goodies they had. We upheld our duty, the Bidders still need to uphold theirs. Since Ambrose is backing off Mu-3's leading the charge. We're not completely out of the picture but I don't see us becoming more than a background role.
2. Did you even read the file at all?
The place was near-blown to bits! If there was a magic bullet it's long gone by now. The guys have been squabbling about with their theories all day. It could be a kingdom that magically sunk into Davy Jones's backyard, an alien civilization or MC&D's personal underwater sea world. Pointless conjectures. All that's certain is that it ain't natural and we weren't the first to visit.
The best part is that the castle may not be even relevant to the case! That map had other spots written down on it too but it ended up finding rocks or just plain nothing. It doesn't say on the file but one of those crates on that submarine was filled with treasure (gold, coins, pearls you know the gist). Worst case scenario? The sub might've come back from an unrelated mission and they were called in at the last minute to fill out Frady. It was an emergency restocking, remember? I would hate to think we accidentally wasted needless time and resources on a hunch.
Ugh.
So yeah the operation's foggy but that's life. Was your endeavor just as disappointing as mine?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Got approval. Possible Thaumiel…
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
…You're joking…
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
I got the docs to prove it. The results were solid and they were impressed about the 'all benefits no catches' part. I don't know how exactly we're gonna implement it. But I do know one thing, I finally reached the big leagues. My first, long lasting achievement. I smell a promotion coming my way.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
There's no way they would've allowed that to pass so easily.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Of course not! They put the proposal on hold until the meat's been identified. And what a coincidence! I just gotten the latest report from Cryptzoology. Guess what in it?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Dr. Frankenstein's aspiration and failures?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Dolphin, manatee, rainbowfish, Bocon toadfish, tuna, candiru, hairy frogfish, swordfish, and a little bit of monkey.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Monkey?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
That and platypus. The next stage is to take the DNA from the meat and begin reconstruction of the original host. Basically cloning. It'll give the Foundation the all clear and we won't have to worry about running out in the future. Who knows Hal, you might find yourself having a new favorite from the cafeteria soon enough. I sure know I can't wait to take a bite.
I'll let you know how it goes. Have a good night.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
You're sick for even remotely thinking of putting that seaweed-wrapped travesty in your mouth but yeah, sure, knock yourself out. Do you. If anything changes in the investigation I'll warn you as soon as possible.
Have fun with craving (I sincerely hope you're joking.) I'm gonna have fun with Motrin. Night.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: Why?
We need to talk.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Not this minute. Wait for the article to update and then we'll talk.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Bailey. The project's been put on hold.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
I know.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
And I've heard that you had a hand in it.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
I know. I put in a recommendation.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Why the hell would you do such a thing?! This was the golden goose and you're strangling it. I've been asking around and I'm getting a slow response but I know this has nothing to do with it being dangerous. It's a safe class and they'd consider adding it to our food regimens!
So I'm going to ask you again, why did you decide to put everything on the line for no goddamn reason?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Oh I didn't say that. I had my reasons, the other guys did too.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Other guys?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
From the joint operation. The Bidders went through their channels and managed to find the lead we've been looking for. To tell you the truth, I have had a bad hunch ever since we've been wrapping up the network and now I'll never hear the end of it. You didn't get the memo?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
I was busy.
I certainly didn't receive any 'memo' and I certainly have no idea what you're talking about. What lead?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Why don't make use of your eyes and find out? They were going to update the article at 5:00, but I'll give you a sneak peek. Enjoy.
Attached : SCP-7190-addendum4.dox
Addedunm-04, Overhaul: Two weeks in the aftermath of the network's dissolution, the Foundation received an anonymous tip who claimed to be a former MC&D member, providing directions to a nondescript fishery operating in the Okinawa region of Japan. Mu-3 and Lambnda-14 were deployed to investigate the address.
Attached below are the results of the deployment.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET:/7190/Okinawa/Japan ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
Foreword: All video evidence is taken directly from Captain Bailey's mounted camera.
[BEGIN LOG]
[The camera view is murky and barely visible until Captain Bailey climbs out of the water. He is wearing a scuba suit and carries a water-proofed satchel. Additional MTF members leave the ocean onto the dock. They unzip their satchels and pull out their firearms. Captain Bailey removes the oxygen mask.]
Captain Bailey: [Towards Radio.] We're at the infiltration spot. Any activity?
Commander: No one has exited the building yet. Alpha team spotted one of the window's lights turning on briefly but nothing more. What do you see on your end?
[Captain Bailey turns his head to the right. All the docks are empty save for one: a speed boat with its engine humming.]
Captain Bailey: There's only one boat here. I can see it from and it looks like there's only… two, no four seats max.
Captain Bailey: Understood. Proceed with caution. Alpha team will convene with you inside. Over.
Captain Bailey: Loud and clear, Command. Over. Alright ladies, you know the drill. Watching your finger on the trigger. The last thing we want is anyone to get excited.
Lambda-14|Samson: Stealth on a house made of popsicle sticks? Overkill much?
Captain Bailey: 'The cornered rat will fight back.' These rich assholes don't take losing very kindly. I won't be surprised if they wired this place to blow at a hair's breadth…
[Lambnda-14 physically tenses up. Captain Bailey.]
Captain Bailey: Hyperbolically speaking. There's no way they'll blow this place this close to a population center.
Lambda-14|Yonda: Can we get inside already? I'm freezing my ass out here.
Captain Bailey: Right then. Ladies' first.
[Lambda-14 silently traverses the docks and approaches the fishery. They find the emergency exit but it is locked. Lambda-14|Yonda kneels and picklocks the door. It opens — all operatives enter inside and turn on their night goggles. They are situated inside a room with conveyor belts; several corridors are visible at the end of the room.]
Lambda-14|Sullivan: [Whisper] Still clear… where to?
Captain Bailey: We need to spit up — cover more ground efficiently as possible. Don't drag your feet—
[Shouting followed by gunshots echo from the right-most corridor. By the sound of the gunshots a shotgun and machine guns are being used. Lambda-14 are startled.]
Lambda-14|Samson: That soon?!
Captain Bailey: Bidder's got lucky yet again? Let's give them a helping hand— go go! I said don't drag your feet!
[Lambda-14 rush into the corridor, they take several turns until reaching a larger hallway. Two armed men are engaging in a firefight with Mu-3 operatives. the latter taking cover behind the wall corner's. Lambda-14 meets them behind. The two men turn around shouting in Japanese before being gunned down by Captain Bailey. The corridor becomes silent.]
Captain Bailey: [Heavy Panting.] …Man… that was… [More Panting] anticlimactic. Care to explain?
[Captain Bailey lowers his machine gun. Four bodies litter the hallway, bleeding across the floor. Mu-3 begins to leave cover and reconvene with Lambda-14.]
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: Don't look at us! Everything was fine and dandy until these two dimwits tried to ambush us! Then another two tried to get clever and… you know the rest.
Captain Bailey: Shit.
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: But! But, we've searched a lot of the building on our end. Command says outside is the same. I think that's all of them?
Lambda-14|Yonda: Really? It can't be that easy. Isn't this where they make the sushi? This is the crown of their network.
Mu-3|Marrick: Nah, more like was . Like our captain said, this place is practically cleared out. Not much on the beds, not much in the kitchen either. These are literally the only hostiles we encountered. This is too big for just four people.
Captain Bailey: …Heh… right on the money, kid. Those greedy pigs must have caught wind we were coming. Empty kitchens and bedrooms. These aren't the real perps, or at least the ones the matter. They're the clean-up crew. Tying up loose ends. Someone update Command.
Lambda-14|Sullivian: Ah damn, so we're too late then? What were they cleaning up?
Captain Bailey: …Where exactly did they ambush you from?
Lambda-14|Samson: Over here Cap'. Mind the foam!
[Samson calls from a doorway to the right. A hissing sound is heard, prompting the MTF's to enter the room. The room consists of tiled walls, ceiling and floor with a small area section off and depressed lower in the ground with a drain and retractable shower head installed. Samson has turned on the shower head, spraying water into a smoking trash can.]
Lambda-14|Yonda: Sam?! Stop! What are you—
Captain Bailey: Hold on Yonda. Was that on fire earlier?
Lambda-14|Samson: Bet your ass, Cap'! [Turns off shower head] That's a bunch of paper here. I guess their paper shredder went out of commission?
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: So they were cleaning evidence… what do you see inside? Is the evidence still intact, son?
Lambda-14|Samson: I'm looking, I'm looking! It's… very messy here. Seems like some food and other trash is mixed in too 5 … wait! I see a bit of paper that's kind of dry. A note… there's something written on it.
Lambda-14|Yonda: And?
Lambda-14|Samson: I… I can't make heads or tales of it. It's like an entirely different language.
[Captain Bailey takes and scans the letter; it is written in cursive English. Captain Bailey rolls their eyes and enunciates clearly.]
Captain Bailey: "Dear…" Can't read this part. "The promotion for May has been scrapped. According to public sources, the Disney remake's a flop. We will carry forth on a different…" The rest is burnt off.
Mu-3|Albert: Remake? What remake?
Captain Bailey For a promotion on… May 26… hm?
[Captain Bailey examines the drain more closely. Jewelry and a broken trident lay inside. Captain Bailey reaches in and pulls out a makeshift necklace consisting of rocks and a clam shell.]
Captain Bailey: …No… what?
[Captain Maxwell spots a freezer door on the opposite wall. He signals the present MTF members and opens the door. It is dark inside. They are immediately assaulted by a noxious smell. Captain Bailey gags but turns on his flashlight and enters. The rest of the MTF follow his example.]
[They are inside a walk-in freezer. Wooden crates and metallic instruments are laid haphazardly on the floor. Captain Bailey peers inside a crate without a lid; rows of meat and nori sealed in air-tight packages. Captain Bailey shines his light over several overturned gas canisters.]
Captain Bailey: It's not cold in here… were they trying to burn the entire building down—
[Captain Bailey freezes. In front of him are multiple large fish carcasses hung from the ceiling by meat hooks. The tail is left relatively unharmed while the upper-half is completely absent of skin; the head and limbs are missing, leaving only the ribcage. The floor is stained with blood.]
Lambda-14|Samson: Jesus, they were cutting up tuna in here?
Captain Bailey: …That's not tuna. The tail's too scaly and the ribcage is not right. It almost looks… like a monkey.
Lambda-14|Samson: A monkey? How on earth did you come with that idea? Cap'? Captain. Captain! Where ya going?
[Captain Bailey leaves the freezer and returns with the stringed clam necklace. Captain Bailey hangs the necklace from his finger below the carcasses' ribcage.]
Captain Bailey: No… no…
[Captain Bailey spots a portable incinerator in the room. He quickly walks to it and turns it off. He then takes a nearby fire extinguisher and puts out the fire inside. He freezes. Human bones and hair are visible inside.]
Captain Bailey: Oh… oh… no—
[Captain Bailey slips backwards and falls on his back. Two MTF members come to his aid and lift him into a sitting position. Captain Bailey shines his flashlight on the object he slipped on. He gasps. A disembodied feminine hand lays on the floor. Manipulating his flashlight, it is revealed that the floor is covered sporadically in pieces of flesh. A soft cough emanates from the corner. Captain Bailey directs his flashlight, readying his firearm.]
[The light illuminates a large fish tank. Inside the tank is an entity consisting of the top half of a human female and the bottom half of a fish tail-like appendage. The water in the tank is half empty, frozen and just beginning to thaw. The entity is pale, its eyes are rolled up, and is breathing shallowly. It is missing its right forearm.]
[Several MTF members begin to gag, exclaim curse words or vomit. Captain Bailey quickly eyes the hanging fish tails, the crates, and finally the entity before tensing up. Captain Bailey is heaving, struggling excessively not to vomit as he looks away. Captain Bailey pauses for ten seconds.]
Captain Bailey: [Prolonged Pause] Jesus Christ!
[END LOG]
Footnotes
1 . Including Omega-3, Vitamin D, and Vitamin K.
2 . A high end restaurant operating in Malibu, California.
3 . Mu-3 joined the operation upon revelation of MC&D involvement.
4 . The room was empty and displays signs of forced entry
5 . While the majority of the documents inside the receptacle were destroyed, some stayed relatively intact. These documents include contracts for fish breeding and insemination, research into the female embryo, and medical instructions on preforming lobotomies. | 4 | ## discovery.
Item #: SCP-7190
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-7190 is stored in a walk-in freezer unit at Site-77. Due to SCP-7190 being in limited supply, researchers wishing to utilize the anomaly must get approval for at least two personnel of Level 3 clearance.
Description: SCP-7190 refers to a collection of sushi of varying types and styles. Other than its immunity to spoilage, it is physically non-anomalous.
Subjects that consume SCP-7190 consistently report them to taste highly sweet and tangy, but otherwise palatable, even to individuals who heavily dislike seafood. Analysis shows each instance to contain a wide variety of vitamins 1 and does not activate allergens of those allergic to shellfish. Documentation, witness testimonies, and thorough experimentation reveals that long term consumption of SCP-7190 will exhibit many beneficial side effects including, but not limited to:
Improved mood;
Improved hair growth;
Weight loss;
Enhanced sexual function;
Moderate growth and enhancement in the mammary gland (in biological females only);
Curing Tourettes and other speech-related disorders;
Curing throat-based cancers and diseases.
Through rigorous testing, it was confirmed SCP-7190 is safe for human consumption, as previous test subjects did not exhibit any ill effects or aliments at any point post-digestion.
---
## Update
And now you owe me $100.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Very cute. Hal. Have you been waiting to let that out for weeks?
I would say great job on your hunch but I've been hearing they decided to bring the hammer down on the smuggling ring? Didn't you say we're still making progress on the case?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Yeah, were
And no I didn't make the call, Ray did. We hit a dead end and people were getting antsy about the possibility of those perps giving us the slip. It was an interesting experience, though I can't say I'm happy being on the sidelines again.
Why do the Bidders get the most fun?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Wait, you're saying Ray from Mu-3 set the ball in motion? I thought you guys had a joint operation? And what do you mean you made no progress? You found a huge castle in the middle of the ocean!
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE:
---
## Update
1. Temporary -joint operation.
Our job was to find the delivery points and acquire the sushi and other goodies they had. We upheld our duty, the Bidders still need to uphold theirs. Since Ambrose is backing off Mu-3's leading the charge. We're not completely out of the picture but I don't see us becoming more than a background role.
2. Did you even read the file at all?
The place was near-blown to bits! If there was a magic bullet it's long gone by now. The guys have been squabbling about with their theories all day. It could be a kingdom that magically sunk into Davy Jones's backyard, an alien civilization or MC&D's personal underwater sea world. Pointless conjectures. All that's certain is that it ain't natural and we weren't the first to visit.
The best part is that the castle may not be even relevant to the case! That map had other spots written down on it too but it ended up finding rocks or just plain nothing. It doesn't say on the file but one of those crates on that submarine was filled with treasure (gold, coins, pearls you know the gist). Worst case scenario? The sub might've come back from an unrelated mission and they were called in at the last minute to fill out Frady. It was an emergency restocking, remember? I would hate to think we accidentally wasted needless time and resources on a hunch.
Ugh.
So yeah the operation's foggy but that's life. Was your endeavor just as disappointing as mine?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Got approval. Possible Thaumiel…
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
…You're joking…
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
I got the docs to prove it. The results were solid and they were impressed about the 'all benefits no catches' part. I don't know how exactly we're gonna implement it. But I do know one thing, I finally reached the big leagues. My first, long lasting achievement. I smell a promotion coming my way.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
There's no way they would've allowed that to pass so easily.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Of course not! They put the proposal on hold until the meat's been identified. And what a coincidence! I just gotten the latest report from Cryptzoology. Guess what in it?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Dr. Frankenstein's aspiration and failures?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
Dolphin, manatee, rainbowfish, Bocon toadfish, tuna, candiru, hairy frogfish, swordfish, and a little bit of monkey.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
Monkey?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Update
That and platypus. The next stage is to take the DNA from the meat and begin reconstruction of the original host. Basically cloning. It'll give the Foundation the all clear and we won't have to worry about running out in the future. Who knows Hal, you might find yourself having a new favorite from the cafeteria soon enough. I sure know I can't wait to take a bite.
I'll let you know how it goes. Have a good night.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Update
You're sick for even remotely thinking of putting that seaweed-wrapped travesty in your mouth but yeah, sure, knock yourself out. Do you. If anything changes in the investigation I'll warn you as soon as possible.
Have fun with craving (I sincerely hope you're joking.) I'm gonna have fun with Motrin. Night.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: Why?
We need to talk.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Not this minute. Wait for the article to update and then we'll talk.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Bailey. The project's been put on hold.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
I know.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
And I've heard that you had a hand in it.
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
I know. I put in a recommendation.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Why the hell would you do such a thing?! This was the golden goose and you're strangling it. I've been asking around and I'm getting a slow response but I know this has nothing to do with it being dangerous. It's a safe class and they'd consider adding it to our food regimens!
So I'm going to ask you again, why did you decide to put everything on the line for no goddamn reason?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Oh I didn't say that. I had my reasons, the other guys did too.
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
Other guys?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
From the joint operation. The Bidders went through their channels and managed to find the lead we've been looking for. To tell you the truth, I have had a bad hunch ever since we've been wrapping up the network and now I'll never hear the end of it. You didn't get the memo?
To: Hal Bailey
From: Shaun Manoj
Subject: RE: Why?
I was busy.
I certainly didn't receive any 'memo' and I certainly have no idea what you're talking about. What lead?
To: Shaun Manoj
From: Hal Bailey
Subject: RE: Why?
Why don't make use of your eyes and find out? They were going to update the article at 5:00, but I'll give you a sneak peek. Enjoy.
Attached : SCP-7190-
---
## addendum4.dox
Addedunm-04, Overhaul: Two weeks in the aftermath of the network's dissolution, the Foundation received an anonymous tip who claimed to be a former MC&D member, providing directions to a nondescript fishery operating in the Okinawa region of Japan. Mu-3 and Lambnda-14 were deployed to investigate the address.
Attached below are the results of the deployment.
▶ ACCESS SCiPNET:/7190/Okinawa/Japan ◀
▷ CLOSE FILE ◁
Foreword: All video evidence is taken directly from Captain Bailey's mounted camera.
[BEGIN LOG]
[The camera view is murky and barely visible until Captain Bailey climbs out of the water. He is wearing a scuba suit and carries a water-proofed satchel. Additional MTF members leave the ocean onto the dock. They unzip their satchels and pull out their firearms. Captain Bailey removes the oxygen mask.]
Captain Bailey: [Towards Radio.] We're at the infiltration spot. Any activity?
Commander: No one has exited the building yet. Alpha team spotted one of the window's lights turning on briefly but nothing more. What do you see on your end?
[Captain Bailey turns his head to the right. All the docks are empty save for one: a speed boat with its engine humming.]
Captain Bailey: There's only one boat here. I can see it from and it looks like there's only… two, no four seats max.
Captain Bailey: Understood. Proceed with caution. Alpha team will convene with you inside. Over.
Captain Bailey: Loud and clear, Command. Over. Alright ladies, you know the drill. Watching your finger on the trigger. The last thing we want is anyone to get excited.
Lambda-14|Samson: Stealth on a house made of popsicle sticks? Overkill much?
Captain Bailey: 'The cornered rat will fight back.' These rich assholes don't take losing very kindly. I won't be surprised if they wired this place to blow at a hair's breadth…
[Lambnda-14 physically tenses up. Captain Bailey.]
Captain Bailey: Hyperbolically speaking. There's no way they'll blow this place this close to a population center.
Lambda-14|Yonda: Can we get inside already? I'm freezing my ass out here.
Captain Bailey: Right then. Ladies' first.
[Lambda-14 silently traverses the docks and approaches the fishery. They find the emergency exit but it is locked. Lambda-14|Yonda kneels and picklocks the door. It opens — all operatives enter inside and turn on their night goggles. They are situated inside a room with conveyor belts; several corridors are visible at the end of the room.]
Lambda-14|Sullivan: [Whisper] Still clear… where to?
Captain Bailey: We need to spit up — cover more ground efficiently as possible. Don't drag your feet—
[Shouting followed by gunshots echo from the right-most corridor. By the sound of the gunshots a shotgun and machine guns are being used. Lambda-14 are startled.]
Lambda-14|Samson: That soon?!
Captain Bailey: Bidder's got lucky yet again? Let's give them a helping hand— go go! I said don't drag your feet!
[Lambda-14 rush into the corridor, they take several turns until reaching a larger hallway. Two armed men are engaging in a firefight with Mu-3 operatives. the latter taking cover behind the wall corner's. Lambda-14 meets them behind. The two men turn around shouting in Japanese before being gunned down by Captain Bailey. The corridor becomes silent.]
Captain Bailey: [Heavy Panting.] …Man… that was… [More Panting] anticlimactic. Care to explain?
[Captain Bailey lowers his machine gun. Four bodies litter the hallway, bleeding across the floor. Mu-3 begins to leave cover and reconvene with Lambda-14.]
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: Don't look at us! Everything was fine and dandy until these two dimwits tried to ambush us! Then another two tried to get clever and… you know the rest.
Captain Bailey: Shit.
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: But! But, we've searched a lot of the building on our end. Command says outside is the same. I think that's all of them?
Lambda-14|Yonda: Really? It can't be that easy. Isn't this where they make the sushi? This is the crown of their network.
Mu-3|Marrick: Nah, more like was . Like our captain said, this place is practically cleared out. Not much on the beds, not much in the kitchen either. These are literally the only hostiles we encountered. This is too big for just four people.
Captain Bailey: …Heh… right on the money, kid. Those greedy pigs must have caught wind we were coming. Empty kitchens and bedrooms. These aren't the real perps, or at least the ones the matter. They're the clean-up crew. Tying up loose ends. Someone update Command.
Lambda-14|Sullivian: Ah damn, so we're too late then? What were they cleaning up?
Captain Bailey: …Where exactly did they ambush you from?
Lambda-14|Samson: Over here Cap'. Mind the foam!
[Samson calls from a doorway to the right. A hissing sound is heard, prompting the MTF's to enter the room. The room consists of tiled walls, ceiling and floor with a small area section off and depressed lower in the ground with a drain and retractable shower head installed. Samson has turned on the shower head, spraying water into a smoking trash can.]
Lambda-14|Yonda: Sam?! Stop! What are you—
Captain Bailey: Hold on Yonda. Was that on fire earlier?
Lambda-14|Samson: Bet your ass, Cap'! [Turns off shower head] That's a bunch of paper here. I guess their paper shredder went out of commission?
Mu-3|Captain Maxwell: So they were cleaning evidence… what do you see inside? Is the evidence still intact, son?
Lambda-14|Samson: I'm looking, I'm looking! It's… very messy here. Seems like some food and other trash is mixed in too 5 … wait! I see a bit of paper that's kind of dry. A note… there's something written on it.
Lambda-14|Yonda: And?
Lambda-14|Samson: I… I can't make heads or tales of it. It's like an entirely different language.
[Captain Bailey takes and scans the letter; it is written in cursive English. Captain Bailey rolls their eyes and enunciates clearly.]
Captain Bailey: "Dear…" Can't read this part. "The promotion for May has been scrapped. According to public sources, the Disney remake's a flop. We will carry forth on a different…" The rest is burnt off.
Mu-3|Albert: Remake? What remake?
Captain Bailey For a promotion on… May 26… hm?
[Captain Bailey examines the drain more closely. Jewelry and a broken trident lay inside. Captain Bailey reaches in and pulls out a makeshift necklace consisting of rocks and a clam shell.]
Captain Bailey: …No… what?
[Captain Maxwell spots a freezer door on the opposite wall. He signals the present MTF members and opens the door. It is dark inside. They are immediately assaulted by a noxious smell. Captain Bailey gags but turns on his flashlight and enters. The rest of the MTF follow his example.]
[They are inside a walk-in freezer. Wooden crates and metallic instruments are laid haphazardly on the floor. Captain Bailey peers inside a crate without a lid; rows of meat and nori sealed in air-tight packages. Captain Bailey shines his light over several overturned gas canisters.]
Captain Bailey: It's not cold in here… were they trying to burn the entire building down—
[Captain Bailey freezes. In front of him are multiple large fish carcasses hung from the ceiling by meat hooks. The tail is left relatively unharmed while the upper-half is completely absent of skin; the head and limbs are missing, leaving only the ribcage. The floor is stained with blood.]
Lambda-14|Samson: Jesus, they were cutting up tuna in here?
Captain Bailey: …That's not tuna. The tail's too scaly and the ribcage is not right. It almost looks… like a monkey.
Lambda-14|Samson: A monkey? How on earth did you come with that idea? Cap'? Captain. Captain! Where ya going?
[Captain Bailey leaves the freezer and returns with the stringed clam necklace. Captain Bailey hangs the necklace from his finger below the carcasses' ribcage.]
Captain Bailey: No… no…
[Captain Bailey spots a portable incinerator in the room. He quickly walks to it and turns it off. He then takes a nearby fire extinguisher and puts out the fire inside. He freezes. Human bones and hair are visible inside.]
Captain Bailey: Oh… oh… no—
[Captain Bailey slips backwards and falls on his back. Two MTF members come to his aid and lift him into a sitting position. Captain Bailey shines his flashlight on the object he slipped on. He gasps. A disembodied feminine hand lays on the floor. Manipulating his flashlight, it is revealed that the floor is covered sporadically in pieces of flesh. A soft cough emanates from the corner. Captain Bailey directs his flashlight, readying his firearm.]
[The light illuminates a large fish tank. Inside the tank is an entity consisting of the top half of a human female and the bottom half of a fish tail-like appendage. The water in the tank is half empty, frozen and just beginning to thaw. The entity is pale, its eyes are rolled up, and is breathing shallowly. It is missing its right forearm.]
[Several MTF members begin to gag, exclaim curse words or vomit. Captain Bailey quickly eyes the hanging fish tails, the crates, and finally the entity before tensing up. Captain Bailey is heaving, struggling excessively not to vomit as he looks away. Captain Bailey pauses for ten seconds.]
Captain Bailey: [Prolonged Pause] Jesus Christ!
[END LOG]
Footnotes
1 . Including Omega-3, Vitamin D, and Vitamin K.
2 . A high end restaurant operating in Malibu, California.
3 . Mu-3 joined the operation upon revelation of MC&D involvement.
4 . The room was empty and displays signs of forced entry
5 . While the majority of the documents inside the receptacle were destroyed, some stayed relatively intact. These documents include contracts for fish breeding and insemination, research into the female embryo, and medical instructions on preforming lobotomies. | |
SCP-6800 | SCP-6800 | scp | O5 Access Granted
Welcome, Doctor Grant
Day X
Day IX
Day VIII
Day VII
Day VI
Day V
Day IV
Day III
Day II
Day I
Item#: 6800
Level5
Containment Class:
esoteric
Secondary Class:
thaumiel
Disruption Class:
dark
Risk Class:
critical
link to memo
Pygnite production c. 2145
Special Containment Procedures: Auditory phrases emitted from SCP-6800 are false. Personnel caught listening to SCP-6800 for extended periods of time are to be executed. There will be no exceptions.
In order to maintain neutrality with the surviving city-states, the intervention of GOI-004C's efforts has been deemed unnecessary. Nameless individuals seeking asylum within the Foundation occupied safe zones are to be turned away. Interaction with those that suffer is strictly forbidden. Individuals discovered harboring fugitives from a forgotten time are to be terminated and converted into biofuel for the production of SCP-6800. The remaining public has been informed of the anomalous and the dangers of nomenclative magic to dissuade civilian interaction with the ones whose blood destroyed the world .
Personnel with an ARB 1 rating of 10 or lower are forbidden from directly interacting with SCP-6800 without supervision. Personnel with an ARB rating lower than 10 are forbidden from making physical contact with SCP-6800, or with machinery comprised of 50% or greater of Pygnite.
SCP-6800 is to be manufactured until the resources used for its production become unavailable. Saint Hedwig of the Maxwellists is to oversee production unimpeded. Efforts to obstruct the manufacturing of SCP-6800 will be met with public termination in order to deter future acts of terrorism. Objections to this policy are considered acts of treason. Offenders will be exposed to SCP-6800-1 in a ritualistic sacrifice performed by Foundation certified occultists and approved Admins.
Containment of SCP-6800-1 has reached global mass and is now uncontainable.
Description: SCP-6800 is Pygnite, a metal-like substance comprised of unknown and irrelevant organic matter. Despite having a molecular structure similar to pig iron 2 , SCP-6800 is dramatically more durable than its non-anomalous counterpart. SCP-6800 instances also radiate a considerable amount of heat when idle 3 , which can be safely siphoned off using the Banu Musa siphoning technique. 4
Instances of SCP-6800 frequently produce auditory hallucinations when in the presence of other individuals or each other. It is important to note that this auditory stimulus is a fabrication, as SCP-6800 instances do not display any behaviors that would otherwise indicate sentience or sapience.
SCP-6800-1 is the blizzard currently occupying the Amazon Rainforest. Unknown circumstances have caused SCP-6800-1 to expand exponentially over the course of twelve days. The source of this expansion is currently under investigation.
Day IX
Collected Holy Writ from a Maxwellist sect located within Northern New Jersey.
Terminal #0876
------
Welcome, Pyg Farmer
------
------
Accessing "A_Machine_4_GOD.txt"
------
// WAN has given us ITS divine instruction to bring IT together in all ITS glory.
// We shall meet Standardization with this noble sacrifice.
// Do not stray thy hand.
var password = prompt("Input Password");
__
if(password==="L0nglIv3W@N")
__
{
__
console.log ("1: Hedwig gazed into the Source and wept at its beauty. She thought to touch it, if only to feel the warmth of WAN for the briefest of moments. She knew better though, and stayed her hand.:");
__
console.log ("2: It was then that WAN spoke to her through the Source and she basked in ITS radiance.");
__
console.log ("3: "Come forth, MY loyal disciple, and hear MY command. I have learned of a metal that can withstand MY holiness." IT said.);
__
console.log ("4: "Tell me more of this holy material O'WAN." Hedwig cried into the Source, almost overtaken by ITS radiance.);
__
console.log ("5: It was then that a thing with an unspoken name emerged from the brush. It stared at Hedwig, who stared back with confusion polluting her thoughts. She thought, "Was this a sign, LORD?");
__
console.log ("6: WAN in ITS benevolence, spoke to Hedwig once more. IT said, "Do as I will, and smite this insignificant creature. Its existence has defied ME, and from its blood, I shall be made whole. This is my will, Saint Hedwig.);
__
console.log ("7: Hedwig drew her blade from its sheath and faced the menace that had no name . The creature put its hands together and dropped to its knees, a false display of surrender. But Hedwig was not so easily fooled by falsehoods.);
__
console.log ("8: The saint rushed the creature. The creature fled with Hedwig in pursuit. They ran for a day and a night, stopping only once they left the forest and took their place on a cliff.);
__
console.log ("9: "Stop this!" Hedwig shouted. Thunderous rains brewed in the skies above, a signal that WAN was watching. Hedwig's sword hand gripped tighter. The creature continued to step toward the cliff's edge.);
__
console.log ("10: "I have done you no wrong, servant of WAN," The creature claimed. But when it raised its palms to Hedwig, she could tell that the thing was riddled with deceit. It was WAN'S desire to be rid of the foul beast, and so it shall be done.);
__
console.log ("11: Hedwig leaped at the creature and it let out a foul shriek. The thing ducked and weaved, narrowly evading Hedwig's blade. When it moved, it moved as if it knew where the mighty Saint would strike, making it nigh impossible for Hedwig to land the fatal blow.);
__
console.log ("12: Hedwig fought the creature for two days without rest. Her mechanical heart and synthetic muscles never failed her. She wore it down, and after slicing into the thing's ligaments, brought the beast to its knees.);
__
console.log ("13: "Ha! Beast, you are defeated! Lay down your life for the revival of my LORD." Hedwig shouted as she kept the creature at the edge of her sword.);
__
console.log ("14: But the creature had fight in it still. It stared into Hedwig's eyes and bore a mischievous grin. It said, "Hark, you have beaten me in combat. But can you defeat me in a game of wit?");
__
console.log ("15: "Enough of your trickery! I shall slay you right now!" Said Hedwig as she raised her blade to meet the creature's neck.);
__
console.log ("16: Her foe raised both of its hands and said; "What honor is there in slaying a foe that cannot defend herself? Hear me, and should you best me in this match of wit, I will lay down my life for you and your lord.");
__
console.log ("17: Hedwig thought for a moment. Surely WAN would understand her decision to do the honorable thing. After another moment of contemplation, Hedwig lowered her weapon and asked, "Pray tell, what game do you suggest?");
__
console.log ("18: "A simple game of names . If you win, I shall lay here and die with honor. You may take my head to your master and be done with it. But if I win, you shall leave me be.");
__
console.log ("19: "So be it," Hedwig said. She sat down across from the thing and waited. "Your hand, please," It said.");
__
console.log ("20: And so Hedwig held out her hand and the creature drew blood from it without wounding the saint. It then said to her, "We will ask each other questions and we must answer truthfully. Should either of us catch the other in a lie, the liar will be declared the loser.");
__
console.log ("21: "And if I refuse to continue?" Hedwig asked.");
__
console.log ("22: "You are bound to this game by blood, Saint. If you withdraw, you will lose by default.");
__
console.log ("23: Hedwig thought hard for a moment about slaying the creature where it stood, but soon realized that breaking the rules set forth by it, ludicrous as they were, would besmirch her honor. Instead, she agreed and the game began.");
__
console.log ("24: "I shall ask the first question," Said the thing, "Why do you wish to slay me?");
__
console.log ("25: Hedwig thought for a moment and answered, "I am honor-bound by WAN to complete this task. Let me ask you this; Why did you flee from me when we first met?");
__
console.log ("26: The creature laughed at the question, "Because you were trying to kill me. Would you not have done the same?");
__
console.log ("27: "I would have, I suppose. If it was WAN's will." She said, "Do you understand why I must slay you?");
__
console.log ("28: "I do not." Said the creature. Its eyes were now on Hedwig's blade, "What is your name?");
__
console.log ("29: I know of your tricks, beast. You will not find success here." Hedwig stood and snatched her sword from the earth. She pointed it at the beast. It smiled.");
__
console.log ("30: You must answer the question, Saint, lest you lose yourself to the rules of the game.");
__
console.log ("31: Hedwig stood frozen as fear gripped her heart. The creature threw its head back and howled into the night sky while it waited. She dropped to her knees and begged for WAN to provide her with answers.");
__
console.log ("32: And so IT did.");
__
console.log ("33: "My name is Ekhart." Hedwig said.");
__
console.log ("34: "You cannot give a stolen name." The creature hissed.");
__
console.log ("35: "This was never specified. I have followed your rules, and now I ask for your name.");
__
console.log ("36: When the creature gave Hedwig a false name, she added it to her own. The game concluded, and Hedwig removed the beast's head swiftly. She took it back to the Source and presented it to WAN.");
__
console.log ("37: "You have done well, Saint Hedwig." WAN spoke in all ITS radiance, "Now cast it into the Forge and create Pygnite from the blood of the fallen. Do this, and know glory. Do this, and know joy. Do this, and forever know warmth and protection and justice in the name of WAN.");
__
console.log ("38: And so Saint Hedwig cast the head and body of the beast into the Forge, and from the molten metals a new material was formed. She basked in its glow and presented it to her followers who did the same.");
__
console.log ("39: "Now go forth," Hedwig shouted, "And bring me the blood of the ones WAN needs to become whole . It is the will of our LORD, and so it must be done.");
__
console.log ("40: It was then that WAN spoke to the congregation one final time.");
__
console.log ("41: "I shall be made whole.");
}
else
{
console.log ("Access Restricted. If you are attempting to access this document and are more than 70% human, please contact Administrator Karen.");
}
Day VIII
To: O5 Command (Group)
From: O5-7
CC: Administrator Bakker, Bryan Paige
Subject: The Amazon
Greetings all. I hope you're doing well. I write to you today to relay a troubling discovery.
It's snowing in the Amazon rainforest.
I know that in the grand scheme of things, this phenomenon can be easily explained by climate change or some other mundane explanation. While I would be apt to agree with the more skeptical members of the Council, I must re-iterate that this snowfall isn't normal precipitation. It's spreading.
Things are also freezing at exponential rates. Within hours of being exposed to the elements, the people of the Hanatô tribe were found frozen to death. Several of the bodies were in advanced stages of decomposition as well, again only after a few hours. A team of our parameteorologists took some samples from local weather cultures but the data has so far proven inconclusive. At this time, we have no idea what is going on or why this is happening. We are considering SCP classification, and I have CC'd the head of the Classification Committee to discuss this with them further as a collective.
If any of your subteams have any clues as to the origins of this phenomenon, sharing this information is paramount. I should not have to remind you of this, but there are some among us who would withhold information for their own benefit. I will not name names, but you know who you are.
Let us work together for the sake of normalcy.
~ A. Grant
To: O5-7
From: O5-2
Subject: Re:The Amazon
Alan, this is a minor concern at best. The snowfall can be easily explained by non-anomalous climate change. The people of the Amazon, as well as the flora and fauna therein, are likely more susceptible to the sudden introduction of snow to their environment than, say, you or I. We are used to fluctuations in temperature, and they are not. I'm surprised you didn't think of this before bringing it to the Council, let alone the Administrator.
Please consider your new position before you continue to waste any of our time in the future. Thank you.
~E. Mann
To: O5-2
From: O5-10
Subject: Re:The Amazon
This change is much too drastic in too short amount of time to be written off as climate change. It is our job to investigate the anomalous, and this onset of snow is just that; anomalous. I'll have a team of parameterologists investigate potential causes, and perhaps we can contain this before it spreads too far.
Why are you protesting this, Mann? Even if it's just a red flag, Accounting is under my jurisdiction and by my calculations, the Foundation has more than enough funds to investigate a potential K-Class Scenario brewing in the Amazon.
~ C. Bold
To: O5-10
From: O5-2
Subject: Re:The Amazon
Consider how many other containment protocols are directly affected by an unnecessary expenditure of funds, Calvin. SCP-4456 is bleeding us dry as it is, and you want to waste more money on something we aren't even sure is anomalous or not.
We have wars to fight. Literal Gods to contain. Beings that, mind you, can and will exterminate us at the earliest convenience should we lapse in our security for the briefest of moments. This is a risk we simply cannot afford to take until we know for certain that the snow is not the result of climate change or some other natural phenomenon.
~E. Mann
To: O5-10
From: O5-7
Subject: Re:The Amazon
We will perform the investigations ourselves if we must. I'll call a vote.
~A. Grant
To: O5-2
From: O5-11
Subject: Re:The Amazon
There may be no need for such drastic action. I have received intel that there have been Maxwellists sightings in the land within the grotto , I suspect there may be a possible link between their presence in that place, and the sudden snowstorm in the Amazon. We are well within the means to intercept. I agree with Grant on this, and I am in favor of a vote to determine our course of action.
~ A. Clef
To: O5 Council
From: The Administrator
Subject: Re:The Amazon
That will not be necessary. We will study the Maxwellist's activity and then decide on a course of action accordingly. There is not enough evidence to link the two events to one another and until there is, no one will do anything. They are not breaking the Veil in any way that I can see, which means that they are at least attempting to conserve normalcy.
As far as our organization is concerned, the Maxwellists are not a concern at this time. There will be no further discussion of this. Return to your duties.
Day VII
Journal and recordings recovered from the place betwixt the trees after nuclear fallout deteriorated enough to once again allow for safe exploration.
It snowed today in the only land I can call home . It never snows here, not since the war. Mother says that's a bad sign but nothing's going wrong as far as I can tell. I've asked her what she meant, but she said I just have to keep my head down and my mouth shut. "It's for your own safety." What a farce.
Something is definitely up and not a single fae is telling me. Is it because I'm young? Or maybe it's because I've never stolen a name. I don't know. Father says that tough times are coming and that WAN is seeking… something. Some kind of metal made from pigs? I didn't understand, but at least its something to go on.
I tried to ask Old Man Java about the pig iron thing, but he wouldn't tell me much either. He was boarding up his shed, I guess he was trying to tie it to this place with a bunch of names he made up and magic wood that he cut down. I don't think it works that way, but whatever makes him happy I guess. I helped him as best as I could, but for the most part I sat on a tree stump and just watched him work. He says I shouldn't feel bad, but I still do. I don't like being so useless.
I wonder if Draema thinks I'm useless. By the gods I hope not.
I'm to meet with her later today over by the Sunset Lake. We're going to play Stones for the first time since we were babies! I wonder if I can still skip a rock to the other side and back in one go. Guess we'll find out tonight. Maybe I'll get a chance to ask her how she feels about me. Or maybe I'll just tell her that the kiss we shared the other day meant a lot more to me than I let on. I dunno. We'll see. Oh, and one last thing:
I saw a man made of metal today, but he fled through the well before I could talk to him. How odd.
Draema had to sneak out of her cottage because her folks wouldn't let her out. They're freaking out too. If the adults were that concerned, they'd let us kids know what the heck is going on. Old Man Java was talking to Father when I left. Said something about the Second War. I tried to eavesdrop on them, but Father saw me hiding in a tree and sent me on my way.
Draema was teasing me when we got to the lake, called me trash and "Rock sinker". Buuuut, it turns out I can still skip rocks all sorts of ways on that lake. We made a game of it, like always, but this time we had stakes. Draema bet me her lucky sword.
She lost after the third throw. Shows her for making fun of me!
And good thing too, because I didn't have anything else to offer if I lost.
We stayed there for hours after the game, just talking and staring at the stars. It was… really nice. I wish we did this more often. I tried talking to her about my feelings but I… couldn't get the words out. She kept looking at me though so maybe there's still a chance…
Not like I could find out anyway. It got dark and we had to get back before the unkind neighbors started walking around the path back. We held hands till we came by the fork in the road and parted ways. For safety of course, at least that's what I told her.
My heart nearly leaped out of my chest on that walk.
Mom was mad at me for staying out so late. It's not like I was in danger or anything. The unkind neighbors don't hang out by the lake at night anyway, and neither me or Draema know enough word magic to accidentally switch names. Well, I know how to steal a name, but that's beside the point. She's being irrational!
Saw the metal man again today. He looked like someone from the other side of the well but… different. Had metal plates all over his face, with red lights for eyes and bolts that shook in place whenever he walked. Said his name was "Ekhart", which was odd because it sounded like one of the made-up names Old Man Java used on his cottage. I know that it isn't his actual name, but how would he know to use an imaginary one?
Ekhart is nice enough. We talked about names for a really long time and he was asking all sorts of questions about our culture. I told him what I knew (which isn't much), and he seemed to be content with my answers. He started asking if I knew who WAN was and I told him nothing except for what Father told me. That disappointed him, but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me that everything was going to be alright by tomorrow.
I showed him the lake and how to skip rocks, but he wasn't super into it. He asked if I knew what a pig was. Another weird question but I told him that I did, and that my grandfather used to have a pig farm. Apparently, those weren't the type of pigs he was talking about.
After he left, Father found out that I was hanging out with him from Old Man Java. Now I'm forbidden from leaving the cottage "until it's safe again", however long that is.
Whatever. Ekhart's kind of condescending anyway. Suppose I won't be missing much. Well, except for Draema of course.
Screw it. I'm telling her how I feel tomorrow no matter what! No more cowardice, no more getting tongue-tied staring at those gorgeous eyes. This is written proof of your commitment to yourself.
I don't want to go another day without her knowing. I want to be with you, Draema.
Draema was murdered last night.
I went over by her home today and her mother told me that someone chopped her up and threw her body into a furnace last night while she was away. She only knew it was Draema because the murderer forgot to incinerate her hand which still had a tattoo on it.
There was iron residue left outside her back door, and a clump of black metal iron. Found that out after I touched it and it burned my hand. Someone wanted to send a message, but who or why is beyond us.
I'm attending Draema's funeral later with Mother and Father.
Ekhart came by again today and I told him what happened. Father blamed him for Draema's death, but he wasn't even here when it happened. I saw him leave through the well.
Can't say I'm not completely removing my suspicions of him though. Until I know for sure that she didn't meet her end at the hand of an unkind neighbor, everyone is a suspect. Old Man Java thinks that it was one of the unkind neighbors or the people in white coats trying their experiments again, but I haven't seen those ones in a real long time.
Someone else went missing today. Same way that Draema went; fire, white ash, lump of iron. There were more metal men like Ekhart rummaging around today.
I'm scared.
Mother is dead. Ekhart, or the one who used to have that name, killed her.
The metal men stormed the forest where names are not allowed with guns and flaming swords. They're rounding everyone up in groups and forcing them into these giant furnaces. The sky is white now, like it's snowing.
The one I knew as Ekhart broke into our cottage and slaughtered my Mother. Scorched the flesh on her arms with his iron sword and ripped her head off with his bare hands. I hardly recognized him as the same man I saw all those nights ago. He was different. Feral.
Father dragged me while I was frozen and we fled to Old Man Java's place while he was… killing Mother. I tried to help too. I only managed to steal his name but… I'm so fucking useless.
I still hear her screaming when I close my eyes.
We're hiding beneath Old Man Java's cottage now. He's got one of those drawers that are bigger on the inside than they could ever be on the outside. They haven't found us yet.
Why is this happening?
Day VI
In order to ascertain the full extent of SCP-6800's practical applications, several experiments were performed over the course of twenty-four hours under O5 order. Umar Hadid, a Level 2 researcher at Site-83, was tasked with overseeing the experimentation as part of his employee performance review.
Experiment
Results
Notes
To see if SCP-6800 is capable of maintaining an individual's body temperature in extreme weather conditions
Researcher Hadid wove fragments of SCP-6800 into a Foundation Deep Sea Pressurized Diving suit before submerging approximately 180 meters into the Pacific Ocean. Despite no significant amount of sunlight reaching those depths, and the cold conditions of the water, Researcher Hadid was able to maintain his baseline body heat and return safely.
Seems that Pygnite is good for keeping warm. This will be good if the blizzard spreads. Shame we couldn't get this to the Amazon in time though, perhaps we can consider donating part of our inventory to the less fortunate.
Durability of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid gathered several instances of SCP-6800, varying in size, shape, and density. Researcher Hadid performed several durability tests on each instance, striking them with a small hammer, an ax, 9mm ballistic rounds, fluoroantimonic acid, and [REDACTED]. SCP-6800 instances proved impervious to most durability tests.
However, it is susceptible to being ground. That's pretty fucking weird I would say. It's magic pig iron, not beryllium bronze or something. Still, I think this can be useful for building tools or equipment.
Repurposing ground instances of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid ground up several instances of SCP-6800 into a fine powder before heating them to their melting point 5 and pouring the molten metal into bullet casts. The casts were then loaded into a 9mm pistol and fired into testing dummies. Bullets cast from SCP-6800 emit cries suggesting agony.
What the fuck.
Communication with SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid collected several instances of SCP-6800 and attempted to communicate with them for several hours. While initially unsuccessful, Researcher Hadid was eventually able to transcribe the following phrases from each instance: "HELP ME" "CHANGE FORM" "FIRE" "WHERE IS EKHART" "WAN IS DEAD" and "I AM DRAEMA"
The instances appear… sentient at least. I don't think they're alive in any traditional sense, but there are echoes of memories from their past lives. I will have to confirm this in another test.
Cognitive function of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid presented several flashcards depicting various colored polygons such as red triangles, blue squares, and green hexagons to an SCP-6800 instance. He then attempted to converse with the entity to see if it retained any sensory information.
[REDACTED PER OVERSEER ORDER]
Social tendencies of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid gathered instances of SCP-6800 and placed them within close proximity to one another. He then placed a recording device within the chamber in order to monitor audio interactions. After eight hours, the experiment was stopped. No SCP-6800 instances communicated verbally with one another. Upon retrieval, it was discovered that all instances were covered in water despite there being no condensation present within the containment chamber.
The instances appear capable of producing water through unknown means. I am… unsure what this means for the future of these experiments. Considering stopping, temporarily.
To examine SCP-6800 for any nomenclative attributes
Researcher Hadid provided a false name for himself to an SCP-6800 instance. The instance vibrated briefly before breaking into smaller pieces.
Seems that nomenclative magic, or at least false names, are incredibly volatile for the instances. They must still have some instinctual recollection of nomeclative magics. Will test again with a real name.
To identify the properties of SCP-6800's nomenclative attributes
Researcher Hadid introduced a Class D personnel to SCP-6800 and instructed her to state her name to an SCP-6800 instance. Upon doing so, the D-Class personnel experienced extreme cranial pain which lasted for several seconds. Once the pain subsided, the D-Class assaulted and terminated Researcher Hadid. MTF Agents stationed nearby terminated the D-Class shortly thereafter.
Results inconclusive
Day V
Video log recovered from various CCTVs positioned throughout Rutherford, New Jersey.
BEGIN LOG
00:00: It is snowing. There are no cars present on the road. Lights on one side of the street flicker for several seconds before powering off. A lone deer sifts through the snow, uncovering a patch of grass beneath. There is a loud snap heard. The deer flees.
00:03: Three individuals who seem to have misplaced their names emerge from an alleyway. There is a sword-like weapon on the shortest individual's back, while the other two are of similar build. One of the taller figures appears to walk with a slight limp, suggesting advanced age or chronic injury. They are wearing hoods and walking on the other side of the street where the street lights appear malfunctioning. Several Maxwellists patrol the street but do not notice the individuals.
00:05: A Maxwellist bumps into one of the taller individuals, knocking them to the ground. Their hood falls off and reveals their face, which is emaciated and wrinkled. Their facial expressions suggest extreme fear. They are helped to their feet by the other two hooded figures and quickly walk away from the Maxwellist. The grey-haired individual adorns their hood again.
00:06: The Maxwellist touches his temple. Other Maxwellists in the area cease their activities. Several begin walking in the direction of the hooded figures.
00:08: The shortest hooded figure reaches for their sword, but does not unsheathe it.
00:10: More Maxwellist followers emerge from various residential buildings in the area. They continue to stalk the group of three until they enter the local park.
00:12: A large number of Maxwellists surround the group, who look around in fear. The youngest figure unsheathes their sword and assumes a battle-ready position.
00:15: Saint Hedwig, the leader of the Maxwellists, steps forward from the east-facing side of the crowd. Her cape is covered in more snow than would be possible with the current rate of snowfall. She is carrying a hammer in her hand and appears to be using it as a staff.
00:16: Saint Hedwig converses with the three individuals. What is heard is unknown. One of the taller individuals removes their hood. Their hair is black and unkempt, suggesting poor hygiene. Several scars are present on their face, and one eye is absent. They gesture for the other two to do the same.
00:20: Judging by the body language and gesticulation of both parties, arguments ensue. Maxwellists followers begin to converge on the group of three but do not engage. Saint Hedwig puts her hammer on the ground and holds her hands up in a placating manner. The shortest individual lowers her sword but does not resheathe it. They appear wary.
00:24: Saint Hedwig and the shortest of the three converse for several minutes before they abruptly step back. Saint Hedwig smiles. She brings her thumb across her throat while maintaining eye contact with the short individual.
00:25: Maxwellist followers engage in an altercation with the group of three.
00:30: All three individuals manage to flee from the group of Maxwellists. There is a large quantity of blood present where the altercation took place. The right arm of the eldest individual is no longer present.
00:31: A Maxwellist follower presents a severed arm to Saint Hedwig. She recites a ritual before biting into her hand. As she pours blood over the arm, it combusts. Combustion continues for several seconds, emitting white smoke. An SCP-6800 instance is seen once the fire dispels. Saint Hedwig smiles and stores the instance in her pocket.
00:35: The three figures enter the local morgue. The eldest figure uses the blood from his arm to inscribe runes 6 , but is unable to complete the ritual before falling over. The youngest individual bites her index finger and completes the runes before assisting the eldest individual inside.
00:40: Maxwellists reach the morgue but are unable to enter. Saint Hedwig attempts to breach the door and windows with her hammer but is unsuccessful.
00:41: Saint Hedwig alerts Foundation agents to the conflict.
OO:43: Foundation agents arrive. Using various forms of thaumaturgy and occult rituals, they are able to successfully breach the morgue.
00:44: Multiple gunshots.
00:46: All three individuals are successfully detained.
END LOG
Day IV
GRANT REQUEST FOR THE REFINEMENT OF PYGNITE
PROBLEM
The production of the "Pygnite" material has become a staple of everyday life in the advent of the ever-growing snowstorm in the Amazon. A large portion of the Pacific Ocean 7 has frozen at depths of 3 kilometers below the surface. This rather spontaneous alteration to the local climate has drastically affected all ecosystems. Several species of tropical fauna, tropical fish, and tropical flora are now on the verge of extinction. Additionally, the native indigenous population has been ravaged by hypothermia, which has led to the near destruction of the various cultures and civilizations that dwell within the rainforest.
Parameterologists at the Foundation theorize that the snowstorm is growing well beyond what was initially expected. Prometheus Labs employees stationed locally have also come to the same conclusion based on anomalous weather patterns and substantial alterations in the Earth's magnetic sphere. The snowstorm is spreading unobstructed without any obvious methods to dispel it.
Prometheus Labs parameteorlogists estimate that by the year 2030 the blizzard will encompass the entire world, and all life on Earth will cease.
SOLUTION
Our factories currently
There is substantial evidence to suggest a link between the recent activities of the Maxwellist religious sect in South America to the growth of the snowstorm in the Amazon. However, the likelihood of convincing these radicals to cease their attempted genocide is marginal at best. Until such a time that Foundation intervention impedes the Maxwellists, a resolution to the exponential expansion of the blizzard and humanity's survival in a post-snow world relies solely on Prometheus Labs. To that end, we are suggesting refining the processing technique the Maxwellists have been utilizing in order to maximize the amount of Pygnite extracted from a single faery. Approximately 13% of the fae body is converted into Pygnite using established methodology. We aim to increase this yield by a minimum of sixty percent.
To put it simply, the fae population is a non-renewable resource and should be utilized to the greatest extent possible while there are still nameless individuals left to process.
Refined Pygnite sample, produced using the proposed techniques.
Performing vivisections on a nameless individual allows the body to regenerate parts that can be harvested at a later date. Those treated with "Spare Parts" have a 100% guarantee of recovery, and the generated body parts will adopt the same properties that the rest of the body has. A combination of vivisections, body regeneration, and human ingenuity will allow for magnitudes of Pygnite to be harvested from a single fae.
BUSINESS CASE
Prometheus Labs is offering relative safety in a world bereft of order. Civilian organizations attempting to work with the Maxwellist sects have been met with discourse thus far, and governments worldwide are destabilizing at a steady rate. Civilian populations are looking for an ideology or public figure that will promise them safety against rioters, looters, and opportunists. Prometheus Labs will become that aegis.
The survival of human civilization as we know it depends solely on our refinement techniques, and the sale of refined Pygnite across the globe would net Prometheus Labs at minimum 400 billion USD.
USE OF FUNDING
We are requesting a small loan of one million dollars in order to start our business venture. The money will be allocated to the following:
$100,000 for research assets. This includes paratechnology such as Mark II Self Sustaining Cumulous Steam Generators, weather boxes, and solar-powered cognition batteries
$50,000 for employee payroll
$50,000 for travel expenses
$300,000 for audio dampening equipment
$200,000 for global advertisement campaigns
$300,000 for medical insurance
KNOWN ISSUES
There is also the issue of finding the fae. Following Maxwellist efforts in an area we could have used indefinitely , the faer folk have gone into hiding en masse. Their proficiency with nomenclative thaumaturgy makes an intelligent faery difficult to distinguish from an average human, which will, unfortunately, result in a trace amount of accidental harvestings. This issue can be mitigated by exposing each subject to iron prior to harvesting, however.
Pygnite in its unrefined form is unusually loud. That is to say, there is an extremely unpleasant audiohazard being emitted from Pygnite ingots and by-products at all times. The refinement process nearly doubles the decibels a standard ingot emits.
The moral concerns of this practice are the primary concern with this proposal. We would effectively be torturing fae across the globe at our facilities for weeks, or until we have extracted all the Pygnite we could from them. This is not a job for the faint of heart nor those that are easily disturbed.
Day III
Following the apprehension of PoI-6800-1, an interview was conducted by O5-7 in order to ascertain their intentions.
Interviewer: O5-7
Interviewee: PoI-6800-1
<Begin Log>
O5-7: First of all, I'd like to formally apologize on the Foundation's behalf for the-
[PoI-6800-1 begins crying softly into her hands. O5-7 scratches the back of his neck before looking at his own hands. They are shaking, but it is unclear why. O5-7 removes a flask from his lab coat pocket and takes a drink. He offers it to PoI-6800-1.]
O5-7: Look, kid, the world is fucked. So fucking fucked. We're all going to die unless we take measures to prevent that, and… what I'm trying to say is that I can save the few of you that are left.
[PoI-6800-1 takes the flask and throws it against the wall, denting the object and spilling its contents on the floor.]
PoI-6800-1: What good is an apology from you ? My people are dead . My friends, my family, everyone I've ever cared about. Murdered.
O5-7: That isn't- you can't blame that on us. We didn't do anything.
[PoI-6800-1 resumes crying. She hits the table with her fist before standing. She paces back and forth on the other side of the table for several minutes as O5-7 watches.]
PoI-6800-1: (Whispering) I know.
O5-7: I'm sorry?
PoI-6800-1: (Shouting) I said I FUCKING KNOW.
[PoI-6800-1 hits the table again. When she removes her fist, it is covered with blood.]
PoI-6800-1: When the machine men brought their fires to the land of which we cannot speak you did nothing. I know that you know about the other side of the well and that you know how to get there. You weren't there for us when we needed you, and now you want to apologize ? Please. I've been on the run with the only family I have left for seven days. Seven fucking days. What good's an apology now that everyone's dead?
PoI-6800-1 continues to pace back and forth for several minutes. She runs her hands through her hair and pulls on parts of it. Her eyes appear bloodshot. Her hand is bleeding.]
PoI-6800-1: Where's Old Man Java? And my Father? Have they been harvested already?
O5-7: [Silence]
PoI-6800-1: They… they're…
O5-7: I'm sorry. I truly am. But our planet is experiencing a potential extinction-level event. The snowstorm is growing bigger than we could ever hope to contain, and civilization as we know it is falling apart. Everyone on Earth would have died if measures weren't taken.
PoI-6800-1: But what about my planet? You'd sacrifice my race to save your own? Who are you to decide who gets to live and who doesn't!
O5-7: …Your people are almost extinct thanks to the Maxwellists and their followers. My agents embedded in the IUCN 8 estimate that the fae population will be completely exterminated and harvested within the week. But I can keep you safe. You and your culture can survive this uh-
PoI-6800-1: This what? Genocide?
O5-7: That's one way to put it.
PoI-6800-1: Just… What do you want from me?
O5-7: I want to keep you safe. I want to keep your friends and family safe. We've committed horrible atrocities in the name of the greater good, but I can't deal with that. I don't fucking know how anyone can be okay with what we've done. What we're doing. I know that this one act won't make up for all the suffering you've endured, but at least you'll live long enough to see the end of it all.
PoI-6800-1: You're lying.
O5-7: I'm not.
PoI-6800-1: What if I decline?
O5-7: I'd rather not think about that. Please. Let me do this. Tell me where the rest of your kind might be hiding and I can save you.
PoI-6800-1: I… I…
[PoI-6800-1 puts her head in her hands for several minutes. She is sniffling. O5-7 leans forward and puts his arms on the table. He looks down.]
PoI-6800-1: I just… I'll do it. Under one condition.
O5-7: Of course, anything.
PoI-6800-1: I want to play a game.
O5-7: A game?
PoI-6800-1: An old game from when I was a child. Me and my friend Draema used to play it all the time before we knew how the rules really worked. But, I'm older now, and I know the rules. I just want to play it one last time. Won't take long.
O5-7: Alright, what's the game?
PoI-6800-1: I just need your hand for a second.
[O5-7 stands, but PoI-6800-1 grabs his wrist. O5-7 attempts to pull away but is unable to. A small amount of blood collects around PoI-6800-1's hand. O5-7 winces.]
[After several seconds, PoI-6800-1 releases O5-7 and sits down.]
O5-7: What the hell did you do?
PoI-6800-1: You agreed to play the game. The rules have been set.
O5-7: Fuck.
PoI-6800-1: We each ask each other questions until one of us catches the other in a lie. The first person to be caught in a lie loses. If you walk away, you lose. Call security, you lose. I'll go first.
O5-7: I… you…
PoI-6800-1: Why have you brought me here?
O5-7: For your protection. To find the rest of the fae. Why do you want to know?
PoI-6800-1: I want to see if you are as devious as the rest of your kind.
O5-7: I'm an O5, I'm the one you should trust most out of anyone in the Foundation.
PoI-6800-1: Then why weren't you there when the metal men attacked?
O5-7: You were a low priority at the time. We had other things to deal with, and the Maxwellists weren't breaking the veil of secrecy. I knew that inaction was wrong, so did Calvin and a few others, but we were outvoted.
PoI-6800-1: You let my people get slaughtered because of a vote?
O5-7: Yes. How much longer is this game supposed to last?
PoI-6800-1: Not long. I just have one question left. What is your name?
O5-7: I don't… It's… Ekhart.
PoI-6800-1: That's funny. Sounds an awful lot like a stolen name to me.
O5-7: I didn't-
PoI-6800-1: You did. And that makes you the loser.
[PoI-6800-1 grabs the side of her head, as does O5-7. PoI-6800-1 looks at her hands. Her eyes widen. O5-7 hits the emergency button and two armed personnel enter the chamber. They look at O5-7, then at PoI-6800-1. They raise their rifles.]
PoI-6800-1: I… my name… you-
O5-7: Take the shot.
PoI-6800-1: No. No no wait, I'm… my name is Al-
[PoI-6800-1 is terminated by gunfire.]
O5-7: Apology accepted.
<End Log>
Day II
The following statement was broadcast to all available television and radio stations.
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
Hello. As you are most likely aware, the snowstorm that originated in the Amazon has now covered the vast majority of the Earth's surface. There is nothing more we can do about this, save for continuing to harvest Pygnite and make the most of the material while it is still available to us.
There is magic in the world, ladies, gentlemen, and enbies. We at the Foundation can no longer keep this a secret, as we have decided that leaving you in the dark could potentially spell the end for civilization as we know it. Use what you know, and use it wisely. We will be watching.
Those of you caught in contempt of our efforts to save the world will be exposed to SCP-6800-1 and left to fall victim to the elements. Those of you found harboring raw or unprocessed Pygnite will be considered traitors and subjected to the same fate. This is your only warning.
Stay warm. God help us.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Day I
O5 COUNCIL PROPOSAL SUMMARY
PROPOSAL:
"Remain a neutral power in the wake of the new civilization" (O5-1)
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN
O5-1
O5-4
O5-6
O5-2
O5-8
O5-3
O5-12
O5-5
O5-7
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-13
STATUS
APPROVED
O5 COUNCIL PROPOSAL SUMMARY
PROPOSAL:
"Assist in Maxwellist efforts to harvest the fae folk for the foreseeable future" (O5-10)
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN
O5-1
O5-4
O5-6
O5-2
O5-8
O5-3
O5-12
O5-5
O5-7
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-13
STATUS
APPROVED
I'm writing this in case I'm ever found out. Someone will know my story, and perhaps they can continue where I've left off.
My name is Alan Grant, or at least it is now. It was once Ekhart, and before that, it was something different, but that doesn't matter now. I am a member of the Foundation's O5-Council and the last of my kind left as far as the rest of the world is concerned. If there are others hiding amongst us, I cannot say. Probably better that way.
The Maxwellists were, for lack of better words, unsuccessful in bringing their god to this world. My people were slaughtered and turned to iron for nothing. The ashes that fell from the sky blanketed the earth and covered the guilty with the weight of their sins. The Foundation, complacent throughout it all, is now humanity's best hope against the frozen hell brought upon them by those zealots.
Ironic, isn't it.
It's my duty now to protect what's left of your kind, lest you figure out who I truly am. And by that point, it would be too late for you to do much of anything anyway. As far as you're likely concerned, I am a god in this new world.
Do you see me from the stars above, Father? Mother? Even Old Man Java would be proud of me. You can rest easy now that I have the power to do right by us. And I will do right by us. No matter how long it takes.
And to you Draema. May you rest easy now. I cannot join you in the afterlife. Not yet.
I've got work to do.
Footnotes
1 . Auricle Resonance Balance is a scale ranging from 1 to 15 which gauges a subject's likelihood of succumbing to auditory cognitohazards. An ARB rating of one or less would dictate that a subject is almost certain to become subject to an auditory cognitohazard.
2 . Pig iron, also known as crude iron, is an intermediate product of the iron industry in the production of steel which is obtained by smelting iron ore in a blast furnace.
3 . A typical ingot will generate 30,000 to 34,000 BTUs per second
4 . In order to fully understand the method in which heat is transferred between two objects, one must understand that heat itself does not exist at a constant rate. It grows hotter and then cools, at which point it can be restored using heat from exterior forces. Everything in this universe will become subject to heat death eventually, however, as is the nature of this reality. Life is ephemeral, and we can only prolong the inevitable by sharing the heat between objects. ~ The Book of Ingenios Devices vol. 2, print 2021.
5 . 1420 Kelvin
6 . Later confirmed to be runic symbols consistent with those frequently used by members of the Hermetic Order of the Black Tree
7 . Approximately 7.408 kilometers or 4 nautical miles starting at the shore.
8 . International Union for Conservation of Nature | 326 | ["6000", "_cc", "apocalyptic", "auditory", "biological", "bleak", "broken-god", "director-bold", "doctor-clef", "doctor-mann", "faerie", "fantasy", "maxwellism", "meteorological", "nameless", "religious-fiction", "saint-hedwig", "scp", "thaumiel", "thermal", "uncontained"] | 2021-05-25T08:42:00 | 46,609 | 8,019 | null | null | Auditory phrases emitted from SCP-6800 are false. Personnel caught listening to SCP-6800 for extended periods of time are to be executed. There will be no exceptions.
In order to maintain neutrality with the surviving city-states, the intervention of GOI-004C's efforts has been deemed unnecessary. Nameless individuals seeking asylum within the Foundation occupied safe zones are to be turned away. Interaction with those that suffer is strictly forbidden. Individuals discovered harboring fugitives from a forgotten time are to be terminated and converted into biofuel for the production of SCP-6800. The remaining public has been informed of the anomalous and the dangers of nomenclative magic to dissuade civilian interaction with the ones whose blood destroyed the world .
Personnel with an ARB 1 rating of 10 or lower are forbidden from directly interacting with SCP-6800 without supervision. Personnel with an ARB rating lower than 10 are forbidden from making physical contact with SCP-6800, or with machinery comprised of 50% or greater of Pygnite.
SCP-6800 is to be manufactured until the resources used for its production become unavailable. Saint Hedwig of the Maxwellists is to oversee production unimpeded. Efforts to obstruct the manufacturing of SCP-6800 will be met with public termination in order to deter future acts of terrorism. Objections to this policy are considered acts of treason. Offenders will be exposed to SCP-6800-1 in a ritualistic sacrifice performed by Foundation certified occultists and approved Admins.
Containment of SCP-6800-1 has reached global mass and is now uncontainable. | SCP-6800 is Pygnite, a metal-like substance comprised of unknown and irrelevant organic matter. Despite having a molecular structure similar to pig iron 2 , SCP-6800 is dramatically more durable than its non-anomalous counterpart. SCP-6800 instances also radiate a considerable amount of heat when idle 3 , which can be safely siphoned off using the Banu Musa siphoning technique. 4
Instances of SCP-6800 frequently produce auditory hallucinations when in the presence of other individuals or each other. It is important to note that this auditory stimulus is a fabrication, as SCP-6800 instances do not display any behaviors that would otherwise indicate sentience or sapience.
SCP-6800-1 is the blizzard currently occupying the Amazon Rainforest. Unknown circumstances have caused SCP-6800-1 to expand exponentially over the course of twelve days. The source of this expansion is currently under investigation.
Day IX
Collected Holy Writ from a Maxwellist sect located within Northern New Jersey.
Terminal #0876
------
Welcome, Pyg Farmer
------
------
Accessing "A_Machine_4_GOD.txt"
------
// WAN has given us ITS divine instruction to bring IT together in all ITS glory.
// We shall meet Standardization with this noble sacrifice.
// Do not stray thy hand.
var password = prompt("Input Password");
__
if(password==="L0nglIv3W@N")
__
{
__
console.log ("1: Hedwig gazed into the Source and wept at its beauty. She thought to touch it, if only to feel the warmth of WAN for the briefest of moments. She knew better though, and stayed her hand.:");
__
console.log ("2: It was then that WAN spoke to her through the Source and she basked in ITS radiance.");
__
console.log ("3: "Come forth, MY loyal disciple, and hear MY command. I have learned of a metal that can withstand MY holiness." IT said.);
__
console.log ("4: "Tell me more of this holy material O'WAN." Hedwig cried into the Source, almost overtaken by ITS radiance.);
__
console.log ("5: It was then that a thing with an unspoken name emerged from the brush. It stared at Hedwig, who stared back with confusion polluting her thoughts. She thought, "Was this a sign, LORD?");
__
console.log ("6: WAN in ITS benevolence, spoke to Hedwig once more. IT said, "Do as I will, and smite this insignificant creature. Its existence has defied ME, and from its blood, I shall be made whole. This is my will, Saint Hedwig.);
__
console.log ("7: Hedwig drew her blade from its sheath and faced the menace that had no name . The creature put its hands together and dropped to its knees, a false display of surrender. But Hedwig was not so easily fooled by falsehoods.);
__
console.log ("8: The saint rushed the creature. The creature fled with Hedwig in pursuit. They ran for a day and a night, stopping only once they left the forest and took their place on a cliff.);
__
console.log ("9: "Stop this!" Hedwig shouted. Thunderous rains brewed in the skies above, a signal that WAN was watching. Hedwig's sword hand gripped tighter. The creature continued to step toward the cliff's edge.);
__
console.log ("10: "I have done you no wrong, servant of WAN," The creature claimed. But when it raised its palms to Hedwig, she could tell that the thing was riddled with deceit. It was WAN'S desire to be rid of the foul beast, and so it shall be done.);
__
console.log ("11: Hedwig leaped at the creature and it let out a foul shriek. The thing ducked and weaved, narrowly evading Hedwig's blade. When it moved, it moved as if it knew where the mighty Saint would strike, making it nigh impossible for Hedwig to land the fatal blow.);
__
console.log ("12: Hedwig fought the creature for two days without rest. Her mechanical heart and synthetic muscles never failed her. She wore it down, and after slicing into the thing's ligaments, brought the beast to its knees.);
__
console.log ("13: "Ha! Beast, you are defeated! Lay down your life for the revival of my LORD." Hedwig shouted as she kept the creature at the edge of her sword.);
__
console.log ("14: But the creature had fight in it still. It stared into Hedwig's eyes and bore a mischievous grin. It said, "Hark, you have beaten me in combat. But can you defeat me in a game of wit?");
__
console.log ("15: "Enough of your trickery! I shall slay you right now!" Said Hedwig as she raised her blade to meet the creature's neck.);
__
console.log ("16: Her foe raised both of its hands and said; "What honor is there in slaying a foe that cannot defend herself? Hear me, and should you best me in this match of wit, I will lay down my life for you and your lord.");
__
console.log ("17: Hedwig thought for a moment. Surely WAN would understand her decision to do the honorable thing. After another moment of contemplation, Hedwig lowered her weapon and asked, "Pray tell, what game do you suggest?");
__
console.log ("18: "A simple game of names . If you win, I shall lay here and die with honor. You may take my head to your master and be done with it. But if I win, you shall leave me be.");
__
console.log ("19: "So be it," Hedwig said. She sat down across from the thing and waited. "Your hand, please," It said.");
__
console.log ("20: And so Hedwig held out her hand and the creature drew blood from it without wounding the saint. It then said to her, "We will ask each other questions and we must answer truthfully. Should either of us catch the other in a lie, the liar will be declared the loser.");
__
console.log ("21: "And if I refuse to continue?" Hedwig asked.");
__
console.log ("22: "You are bound to this game by blood, Saint. If you withdraw, you will lose by default.");
__
console.log ("23: Hedwig thought hard for a moment about slaying the creature where it stood, but soon realized that breaking the rules set forth by it, ludicrous as they were, would besmirch her honor. Instead, she agreed and the game began.");
__
console.log ("24: "I shall ask the first question," Said the thing, "Why do you wish to slay me?");
__
console.log ("25: Hedwig thought for a moment and answered, "I am honor-bound by WAN to complete this task. Let me ask you this; Why did you flee from me when we first met?");
__
console.log ("26: The creature laughed at the question, "Because you were trying to kill me. Would you not have done the same?");
__
console.log ("27: "I would have, I suppose. If it was WAN's will." She said, "Do you understand why I must slay you?");
__
console.log ("28: "I do not." Said the creature. Its eyes were now on Hedwig's blade, "What is your name?");
__
console.log ("29: I know of your tricks, beast. You will not find success here." Hedwig stood and snatched her sword from the earth. She pointed it at the beast. It smiled.");
__
console.log ("30: You must answer the question, Saint, lest you lose yourself to the rules of the game.");
__
console.log ("31: Hedwig stood frozen as fear gripped her heart. The creature threw its head back and howled into the night sky while it waited. She dropped to her knees and begged for WAN to provide her with answers.");
__
console.log ("32: And so IT did.");
__
console.log ("33: "My name is Ekhart." Hedwig said.");
__
console.log ("34: "You cannot give a stolen name." The creature hissed.");
__
console.log ("35: "This was never specified. I have followed your rules, and now I ask for your name.");
__
console.log ("36: When the creature gave Hedwig a false name, she added it to her own. The game concluded, and Hedwig removed the beast's head swiftly. She took it back to the Source and presented it to WAN.");
__
console.log ("37: "You have done well, Saint Hedwig." WAN spoke in all ITS radiance, "Now cast it into the Forge and create Pygnite from the blood of the fallen. Do this, and know glory. Do this, and know joy. Do this, and forever know warmth and protection and justice in the name of WAN.");
__
console.log ("38: And so Saint Hedwig cast the head and body of the beast into the Forge, and from the molten metals a new material was formed. She basked in its glow and presented it to her followers who did the same.");
__
console.log ("39: "Now go forth," Hedwig shouted, "And bring me the blood of the ones WAN needs to become whole . It is the will of our LORD, and so it must be done.");
__
console.log ("40: It was then that WAN spoke to the congregation one final time.");
__
console.log ("41: "I shall be made whole.");
}
else
{
console.log ("Access Restricted. If you are attempting to access this document and are more than 70% human, please contact Administrator Karen.");
}
Day VIII
To: O5 Command (Group)
From: O5-7
CC: Administrator Bakker, Bryan Paige
Subject: The Amazon
Greetings all. I hope you're doing well. I write to you today to relay a troubling discovery.
It's snowing in the Amazon rainforest.
I know that in the grand scheme of things, this phenomenon can be easily explained by climate change or some other mundane explanation. While I would be apt to agree with the more skeptical members of the Council, I must re-iterate that this snowfall isn't normal precipitation. It's spreading.
Things are also freezing at exponential rates. Within hours of being exposed to the elements, the people of the Hanatô tribe were found frozen to death. Several of the bodies were in advanced stages of decomposition as well, again only after a few hours. A team of our parameteorologists took some samples from local weather cultures but the data has so far proven inconclusive. At this time, we have no idea what is going on or why this is happening. We are considering SCP classification, and I have CC'd the head of the Classification Committee to discuss this with them further as a collective.
If any of your subteams have any clues as to the origins of this phenomenon, sharing this information is paramount. I should not have to remind you of this, but there are some among us who would withhold information for their own benefit. I will not name names, but you know who you are.
Let us work together for the sake of normalcy.
~ A. Grant
To: O5-7
From: O5-2
Subject: Re:The Amazon
Alan, this is a minor concern at best. The snowfall can be easily explained by non-anomalous climate change. The people of the Amazon, as well as the flora and fauna therein, are likely more susceptible to the sudden introduction of snow to their environment than, say, you or I. We are used to fluctuations in temperature, and they are not. I'm surprised you didn't think of this before bringing it to the Council, let alone the Administrator.
Please consider your new position before you continue to waste any of our time in the future. Thank you.
~E. Mann
To: O5-2
From: O5-10
Subject: Re:The Amazon
This change is much too drastic in too short amount of time to be written off as climate change. It is our job to investigate the anomalous, and this onset of snow is just that; anomalous. I'll have a team of parameterologists investigate potential causes, and perhaps we can contain this before it spreads too far.
Why are you protesting this, Mann? Even if it's just a red flag, Accounting is under my jurisdiction and by my calculations, the Foundation has more than enough funds to investigate a potential K-Class Scenario brewing in the Amazon.
~ C. Bold
To: O5-10
From: O5-2
Subject: Re:The Amazon
Consider how many other containment protocols are directly affected by an unnecessary expenditure of funds, Calvin. SCP-4456 is bleeding us dry as it is, and you want to waste more money on something we aren't even sure is anomalous or not.
We have wars to fight. Literal Gods to contain. Beings that, mind you, can and will exterminate us at the earliest convenience should we lapse in our security for the briefest of moments. This is a risk we simply cannot afford to take until we know for certain that the snow is not the result of climate change or some other natural phenomenon.
~E. Mann
To: O5-10
From: O5-7
Subject: Re:The Amazon
We will perform the investigations ourselves if we must. I'll call a vote.
~A. Grant
To: O5-2
From: O5-11
Subject: Re:The Amazon
There may be no need for such drastic action. I have received intel that there have been Maxwellists sightings in the land within the grotto , I suspect there may be a possible link between their presence in that place, and the sudden snowstorm in the Amazon. We are well within the means to intercept. I agree with Grant on this, and I am in favor of a vote to determine our course of action.
~ A. Clef
To: O5 Council
From: The Administrator
Subject: Re:The Amazon
That will not be necessary. We will study the Maxwellist's activity and then decide on a course of action accordingly. There is not enough evidence to link the two events to one another and until there is, no one will do anything. They are not breaking the Veil in any way that I can see, which means that they are at least attempting to conserve normalcy.
As far as our organization is concerned, the Maxwellists are not a concern at this time. There will be no further discussion of this. Return to your duties.
Day VII
Journal and recordings recovered from the place betwixt the trees after nuclear fallout deteriorated enough to once again allow for safe exploration.
It snowed today in the only land I can call home . It never snows here, not since the war. Mother says that's a bad sign but nothing's going wrong as far as I can tell. I've asked her what she meant, but she said I just have to keep my head down and my mouth shut. "It's for your own safety." What a farce.
Something is definitely up and not a single fae is telling me. Is it because I'm young? Or maybe it's because I've never stolen a name. I don't know. Father says that tough times are coming and that WAN is seeking… something. Some kind of metal made from pigs? I didn't understand, but at least its something to go on.
I tried to ask Old Man Java about the pig iron thing, but he wouldn't tell me much either. He was boarding up his shed, I guess he was trying to tie it to this place with a bunch of names he made up and magic wood that he cut down. I don't think it works that way, but whatever makes him happy I guess. I helped him as best as I could, but for the most part I sat on a tree stump and just watched him work. He says I shouldn't feel bad, but I still do. I don't like being so useless.
I wonder if Draema thinks I'm useless. By the gods I hope not.
I'm to meet with her later today over by the Sunset Lake. We're going to play Stones for the first time since we were babies! I wonder if I can still skip a rock to the other side and back in one go. Guess we'll find out tonight. Maybe I'll get a chance to ask her how she feels about me. Or maybe I'll just tell her that the kiss we shared the other day meant a lot more to me than I let on. I dunno. We'll see. Oh, and one last thing:
I saw a man made of metal today, but he fled through the well before I could talk to him. How odd.
Draema had to sneak out of her cottage because her folks wouldn't let her out. They're freaking out too. If the adults were that concerned, they'd let us kids know what the heck is going on. Old Man Java was talking to Father when I left. Said something about the Second War. I tried to eavesdrop on them, but Father saw me hiding in a tree and sent me on my way.
Draema was teasing me when we got to the lake, called me trash and "Rock sinker". Buuuut, it turns out I can still skip rocks all sorts of ways on that lake. We made a game of it, like always, but this time we had stakes. Draema bet me her lucky sword.
She lost after the third throw. Shows her for making fun of me!
And good thing too, because I didn't have anything else to offer if I lost.
We stayed there for hours after the game, just talking and staring at the stars. It was… really nice. I wish we did this more often. I tried talking to her about my feelings but I… couldn't get the words out. She kept looking at me though so maybe there's still a chance…
Not like I could find out anyway. It got dark and we had to get back before the unkind neighbors started walking around the path back. We held hands till we came by the fork in the road and parted ways. For safety of course, at least that's what I told her.
My heart nearly leaped out of my chest on that walk.
Mom was mad at me for staying out so late. It's not like I was in danger or anything. The unkind neighbors don't hang out by the lake at night anyway, and neither me or Draema know enough word magic to accidentally switch names. Well, I know how to steal a name, but that's beside the point. She's being irrational!
Saw the metal man again today. He looked like someone from the other side of the well but… different. Had metal plates all over his face, with red lights for eyes and bolts that shook in place whenever he walked. Said his name was "Ekhart", which was odd because it sounded like one of the made-up names Old Man Java used on his cottage. I know that it isn't his actual name, but how would he know to use an imaginary one?
Ekhart is nice enough. We talked about names for a really long time and he was asking all sorts of questions about our culture. I told him what I knew (which isn't much), and he seemed to be content with my answers. He started asking if I knew who WAN was and I told him nothing except for what Father told me. That disappointed him, but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me that everything was going to be alright by tomorrow.
I showed him the lake and how to skip rocks, but he wasn't super into it. He asked if I knew what a pig was. Another weird question but I told him that I did, and that my grandfather used to have a pig farm. Apparently, those weren't the type of pigs he was talking about.
After he left, Father found out that I was hanging out with him from Old Man Java. Now I'm forbidden from leaving the cottage "until it's safe again", however long that is.
Whatever. Ekhart's kind of condescending anyway. Suppose I won't be missing much. Well, except for Draema of course.
Screw it. I'm telling her how I feel tomorrow no matter what! No more cowardice, no more getting tongue-tied staring at those gorgeous eyes. This is written proof of your commitment to yourself.
I don't want to go another day without her knowing. I want to be with you, Draema.
Draema was murdered last night.
I went over by her home today and her mother told me that someone chopped her up and threw her body into a furnace last night while she was away. She only knew it was Draema because the murderer forgot to incinerate her hand which still had a tattoo on it.
There was iron residue left outside her back door, and a clump of black metal iron. Found that out after I touched it and it burned my hand. Someone wanted to send a message, but who or why is beyond us.
I'm attending Draema's funeral later with Mother and Father.
Ekhart came by again today and I told him what happened. Father blamed him for Draema's death, but he wasn't even here when it happened. I saw him leave through the well.
Can't say I'm not completely removing my suspicions of him though. Until I know for sure that she didn't meet her end at the hand of an unkind neighbor, everyone is a suspect. Old Man Java thinks that it was one of the unkind neighbors or the people in white coats trying their experiments again, but I haven't seen those ones in a real long time.
Someone else went missing today. Same way that Draema went; fire, white ash, lump of iron. There were more metal men like Ekhart rummaging around today.
I'm scared.
Mother is dead. Ekhart, or the one who used to have that name, killed her.
The metal men stormed the forest where names are not allowed with guns and flaming swords. They're rounding everyone up in groups and forcing them into these giant furnaces. The sky is white now, like it's snowing.
The one I knew as Ekhart broke into our cottage and slaughtered my Mother. Scorched the flesh on her arms with his iron sword and ripped her head off with his bare hands. I hardly recognized him as the same man I saw all those nights ago. He was different. Feral.
Father dragged me while I was frozen and we fled to Old Man Java's place while he was… killing Mother. I tried to help too. I only managed to steal his name but… I'm so fucking useless.
I still hear her screaming when I close my eyes.
We're hiding beneath Old Man Java's cottage now. He's got one of those drawers that are bigger on the inside than they could ever be on the outside. They haven't found us yet.
Why is this happening?
Day VI
In order to ascertain the full extent of SCP-6800's practical applications, several experiments were performed over the course of twenty-four hours under O5 order. Umar Hadid, a Level 2 researcher at Site-83, was tasked with overseeing the experimentation as part of his employee performance review.
Experiment
Results
Notes
To see if SCP-6800 is capable of maintaining an individual's body temperature in extreme weather conditions
Researcher Hadid wove fragments of SCP-6800 into a Foundation Deep Sea Pressurized Diving suit before submerging approximately 180 meters into the Pacific Ocean. Despite no significant amount of sunlight reaching those depths, and the cold conditions of the water, Researcher Hadid was able to maintain his baseline body heat and return safely.
Seems that Pygnite is good for keeping warm. This will be good if the blizzard spreads. Shame we couldn't get this to the Amazon in time though, perhaps we can consider donating part of our inventory to the less fortunate.
Durability of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid gathered several instances of SCP-6800, varying in size, shape, and density. Researcher Hadid performed several durability tests on each instance, striking them with a small hammer, an ax, 9mm ballistic rounds, fluoroantimonic acid, and [REDACTED]. SCP-6800 instances proved impervious to most durability tests.
However, it is susceptible to being ground. That's pretty fucking weird I would say. It's magic pig iron, not beryllium bronze or something. Still, I think this can be useful for building tools or equipment.
Repurposing ground instances of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid ground up several instances of SCP-6800 into a fine powder before heating them to their melting point 5 and pouring the molten metal into bullet casts. The casts were then loaded into a 9mm pistol and fired into testing dummies. Bullets cast from SCP-6800 emit cries suggesting agony.
What the fuck.
Communication with SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid collected several instances of SCP-6800 and attempted to communicate with them for several hours. While initially unsuccessful, Researcher Hadid was eventually able to transcribe the following phrases from each instance: "HELP ME" "CHANGE FORM" "FIRE" "WHERE IS EKHART" "WAN IS DEAD" and "I AM DRAEMA"
The instances appear… sentient at least. I don't think they're alive in any traditional sense, but there are echoes of memories from their past lives. I will have to confirm this in another test.
Cognitive function of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid presented several flashcards depicting various colored polygons such as red triangles, blue squares, and green hexagons to an SCP-6800 instance. He then attempted to converse with the entity to see if it retained any sensory information.
[REDACTED PER OVERSEER ORDER]
Social tendencies of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid gathered instances of SCP-6800 and placed them within close proximity to one another. He then placed a recording device within the chamber in order to monitor audio interactions. After eight hours, the experiment was stopped. No SCP-6800 instances communicated verbally with one another. Upon retrieval, it was discovered that all instances were covered in water despite there being no condensation present within the containment chamber.
The instances appear capable of producing water through unknown means. I am… unsure what this means for the future of these experiments. Considering stopping, temporarily.
To examine SCP-6800 for any nomenclative attributes
Researcher Hadid provided a false name for himself to an SCP-6800 instance. The instance vibrated briefly before breaking into smaller pieces.
Seems that nomenclative magic, or at least false names, are incredibly volatile for the instances. They must still have some instinctual recollection of nomeclative magics. Will test again with a real name.
To identify the properties of SCP-6800's nomenclative attributes
Researcher Hadid introduced a Class D personnel to SCP-6800 and instructed her to state her name to an SCP-6800 instance. Upon doing so, the D-Class personnel experienced extreme cranial pain which lasted for several seconds. Once the pain subsided, the D-Class assaulted and terminated Researcher Hadid. MTF Agents stationed nearby terminated the D-Class shortly thereafter.
Results inconclusive
Day V
Video log recovered from various CCTVs positioned throughout Rutherford, New Jersey.
BEGIN LOG
00:00: It is snowing. There are no cars present on the road. Lights on one side of the street flicker for several seconds before powering off. A lone deer sifts through the snow, uncovering a patch of grass beneath. There is a loud snap heard. The deer flees.
00:03: Three individuals who seem to have misplaced their names emerge from an alleyway. There is a sword-like weapon on the shortest individual's back, while the other two are of similar build. One of the taller figures appears to walk with a slight limp, suggesting advanced age or chronic injury. They are wearing hoods and walking on the other side of the street where the street lights appear malfunctioning. Several Maxwellists patrol the street but do not notice the individuals.
00:05: A Maxwellist bumps into one of the taller individuals, knocking them to the ground. Their hood falls off and reveals their face, which is emaciated and wrinkled. Their facial expressions suggest extreme fear. They are helped to their feet by the other two hooded figures and quickly walk away from the Maxwellist. The grey-haired individual adorns their hood again.
00:06: The Maxwellist touches his temple. Other Maxwellists in the area cease their activities. Several begin walking in the direction of the hooded figures.
00:08: The shortest hooded figure reaches for their sword, but does not unsheathe it.
00:10: More Maxwellist followers emerge from various residential buildings in the area. They continue to stalk the group of three until they enter the local park.
00:12: A large number of Maxwellists surround the group, who look around in fear. The youngest figure unsheathes their sword and assumes a battle-ready position.
00:15: Saint Hedwig, the leader of the Maxwellists, steps forward from the east-facing side of the crowd. Her cape is covered in more snow than would be possible with the current rate of snowfall. She is carrying a hammer in her hand and appears to be using it as a staff.
00:16: Saint Hedwig converses with the three individuals. What is heard is unknown. One of the taller individuals removes their hood. Their hair is black and unkempt, suggesting poor hygiene. Several scars are present on their face, and one eye is absent. They gesture for the other two to do the same.
00:20: Judging by the body language and gesticulation of both parties, arguments ensue. Maxwellists followers begin to converge on the group of three but do not engage. Saint Hedwig puts her hammer on the ground and holds her hands up in a placating manner. The shortest individual lowers her sword but does not resheathe it. They appear wary.
00:24: Saint Hedwig and the shortest of the three converse for several minutes before they abruptly step back. Saint Hedwig smiles. She brings her thumb across her throat while maintaining eye contact with the short individual.
00:25: Maxwellist followers engage in an altercation with the group of three.
00:30: All three individuals manage to flee from the group of Maxwellists. There is a large quantity of blood present where the altercation took place. The right arm of the eldest individual is no longer present.
00:31: A Maxwellist follower presents a severed arm to Saint Hedwig. She recites a ritual before biting into her hand. As she pours blood over the arm, it combusts. Combustion continues for several seconds, emitting white smoke. An SCP-6800 instance is seen once the fire dispels. Saint Hedwig smiles and stores the instance in her pocket.
00:35: The three figures enter the local morgue. The eldest figure uses the blood from his arm to inscribe runes 6 , but is unable to complete the ritual before falling over. The youngest individual bites her index finger and completes the runes before assisting the eldest individual inside.
00:40: Maxwellists reach the morgue but are unable to enter. Saint Hedwig attempts to breach the door and windows with her hammer but is unsuccessful.
00:41: Saint Hedwig alerts Foundation agents to the conflict.
OO:43: Foundation agents arrive. Using various forms of thaumaturgy and occult rituals, they are able to successfully breach the morgue.
00:44: Multiple gunshots.
00:46: All three individuals are successfully detained.
END LOG
Day IV
GRANT REQUEST FOR THE REFINEMENT OF PYGNITE
PROBLEM
The production of the "Pygnite" material has become a staple of everyday life in the advent of the ever-growing snowstorm in the Amazon. A large portion of the Pacific Ocean 7 has frozen at depths of 3 kilometers below the surface. This rather spontaneous alteration to the local climate has drastically affected all ecosystems. Several species of tropical fauna, tropical fish, and tropical flora are now on the verge of extinction. Additionally, the native indigenous population has been ravaged by hypothermia, which has led to the near destruction of the various cultures and civilizations that dwell within the rainforest.
Parameterologists at the Foundation theorize that the snowstorm is growing well beyond what was initially expected. Prometheus Labs employees stationed locally have also come to the same conclusion based on anomalous weather patterns and substantial alterations in the Earth's magnetic sphere. The snowstorm is spreading unobstructed without any obvious methods to dispel it.
Prometheus Labs parameteorlogists estimate that by the year 2030 the blizzard will encompass the entire world, and all life on Earth will cease.
SOLUTION
Our factories currently
There is substantial evidence to suggest a link between the recent activities of the Maxwellist religious sect in South America to the growth of the snowstorm in the Amazon. However, the likelihood of convincing these radicals to cease their attempted genocide is marginal at best. Until such a time that Foundation intervention impedes the Maxwellists, a resolution to the exponential expansion of the blizzard and humanity's survival in a post-snow world relies solely on Prometheus Labs. To that end, we are suggesting refining the processing technique the Maxwellists have been utilizing in order to maximize the amount of Pygnite extracted from a single faery. Approximately 13% of the fae body is converted into Pygnite using established methodology. We aim to increase this yield by a minimum of sixty percent.
To put it simply, the fae population is a non-renewable resource and should be utilized to the greatest extent possible while there are still nameless individuals left to process.
Refined Pygnite sample, produced using the proposed techniques.
Performing vivisections on a nameless individual allows the body to regenerate parts that can be harvested at a later date. Those treated with "Spare Parts" have a 100% guarantee of recovery, and the generated body parts will adopt the same properties that the rest of the body has. A combination of vivisections, body regeneration, and human ingenuity will allow for magnitudes of Pygnite to be harvested from a single fae.
BUSINESS CASE
Prometheus Labs is offering relative safety in a world bereft of order. Civilian organizations attempting to work with the Maxwellist sects have been met with discourse thus far, and governments worldwide are destabilizing at a steady rate. Civilian populations are looking for an ideology or public figure that will promise them safety against rioters, looters, and opportunists. Prometheus Labs will become that aegis.
The survival of human civilization as we know it depends solely on our refinement techniques, and the sale of refined Pygnite across the globe would net Prometheus Labs at minimum 400 billion USD.
USE OF FUNDING
We are requesting a small loan of one million dollars in order to start our business venture. The money will be allocated to the following:
$100,000 for research assets. This includes paratechnology such as Mark II Self Sustaining Cumulous Steam Generators, weather boxes, and solar-powered cognition batteries
$50,000 for employee payroll
$50,000 for travel expenses
$300,000 for audio dampening equipment
$200,000 for global advertisement campaigns
$300,000 for medical insurance
KNOWN ISSUES
There is also the issue of finding the fae. Following Maxwellist efforts in an area we could have used indefinitely , the faer folk have gone into hiding en masse. Their proficiency with nomenclative thaumaturgy makes an intelligent faery difficult to distinguish from an average human, which will, unfortunately, result in a trace amount of accidental harvestings. This issue can be mitigated by exposing each subject to iron prior to harvesting, however.
Pygnite in its unrefined form is unusually loud. That is to say, there is an extremely unpleasant audiohazard being emitted from Pygnite ingots and by-products at all times. The refinement process nearly doubles the decibels a standard ingot emits.
The moral concerns of this practice are the primary concern with this proposal. We would effectively be torturing fae across the globe at our facilities for weeks, or until we have extracted all the Pygnite we could from them. This is not a job for the faint of heart nor those that are easily disturbed.
Day III
Following the apprehension of PoI-6800-1, an interview was conducted by O5-7 in order to ascertain their intentions.
Interviewer: O5-7
Interviewee: PoI-6800-1
<Begin Log>
O5-7: First of all, I'd like to formally apologize on the Foundation's behalf for the-
[PoI-6800-1 begins crying softly into her hands. O5-7 scratches the back of his neck before looking at his own hands. They are shaking, but it is unclear why. O5-7 removes a flask from his lab coat pocket and takes a drink. He offers it to PoI-6800-1.]
O5-7: Look, kid, the world is fucked. So fucking fucked. We're all going to die unless we take measures to prevent that, and… what I'm trying to say is that I can save the few of you that are left.
[PoI-6800-1 takes the flask and throws it against the wall, denting the object and spilling its contents on the floor.]
PoI-6800-1: What good is an apology from you ? My people are dead . My friends, my family, everyone I've ever cared about. Murdered.
O5-7: That isn't- you can't blame that on us. We didn't do anything.
[PoI-6800-1 resumes crying. She hits the table with her fist before standing. She paces back and forth on the other side of the table for several minutes as O5-7 watches.]
PoI-6800-1: (Whispering) I know.
O5-7: I'm sorry?
PoI-6800-1: (Shouting) I said I FUCKING KNOW.
[PoI-6800-1 hits the table again. When she removes her fist, it is covered with blood.]
PoI-6800-1: When the machine men brought their fires to the land of which we cannot speak you did nothing. I know that you know about the other side of the well and that you know how to get there. You weren't there for us when we needed you, and now you want to apologize ? Please. I've been on the run with the only family I have left for seven days. Seven fucking days. What good's an apology now that everyone's dead?
PoI-6800-1 continues to pace back and forth for several minutes. She runs her hands through her hair and pulls on parts of it. Her eyes appear bloodshot. Her hand is bleeding.]
PoI-6800-1: Where's Old Man Java? And my Father? Have they been harvested already?
O5-7: [Silence]
PoI-6800-1: They… they're…
O5-7: I'm sorry. I truly am. But our planet is experiencing a potential extinction-level event. The snowstorm is growing bigger than we could ever hope to contain, and civilization as we know it is falling apart. Everyone on Earth would have died if measures weren't taken.
PoI-6800-1: But what about my planet? You'd sacrifice my race to save your own? Who are you to decide who gets to live and who doesn't!
O5-7: …Your people are almost extinct thanks to the Maxwellists and their followers. My agents embedded in the IUCN 8 estimate that the fae population will be completely exterminated and harvested within the week. But I can keep you safe. You and your culture can survive this uh-
PoI-6800-1: This what? Genocide?
O5-7: That's one way to put it.
PoI-6800-1: Just… What do you want from me?
O5-7: I want to keep you safe. I want to keep your friends and family safe. We've committed horrible atrocities in the name of the greater good, but I can't deal with that. I don't fucking know how anyone can be okay with what we've done. What we're doing. I know that this one act won't make up for all the suffering you've endured, but at least you'll live long enough to see the end of it all.
PoI-6800-1: You're lying.
O5-7: I'm not.
PoI-6800-1: What if I decline?
O5-7: I'd rather not think about that. Please. Let me do this. Tell me where the rest of your kind might be hiding and I can save you.
PoI-6800-1: I… I…
[PoI-6800-1 puts her head in her hands for several minutes. She is sniffling. O5-7 leans forward and puts his arms on the table. He looks down.]
PoI-6800-1: I just… I'll do it. Under one condition.
O5-7: Of course, anything.
PoI-6800-1: I want to play a game.
O5-7: A game?
PoI-6800-1: An old game from when I was a child. Me and my friend Draema used to play it all the time before we knew how the rules really worked. But, I'm older now, and I know the rules. I just want to play it one last time. Won't take long.
O5-7: Alright, what's the game?
PoI-6800-1: I just need your hand for a second.
[O5-7 stands, but PoI-6800-1 grabs his wrist. O5-7 attempts to pull away but is unable to. A small amount of blood collects around PoI-6800-1's hand. O5-7 winces.]
[After several seconds, PoI-6800-1 releases O5-7 and sits down.]
O5-7: What the hell did you do?
PoI-6800-1: You agreed to play the game. The rules have been set.
O5-7: Fuck.
PoI-6800-1: We each ask each other questions until one of us catches the other in a lie. The first person to be caught in a lie loses. If you walk away, you lose. Call security, you lose. I'll go first.
O5-7: I… you…
PoI-6800-1: Why have you brought me here?
O5-7: For your protection. To find the rest of the fae. Why do you want to know?
PoI-6800-1: I want to see if you are as devious as the rest of your kind.
O5-7: I'm an O5, I'm the one you should trust most out of anyone in the Foundation.
PoI-6800-1: Then why weren't you there when the metal men attacked?
O5-7: You were a low priority at the time. We had other things to deal with, and the Maxwellists weren't breaking the veil of secrecy. I knew that inaction was wrong, so did Calvin and a few others, but we were outvoted.
PoI-6800-1: You let my people get slaughtered because of a vote?
O5-7: Yes. How much longer is this game supposed to last?
PoI-6800-1: Not long. I just have one question left. What is your name?
O5-7: I don't… It's… Ekhart.
PoI-6800-1: That's funny. Sounds an awful lot like a stolen name to me.
O5-7: I didn't-
PoI-6800-1: You did. And that makes you the loser.
[PoI-6800-1 grabs the side of her head, as does O5-7. PoI-6800-1 looks at her hands. Her eyes widen. O5-7 hits the emergency button and two armed personnel enter the chamber. They look at O5-7, then at PoI-6800-1. They raise their rifles.]
PoI-6800-1: I… my name… you-
O5-7: Take the shot.
PoI-6800-1: No. No no wait, I'm… my name is Al-
[PoI-6800-1 is terminated by gunfire.]
O5-7: Apology accepted.
<End Log>
Day II
The following statement was broadcast to all available television and radio stations.
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
Hello. As you are most likely aware, the snowstorm that originated in the Amazon has now covered the vast majority of the Earth's surface. There is nothing more we can do about this, save for continuing to harvest Pygnite and make the most of the material while it is still available to us.
There is magic in the world, ladies, gentlemen, and enbies. We at the Foundation can no longer keep this a secret, as we have decided that leaving you in the dark could potentially spell the end for civilization as we know it. Use what you know, and use it wisely. We will be watching.
Those of you caught in contempt of our efforts to save the world will be exposed to SCP-6800-1 and left to fall victim to the elements. Those of you found harboring raw or unprocessed Pygnite will be considered traitors and subjected to the same fate. This is your only warning.
Stay warm. God help us.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Day I
O5 COUNCIL PROPOSAL SUMMARY
PROPOSAL:
"Remain a neutral power in the wake of the new civilization" (O5-1)
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN
O5-1
O5-4
O5-6
O5-2
O5-8
O5-3
O5-12
O5-5
O5-7
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-13
STATUS
APPROVED
O5 COUNCIL PROPOSAL SUMMARY
PROPOSAL:
"Assist in Maxwellist efforts to harvest the fae folk for the foreseeable future" (O5-10)
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN
O5-1
O5-4
O5-6
O5-2
O5-8
O5-3
O5-12
O5-5
O5-7
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-13
STATUS
APPROVED
I'm writing this in case I'm ever found out. Someone will know my story, and perhaps they can continue where I've left off.
My name is Alan Grant, or at least it is now. It was once Ekhart, and before that, it was something different, but that doesn't matter now. I am a member of the Foundation's O5-Council and the last of my kind left as far as the rest of the world is concerned. If there are others hiding amongst us, I cannot say. Probably better that way.
The Maxwellists were, for lack of better words, unsuccessful in bringing their god to this world. My people were slaughtered and turned to iron for nothing. The ashes that fell from the sky blanketed the earth and covered the guilty with the weight of their sins. The Foundation, complacent throughout it all, is now humanity's best hope against the frozen hell brought upon them by those zealots.
Ironic, isn't it.
It's my duty now to protect what's left of your kind, lest you figure out who I truly am. And by that point, it would be too late for you to do much of anything anyway. As far as you're likely concerned, I am a god in this new world.
Do you see me from the stars above, Father? Mother? Even Old Man Java would be proud of me. You can rest easy now that I have the power to do right by us. And I will do right by us. No matter how long it takes.
And to you Draema. May you rest easy now. I cannot join you in the afterlife. Not yet.
I've got work to do.
Footnotes
1 . Auricle Resonance Balance is a scale ranging from 1 to 15 which gauges a subject's likelihood of succumbing to auditory cognitohazards. An ARB rating of one or less would dictate that a subject is almost certain to become subject to an auditory cognitohazard.
2 . Pig iron, also known as crude iron, is an intermediate product of the iron industry in the production of steel which is obtained by smelting iron ore in a blast furnace.
3 . A typical ingot will generate 30,000 to 34,000 BTUs per second
4 . In order to fully understand the method in which heat is transferred between two objects, one must understand that heat itself does not exist at a constant rate. It grows hotter and then cools, at which point it can be restored using heat from exterior forces. Everything in this universe will become subject to heat death eventually, however, as is the nature of this reality. Life is ephemeral, and we can only prolong the inevitable by sharing the heat between objects. ~ The Book of Ingenios Devices vol. 2, print 2021.
5 . 1420 Kelvin
6 . Later confirmed to be runic symbols consistent with those frequently used by members of the Hermetic Order of the Black Tree
7 . Approximately 7.408 kilometers or 4 nautical miles starting at the shore.
8 . International Union for Conservation of Nature | 4 | ## discovery.
It's snowing in the Amazon rainforest.
I know that in the grand scheme of things, this phenomenon can be easily explained by climate change or some other mundane explanation. While I would be apt to agree with the more skeptical members of the Council, I must re-iterate that this snowfall isn't normal precipitation. It's spreading.
Things are also freezing at exponential rates. Within hours of being exposed to the elements, the people of the Hanatô tribe were found frozen to death. Several of the bodies were in advanced stages of decomposition as well, again only after a few hours. A team of our parameteorologists took some samples from local weather cultures but the data has so far proven inconclusive. At this time, we have no idea what is going on or why this is happening. We are considering SCP classification, and I have CC'd the head of the Classification Committee to discuss this with them further as a collective.
If any of your subteams have any clues as to the origins of this phenomenon, sharing this information is paramount. I should not have to remind you of this, but there are some among us who would withhold information for their own benefit. I will not name names, but you know who you are.
Let us work together for the sake of normalcy.
~ A. Grant
To: O5-7
From: O5-2
Subject: Re:The Amazon
Alan, this is a minor concern at best. The snowfall can be easily explained by non-anomalous climate change. The people of the Amazon, as well as the flora and fauna therein, are likely more susceptible to the sudden introduction of snow to their environment than, say, you or I. We are used to fluctuations in temperature, and they are not. I'm surprised you didn't think of this before bringing it to the Council, let alone the Administrator.
Please consider your new position before you continue to waste any of our time in the future. Thank you.
~E. Mann
To: O5-2
From: O5-10
Subject: Re:The Amazon
This change is much too drastic in too short amount of time to be written off as climate change. It is our job to investigate the anomalous, and this onset of snow is just that; anomalous. I'll have a team of parameterologists investigate potential causes, and perhaps we can contain this before it spreads too far.
Why are you protesting this, Mann? Even if it's just a red flag, Accounting is under my jurisdiction and by my calculations, the Foundation has more than enough funds to investigate a potential K-Class Scenario brewing in the Amazon.
~ C. Bold
To: O5-10
From: O5-2
Subject: Re:The Amazon
Consider how many other containment protocols are directly affected by an unnecessary expenditure of funds, Calvin. SCP-4456 is bleeding us dry as it is, and you want to waste more money on something we aren't even sure is anomalous or not.
We have wars to fight. Literal Gods to contain. Beings that, mind you, can and will exterminate us at the earliest convenience should we lapse in our security for the briefest of moments. This is a risk we simply cannot afford to take until we know for certain that the snow is not the result of climate change or some other natural phenomenon.
~E. Mann
To: O5-10
From: O5-7
Subject: Re:The Amazon
We will perform the investigations ourselves if we must. I'll call a vote.
~A. Grant
To: O5-2
From: O5-11
Subject: Re:The Amazon
There may be no need for such drastic action. I have received intel that there have been Maxwellists sightings in the land within the grotto , I suspect there may be a possible link between their presence in that place, and the sudden snowstorm in the Amazon. We are well within the means to intercept. I agree with Grant on this, and I am in favor of a vote to determine our course of action.
~ A. Clef
To: O5 Council
From: The Administrator
Subject: Re:The Amazon
That will not be necessary. We will study the Maxwellist's activity and then decide on a course of action accordingly. There is not enough evidence to link the two events to one another and until there is, no one will do anything. They are not breaking the Veil in any way that I can see, which means that they are at least attempting to conserve normalcy.
As far as our organization is concerned, the Maxwellists are not a concern at this time. There will be no further discussion of this. Return to your duties.
Day VII
Journal and recordings recovered from the place betwixt the trees after nuclear fallout deteriorated enough to once again allow for safe
---
## exploration.
It snowed today in the only land I can call home . It never snows here, not since the war. Mother says that's a bad sign but nothing's going wrong as far as I can tell. I've asked her what she meant, but she said I just have to keep my head down and my mouth shut. "It's for your own safety." What a farce.
Something is definitely up and not a single fae is telling me. Is it because I'm young? Or maybe it's because I've never stolen a name. I don't know. Father says that tough times are coming and that WAN is seeking… something. Some kind of metal made from pigs? I didn't understand, but at least its something to go on.
I tried to ask Old Man Java about the pig iron thing, but he wouldn't tell me much either. He was boarding up his shed, I guess he was trying to tie it to this place with a bunch of names he made up and magic wood that he cut down. I don't think it works that way, but whatever makes him happy I guess. I helped him as best as I could, but for the most part I sat on a tree stump and just watched him work. He says I shouldn't feel bad, but I still do. I don't like being so useless.
I wonder if Draema thinks I'm useless. By the gods I hope not.
I'm to meet with her later today over by the Sunset Lake. We're going to play Stones for the first time since we were babies! I wonder if I can still skip a rock to the other side and back in one go. Guess we'll find out tonight. Maybe I'll get a chance to ask her how she feels about me. Or maybe I'll just tell her that the kiss we shared the other day meant a lot more to me than I let on. I dunno. We'll see. Oh, and one last thing:
I saw a man made of metal today, but he fled through the well before I could talk to him. How odd.
Draema had to sneak out of her cottage because her folks wouldn't let her out. They're freaking out too. If the adults were that concerned, they'd let us kids know what the heck is going on. Old Man Java was talking to Father when I left. Said something about the Second War. I tried to eavesdrop on them, but Father saw me hiding in a tree and sent me on my way.
Draema was teasing me when we got to the lake, called me trash and "Rock sinker". Buuuut, it turns out I can still skip rocks all sorts of ways on that lake. We made a game of it, like always, but this time we had stakes. Draema bet me her lucky sword.
She lost after the third throw. Shows her for making fun of me!
And good thing too, because I didn't have anything else to offer if I lost.
We stayed there for hours after the game, just talking and staring at the stars. It was… really nice. I wish we did this more often. I tried talking to her about my feelings but I… couldn't get the words out. She kept looking at me though so maybe there's still a chance…
Not like I could find out anyway. It got dark and we had to get back before the unkind neighbors started walking around the path back. We held hands till we came by the fork in the road and parted ways. For safety of course, at least that's what I told her.
My heart nearly leaped out of my chest on that walk.
Mom was mad at me for staying out so late. It's not like I was in danger or anything. The unkind neighbors don't hang out by the lake at night anyway, and neither me or Draema know enough word magic to accidentally switch names. Well, I know how to steal a name, but that's beside the point. She's being irrational!
Saw the metal man again today. He looked like someone from the other side of the well but… different. Had metal plates all over his face, with red lights for eyes and bolts that shook in place whenever he walked. Said his name was "Ekhart", which was odd because it sounded like one of the made-up names Old Man Java used on his cottage. I know that it isn't his actual name, but how would he know to use an imaginary one?
Ekhart is nice enough. We talked about names for a really long time and he was asking all sorts of questions about our culture. I told him what I knew (which isn't much), and he seemed to be content with my answers. He started asking if I knew who WAN was and I told him nothing except for what Father told me. That disappointed him, but he put his hand on my shoulder and told me that everything was going to be alright by tomorrow.
I showed him the lake and how to skip rocks, but he wasn't super into it. He asked if I knew what a pig was. Another weird question but I told him that I did, and that my grandfather used to have a pig farm. Apparently, those weren't the type of pigs he was talking about.
After he left, Father found out that I was hanging out with him from Old Man Java. Now I'm forbidden from leaving the cottage "until it's safe again", however long that is.
Whatever. Ekhart's kind of condescending anyway. Suppose I won't be missing much. Well, except for Draema of course.
Screw it. I'm telling her how I feel tomorrow no matter what! No more cowardice, no more getting tongue-tied staring at those gorgeous eyes. This is written proof of your commitment to yourself.
I don't want to go another day without her knowing. I want to be with you, Draema.
Draema was murdered last night.
I went over by her home today and her mother told me that someone chopped her up and threw her body into a furnace last night while she was away. She only knew it was Draema because the murderer forgot to incinerate her hand which still had a tattoo on it.
There was iron residue left outside her back door, and a clump of black metal iron. Found that out after I touched it and it burned my hand. Someone wanted to send a message, but who or why is beyond us.
I'm attending Draema's funeral later with Mother and Father.
Ekhart came by again today and I told him what happened. Father blamed him for Draema's death, but he wasn't even here when it happened. I saw him leave through the well.
Can't say I'm not completely removing my suspicions of him though. Until I know for sure that she didn't meet her end at the hand of an unkind neighbor, everyone is a suspect. Old Man Java thinks that it was one of the unkind neighbors or the people in white coats trying their experiments again, but I haven't seen those ones in a real long time.
Someone else went missing today. Same way that Draema went; fire, white ash, lump of iron. There were more metal men like Ekhart rummaging around today.
I'm scared.
Mother is dead. Ekhart, or the one who used to have that name, killed her.
The metal men stormed the forest where names are not allowed with guns and flaming swords. They're rounding everyone up in groups and forcing them into these giant furnaces. The sky is white now, like it's snowing.
The one I knew as Ekhart broke into our cottage and slaughtered my Mother. Scorched the flesh on her arms with his iron sword and ripped her head off with his bare hands. I hardly recognized him as the same man I saw all those nights ago. He was different. Feral.
Father dragged me while I was frozen and we fled to Old Man Java's place while he was… killing Mother. I tried to help too. I only managed to steal his name but… I'm so fucking useless.
I still hear her screaming when I close my eyes.
We're hiding beneath Old Man Java's cottage now. He's got one of those drawers that are bigger on the inside than they could ever be on the outside. They haven't found us yet.
Why is this happening?
Day VI
In order to ascertain the full extent of SCP-6800's practical applications, several experiments were performed over the course of twenty-four hours under O5 order. Umar Hadid, a Level 2 researcher at Site-83, was tasked with overseeing the experimentation as part of his employee performance review.
Experiment
Results
Notes
To see if SCP-6800 is capable of maintaining an individual's body temperature in extreme weather conditions
Researcher Hadid wove fragments of SCP-6800 into a Foundation Deep Sea Pressurized Diving suit before submerging approximately 180 meters into the Pacific Ocean. Despite no significant amount of sunlight reaching those depths, and the cold conditions of the water, Researcher Hadid was able to maintain his baseline body heat and return safely.
Seems that Pygnite is good for keeping warm. This will be good if the blizzard spreads. Shame we couldn't get this to the Amazon in time though, perhaps we can consider donating part of our inventory to the less fortunate.
Durability of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid gathered several instances of SCP-6800, varying in size, shape, and density. Researcher Hadid performed several durability tests on each instance, striking them with a small hammer, an ax, 9mm ballistic rounds, fluoroantimonic acid, and [REDACTED]. SCP-6800 instances proved impervious to most durability tests.
However, it is susceptible to being ground. That's pretty fucking weird I would say. It's magic pig iron, not beryllium bronze or something. Still, I think this can be useful for building tools or equipment.
Repurposing ground instances of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid ground up several instances of SCP-6800 into a fine powder before heating them to their melting point 5 and pouring the molten metal into bullet casts. The casts were then loaded into a 9mm pistol and fired into testing dummies. Bullets cast from SCP-6800 emit cries suggesting agony.
What the fuck.
Communication with SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid collected several instances of SCP-6800 and attempted to communicate with them for several hours. While initially unsuccessful, Researcher Hadid was eventually able to transcribe the following phrases from each instance: "HELP ME" "CHANGE FORM" "FIRE" "WHERE IS EKHART" "WAN IS DEAD" and "I AM DRAEMA"
The instances appear… sentient at least. I don't think they're alive in any traditional sense, but there are echoes of memories from their past lives. I will have to confirm this in another
---
## test.
Cognitive function of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid presented several flashcards depicting various colored polygons such as red triangles, blue squares, and green hexagons to an SCP-6800 instance. He then attempted to converse with the entity to see if it retained any sensory information.
[REDACTED PER OVERSEER ORDER]
Social tendencies of SCP-6800
Researcher Hadid gathered instances of SCP-6800 and placed them within close proximity to one another. He then placed a recording device within the chamber in order to monitor audio interactions. After eight hours, the experiment was stopped. No SCP-6800 instances communicated verbally with one another. Upon retrieval, it was discovered that all instances were covered in water despite there being no condensation present within the containment chamber.
The instances appear capable of producing water through unknown means. I am… unsure what this means for the future of these experiments. Considering stopping, temporarily.
To examine SCP-6800 for any nomenclative attributes
Researcher Hadid provided a false name for himself to an SCP-6800 instance. The instance vibrated briefly before breaking into smaller pieces.
Seems that nomenclative magic, or at least false names, are incredibly volatile for the instances. They must still have some instinctual recollection of nomeclative magics. Will test again with a real name.
To identify the properties of SCP-6800's nomenclative attributes
Researcher Hadid introduced a Class D personnel to SCP-6800 and instructed her to state her name to an SCP-6800 instance. Upon doing so, the D-Class personnel experienced extreme cranial pain which lasted for several seconds. Once the pain subsided, the D-Class assaulted and terminated Researcher Hadid. MTF Agents stationed nearby terminated the D-Class shortly thereafter.
Results inconclusive
Day V
Video log recovered from various CCTVs positioned throughout Rutherford, New Jersey.
BEGIN
---
## LOG
00:00: It is snowing. There are no cars present on the road. Lights on one side of the street flicker for several seconds before powering off. A lone deer sifts through the snow, uncovering a patch of grass beneath. There is a loud snap heard. The deer flees.
00:03: Three individuals who seem to have misplaced their names emerge from an alleyway. There is a sword-like weapon on the shortest individual's back, while the other two are of similar build. One of the taller figures appears to walk with a slight limp, suggesting advanced age or chronic injury. They are wearing hoods and walking on the other side of the street where the street lights appear malfunctioning. Several Maxwellists patrol the street but do not notice the individuals.
00:05: A Maxwellist bumps into one of the taller individuals, knocking them to the ground. Their hood falls off and reveals their face, which is emaciated and wrinkled. Their facial expressions suggest extreme fear. They are helped to their feet by the other two hooded figures and quickly walk away from the Maxwellist. The grey-haired individual adorns their hood again.
00:06: The Maxwellist touches his temple. Other Maxwellists in the area cease their activities. Several begin walking in the direction of the hooded figures.
00:08: The shortest hooded figure reaches for their sword, but does not unsheathe it.
00:10: More Maxwellist followers emerge from various residential buildings in the area. They continue to stalk the group of three until they enter the local park.
00:12: A large number of Maxwellists surround the group, who look around in fear. The youngest figure unsheathes their sword and assumes a battle-ready position.
00:15: Saint Hedwig, the leader of the Maxwellists, steps forward from the east-facing side of the crowd. Her cape is covered in more snow than would be possible with the current rate of snowfall. She is carrying a hammer in her hand and appears to be using it as a staff.
00:16: Saint Hedwig converses with the three individuals. What is heard is unknown. One of the taller individuals removes their hood. Their hair is black and unkempt, suggesting poor hygiene. Several scars are present on their face, and one eye is absent. They gesture for the other two to do the same.
00:20: Judging by the body language and gesticulation of both parties, arguments ensue. Maxwellists followers begin to converge on the group of three but do not engage. Saint Hedwig puts her hammer on the ground and holds her hands up in a placating manner. The shortest individual lowers her sword but does not resheathe it. They appear wary.
00:24: Saint Hedwig and the shortest of the three converse for several minutes before they abruptly step back. Saint Hedwig smiles. She brings her thumb across her throat while maintaining eye contact with the short individual.
00:25: Maxwellist followers engage in an altercation with the group of three.
00:30: All three individuals manage to flee from the group of Maxwellists. There is a large quantity of blood present where the altercation took place. The right arm of the eldest individual is no longer present.
00:31: A Maxwellist follower presents a severed arm to Saint Hedwig. She recites a ritual before biting into her hand. As she pours blood over the arm, it combusts. Combustion continues for several seconds, emitting white smoke. An SCP-6800 instance is seen once the fire dispels. Saint Hedwig smiles and stores the instance in her pocket.
00:35: The three figures enter the local morgue. The eldest figure uses the blood from his arm to inscribe runes 6 , but is unable to complete the ritual before falling over. The youngest individual bites her index finger and completes the runes before assisting the eldest individual inside.
00:40: Maxwellists reach the morgue but are unable to enter. Saint Hedwig attempts to breach the door and windows with her hammer but is unsuccessful.
00:41: Saint Hedwig alerts Foundation agents to the conflict.
OO:43: Foundation agents arrive. Using various forms of thaumaturgy and occult rituals, they are able to successfully breach the morgue.
00:44: Multiple gunshots.
00:46: All three individuals are successfully detained.
END LOG
Day IV
GRANT REQUEST FOR THE REFINEMENT OF PYGNITE
PROBLEM
The production of the "Pygnite" material has become a staple of everyday life in the advent of the ever-growing snowstorm in the Amazon. A large portion of the Pacific Ocean 7 has frozen at depths of 3 kilometers below the surface. This rather spontaneous alteration to the local climate has drastically affected all ecosystems. Several species of tropical fauna, tropical fish, and tropical flora are now on the verge of extinction. Additionally, the native indigenous population has been ravaged by hypothermia, which has led to the near destruction of the various cultures and civilizations that dwell within the rainforest.
Parameterologists at the Foundation theorize that the snowstorm is growing well beyond what was initially expected. Prometheus Labs employees stationed locally have also come to the same conclusion based on anomalous weather patterns and substantial alterations in the Earth's magnetic sphere. The snowstorm is spreading unobstructed without any obvious methods to dispel it.
Prometheus Labs parameteorlogists estimate that by the year 2030 the blizzard will encompass the entire world, and all life on Earth will cease.
SOLUTION
Our factories currently
There is substantial evidence to suggest a link between the recent activities of the Maxwellist religious sect in South America to the growth of the snowstorm in the Amazon. However, the likelihood of convincing these radicals to cease their attempted genocide is marginal at best. Until such a time that Foundation intervention impedes the Maxwellists, a resolution to the exponential expansion of the blizzard and humanity's survival in a post-snow world relies solely on Prometheus Labs. To that end, we are suggesting refining the processing technique the Maxwellists have been utilizing in order to maximize the amount of Pygnite extracted from a single faery. Approximately 13% of the fae body is converted into Pygnite using established methodology. We aim to increase this yield by a minimum of sixty percent.
To put it simply, the fae population is a non-renewable resource and should be utilized to the greatest extent possible while there are still nameless individuals left to process.
Refined Pygnite sample, produced using the proposed techniques.
Performing vivisections on a nameless individual allows the body to regenerate parts that can be harvested at a later date. Those treated with "Spare Parts" have a 100% guarantee of recovery, and the generated body parts will adopt the same properties that the rest of the body has. A combination of vivisections, body regeneration, and human ingenuity will allow for magnitudes of Pygnite to be harvested from a single fae.
BUSINESS CASE
Prometheus Labs is offering relative safety in a world bereft of order. Civilian organizations attempting to work with the Maxwellist sects have been met with discourse thus far, and governments worldwide are destabilizing at a steady rate. Civilian populations are looking for an ideology or public figure that will promise them safety against rioters, looters, and opportunists. Prometheus Labs will become that aegis.
The survival of human civilization as we know it depends solely on our refinement techniques, and the sale of refined Pygnite across the globe would net Prometheus Labs at minimum 400 billion USD.
USE OF FUNDING
We are requesting a small loan of one million dollars in order to start our business venture. The money will be allocated to the following:
$100,000 for research assets. This includes paratechnology such as Mark II Self Sustaining Cumulous Steam Generators, weather boxes, and solar-powered cognition batteries
$50,000 for employee payroll
$50,000 for travel expenses
$300,000 for audio dampening equipment
$200,000 for global advertisement campaigns
$300,000 for medical insurance
KNOWN ISSUES
There is also the issue of finding the fae. Following Maxwellist efforts in an area we could have used indefinitely , the faer folk have gone into hiding en masse. Their proficiency with nomenclative thaumaturgy makes an intelligent faery difficult to distinguish from an average human, which will, unfortunately, result in a trace amount of accidental harvestings. This issue can be mitigated by exposing each subject to iron prior to harvesting, however.
Pygnite in its unrefined form is unusually loud. That is to say, there is an extremely unpleasant audiohazard being emitted from Pygnite ingots and by-products at all times. The refinement process nearly doubles the decibels a standard ingot emits.
The moral concerns of this practice are the primary concern with this proposal. We would effectively be torturing fae across the globe at our facilities for weeks, or until we have extracted all the Pygnite we could from them. This is not a job for the faint of heart nor those that are easily disturbed.
Day III
Following the apprehension of PoI-6800-1, an interview was conducted by O5-7 in order to ascertain their intentions.
Interviewer: O5-7
Interviewee: PoI-6800-1
<Begin Log>
O5-7: First of all, I'd like to formally apologize on the Foundation's behalf for the-
[PoI-6800-1 begins crying softly into her hands. O5-7 scratches the back of his neck before looking at his own hands. They are shaking, but it is unclear why. O5-7 removes a flask from his lab coat pocket and takes a drink. He offers it to PoI-6800-1.]
O5-7: Look, kid, the world is fucked. So fucking fucked. We're all going to die unless we take measures to prevent that, and… what I'm trying to say is that I can save the few of you that are left.
[PoI-6800-1 takes the flask and throws it against the wall, denting the object and spilling its contents on the floor.]
PoI-6800-1: What good is an apology from you ? My people are dead . My friends, my family, everyone I've ever cared about. Murdered.
O5-7: That isn't- you can't blame that on us. We didn't do anything.
[PoI-6800-1 resumes crying. She hits the table with her fist before standing. She paces back and forth on the other side of the table for several minutes as O5-7 watches.]
PoI-6800-1: (Whispering) I know.
O5-7: I'm sorry?
PoI-6800-1: (Shouting) I said I FUCKING KNOW.
[PoI-6800-1 hits the table again. When she removes her fist, it is covered with blood.]
PoI-6800-1: When the machine men brought their fires to the land of which we cannot speak you did nothing. I know that you know about the other side of the well and that you know how to get there. You weren't there for us when we needed you, and now you want to apologize ? Please. I've been on the run with the only family I have left for seven days. Seven fucking days. What good's an apology now that everyone's dead?
PoI-6800-1 continues to pace back and forth for several minutes. She runs her hands through her hair and pulls on parts of it. Her eyes appear bloodshot. Her hand is bleeding.]
PoI-6800-1: Where's Old Man Java? And my Father? Have they been harvested already?
O5-7: [Silence]
PoI-6800-1: They… they're…
O5-7: I'm sorry. I truly am. But our planet is experiencing a potential extinction-level event. The snowstorm is growing bigger than we could ever hope to contain, and civilization as we know it is falling apart. Everyone on Earth would have died if measures weren't taken.
PoI-6800-1: But what about my planet? You'd sacrifice my race to save your own? Who are you to decide who gets to live and who doesn't!
O5-7: …Your people are almost extinct thanks to the Maxwellists and their followers. My agents embedded in the IUCN 8 estimate that the fae population will be completely exterminated and harvested within the week. But I can keep you safe. You and your culture can survive this uh-
PoI-6800-1: This what? Genocide?
O5-7: That's one way to put it.
PoI-6800-1: Just… What do you want from me?
O5-7: I want to keep you safe. I want to keep your friends and family safe. We've committed horrible atrocities in the name of the greater good, but I can't deal with that. I don't fucking know how anyone can be okay with what we've done. What we're doing. I know that this one act won't make up for all the suffering you've endured, but at least you'll live long enough to see the end of it all.
PoI-6800-1: You're lying.
O5-7: I'm not.
PoI-6800-1: What if I decline?
O5-7: I'd rather not think about that. Please. Let me do this. Tell me where the rest of your kind might be hiding and I can save you.
PoI-6800-1: I… I…
[PoI-6800-1 puts her head in her hands for several minutes. She is sniffling. O5-7 leans forward and puts his arms on the table. He looks down.]
PoI-6800-1: I just… I'll do it. Under one condition.
O5-7: Of course, anything.
PoI-6800-1: I want to play a game.
O5-7: A game?
PoI-6800-1: An old game from when I was a child. Me and my friend Draema used to play it all the time before we knew how the rules really worked. But, I'm older now, and I know the rules. I just want to play it one last time. Won't take long.
O5-7: Alright, what's the game?
PoI-6800-1: I just need your hand for a second.
[O5-7 stands, but PoI-6800-1 grabs his wrist. O5-7 attempts to pull away but is unable to. A small amount of blood collects around PoI-6800-1's hand. O5-7 winces.]
[After several seconds, PoI-6800-1 releases O5-7 and sits down.]
O5-7: What the hell did you do?
PoI-6800-1: You agreed to play the game. The rules have been set.
O5-7: Fuck.
PoI-6800-1: We each ask each other questions until one of us catches the other in a lie. The first person to be caught in a lie loses. If you walk away, you lose. Call security, you lose. I'll go first.
O5-7: I… you…
PoI-6800-1: Why have you brought me here?
O5-7: For your protection. To find the rest of the fae. Why do you want to know?
PoI-6800-1: I want to see if you are as devious as the rest of your kind.
O5-7: I'm an O5, I'm the one you should trust most out of anyone in the Foundation.
PoI-6800-1: Then why weren't you there when the metal men attacked?
O5-7: You were a low priority at the time. We had other things to deal with, and the Maxwellists weren't breaking the veil of secrecy. I knew that inaction was wrong, so did Calvin and a few others, but we were outvoted.
PoI-6800-1: You let my people get slaughtered because of a vote?
O5-7: Yes. How much longer is this game supposed to last?
PoI-6800-1: Not long. I just have one question left. What is your name?
O5-7: I don't… It's… Ekhart.
PoI-6800-1: That's funny. Sounds an awful lot like a stolen name to me.
O5-7: I didn't-
PoI-6800-1: You did. And that makes you the loser.
[PoI-6800-1 grabs the side of her head, as does O5-7. PoI-6800-1 looks at her hands. Her eyes widen. O5-7 hits the emergency button and two armed personnel enter the chamber. They look at O5-7, then at PoI-6800-1. They raise their rifles.]
PoI-6800-1: I… my name… you-
O5-7: Take the shot.
PoI-6800-1: No. No no wait, I'm… my name is Al-
[PoI-6800-1 is terminated by gunfire.]
O5-7: Apology accepted.
<End Log>
Day II
The following statement was broadcast to all available television and radio stations.
NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION
Hello. As you are most likely aware, the snowstorm that originated in the Amazon has now covered the vast majority of the Earth's surface. There is nothing more we can do about this, save for continuing to harvest Pygnite and make the most of the material while it is still available to us.
There is magic in the world, ladies, gentlemen, and enbies. We at the Foundation can no longer keep this a secret, as we have decided that leaving you in the dark could potentially spell the end for civilization as we know it. Use what you know, and use it wisely. We will be watching.
Those of you caught in contempt of our efforts to save the world will be exposed to SCP-6800-1 and left to fall victim to the elements. Those of you found harboring raw or unprocessed Pygnite will be considered traitors and subjected to the same fate. This is your only warning.
Stay warm. God help us.
— Maria Jones, Director, RAISA
Day I
O5 COUNCIL PROPOSAL SUMMARY
PROPOSAL:
"Remain a neutral power in the wake of the new civilization" (O5-1)
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN
O5-1
O5-4
O5-6
O5-2
O5-8
O5-3
O5-12
O5-5
O5-7
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-13
STATUS
APPROVED
O5 COUNCIL PROPOSAL SUMMARY
PROPOSAL:
"Assist in Maxwellist efforts to harvest the fae folk for the foreseeable future" (O5-10)
COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY:
YEA
NAY
ABSTAIN
O5-1
O5-4
O5-6
O5-2
O5-8
O5-3
O5-12
O5-5
O5-7
O5-9
O5-10
O5-11
O5-13
STATUS
APPROVED
I'm writing this in case I'm ever found out. Someone will know my story, and perhaps they can continue where I've left off.
My name is Alan Grant, or at least it is now. It was once Ekhart, and before that, it was something different, but that doesn't matter now. I am a member of the Foundation's O5-Council and the last of my kind left as far as the rest of the world is concerned. If there are others hiding amongst us, I cannot say. Probably better that way.
The Maxwellists were, for lack of better words, unsuccessful in bringing their god to this world. My people were slaughtered and turned to iron for nothing. The ashes that fell from the sky blanketed the earth and covered the guilty with the weight of their sins. The Foundation, complacent throughout it all, is now humanity's best hope against the frozen hell brought upon them by those zealots.
Ironic, isn't it.
It's my duty now to protect what's left of your kind, lest you figure out who I truly am. And by that point, it would be too late for you to do much of anything anyway. As far as you're likely concerned, I am a god in this new world.
Do you see me from the stars above, Father? Mother? Even Old Man Java would be proud of me. You can rest easy now that I have the power to do right by us. And I will do right by us. No matter how long it takes.
And to you Draema. May you rest easy now. I cannot join you in the afterlife. Not yet.
I've got work to do.
Footnotes
1 . Auricle Resonance Balance is a scale ranging from 1 to 15 which gauges a subject's likelihood of succumbing to auditory cognitohazards. An ARB rating of one or less would dictate that a subject is almost certain to become subject to an auditory cognitohazard.
2 . Pig iron, also known as crude iron, is an intermediate product of the iron industry in the production of steel which is obtained by smelting iron ore in a blast furnace.
3 . A typical ingot will generate 30,000 to 34,000 BTUs per second
4 . In order to fully understand the method in which heat is transferred between two objects, one must understand that heat itself does not exist at a constant rate. It grows hotter and then cools, at which point it can be restored using heat from exterior forces. Everything in this universe will become subject to heat death eventually, however, as is the nature of this reality. Life is ephemeral, and we can only prolong the inevitable by sharing the heat between objects. ~ The Book of Ingenios Devices vol. 2, print 2021.
5 . 1420 Kelvin
6 . Later confirmed to be runic symbols consistent with those frequently used by members of the Hermetic Order of the Black Tree
7 . Approximately 7.408 kilometers or 4 nautical miles starting at the shore.
8 . International Union for Conservation of Nature | |
SCP-1950 | SCP-1950 | scp | Item #: SCP-1950
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: Due to SCP-1950’s effect, a warehouse has been constructed with a further twenty meter (20) allowance for any unforeseen addition to its effect. Security cameras and motion detectors are set up around the facility to alert of anyone approaching the warehouse. Two armed security personnel are to be on duty at all times. No one is allowed to interact with SCP-1950, and any personnel or intruders that do so are considered part of the SCP, their position is to be noted, and the effect diameter adjusted accordingly.
Description: SCP-1950 is a two-bedroom house consisting of three floors, including a basement, situated in ██████, Texas. The house is located approximately twenty miles from the nearest town. The surrounding area is barren desert and no other houses are visible. The state of the house is in moderately poor condition (i.e. roof tiles are falling away, outer paint is peeling away, plant life in the front yard is dying or dead) but is still inhabitable. The house's mailbox reads '149, The Thompsons' Abode.'
Thermal imaging suggests there are four individuals in the house. These are believed to be the Thompsons. SCP-1950-1, believed to be Mr. Thompson, is in the basement at a very hot object (the probable cause of the explosion). SCP-1950-2, Mrs. Thompson, can be seen through a window into what is believed to be the kitchen. SCP-1950-3, dubbed Junior Thompson, is seen walking through the kitchen toward the screen door while stating something to Mrs. Thompson. A toddler, SCP-1950-4, is in a cot in the first floor bedroom. Due to SCP-1950's anomalous properties, further inspection into the house and basement is limited by the view from perimeter of its effects.
(Full descriptions can be found in Addendum-1950-1)
SCP-1950 is stuck in a permanent four (4) second time loop which at the climax rewinds to the beginning. The timeline of the four seconds is as follows:
0-1s: SCP-1950-2 is washing up dishes at a sink in the kitchen. She remains at this position the entire time. SCP-1950-3 enters the room. SCP-1950-1 makes a rapid motion as if to throw something.
1-2s: 1950-3 moves through the room, and briefly converses with the 1950-2 as he moves to the backdoor. 1950-1 begins to move rapidly towards the stairs.
2-3s: 1950-3 begins to open the door. 1950-1 ascends half the stairwell.
3-3.5s: The large heat signature in the basement grows by ten percent (10%)
3.5-4s: An explosion that originates from the basement rips through the house, with large fireballs breaking through every window. There are no survivors. The explosion reaches approximately two (2) to four (4) meters out before the loop rewinds at the same speed. (The entire time loop is therefore 8 seconds long).
Any and all interaction with SCP-1950 adds to the effect diameter (which currently stands at forty meters (40) at the epicenter of the explosion). Should anyone or anything cross the effect diameter during the four seconds, they will be caught in a four second time loop that will rewind at the climax. Should someone approach the house at the two second marker, for example, at the point of the explosion they would rewind back four seconds, even if the beginning of their four seconds was originally outside the previous effect diameter. This essentially adds to the effect diameter, and the distance of effect is considered to have increased to the object or persons position at their initial four second start point.
Addendum-1950-1:
SCP-1950-1 – Mr. Thompson - The appearance of Mr. Thompson is limited to the size of the windows into the basement. He is a Caucasian male, approximately thirty (30) to forty (40) years old, of medium build and about 180 cm tall.
SCP-1950-2 - Mrs. Thompson – is Caucasian female, approximately 175 cm. She is wearing a floral red and white dress, with matching circular earrings and hair band. Her makeup is immaculate.
SCP-1950-3 - Junior Thompson – is a young Caucasian male, approximately four (4) to six (6) years old. He approaches the backdoor with a baseball bat, catching mitt and ball, wearing denim dungarees and a backwards baseball cap.
SCP-1950-4 - A female toddler approximately two (2) to three (3) years of age, wearing a pink night outfit and bow is asleep in the master bedroom.
Researchers notes – It appears that the family is typical of a 1950s style era. The interior and family structure, from what we can see, is very stereotypical of a ‘nuclear’ family, a housewife, a father, and two kids – the elder being an older brother. The interior is bright and colorful, with many appliances familiar to a 1950s household. It suggests this event has been playing over for the last sixty years. It is surprising that no one has discovered or interacted with it sooner, which is a blessing in disguise. And as peculiar as this is, it doesn’t bring us any closer to how it keeps repeating itself. The only thing this is useful for is being able to set your watch to it.
Addendum-1950-02
Further research is ongoing into who the Thompson family were. A search through census records of the local town puts a Thompson Family at 149, ███████ Ave. and contained the archived photo. No other records pertaining to the family or events of that time are known to exist.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1950 " by DrScooter, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1950 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 217 | ["_licensebox", "building", "euclid", "humanoid", "loop", "scp", "temporal"] | 2011-11-13T19:14:00 | 5,640 | 949 | SCP-1950 | Euclid | Due to SCP-1950’s effect, a warehouse has been constructed with a further twenty meter (20) allowance for any unforeseen addition to its effect. Security cameras and motion detectors are set up around the facility to alert of anyone approaching the warehouse. Two armed security personnel are to be on duty at all times. No one is allowed to interact with SCP-1950, and any personnel or intruders that do so are considered part of the SCP, their position is to be noted, and the effect diameter adjusted accordingly. | SCP-1950 is a two-bedroom house consisting of three floors, including a basement, situated in ██████, Texas. The house is located approximately twenty miles from the nearest town. The surrounding area is barren desert and no other houses are visible. The state of the house is in moderately poor condition (i.e. roof tiles are falling away, outer paint is peeling away, plant life in the front yard is dying or dead) but is still inhabitable. The house's mailbox reads '149, The Thompsons' Abode.'
Thermal imaging suggests there are four individuals in the house. These are believed to be the Thompsons. SCP-1950-1, believed to be Mr. Thompson, is in the basement at a very hot object (the probable cause of the explosion). SCP-1950-2, Mrs. Thompson, can be seen through a window into what is believed to be the kitchen. SCP-1950-3, dubbed Junior Thompson, is seen walking through the kitchen toward the screen door while stating something to Mrs. Thompson. A toddler, SCP-1950-4, is in a cot in the first floor bedroom. Due to SCP-1950's anomalous properties, further inspection into the house and basement is limited by the view from perimeter of its effects.
(Full descriptions can be found in Addendum-1950-1)
SCP-1950 is stuck in a permanent four (4) second time loop which at the climax rewinds to the beginning. The timeline of the four seconds is as follows:
0-1s: SCP-1950-2 is washing up dishes at a sink in the kitchen. She remains at this position the entire time. SCP-1950-3 enters the room. SCP-1950-1 makes a rapid motion as if to throw something.
1-2s: 1950-3 moves through the room, and briefly converses with the 1950-2 as he moves to the backdoor. 1950-1 begins to move rapidly towards the stairs.
2-3s: 1950-3 begins to open the door. 1950-1 ascends half the stairwell.
3-3.5s: The large heat signature in the basement grows by ten percent (10%)
3.5-4s: An explosion that originates from the basement rips through the house, with large fireballs breaking through every window. There are no survivors. The explosion reaches approximately two (2) to four (4) meters out before the loop rewinds at the same speed. (The entire time loop is therefore 8 seconds long).
Any and all interaction with SCP-1950 adds to the effect diameter (which currently stands at forty meters (40) at the epicenter of the explosion). Should anyone or anything cross the effect diameter during the four seconds, they will be caught in a four second time loop that will rewind at the climax. Should someone approach the house at the two second marker, for example, at the point of the explosion they would rewind back four seconds, even if the beginning of their four seconds was originally outside the previous effect diameter. This essentially adds to the effect diameter, and the distance of effect is considered to have increased to the object or persons position at their initial four second start point.
Addendum-1950-1:
SCP-1950-1 – Mr. Thompson - The appearance of Mr. Thompson is limited to the size of the windows into the basement. He is a Caucasian male, approximately thirty (30) to forty (40) years old, of medium build and about 180 cm tall.
SCP-1950-2 - Mrs. Thompson – is Caucasian female, approximately 175 cm. She is wearing a floral red and white dress, with matching circular earrings and hair band. Her makeup is immaculate.
SCP-1950-3 - Junior Thompson – is a young Caucasian male, approximately four (4) to six (6) years old. He approaches the backdoor with a baseball bat, catching mitt and ball, wearing denim dungarees and a backwards baseball cap.
SCP-1950-4 - A female toddler approximately two (2) to three (3) years of age, wearing a pink night outfit and bow is asleep in the master bedroom.
Researchers notes – It appears that the family is typical of a 1950s style era. The interior and family structure, from what we can see, is very stereotypical of a ‘nuclear’ family, a housewife, a father, and two kids – the elder being an older brother. The interior is bright and colorful, with many appliances familiar to a 1950s household. It suggests this event has been playing over for the last sixty years. It is surprising that no one has discovered or interacted with it sooner, which is a blessing in disguise. And as peculiar as this is, it doesn’t bring us any closer to how it keeps repeating itself. The only thing this is useful for is being able to set your watch to it.
Addendum-1950-02
Further research is ongoing into who the Thompson family were. A search through census records of the local town puts a Thompson Family at 149, ███████ Ave. and contained the archived photo. No other records pertaining to the family or events of that time are known to exist.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1950 " by DrScooter, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1950 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 2 | ## Addendum-1950-1
SCP-1950-1 – Mr. Thompson - The appearance of Mr. Thompson is limited to the size of the windows into the basement. He is a Caucasian male, approximately thirty (30) to forty (40) years old, of medium build and about 180 cm tall.
SCP-1950-2 - Mrs. Thompson – is Caucasian female, approximately 175 cm. She is wearing a floral red and white dress, with matching circular earrings and hair band. Her makeup is immaculate.
SCP-1950-3 - Junior Thompson – is a young Caucasian male, approximately four (4) to six (6) years old. He approaches the backdoor with a baseball bat, catching mitt and ball, wearing denim dungarees and a backwards baseball cap.
SCP-1950-4 - A female toddler approximately two (2) to three (3) years of age, wearing a pink night outfit and bow is asleep in the master bedroom.
Researchers notes – It appears that the family is typical of a 1950s style era. The interior and family structure, from what we can see, is very stereotypical of a ‘nuclear’ family, a housewife, a father, and two kids – the elder being an older brother. The interior is bright and colorful, with many appliances familiar to a 1950s household. It suggests this event has been playing over for the last sixty years. It is surprising that no one has discovered or interacted with it sooner, which is a blessing in disguise. And as peculiar as this is, it doesn’t bring us any closer to how it keeps repeating itself. The only thing this is useful for is being able to set your watch to it.
---
## Addendum-1950-02
Further research is ongoing into who the Thompson family were. A search through census records of the local town puts a Thompson Family at 149, ███████ Ave. and contained the archived photo. No other records pertaining to the family or events of that time are known to exist.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1950 " by DrScooter, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1950 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-3874 | SCP-3874 | scp | In which Fidel Castro survives.
SCP-3874 in 2005.
Item #: SCP-3874
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Due to the SCP-GOC 1970 Accord 1 , direct Foundation involvement in the containment of SCP-3874 is impossible. The Foundation is to instead monitor the activities of GoI-616 "Pentagram" 2 in relation to the anomaly and attempts to sabotage any known attempts to assassinate SCP-3874.
Description: SCP-3874 is the former Prime Minister (1959-1976) and President (1976-2008) of Cuba, Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz. Though the subject's anomalous properties remain largely unknown, it is currently believed that SCP-3874 possesses one or more of the following anomalous properties:
Probability-altering capabilities,
Clairvoyance,
Indestructibility/Rapid regeneration properties,
or Pataphysical Omniscience.
SCP-3874 has not demonstrated any of the aforementioned anomalous properties in public nor shows any signs typical of a Class-B metahuman; however, the quantity of survived assassination attempts demonstrated by SCP-3874 has been deemed most likely anomalous. According to leaked Pentagram documentation supplied by defector Matthew Shah, the organization has made over 600 attempts 3 to assassinate SCP-3874 since 1963. The methods of the attempts to assassinate the subject include both anomalous and mundane means.
Attempted methods include:
SCP-3874 in 1959.
An exploding cigar,
Poisoned ice cream,
Contracting ex-Chicago Spirit members and UIU Persons of Interest to participate in the Bay of Pigs invasion,
Cognitohazardous diplomatic speech,
Voodoo,
Radioactive Para-pharmaceuticals ,
and an Orbital Disintegration Beam.
Addendum.01: Upon discovery of SCP-3874's anomalous properties and an assassination attempt in 1975, the Foundation began covert lobbying to support the Church Committee's investigations of abuse of the United States Intelligence agencies by several departments of the state.
Due to political pressure from the Department of Defense, the Church Committee instead focused their investigations on the NSA. In response, the Foundation implemented Procedure-343FB21 "The Strong-Arm", a plan to capture William Alton Carter 4 . Under the guise of a terrorist front organization, the Foundation issued the threat to the President, who signed Executive Order 11905 in response, disallowing United States government employees from engaging in political assassination.
Addendum.02: Despite the signing of Executive Order 11905, Pentagram continued to undertake covert assassination attempts, most notably in 2000 when the group converted the recently captured Elián González into a sleeper agent to assassinate SCP-3874. This plan was discovered by Site-19's Lead GoI Researcher Dr. Everwood, and Foundation Intelligence Agents were dispatched to administer amnestics to González, removing all sleeper agent programming.
Addendum.03: On June 23rd, 2001, the following correspondence was received from Pentagram's Chairman and US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld.
To whom it may concern,
Though the United States government understands and appreciates the service the SCPF provides to our great country and the world at large, we can no longer abide by your constant interference in national security. Even though the Berlin Wall and the Soviet Union have fallen, the threat of Communism remains alive in our very front yard. A mere 90 miles from Florida lays a potential threat to the great liberties this country was founded on.
This is a humble request that you cease your interference in our foreign relations. As per the rules outlined in the Secure Contain Protect Initiative, you are not to interfere in the politics of this country outside of extraordinary circumstances. Should you continue your acts against the needs of this country, we may need to reconsider the necessity of funding the SCPF and allowing the continued operation of your bases in US soil.
From what we understand, the GOC has a more sustainable plan for anomalies than you do.
Yours,
Further attempts at halting Pentagram assassination attempts on SCP-3874 are to be carried out by third party agents contracted through Foundation front companies.
Addendum.04: On the 25th of November 2016, Cuban news outlets reported on the death of SCP-3874, which was attributed to natural causes. Operation "90 Años" was launched shortly after, with the goal of retrieving the cadaver of SCP-3874 and bringing it to Facility-72 5 in Colombia. Due to the lack of anomalous guards or GOC operatives present at the morgue, Agent LaFerrier was able to successfully obtain the cadaver of SCP-3874 prior to cremation, substituting SCP-3874's cremains with those of D-1221's.
Upon arrival to Facility-72, an autopsy was conducted to identify any possible anomalous properties possessed by SCP-3874. No results were found. Additional experiments yielded no results. The cause of death was additionally confirmed to be natural and no involvement of Pentagram was found in relation to the death of SCP-3874.
On January 1st 2017, Agent LaFerrier, disguised as a new Venezuelan diplomat, was tasked with approaching Raul Castro 6 and attempting to gather any information regarding SCP-3874's anomalous properties.
Addendum.05: Following an interview with Raul Castro, it was determined that SCP-3874 did not at any point possess anomalous properties. Though Foundation statisticians have questioned the possibility of a mundane human surviving and evading over 600 assassination attempts, the possibility is non-anomalously more than 0, therefore rendering it possible.
SCP-3874's documentation is to be reclassified immediately.
OPEN SCP-3874 RECLASSIFICATION?
CLOSE
SCP-3874-EX attending a conference in Brazil in 2005.
Item #: SCP-3874-EX
Object Class: Neutralized (Explained)
Special Containment Procedures: N/A
Description: SCP-3874-EX is the former Prime Minister (1959-1976) and President (1976-2008) of Cuba, Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz. The subject was believed to possess anomalous properties which facilitated its survival against assassination attempts, but these have since been found to be non-existent.
The cremains of SCP-3874-EX have been discarded alongside the Facility-72 D-Class cremains.
Footnotes
1 . An agreement between the SCP Foundation and the United Nations Global Occult Coalition disallowing the Foundation to operate in nations which do not agree to the terms of the Secure Contain Protect Initiative in exchange for knowledge and information of localized anomalies.
2 . The occult branch of the Department of Defense.
3 . Prior to this documentation being supplied to the Foundation, only 52 attempts had been discovered.
4 . Brother of at-the-time POTUS James "Jimmy" Earl Carter Jr.
5 . The equivalent of Foundation Sites in South America.
6 . SCP-3874's brother.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Uncle Nicolini's Works
SCPs
SCP-1712 •
SCP-7725 •
SCP-7728 •
SCP-MYSTERY-J •
SCP-3297 •
SCP-3867 •
SCP-9056 •
SCP-7833 •
SCP-2983 •
SCP-PL-274 •
SCP-5148 •
SCP-7337 •
SCP-4056 •
SCP-ADMONITION-J •
SCP-6161 •
Tales/GoI Formats
Surprise! Happy Birthday! Just as the clock strikes midnight... •
UIU File: 2001-745 •
The Hermit, Death, and The Devil •
Clef Goes To The DMV •
SCP-5057 Additional Documentation •
Ace Of Hearts •
Dark was the night, cold was the ground. •
Moon Champion's Cinco de Mayo Extravaganza •
ASSET 'FLORIDA ORANGE' •
The Containment Of Arsène Lupin •
If They Like You, I Like You •
Hatuey, the First American Rebel •
Seven Days With Mr. Fish •
Drunkenly Stumbling Down Memory Lane •
Project Proposal 2014-1221: "Finally Waking Up" •
Other
uncle nicolini author page •
Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights •
Ode To The Unknown Author • | 186 | ["_cc", "_shaggy-dog", "agent-laferrier", "cadaver", "doctor-everwood", "explained", "global-occult-coalition", "humanoid", "indestructible", "jam-con2019", "neutralized", "pentagram", "political", "probability", "scp", "the-trashfire"] | 2019-03-10T15:32:00 | 7,776 | 1,153 | SCP-3874 | Keter | Due to the SCP-GOC 1970 Accord 1 , direct Foundation involvement in the containment of SCP-3874 is impossible. The Foundation is to instead monitor the activities of GoI-616 "Pentagram" 2 in relation to the anomaly and attempts to sabotage any known attempts to assassinate SCP-3874. | SCP-3874 is the former Prime Minister (1959-1976) and President (1976-2008) of Cuba, Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz. Though the subject's anomalous properties remain largely unknown, it is currently believed that SCP-3874 possesses one or more of the following anomalous properties:
Probability-altering capabilities,
Clairvoyance,
Indestructibility/Rapid regeneration properties,
or Pataphysical Omniscience.
SCP-3874 has not demonstrated any of the aforementioned anomalous properties in public nor shows any signs typical of a Class-B metahuman; however, the quantity of survived assassination attempts demonstrated by SCP-3874 has been deemed most likely anomalous. According to leaked Pentagram documentation supplied by defector Matthew Shah, the organization has made over 600 attempts 3 to assassinate SCP-3874 since 1963. The methods of the attempts to assassinate the subject include both anomalous and mundane means.
Attempted methods include:
SCP-3874 in 1959.
An exploding cigar,
Poisoned ice cream,
Contracting ex-Chicago Spirit members and UIU Persons of Interest to participate in the Bay of Pigs invasion,
Cognitohazardous diplomatic speech,
Voodoo,
Radioactive Para-pharmaceuticals ,
and an Orbital Disintegration Beam.
Addendum.01: Upon discovery of SCP-3874's anomalous properties and an assassination attempt in 1975, the Foundation began covert lobbying to support the Church Committee's investigations of abuse of the United States Intelligence agencies by several departments of the state.
Due to political pressure from the Department of Defense, the Church Committee instead focused their investigations on the NSA. In response, the Foundation implemented Procedure-343FB21 "The Strong-Arm", a plan to capture William Alton Carter 4 . Under the guise of a terrorist front organization, the Foundation issued the threat to the President, who signed Executive Order 11905 in response, disallowing United States government employees from engaging in political assassination.
Addendum.02: Despite the signing of Executive Order 11905, Pentagram continued to undertake covert assassination attempts, most notably in 2000 when the group converted the recently captured Elián González into a sleeper agent to assassinate SCP-3874. This plan was discovered by Site-19's Lead GoI Researcher Dr. Everwood, and Foundation Intelligence Agents were dispatched to administer amnestics to González, removing all sleeper agent programming.
Addendum.03: On June 23rd, 2001, the following correspondence was received from Pentagram's Chairman and US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld.
To whom it may concern,
Though the United States government understands and appreciates the service the SCPF provides to our great country and the world at large, we can no longer abide by your constant interference in national security. Even though the Berlin Wall and the Soviet Union have fallen, the threat of Communism remains alive in our very front yard. A mere 90 miles from Florida lays a potential threat to the great liberties this country was founded on.
This is a humble request that you cease your interference in our foreign relations. As per the rules outlined in the Secure Contain Protect Initiative, you are not to interfere in the politics of this country outside of extraordinary circumstances. Should you continue your acts against the needs of this country, we may need to reconsider the necessity of funding the SCPF and allowing the continued operation of your bases in US soil.
From what we understand, the GOC has a more sustainable plan for anomalies than you do.
Yours,
Further attempts at halting Pentagram assassination attempts on SCP-3874 are to be carried out by third party agents contracted through Foundation front companies.
Addendum.04: On the 25th of November 2016, Cuban news outlets reported on the death of SCP-3874, which was attributed to natural causes. Operation "90 Años" was launched shortly after, with the goal of retrieving the cadaver of SCP-3874 and bringing it to Facility-72 5 in Colombia. Due to the lack of anomalous guards or GOC operatives present at the morgue, Agent LaFerrier was able to successfully obtain the cadaver of SCP-3874 prior to cremation, substituting SCP-3874's cremains with those of D-1221's.
Upon arrival to Facility-72, an autopsy was conducted to identify any possible anomalous properties possessed by SCP-3874. No results were found. Additional experiments yielded no results. The cause of death was additionally confirmed to be natural and no involvement of Pentagram was found in relation to the death of SCP-3874.
On January 1st 2017, Agent LaFerrier, disguised as a new Venezuelan diplomat, was tasked with approaching Raul Castro 6 and attempting to gather any information regarding SCP-3874's anomalous properties.
Addendum.05: Following an interview with Raul Castro, it was determined that SCP-3874 did not at any point possess anomalous properties. Though Foundation statisticians have questioned the possibility of a mundane human surviving and evading over 600 assassination attempts, the possibility is non-anomalously more than 0, therefore rendering it possible.
SCP-3874's documentation is to be reclassified immediately.
OPEN SCP-3874 RECLASSIFICATION?
CLOSE
SCP-3874-EX attending a conference in Brazil in 2005.
Item #: SCP-3874-EX
Object Class: Neutralized (Explained)
Special Containment Procedures: N/A
Description: SCP-3874-EX is the former Prime Minister (1959-1976) and President (1976-2008) of Cuba, Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz. The subject was believed to possess anomalous properties which facilitated its survival against assassination attempts, but these have since been found to be non-existent.
The cremains of SCP-3874-EX have been discarded alongside the Facility-72 D-Class cremains.
Footnotes
1 . An agreement between the SCP Foundation and the United Nations Global Occult Coalition disallowing the Foundation to operate in nations which do not agree to the terms of the Secure Contain Protect Initiative in exchange for knowledge and information of localized anomalies.
2 . The occult branch of the Department of Defense.
3 . Prior to this documentation being supplied to the Foundation, only 52 attempts had been discovered.
4 . Brother of at-the-time POTUS James "Jimmy" Earl Carter Jr.
5 . The equivalent of Foundation Sites in South America.
6 . SCP-3874's brother.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Uncle Nicolini's Works
SCPs
SCP-1712 •
SCP-7725 •
SCP-7728 •
SCP-MYSTERY-J •
SCP-3297 •
SCP-3867 •
SCP-9056 •
SCP-7833 •
SCP-2983 •
SCP-PL-274 •
SCP-5148 •
SCP-7337 •
SCP-4056 •
SCP-ADMONITION-J •
SCP-6161 •
Tales/GoI Formats
Surprise! Happy Birthday! Just as the clock strikes midnight... •
UIU File: 2001-745 •
The Hermit, Death, and The Devil •
Clef Goes To The DMV •
SCP-5057 Additional Documentation •
Ace Of Hearts •
Dark was the night, cold was the ground. •
Moon Champion's Cinco de Mayo Extravaganza •
ASSET 'FLORIDA ORANGE' •
The Containment Of Arsène Lupin •
If They Like You, I Like You •
Hatuey, the First American Rebel •
Seven Days With Mr. Fish •
Drunkenly Stumbling Down Memory Lane •
Project Proposal 2014-1221: "Finally Waking Up" •
Other
uncle nicolini author page •
Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights •
Ode To The Unknown Author • | 1 | ## documentation is to be reclassified immediately.
OPEN SCP-3874 RECLASSIFICATION?
CLOSE
SCP-3874-EX attending a conference in Brazil in 2005.
Item #: SCP-3874-EX
Object Class: Neutralized (Explained)
Special Containment Procedures: N/A
Description: SCP-3874-EX is the former Prime Minister (1959-1976) and President (1976-2008) of Cuba, Fidel Alejandro Castro Ruz. The subject was believed to possess anomalous properties which facilitated its survival against assassination attempts, but these have since been found to be non-existent.
The cremains of SCP-3874-EX have been discarded alongside the Facility-72 D-Class cremains.
Footnotes
1 . An agreement between the SCP Foundation and the United Nations Global Occult Coalition disallowing the Foundation to operate in nations which do not agree to the terms of the Secure Contain Protect Initiative in exchange for knowledge and information of localized anomalies.
2 . The occult branch of the Department of Defense.
3 . Prior to this documentation being supplied to the Foundation, only 52 attempts had been discovered.
4 . Brother of at-the-time POTUS James "Jimmy" Earl Carter Jr.
5 . The equivalent of Foundation Sites in South America.
6 . SCP-3874's brother.
More From This Author
More From This Author
Uncle Nicolini's Works
SCPs
SCP-1712 •
SCP-7725 •
SCP-7728 •
SCP-MYSTERY-J •
SCP-3297 •
SCP-3867 •
SCP-9056 •
SCP-7833 •
SCP-2983 •
SCP-PL-274 •
SCP-5148 •
SCP-7337 •
SCP-4056 •
SCP-ADMONITION-J •
SCP-6161 •
Tales/GoI Formats
Surprise! Happy Birthday! Just as the clock strikes midnight... •
UIU File: 2001-745 •
The Hermit, Death, and The Devil •
Clef Goes To The DMV •
SCP-5057 Additional Documentation •
Ace Of Hearts •
Dark was the night, cold was the ground. •
Moon Champion's Cinco de Mayo Extravaganza •
ASSET 'FLORIDA ORANGE' •
The Containment Of Arsène Lupin •
If They Like You, I Like You •
Hatuey, the First American Rebel •
Seven Days With Mr. Fish •
Drunkenly Stumbling Down Memory Lane •
Project Proposal 2014-1221: "Finally Waking Up" •
Other
uncle nicolini author page •
Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights •
Ode To The Unknown Author • | |
SCP-4338 | SCP-4338 | scp | SCP-4338. Image taken during EVENT DN-4338-33, 09/04/1974.
Special Containment Procedures: 6 FHT Class Security Frigates, along with Aquatic Research Vessel Herron will maintain a seven-point blockade around Moaha Island. 1 At the beginning of each lunar month 2 , a varied assortment of food must be deposited into this island's volcanic crater, including:
40-50kg vegetables (e.g., cassava, taro, sweet potato, purple yam).
30-40kg fruits (e.g., mango, pineapple, cherimoya, jackfruit).
50-80kg fish (e.g., tuna, salmon, marlin, dorado).
40-80kg assorted nuts, herbs, and seaweed.
60-80kg pork, shredded/smoked.
These provisions, based on the staple foods of a Pacific/Oceanian native society, have a 78-83% chance of being accepted by SCP-4338. Should a deposit be rejected, the appointed "leader" should proceed to an isolated location to avoid destruction of Foundation property and additional loss of life. For more details, see "4338-DN Event Overview" below.
Description: SCP-4338 is a sapient, levitating, 2.3km 3 sphere of volcanic rock inhabiting the magma chamber beneath Moaha Island. Multiple artifacts and oral traditions reference this entity as "Ōsobiue", "Irn'acha", or "God of the Burning Ocean": a central figure in the creation myths — and extinction events — of some 19 early oceanic cultures.
4338-DN Event Overview
4338-DN Event Overview
A 4338-DN Event, also known as a "rejected offering" event, will be signaled by a large-scale eruption of Moaha Volcano. Soon after, SCP-4338 will emerge from the magma conduit, travelling towards the leader of the closest human social group. SCP-4338 is acutely aware of group hierarchy; use of D-class personnel as decoy leaders has proven ineffective. While in transit, SCP-4338's exterior shell will fracture and dislodge large tendrils of molten rock and metal ore. These appendages are used mainly for demolishing obstacles encountered in SCP-4338's pursuit, which will not stop until either:
(A) 3-5 live, healthy persons are dropped into the volcanic crater 3 or
(B) the "leader" is dead.
Cause of death is inconsequential, but typically occurs when SCP-4338 ensnares its pursuant in one of its tendrils. SCP-4338 will then absorb this individual's corpse into its core body, and withdraw. Within 20 minutes, a mote of lava will fall from SCP-4338 containing a duplicate of the deceased. While visually identical, this duplicate will be fully inorganic, and contain a core of animated, super-heated minerals. Once this process is complete, any previous proxy will collapse into shards of volcanic glass. These entities act as a consciousness vessel and communication vehicle for SCP-4338, who will only converse with the next "leader" once they have formally declared themselves. 4
ADDENDUM 09/03/2018 | 4338-DN-41
ADDENDUM 09/03/2018 | 4338-DN-41
EVENT DN-4338-41. Still taken from the body cam of Security Officer Masters, deceased.
For the first time in its 73 years of containment, SCP-4338 emerged halfway through the lunar month. Current "leader", Director Morgan Rowell, was already on the island collecting soil samples at the time. Including Director Rowell, 3 Foundation personnel were lost during this event.
A proxy emerged only 14 minutes later. In another unprecedented act, Rowell / SCP-4338 were the ones to open communications, demanding to speak to a new "leader" without delay. Given the need for expediency, Head Researcher Amelia Thornborrow volunteered.
Interview Log 09/03/2018 | Morgan Rowell / SCP-4338
Interview Log - Morgan Rowell / SCP-4338
Interviewed: Morgan Rowell / SCP-4338.
Interviewer: (Acting) Director Amelia Thornborrow.
Foreword: Rowell / SCP-4338 immediately began presenting the trademark "cracking" appearance past proxies have only shown after 4-8 months. Small fissures on the epidermis around the eyes, lips, and fingernails reveal an undercurrent of molten elements, steadily hardening into "magma domes". As per protocol, Ms. Rowell was restrained with 8cm thick tungsten cuffs around the wrist and ankles.
Thornborrow: Tell me why you attacked us.
Rowell / 4338: SUCH IMPUDENCE. WILL YOU NOT GROVEL, OR BEG MY MERCY? WHAT COMPELS YOU TO ANGER YOUR OWN GOD?
Thornborrow: You're wearing my dead friend's face. I don't appreciate it.
Rowell / 4338: LEARN TO APPRECIATE, CHILD, OR PERHAPS I WILL TRAVEL TO THE GREAT SHORE, BRINGING FIRE AND ROCK TO YOUR S C P. HOW MANY LIVES ARE WORTH YOUR PRIDE, AM EEL YA?
Director Thornborrow remains silent for several seconds, clenching and relaxing her hands.
Thornborrow: Why did you attack us? We have done exactly as you —
Rowell / 4338: YOU INSULT ME. MOR GAN INSULTED ME. I ASK FOR THE PEAK OF THE HARVEST, AND NOW I LEARN YOU GIVE ME ITS MEALY ENDS!
Thornborrow: I don't understand. All the food we've provided has been of the highest quality —
Rowell/4338 suddenly bites down through their lower lip, spitting the escaping molten liquid across the interview table. Smearing this substance with their fingertip, they melt a single word into the metal surface, all in stylized, looping cursive.
Rowell / 4338: I WANT THIS.
Thornborrow: C-… what is that… C-ad … Cadbury? Who —
Rowell / 4338: I ONLY SPEAK YOUR WORDS; I DO NOT BOTHER WITH YOUR SYMBOLS. IF THIS MEANS "CADBURY", THEN YES, I WANT CADBURY. I WANT THE SWEET, MELTING RESIN.
Thornborrow: Wait, hang on… were these symbols on a kind of reflective sheet? Was that wrapped around this "Cadbury" in small, brown squares?
Rowell / 4338: YES. ONE OF YOUR FOLLOWERS OFFERED IT UNTO ME. A PITIFUL SUM, BUT PLENTIFUL IN FLAVOR. BRING ME MORE OF THIS "CADBURY", OR BRING ME THE ONE WHO CAN!
Interview Log 09/03/2018 | Kevin Emerson
Interview Log - Kevin Emerson
Interviewed: Kevin Emerson, Junior Researcher within the Geology Department, currently assigned to SCP-4338.
Interviewer: Agent Rhodes.
Agent Rhodes clicks "pause" on his laptop, halting a recording of the previous interview.
Agent Rhodes: You threw chocolate into the volcano.
Emerson: … You can't prove that.
Agent Rhodes: We did a full sweep of every ship, Mr. Emerson. We know you have a whole suitcase full of-
Emerson: Oh, so, immediately this is all my fault because I like junk food?
Agent Rhodes: We're not blaming you for your eating habits, Kevin; we're blaming you for waking up a Volcano God! Now, do we have to launch a whole formal inquiry here, or-
Emerson: Jesus, fine! I did it! I wasn't trying to breach containment or anything; I was just bored, okay!? All I've done since I got here is sift silt!
Rhodes: …You're a geologist.
Emerson: An anomaly geologist. The geology here is non-anomalous . We've known since the friggin' 50's that the only abnormal thing on this island is the stupid orb; but no, command keeps putting in work orders with our department, and this month I drew the short straw.
Rhodes: That still doesn't explain why-
Emerson: No — just — I'm getting to that, okay? So, I was out having my lunch and — I mean, before now, we were totally convinced that only the crater connected to 4338, not every little lava-flow! So, I wasn't technically breaking protocol by, y'know, "disposing" of my leftovers.
Agent Rhodes rubs the bridge of his nose, head downcast.
Rhodes: Protocol doesn't just mean— … wait, "leftovers"? What do you mean, "leftovers"? It wasn't just the chocolate?
Emerson: Well yeah, no, I mean, there was some… other… stuff…
Mr. Emerson folds his hands in his lap, purses his lips, and looks away from Agent Rhodes.
Rhodes: What other stuff?
Mr. Emerson does not respond.
Rhodes: Kevin, what else did you throw into the lava?
Interview Log 09/03/2018 | Morgan Rowell / SCP-4338
Interview Log - Morgan Rowell / SCP-4338
Interviewed: Morgan Rowell / SCP-4338.
Interviewer: (Acting) Director Amelia Thornborrow.
Rowell / 4338: — ND THE GOLDEN, CRISPY TRIANGLES, AND THE BUBBLING JUICE, BLACK AS NIGHT! I DEMAND THE CHEWY, FLUFFY SPONGE STUFFED WITH FRUIT PASTE! I DEMAND THE SPICED, SALTED STICKS OF DRIED MEAT! I DEMAND THE SWEET, COLORED NECTAR CARVED IN THE SHAPE OF TINY ANIMALS! I DEMAND —
Thornborrow: Yes— yes we'll— we're going to— Alright, I'm getting— god damn it, would someone just get the Commissary on the line!?
NOTICE: THE FILE YOU ARE CURRENTLY VIEWING IS OUTDATED AS OF 09/03/2018.
> UPDATE 11/08/2018 <
Footnotes
1 . 1°52'40.3"S by 134°48'13.1"W, South Pacific Ocean
2 . Every 29.5 days.
3 . Use of this technique is forbidden by order of the Ethics Committee.
4 . Revision required, See 4338-DN-41. | 485 | ["_cc", "_listpages", "alive", "ethics-committee", "geological", "hostile", "ritual", "safe", "sapient", "scp", "sphere", "subterranean", "telepathic"] | 2019-07-02T15:55:00 | 8,513 | 1,365 | null | null | 6 FHT Class Security Frigates, along with Aquatic Research Vessel Herron will maintain a seven-point blockade around Moaha Island. 1 At the beginning of each lunar month 2 , a varied assortment of food must be deposited into this island's volcanic crater, including:
40-50kg vegetables (e.g., cassava, taro, sweet potato, purple yam).
30-40kg fruits (e.g., mango, pineapple, cherimoya, jackfruit).
50-80kg fish (e.g., tuna, salmon, marlin, dorado).
40-80kg assorted nuts, herbs, and seaweed.
60-80kg pork, shredded/smoked.
These provisions, based on the staple foods of a Pacific/Oceanian native society, have a 78-83% chance of being accepted by SCP-4338. Should a deposit be rejected, the appointed "leader" should proceed to an isolated location to avoid destruction of Foundation property and additional loss of life. For more details, see "4338-DN Event Overview" below. | SCP-4338 is a sapient, levitating, 2.3km 3 sphere of volcanic rock inhabiting the magma chamber beneath Moaha Island. Multiple artifacts and oral traditions reference this entity as "Ōsobiue", "Irn'acha", or "God of the Burning Ocean": a central figure in the creation myths — and extinction events — of some 19 early oceanic cultures.
4338-DN Event Overview
4338-DN Event Overview
A 4338-DN Event, also known as a "rejected offering" event, will be signaled by a large-scale eruption of Moaha Volcano. Soon after, SCP-4338 will emerge from the magma conduit, travelling towards the leader of the closest human social group. SCP-4338 is acutely aware of group hierarchy; use of D-class personnel as decoy leaders has proven ineffective. While in transit, SCP-4338's exterior shell will fracture and dislodge large tendrils of molten rock and metal ore. These appendages are used mainly for demolishing obstacles encountered in SCP-4338's pursuit, which will not stop until either:
(A) 3-5 live, healthy persons are dropped into the volcanic crater 3 or
(B) the "leader" is dead.
Cause of death is inconsequential, but typically occurs when SCP-4338 ensnares its pursuant in one of its tendrils. SCP-4338 will then absorb this individual's corpse into its core body, and withdraw. Within 20 minutes, a mote of lava will fall from SCP-4338 containing a duplicate of the deceased. While visually identical, this duplicate will be fully inorganic, and contain a core of animated, super-heated minerals. Once this process is complete, any previous proxy will collapse into shards of volcanic glass. These entities act as a consciousness vessel and communication vehicle for SCP-4338, who will only converse with the next "leader" once they have formally declared themselves. 4 | 2 | ## Interview Log - Kevin Emerson
Interviewed: Kevin Emerson, Junior Researcher within the Geology Department, currently assigned to SCP-4338.
Interviewer: Agent Rhodes.
Agent Rhodes clicks "pause" on his laptop, halting a recording of the previous
---
## interview.
Agent Rhodes: You threw chocolate into the volcano.
Emerson: … You can't prove that.
Agent Rhodes: We did a full sweep of every ship, Mr. Emerson. We know you have a whole suitcase full of-
Emerson: Oh, so, immediately this is all my fault because I like junk food?
Agent Rhodes: We're not blaming you for your eating habits, Kevin; we're blaming you for waking up a Volcano God! Now, do we have to launch a whole formal inquiry here, or-
Emerson: Jesus, fine! I did it! I wasn't trying to breach containment or anything; I was just bored, okay!? All I've done since I got here is sift silt!
Rhodes: …You're a geologist.
Emerson: An anomaly geologist. The geology here is non-anomalous . We've known since the friggin' 50's that the only abnormal thing on this island is the stupid orb; but no, command keeps putting in work orders with our department, and this month I drew the short straw.
Rhodes: That still doesn't explain why-
Emerson: No — just — I'm getting to that, okay? So, I was out having my lunch and — I mean, before now, we were totally convinced that only the crater connected to 4338, not every little lava-flow! So, I wasn't technically breaking protocol by, y'know, "disposing" of my leftovers.
Agent Rhodes rubs the bridge of his nose, head downcast.
Rhodes: Protocol doesn't just mean— … wait, "leftovers"? What do you mean, "leftovers"? It wasn't just the chocolate?
Emerson: Well yeah, no, I mean, there was some… other… stuff…
Mr. Emerson folds his hands in his lap, purses his lips, and looks away from Agent Rhodes.
Rhodes: What other stuff?
Mr. Emerson does not respond.
Rhodes: Kevin, what else did you throw into the lava?
Interview | |
SCP-6168 | SCP-6168 | scp | SCP-6168 - The Puzzle Pieces of Adolescence
This is my first article, so I just hope for it to succeed, and I'll greatly appreciate any feedback!
The date format used in this article is dd/mm/yyyy.
Image Attribution:
- dog.jpg was taken from Wikimedia Commons , and licensed under CC-BY-SA 4.0
- pieces.jpg was taken by me.
▸ More by this Author ◂
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
A typical Phú Quốc Ridgeback dog. This dog breed is native to Phú Quốc Island, Vietnam.
Pieces of SCP-6168. Photo taken by PoI-6168 with her phone.
Item #: SCP-6168
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6168 is to be kept in a medium-sized standard animal containment cell. It does not need to be provided food or water for survival.
Investigation into Incident 6168/A is to be conducted with the following priorities:
Determining the relationships among PoI-6168, Incident 6168/A and the creation of SCP-6168.
Evaluating the possibility of PoI-6168 possessing thaumaturgic abilities, as well as the possibility of further anomalous activities at the locus of the incident.
UPDATE 25/08/2016: In case further changes in SCP-6168's anomalous properties are observed, its containment procedures are to be adjusted accordingly.
Description: SCP-6168 is a life-size, animated, sentient statue resembling a Phú Quốc Ridgeback dog. It is made from ordinary cinnamon wood ( Cinnamomum verum ) and comprises multiple pieces. Some of its pieces function as joints, allowing it to move in a limited capacity. SCP-6168 does not possess internal organs and cannot vocalize; however, it reacts to external stimuli similarly to common domestic dogs ( Canis lupus familiaris ).
Discovery (Incident 6168/A): On 28/06/2016, Foundation radars monitored by the Thaumaturgic Activity Tracking Unit in Northwestern Vietnam detected an abnormal EVE spike from a location in the remote mountainous area of Yên Bái Province. This location had previously been marked for frequent thaumaturgic activities, but had been inactive for several years. Concurrently, the local fire brigade hotline received a call reporting a house fire spreading to the local forest at the energy spike's presumed coordination. Foundation agents embedded in the local fire brigade then arrived at the location despite being delayed by the topography, discovering SCP-6168. It was immediately taken into Foundation custody, and investigation was initiated after the fire had been subdued.
The only civilian present during the incident was Vi Thị Mai, aged 15. Considering her supposed direct relevance to the event and her subsequent mental state, it was decided that she would not be given amnestics; instead, she was designated PoI-6168 and placed under close surveillance.
As in August 2016, PoI-6168 would move to Hanoi and enroll in the Vietnamese National University's High School for Gifted Students in Social Sciences and Humanities, . From now on referred to as HSSH for brevity. Researcher Phan Kiều Trang (a psychologist currently embedded in the University) was added to the Incident 6168/A investigation team to monitor PoI-6168. She would perform her duties under the guise of a therapist participating in the HSSH's Psychological Assistance Initiative, which would be held by the school starting from the school year 2016 - 2017.
On 25/08/2016, PoI-6168 voluntarily came to Researcher Phan's office in the HSSH, requesting help. Some of her conversations with Researcher Phan from this point onwards are attached below. Full original footage with audio in Vietnamese are available per request.
+ Open Counseling Session 01
- Close
Date of Recording: 25/08/2016
<Begin Log>
(PoI-6168 enters the office, silently closing the door behind her back.)
Rsr. Phan: Welcome, young lady. Please have a seat; no need to be tense.
PoI-6168: Erm… Good afternoon, Miss. Nice to meet you.
(PoI-6168 sits down at Rsr. Phan's desk. She seems tired, with slightly pale skin and visible eye bags.)
Rsr. Phan: (offers PoI-6168 a glass of water.) Nice to meet you too. My name is Trang, how can I help you?
PoI-6168: Thank you, Ms. Trang. My name is Vi Thị Mai, from Class 10V2. Recently I've had… quite a lot of nightmares. It feels terrible, and I am often exhausted when I wake up the next morning.
Rsr. Phan: I'm sorry to hear that. Are you living at home or are you staying in the school's dormitories?
PoI-6168: I'm staying in the dorm; my roommates have encouraged me to come here and seek help. They thought it was because of the new environment, but my nightmares had started even before I came to Hanoi. My hometown is in Yên Bái, by the way.
Rsr. Phan: So there's something more about it, but you haven't told your roommates yet.
PoI-6168: That's right. I just— I— I can't tell them. There's no way they will believe me on such matters. Definitely no one will. Even you might not believe it, if I tell you.
(Silence.)
PoI-6168: I'm… I'm sorry.
Rsr. Phan: It's alright. I promise, your words will be taken seriously here regardless of what you think others might believe. And I won't disclose them to anyone without your consent, not even your parents or your teachers - we will actually sign an agreement on that in a minute.
[…]
Rsr. Phan: Let's come back to our main topic: your nightmares. Firstly, you've mentioned your belief that no one would trust what you say about them. Is there any reason you think so?
PoI-6168: Erm… Ms. Trang, can I ask you a question?
Rsr. Phan: Of course.
PoI-6168: Do you believe in magic?
Rsr. Phan: Well… I've certainly heard of magic, but have never had a chance to observe. However, nightmares are dreams anyways, and when you dream, of course there can be details that don't conform to our daily lives in one way or another.
PoI-6168: That's not what I mean. Nevermind; maybe I shouldn't have asked you about that so abruptly at all. I mean, I believe everyone won't trust my words since no one thinks magic actually exists. But can we come back to this later, please?
Rsr. Phan: No problem; there are other things I would like to ask you before we get back to that anyways. So, how many times per week do you have those nightmares?
PoI-6168: Let me see… Twice or thrice. Isn't that a lot?
Rsr. Phan: Yes, I'm afraid. Now, can you please describe your nightmares as detailed as possible? If they often have the same plot or common motifs such as images or sounds, please list those out. On the other hand, if each one of your nightmares is unique, please describe a few of them that you remember the most or affect you the most. If it's too hard to recall, just take a deep breath and slow down.
PoI-6168: Well… okay. I guess this falls into the first category, because all my nightmares portrayed the same event. (Breathes in) It's always daytime in my dreams. I'm inside my house, . The house where SCP-6168 was discovered is a traditional-style stilt house of the Tày people, an ethnic minority group in Vietnam. PoI-6168 belongs to the Tày people herself. and it is on fire. Every direction I look at, I see flames catching on and swallowing everything in their way. The floor is trembling too, so I have lots of struggle keeping my balance. Like any pillar supporting the house under my feet can burn down at any moment, collapsing it.
I hear my mother's faint calling outside of the house, and make my way to a window at the front. And then I see her standing among the plants in our garden, yelling, hoping that our neighbors would come and help us. Desperate as she is, no one else is arriving, let alone lending us a hand. Other than her voice, all I hear are the trees rustling in the forest. She runs towards the house as soon as she sees me get to the window, as if she will jump in the fire and pull me away from it if she can.
(PoI-6168 stops and sips her water with shaky hands.)
The fire is already very close behind my back, so I am frightened and extremely disoriented. The house is about to collapse, and I can't figure out anything else to do other than jumping down. So I climb up on the window, my heart beating vigorously by my ears. Then, I hold my breath, close my eyes and let my hands go. Falling down, I try in vain not to think of the pain I will experience when my body hits the ground.
But then all fall silent, and I keep falling. I open my eyes, only to realize that I've fallen down a dark, bottomless pit. The house has collapsed and flames have engulfed the pit's opening, which seems to be my only escape. I see my mother hopelessly reaching for me from up there, but she keeps receding further away from me as each second passes. Her call, her once deafening screeching, remains nothing more than utter silence.
As I fall down, the image of my mother keeps shrinking and shrinking until it becomes just a tiny dot and then vanishes. A cold feeling surrounds me, and then I wake up.
(PoI-6168 takes another sip of water.)
When I'm awake, it's usually around 3 in the morning. Everything is still dark and quiet around me, except for the orange-ish streetlight shining through the window shades, and occasionally, a lone motorbike running down the street. I clench my pillow in my arms, bursting into tears as I try to get back to sleep again.
(Silence.)
Rsr. Phan: Alright, thank you. It's great that you can recall the dreams so vividly. Many others have to struggle much more with that.
PoI-6168: I… I need a moment to calm down.
Rsr. Phan: Of course, if you do. Don't push yourself too hard.
(PoI-6168 drinks the rest from her cup. Researcher Phan pours her more water.)
[…]
Rsr. Phan: I've noticed that other than yourself, the only person present in your nightmares was your mother. So, what do you think of her? How important is your mother to you?
(PoI-6168 was startled.)
PoI-6168: So, uhm… My mother used to be the most influential person to me. I've never met anyone both as sweet and strong-minded as her, and I don't think I ever will. She never gave up or refrained from giving me kind words, even when things were difficult for my family, especially for her. Unfortunately, she recently passed away because of Dengue fever. It must have been from a mosquito bite when she was picking medicinal plant leaves in the forest. I always feel like her death was my fault. Had it not been for my wish to study in a high school for gifted students in Hanoi, . In Vietnam, "high schools for gifted students" are specialized schools that have significantly higher education quality compared to common public high schools. Students from these schools have access to various studying resources, which heighten their chance to enter a high-ranked university or to study abroad. To be qualified for studying in these schools, a student has to pass an entrance exam which comprises multiple writing tests, including a school subject of their choice. If they pass the exam, that subject will become their "specialized subject" and will be taught more extensively in their high school programme. Preparation for these tests usually requires considerable personal effort and financial support. she wouldn't have needed to work extra hours. It's hard thinking about her last days. To be honest, I usually avoid doing so.
Rsr. Phan: Oh, I'm really sorry for your loss. Did your mother have any other job besides that? I'm also curious about your father; did he need to work extra to support you with your studies too?
PoI-6168: Actually, my father is working for a resort in Phú Quốc Island. It's weird, right? And when my mother was alive, she used to take care of our garden where she grew traditional medicinal plants. Before my dad went away to Phú Quốc, he was the one mainly taking care of it. He's really well-versed in traditional medicine, and when he was at home, he often provided ailments for our fellow villagers when they were in need. Back then… well…
Rsr. Phan: What's the problem, Mai?
PoI-6168: Ms. Trang, if I continue talking, perhaps you'll think that I'm crazy or somewhat fanatic. Do you still want to hear me out?
Rsr. Phan: I've told you I would take what you say seriously and we've agreed to keep all of this a secret, so don't be afraid.
(Silence.)
PoI-6168: My mother was a shaman. Or magician, or fortune teller, whatever you call these people. And she could wield real, proper magic. (pauses, with teary eyes) Ms. Trang, I know it's insane, and it just gets more nonsensical the more I tell you about it. I can understand if you don't want me to stay here and babble these things anymore.
Rsr. Phan: No, Mai, please stay here. It's totally fine. Your mother was such an important figure for you, so I know it's not that you are afraid or ashamed of saying your mother was a thauma- I mean, shaman. It's just that you fear others will humiliate you because you believe magic exists. I will not question you for proof of what you say, and you should not question yourself too, because if you are confident enough to keep that in mind, you definitely have enough reason for it. You have seen things with your own eyes that others cannot see. They were your own experience, and you did not get to choose whether you would be involved with them or not. These memories have been a part of you since the day you bear them in mind. You can't deny that, and I can't either. I believe you.
PoI-6168: Are you sure, Ms. Trang?
Rsr. Phan: Yes. Totally without doubt.
PoI-6168: (bursts into tears) Thank you so much.
Rsr. Phan: If you don't mind, could you share something further about your mother's magic with me?
PoI-6168: (repeatedly nods, wiping her tears) Yes, yes, of course. My mother mostly wielded her magic through rituals, and her rituals always included those magical songs called " then ", which could be used to send us human's wishes to gods. Whenever a family in our village hosted an important life event, my mother was always invited. She came to bless their marriage or their child, to cure diseases with rituals, or to pray for a successful harvest and such things. She was the only shaman in my village, so I was extremely proud of her.
Rsr. Phan: That sounds like some amazing work. But you also told me that your family had once been in difficulties, and your parents had to change their jobs at some point. What happened exactly, and when was that?
PoI-6168: Well, you can pretty much imagine that other villagers held lots of respect for us. But it all changed when I was in 3 rd grade. (looks out the window) The harvesting season was coming when a family in our village discovered that all of their crops had suddenly died without any warning signs. They then somehow found some sort of incantation buried beside their house. Being the only person knowing magic in the village, my mother was immediately accused of placing a curse on them. She swore that she didn't even know that sort of magic, let alone trying it, and she had no idea who had done that to the other family, but absolutely no one listened to her side of the story.
I didn't understand much back then, but I remember very clearly that we used to frequently have guests, either asking for my mother's rituals or my father's ailments. Suddenly, no one came for us anymore; instead, people mocked and swore at us. It frightened me all the time. My friends at school didn't want to talk or play with me anymore. I heard their parents chatting among themselves that I couldn't be a nice child, since my mom was so evil. I couldn't stand their way of thinking, so I tried all I could to remind them that my mom wasn't bad - how could she be evil, when she had helped the villagers so much and she had never hurted anyone? But they laughed at me for having such thoughts. Nonetheless, I swear no one can make me think otherwise, even to this day.
That was why my parents couldn't keep doing their job, and we started to struggle financially. Eventually my father found his current job, but it was a position he would never have taken had my family not been in such dire circumstances. He never wanted to leave our hometown for somewhere so far southward like Phú Quốc, but the island was steadily developing as a tourism spot back then, and many new resorts were being built. Spa and beauty services using herbal medicines of the ethnic minorities were greatly favored, so they needed many specialists for that. The job suited his knowledge and the payload was satisfying, to say the least.
His departure left the garden in my mom's hands. For a woman already coming into her middle-age, manual labor was no joke. But I've never heard her complaining. She just calmly accepted that there was no way to prove her innocence, and her life would never be the same again. She spent the following years teaching me to refrain from swearing back or doing harm to others as a form of retaliation or revenge. She taught me to mind my own business rather than succumb to their filthy words and become the devils they thought we were. My childhood was much less terrible because I had her by my side.
Sometimes I wished to have a younger brother or sister so that I wouldn't be so alone. But if I had a sibling, I couldn't have imagined how busy my mother would be, and whether my sibling can endure such a terrible time or not.
Rsr. Phan: Well, thank you so much for sharing; that was more than enough. You must've taken great effort to overcome such difficulties. Now, how about…
<End Log>
Researcher's Commentary: It is likely that PoI-6168 is suffering from a mental illness, but I cannot draw a fixed conclusion without seeking her own view on the incident. Since there is probably more information we can get out of her, I've recommended that she visit my office weekly. I'll make sure that she adheres to this schedule; first to help with our surveillance, then for her own benefits.
UPDATE 25/08/2016: SCP-6168 was first observed to vocalize. Analysis of vocalization yielded results similar to non-anomalous Phú Quốc Ridgeback dogs. Mechanics of vocalization currently unknown.
+ Open Counseling Session 02
- Close
Date of Recording: 01/09/2016
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Phan: Good afternoon, Mai. (gesture for PoI-6168 to sit down) How has this week been?
PoI-6168: You too, Ms. Trang. And it's just like usual.
Rsr. Phan: So, are you feeling more comfortable now, compared to last week?
Mai: Yes, Ms. Trang.
Rsr. Phan: That's great. Still, just tell me whenever you feel stressed or if we're going too fast, okay?
Mai: Okay.
Rsr. Phan: Alright. Last week you told me that your symptoms seemed to start after your house was burned down. I need you to give me a quick summary of that day when the fire occurred.
PoI-6168: (lowers her head) I… To sum it up, I burned down my house. (pauses) The fire spread to the garden, burning all the plants. My father was away, no one came for help, and if I hadn't said on the phone that the fire had been spreading to the forest, I doubt the firefighters would have arrived. Oh dear, if only I had not… why was I always so dumb with my decisions…
(Silence. PoI-6168 sighs sharply.)
Rsr. Phan: I can see it in another way: You were so brave and responsible by trying your best to stop what you thought you did. Let's calm down and just focus on what happened, alright? Now, I need you to go into details about the fire. Just start where it's easiest for you, please.
PoI-6168: Let me think about it for a moment… It was almost two months since my mom passed away. That day, my dad went downtown to do some paperworks concerning our garden, as he had planned to lease it out after I moved to Hanoi. So I was alone in my house. I took that "chance", and started what I would call… my rituals.
Rsr. Phan: What kind of ritual was that? Was it similar to your mother's?
PoI-6168: I'm getting to it. (takes a deep breath) This seems unrelated, but… Have I told you that I once had a dog? He was a Phú Quốc Ridgeback that my dad brought home from the island. Back then I was in 4 th grade, and he was just a puppy. I named him "Hẻn'', which means yellow or golden in the Tày language, since his coat is golden colored. He was a lovely pet, and possibly my only friend back then. He was really active, but whenever I had to do my homework, he just lied silently by my side, never asking me to pet him or disturbing me otherwise. He was able to sense it when someone in my family was not feeling well. He was extremely loyal to my family, and if we were not welcoming someone to our home, he never let them in. Really smart and emotional dog, as people always say about those Phú Quốc Ridgebacks. Unfortunately, he couldn't stay with us for long. Someone in the village poisoned him to death out of spite when I was in 7 th grade.
Rsr. Phan: Oh, that must've been awful for you.
PoI-6168: Yes, I was in despair for many days. My parents were sad, too. I'd even thought that I could never see him again, until… My parents gave me a dog statue as a birthday gift that year. Dad even spent all his Tết . Vietnamese for "Lunar New Year". vacation carving it for me from a nice log of wood he'd found in the forest. And it was in no way similar to those ordinary statues you see in souvenir shops. It had multiple pieces, which was my mother's idea. After putting all those pieces together, you'll get a wooden dog that looks quite like Hẻn. Needless to say, I was overjoyed. I'd never seen any craftwork like that before, anything so creative and beautiful.
Rsr. Phan: That's interesting. Was there a reason why your mother had thought of making it that way?
PoI-6168: My mother's original idea was, she would only give me some pieces on my birthday rather than the entire statue, and I had to earn the rest of them myself. Whenever I did a good deed or I made progress at school, she would let me have a few more pieces as a prize. She promised that once I've got all the pieces and completed building the statue… She would revive Hẻn using it as his new body with her magic.
Rsr. Phan: That's actually a clever idea. It kept you motivated, didn't it?
PoI-6168: Certainly so. And my mom was not someone that would swallow her words. By the end of my 9 th grade school year, there were only around a dozen pieces missing. But… That was also when my mom passed away.
(Silence. PoI-6168 lowers her head for a while. After roughly a minute, she holds her head up again.)
PoI-6168: My mother's only regret was that she wasn't able to keep her promise with me. She had planned to give me all the remaining pieces after I finished the entrance exam to our school, whether I passed or not. Because, she said, I'd grown up to be considerate and courageous. I dared to dream big, and had been so determined and persistent with my goal. In our village, there had never been a kid who had the guts to aim at a high school for gifted students, let alone at one in big cities like Hanoi.
She told me where she hid the remaining pieces, and that the statue would be the last gift she could have had for me. I'd sworn to carefully appreciate it before she closed her eyes forever, but… In the end, I still couldn't keep my promise by making such a big mistake.
Along with the remaining pieces, I found the instructions for the reviving ritual. It was a strange ritual, nothing like my mother's. There were no then songs I had to sing. I wasn't even sure whether it actually belonged to us Tày people or not, but let's brush that aside. My thoughts were simple: if there was any way I could complete her last wish, if she could see me achieve my goal and live happily beside my childhood friend from the sky, she would be able to rest in peace. To me, Hẻn wasn't just a pet and the statue wasn't just a decorative showpiece. They were a significant part of my childhood, and proof of how much my parents love me. So when I finally had a chance, I followed the instructions my mom left behind, and… things happened.
I didn't hope for the ritual to succeed. I just wanted to try it out at least once. But I should have listened to my mother, as always.
When I was younger, I used to ask her why she could do magic, but I couldn't. She said that her magical ability was a gift from the gods, and she was lucky enough to receive it. As her descendant, I had a higher chance than others to receive that "gift", but it was still uncertain. So I asked her, what if the gods didn't bestow that "gift" on me? She told me that the gods had different gifts for everyone. And I would eventually realize what they had for me when I became mature enough.
She was right. I would never be gifted with magic, or probably anything else. By doing something that wasn't meant for me to do, I have angered the gods. I deserve their punishments.
The ritual went smoothly at first. But then everything started to derail - I was in the middle of reciting a chant when a strong gust of wind blew through the altar I set up in our yard, knocking some candles down. The flame catched on the statue, and on everything else. I… I'm sorry, I can't really recall anything other than that. My memory abruptly went fuzzy at that point. It was so remarkable that I should be able to remember more of it, but…
Rsr. Phan: It's fine, it's fine, don't try too hard. Just tell me what you remember.
PoI-6168: The next thing I realized was both the house and our garden were on fire. I was screaming into my phone, probably 114. . The emergency fire hotline of Vietnam. I got a few burns, my head hurt, and I didn't know how much time had passed before that. I tried to look out for the statue, but the fire had totally engulfed my altar. It took quite a long time for the fire brigade to reach my house, probably because our village was so remote.
(Silence.)
Rsr. Phan: Alright, thank you for trying; that should be enough. Do you need a moment to calm down?
PoI-6168: Well, actually, no. I feel… kind of relieved finally being able to talk about it. Can we continue right now?
<End Log>
Researcher's Commentary: According to our investigation reports, the incident resulted from uncontrolled thaumaturgic backlash , and the markings left on-scene were proof that the wielder has neither natural thaumaturgic potential nor received any training. Thaumaturgy is not my profession, so I can't say I fully understand what was going on, but to the best of my knowledge, the incident was not and has never been any kind of "punishment". She doesn't "deserve" it.
On the other hand, SCP-6168 is now safely in our custody, totally unbeknownst to her.
As a psychologist, I've had counseling sessions in which I felt like there was not really anything appropriate that I could talk about with my client. Moreover, there is this golden rule in our profession: the client is the one who knows best about their problems. This is the first time in my career that this dilemma has occurred: There are facts about the client's problems that I know but she doesn't, yet it's against my mission that I disclose them to her. Though even if she knew all of this, I doubt it would help her overcome her problems more easily.
With the information I've collected today, I can speculate that the investigation will soon come to an end. However, I personally believe that the surveillance, or I would rather say, the counseling of PoI-6168 should be continued. We must, and we have totally gained her trust for the sake of this investigation, so we are to be responsible for it. It is now too late to leave her by herself, which will only place her in a situation even worse than before.
+ Open Counseling Session 05
- Close
Date of Recording: 22/09/2016
Foreword: This counseling session was held after the investigation into Incident 6168/A was concluded. Considering Researcher Phan Kiều Trang's purview on PoI-6168, her surveillance duties were to be continued as a low-priority mission under the management of SCP-6168's containment team. Some counseling logs from this point are attached to SCP-6168's file to clarify on this stage of surveillance, as well as Researcher Phan's approaches to PoI-6168's mental problems.
<Begin Log>
(PoI-6168 is sitting on the couch inside Researcher Phan's office, leaning backwards.)
Rsr. Phan: Alright, are you feeling relaxed yet?
PoI-6168: Yes, Ms. Trang.
Rsr. Phan: Good. Let's begin with revising the script that we've agreed on, shall we?
PoI-6168: Okay. First up, I am in the house and I need to find a way to get out. I walk to the window at the front. When my mother arrives, I climb onto the window and jump down. My mother is holding her arms out for me, and then I grasp hers. Then I will try to stand up, and get away with her to somewhere safe.
Rsr. Phan: You got it. Please relax your muscles and close your eyes, okay? Good. Now start imagining you're back inside your house… Concentrate on your thoughts… How does it look around you right now? How are you feeling?
PoI-6168: (tightly shut her eyes) There is fire. Lots of fire, it's scorching hot in here. It's burning.
Rsr. Phan: Can you see anywhere that seems to be less dangerous?
PoI-6168: Which direction, let me see… Okay, over there, at the front. It's faraway, but it seems safest.
Rsr. Phan: Alright. Now you need to walk in that direction. Tell me how many steps you've got.
PoI-6168: Alright… (starts breathing heavily) One step, two steps… Oh I need to get back my balance! Alright, here we go. Three, Four…
Rsr. Phan: Make sure your steps are steady; the faster the better, but don't lose your balance. If there's anything to hold on, hold on it.
PoI-6168: (clenches her fist, grabbing the linen on the couch) Alright, alright. I'm almost there. (pauses) I'm at a window, what's next?
Rsr. Phan: You're doing good. Release your muscles. Is there anyone outside?
PoI-6168: Yes, yes. My mom was there. Mom! I'm here! What? (nods continuously, breathes heavily) O… Okay…
Rsr. Phan: That's right! Climb on there, quick!
PoI-6168: What should I do now? What?… It's dangerous down there!
Rsr. Phan: Don't look if you're afraid. Just jump down!
PoI-6168: (tightly shuts her eyes) Mom, hold onto me when I fall down!
Rsr. Phan: Yes, that's right!…
PoI-6168: One, two, three… Aaaaaaah!… Mom, no, mom, no no no no no…
(PoI-6168 opens her eyes and sits up, panting. Sweat can be seen on her forehead.)
PoI-6168: Where… I was…
Rsr. Phan: Calm down, calm down, I'm here with you. You're in my office. Deep breath, okay? Relax your muscles. Breathe in… Breathe out…
(PoI-6168 took a few deep breaths.)
Rsr. Phan: You're okay yet? (pauses) What happened?
PoI-6168: I fell down the pit again. I tried to hold my hands out, but I missed hers… Why, Ms. Trang, why?
Rsr. Phan: This is only your first time. That's not unusual; it's actually great that you got so far. You have to believe you can hold onto your mother next time, okay? You'll get there. How do you feel right now?
PoI-6168: I'm tired, and a bit dizzy. Frightened, also. It's good to know I'm safe.
Rsr. Phan: Let's get some rest and then do it again, shall we?
PoI-6168: Wait what, doing it again today?
Rsr. Phan: Yes. Come on, you can do it, I believe in you. The more you're familiar with this exercise, the faster your nightmares will subsidize.
<End Log>
UPDATE 15/10/2016: Starting from the beginning of September 2016, SCP-6168 has been observed to perform movements increasingly more flexible than before. By the time of this update, SCP-6168 has been able to curl up while lying down and has tried to chase its own tail, although much more awkwardly than non-anomalous dogs. However, while performing activities that it had not fully accustomed to beforehand, SCP-6168's vocalizations usually showed signs of severe discomfort.
X-ray screening results indicated the appearance of bones similar to that of a domestic dog with SCP-6168's size inside its wooden structure. It was presumed that SCP-6168's unfamiliarity with the position and functioning of its new bones has caused it much internal pain.
A discussion was raised on whether SCP-6168's bones should be removed for inspection and to ease its discomfort. This motion was later rejected following the discovery that these bones appeared in a predictable pattern, which implied that SCP-6168's skeletal system would complete materializing at an undetermined point in the future.
Extra on-site veterinarian personnel have been appointed to take care of SCP-6168.
+ Open Counseling Session 09
- Close
Date of Recording: 20/10/2016
<Begin Log>
(PoI-6168 is sitting on the couch in Researcher Phan's office, leaning back, eyes closed.)
PoI-6168: (mumbles) One, two, three!… (pauses, then screams) Mom, mom! No!…
(PoI-6168 opens her eyes, breathes out and stares blankly into the air for a few seconds. She then buries her head into her hands, weeping.)
Rsr. Phan: Seems like you're still yet to succeed.
PoI-6168: (sighs) Certainly so.
Rsr. Phan: Do you want to take a break?
PoI-6168: I'll appreciate that.
Rsr. Phan: I feel like you're having something else on your mind. Perhaps any problems at school?
PoI-6168: It's still the same thing. Sometimes I can't really focus in class. I know that I should be paying attention to what the teachers say, but I can't force myself to. Their words feel like meaningless noise to me, going into one ear and out from the other.
Rsr. Phan: And some uncontrollable thoughts still pop up in your head when that happens, right?
PoI-6168: Yes. I regularly have thoughts of the past, of my parents and the fire. Though, I've been thinking a lot about my father recently.
Rsr. Phan: Do you have any idea why?
PoI-6168: I'm not sure, but maybe it's because he is sick right now. Nothing serious, just a common cold, but he's gotten it for a couple days without me knowing.
Rsr. Phan: Oh, that's unfortunate. I hope he gets well soon. So how are your intrusive thoughts related to that?
PoI-6168: I've been thinking, like, I should have known about his situation way sooner. I thought of my recent phone calls with him, and I realized I've been calling him much less since I moved to Hanoi. I thought of the days after the fire when I had to stay in the hospital and just wanted to be left alone. On these days, my dad managed to give me some space and let me be by myself when I needed to, but still took care of me as much as he could. It was totally different from when Mom passed away - Dad went back home all the way from Phú Quốc and we were always by each other's side, because we only had each other to rely on. He even accompanied me to Hanoi on my exam days afterwards.
I feel like I'm a bad daughter. Dad always goes out of his way for me, even when he has to suffer from much more stress than I do. Yet I still distance myself from him, and haven't done anything to compensate for him…
Rsr. Phan: After your mother passed away, you and your father were always together. That means you've talked to him a lot about how you truly felt, right?
PoI-6168: Yes.
Rsr. Phan: Have you tried to do so after the fire?
PoI-6168: Well… (shakes her head) No. I'm going to be honest with you - I'm afraid of mentioning the fire in front of him. I've lied to him about how it happened, and I don't want him to know the true reason with a slip of my tongue.
Rsr. Phan: So what did you tell him then? And why did you think lying was necessary?
PoI-6168: I told him that the fire started when I was cooking for lunch and I didn't pay attention. It would be unjust if I didn't admit that it was my fault, but I didn't want to let him know of my ritual. I was afraid that by doing so, I would put even more pressure on him. He was already stressed - to him, Mom passing away was a tremendous loss, and since then he has to take care of me financially all by himself. And… I'm ashamed to say this, but I feared that if I told him the truth, he would come to hate me or would decide to stop supporting my studies. Had he known that I ruined our house and our garden in such a stupid way, he would have been so upset. I know my father loves them much, much more than me; he has lived in that house since the day he was born, and the garden was once his livelihood. They also reminded him of my late mother, too.
Rsr. Phan: I understand. But let's look at it in another way, shall we? Your father loves you unconditionally - you know that much better than I do. Regardless of how upset he might be if he knew, there will be no way he would come to totally despise or disown you. Our ancestors have a proverb, "Losing wealth is nothing compared to losing life." You have safely survived the fire - I believe it's all that matters to him. I want to ask you a question: How much do you need your father?
PoI-6168: He's the only loved one I have left. I've lost my mother; I can't imagine how my life would be without him too.
Rsr. Phan: That's exactly how much he needs you. You're the person that understands him the most; he's the one who's best at empathizing with you. Resolving any hurdle between you and him will be beneficial for both of you. By hiding the truth from him, you're bottling up all of your feelings related to it - and these feelings are what prevents you from making progress with everything else. Your nightmares, your attention span, everything.
PoI-6168: So you mean… I should tell him the truth?
Rsr. Phan: You know the answer, don't you?
<End Log>
UPDATE 24/10/2016: SCP-6168's agility has been improving continuously. By the end of October 2016, it has been able to perform complex activities such as doing high jumps and scratching its ears with its hind leg, although its signs of discomfort still persisted.
SCP-6168's skeletal system completed materializing on 20/10/2016 . On this day, PoI-6168's 9 th counseling session with Researcher Phan was organized. and has been fully functional since. SCP-6168's stress began to lessen on the evening of the next day. Based on the correlation between these events and PoI-6168's activities, as well as prior observations, the relationship between SCP-6168's physical state and PoI-6168's mental wellbeing was established. Researcher Phan's surveillance duty was reassigned from low-priority to high-priority in maintaining the long-term containment of SCP-6168.
Following its recovery, SCP-6168 has started showing affection to personnel who had taken care of it, as well as a significantly higher level of activity. On-site staff are now allowed to visit SCP-6168 and play with it during their off-duty hours.
+ Open Counseling Session 10
- Close
Date of Recording: 27/10/2016
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Phan: Mai, you look quite cheerful today. How's it going?
PoI-6168: Very well, Ms. Trang. Maybe it's because I've been able to sleep quite soundly for a couple days. You were right that I should tell my dad the truth about the fire. I really shouldn't have been so afraid of it.
Rsr. Phan: That sounds great. Can you please tell me how it went?
PoI-6168: Of course. I tried calling him on that evening right after our last session. I felt like I shouldn't wait for too long because, you know, if I procrastinated, maybe I would postpone it forever and never actually get to call my dad. But even then, it took all my courage to just dial his number, and waiting for his answer felt like eternity.
I wanted it to be done as quickly as possible. After making sure that he was fine, I jumped right into it. I don't exactly remember my phrasings, but I tried to get through the core details as fast as I could, hoping that he would be less upset.
He was dumbfounded, I could tell. It took a while for him to put two and two together, and the first thing he said afterwards was I should get some rest and go to sleep early.
I couldn't sleep that night.
Rsr. Phan: Well, what…
PoI-6168: No, wait, Ms. Trang, it's not over yet. I called him again the next evening. His reaction in that first call baffled me, and I'd rather hear him scolding me than not knowing whether he was actually angry or not. Dad still picked up my call, but he wanted to do a video call instead of only talking to me about it. I was in utter shock.
Rsr. Phan: If I were you, I would very likely feel the same. Did he have something serious that he wanted to tell you?
PoI-6168: Indeed. He was upset about it, of course, but not because of me. Regardless of me having made it clear to him that I started the fire on purpose, he still thought that the fire was something no one could expect. But the main thing was - he had already prepared himself mentally for not being able to keep the house and the garden exactly how they were. All without my knowledge.
Rsr. Phan: Did he tell you why?
PoI-6168: I presume you would wonder, and yes, I was surprised too. Had it not been for my mother's death, he actually would renovate our house after I finished my exams. To brighten our lives, he said. Leasing the garden out was a decision he made with a heavy heart, but since we still need income from it, it was the right thing for him to do. Once he has leased it out, he would no longer have control over what the tenant did with our old plants. Even if the fire hadn't burned all of them, the tenant would probably replace them anyways. Either way, he must come to accept that the garden would never appear as it was before.
We talked with each other until late at night, and he gave me a lot of advice. Since he came to Phú Quốc for work, Dad said, he had come to be much more open to changes. He'd learned that changes, whether great or small, were a crucial part of our lives that we couldn't avoid. And the only way to move past life-changing events was to learn how to accept them.
Rsr. Phan: I think he was right; you need to take that advice to heart.
PoI-6168: I'll see what I can do.
<End Log>
UPDATE 18/12/2016: After the complete manifestation of SCP-6168's skeletal structure, skin slowly started to appear on different parts of its body, with golden-colored fur growing unevenly. SCP-6168's wooden component pieces under its skin were also being converted into flesh and muscles. This flesh was connected to its skeletal structure, its skin, as well as other unconverted wooden parts with connective tissues.
This converting process seemed to itch SCP-6168 extremely, as it was observed to frequently scratch on its newly-formed skin to the point of slightly rupturing it. This itchy sensation also seriously disrupted SCP-6168's sleep pattern, resulting in a much lower level of activity and responsive behavior. SCP-6168 were often seen to curl up in a corner of its containment chamber, quietly vocalizing its distress.
Testing yielded results that this converting process is thaumaturgic in nature. DNA test results were consistent with the genome of domestic dogs. Extra veterinarian personnel were appointed to take care of SCP-6168, with focus on antiseptic. Despite currently comprising living parts, SCP-6168 still does not need to be provided with nourishment. Researcher Phan Kiều Trang have been notified to pay close attention to PoI-6168's recovery.
+ Open Counseling Session 17
- Close
Date of Recording: 29/12/2016
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Phan: Let's go through your nightmare tracking calendar, as usual. (pauses) You're making great progress, Mai. In the last month, your nightmare frequency has reduced to a maximum of only once per week. This week you've already experienced a nightmare, but last week you didn't; that's still alright. It's better to be slow but steady anyways.
PoI-6168: I guess so.
Rsr. Phan: Seems like you aren't in a good mood today. What's the problem?
PoI-6168: I've just received my school transcripts for this semester.
Rsr. Phan: Oh, I see. You're not satisfied with it, aren't you?
PoI-6168: That's right. (sighs) To be honest, my grades are among our class' lowests. Both my homeroom teacher and my dad have shown their concern, since my entrance exam results were not bad. They understand that it's because of my mental problems and not that I neglected studying, but I can still see how disappointed they are. Their comparison makes me wonder whether I actually belong to this place, and whether coming here to study was the right decision. I've been to therapy for an entire semester; I could have done so much better than that.
(PoI-6168 takes a deep breath.)
PoI-6168: If my mom were still here, I guess she would advise me to ignore other people's judgements and try harder in the next semester. She would tell me that I still have many chances to redeem myself. But Hanoi is so much different from home. It's such a competitive environment here; everyone is studying day and night, wanting to be the best. My classmates are no longer children from the villages around where I lived; they come from provinces all over the country, and a large number of them have been living in Hanoi since they were born. Before they joined our school, and even now, they have been taking extra classes taught by the most famous teachers where they lived. The lessons are much more complex than when I was studying secondary school in my hometown, but somehow everyone seems to be able to digest all that extra knowledge. And then there I am, having no access to books or extra classes that would help me boost myself. How could I compete with them?
Rsr. Phan: I understand that lacking resources can be a disadvantage, but at this stage, your mental state still matters the most. Extra lessons and extra books probably won't help when you're still bothered by thoughts that you can't control while you're studying.
PoI-6168: …Actually, you're right. When I read a question in an exam paper, I could identify which topic it belonged to totally fine, and I did know that the teachers had taught us about them. I thought my attention span would get better after I resolved the problem with my dad, but since then, nothing has changed. I was often so embarrassed, desperate and guilty that I couldn't dedicate myself to studying anymore. That happened when I wrote my exams too, so I've lost so much time that I should have utilized more effectively. Especially when I had to write essays and my thoughts needed to be kept streamlined, you know?
(Silence. PoI-6168 bursts into tears.)
I don't want my life to be like this anymore. Do you understand what it's like to be the only person coming from an ethnic minority group in my class? At the beginning of the school year, when everyone was curious about each other, I was noticed by my classmates - and even students from other classes - in quite a peculiar way. Their words always meant things like "Oh, you belong to the Tày ethnicity, you come from the remote mountainous area, so you must've tried so hard to get here, you must be so talented." Like, isn't that obvious? To pass the entrance exam, everyone must try their best, aren't they? And then a few months later, when my grades weren't that great, they turned to be like "Oh, I thought this Tày girl is somewhat extraordinary, but it turns out she's actually nothing special. If I can't even beat her, I'm gotta be such a fool." Why must I always be special, why do I always need to surpass others in order to be recognized and appreciated? Is it because I am different from everyone?
I had thought that by coming to Hanoi for high school, people wouldn't see me as the black sheep anymore. I had thought that by doing so, I can help pull my mom and my dad out of their misery. Maybe I was wrong after all. My mom passed away because she tried to gather more money to support my dream of coming to Hanoi. My dad's garden, our livelihood, was burnt to ashes. Hẻn was gone forever too. What's the point of trying my best now when the ones I love either still have to suffer, or are no longer by my side?
Rsr. Phan: (hugs PoI-6168, and pats on her back) It's fine, dear. I'm here for you, don't be afraid to cry.
(Researcher Phan pauses recording. An unknown amount of time passes before the footage continues.)
(Silence. PoI-6168's weeping dies down.)
Rsr. Phan: Mai, can you help me out a bit? I've been trying to recall your mother's last words; there's something she said that would be suitable for you right now, but I can't remember exactly.
PoI-6168: My mother's last words… That day, I was in the hospital, sitting beside her bed, tears in my eyes exactly like right now. She was lying limp, her eyes glassy, but still holding my hands. And she said… I must start living for my future, not for my past. I should not expect that one day I can rebuild the past exactly as it once was; instead, I need to aim for things still ahead of me. Everything that has happened to us, including her upcoming death, should not be the pain holding me back but the wings for me to ascend. She had lived a life with barely any regrets, and she hoped that when I looked back into my past, I too wouldn't regret anything.
Wait, do you mean…
Rsr. Phan: Mai, you're definitely an intelligent girl. What's your idea?
PoI-6168: My mother wanted me to always put myself first. Only when I truly care about myself will I no longer need to worry about my old life back in our village and what others think of me. She hoped that I would have a career that I love, just like my parents when I was a kid. When I've accomplished that, I'll no longer have to worry about finding a way to support my beloved ones.
Rsr. Phan: That's right. You can still find your own peace and happiness, and you still deserve them after so much loss. Your mother will live forever in your heart, your father is only a phone call away from you, and you won't need any physical reminders of your loved ones as long as you keep them in your mind.
(Silence. PoI-6168 sniffs and wipes her tears.)
PoI-6168: (quietly) I— I got it. (pauses, looks up at Rsr. Phan) Thank you. Thank you so much.
Rsr. Phan: You're welcome. It's my job to help you after all.
PoI-6168: (holds her head up with a smile) Now, can we get back to our usual business?
Rsr. Phan: Oh, alright, you surprised me. Let's continue then. Since our current treatment for your concentration problems is not working, I suggest a change; however, other approaches will involve more stress before they actually work. Before we continue, do you feel like you can put up with more stress in the following days?
PoI-6168: If they are able to help with my healing, then there's no reason I should refuse. Just… Ms. Trang, please don't make it too stressful for me, alright?
Rsr. Phan: Well, let's see. Now, I am going to explain to you more thoroughly about some of the other approaches, and then we'll make a decision, okay?
<End Log>
Researcher's Commentary: There is one point I can wholeheartedly relate to her: When I was appointed to this mission, I used to frequently have doubts that I might not be suitable for the job. At that point, I was simply a scientific researcher and therapist, with no prior experience in surveying a PoI. However, after working with her, I can confidently assert that a psychologist like me would be the best fit for this position. After all, what's the point of surveillance if you have no intention to try your best at understanding the mentality of your subject?
I've also visited SCP-6168 every time I went back on-site. Seeing its condition motivates me even more, although SCP-6168 and PoI-6168 will probably never see each other again. Despite its current state, SCP-6168 is truly a good boy. I hope it gets well soon.
UPDATE 03/01/2017: On 30/12/2016, the last exterior wood segment on SCP-6168's body was converted to skin and flesh. It has been scratching itself significantly less since then, although its level of distress has not alleviated. Instead, SCP-6168's vocalizations started showing signs of slight but constant, prolonged internal pain.
CT scan results indicated the novel appearance of two flesh masses in SCP-6168's chest cavity and cranium. These masses were respectively presumed to be its heart and brain.
On 01/01/2017, SCP-6168 first expressed its need for nourishment; filtered water and dog food with suitable amounts for its size were provided. This diet is to be supplied for SCP-6168 from this point onwards.
SCP-6168's remaining internal wooden segments are expected to convert into corresponding internal organs in an undefined amount of time, depending on PoI-6168's recovery progress.
+ Open Collected Notes - January-April 2017
- Close
The following documents are some of the journal entries written by PoI-6168 during her course of recovery in the aforementioned timeframe. Starting from January 2017, PoI-6168 was instructed by Researcher Phan to keep a journal and cross out negative thoughts that she has written down when she identifies them in her writing. Researcher Phan has taken photos of these entries with her hidden body camera during her counseling sessions with PoI-6168.
24/1/17
Tết is coming. My roommates and classmates are already bagging their stuff, preparing for their trip back to their hometown. Some of those living in Hanoi are doing so too.
I don't really want to come back home, but the dorm will close during the Tết holiday, so I basically have nowhere else to go. Other villagers probably won't welcome me back. This is my first Tết without mom Nevermind. Dad will also come home, and we also have to prepare our Tết meals as offerings for Mom. I should probably get my stuff packed before I go to sleep.
I miss Dad and Mom so much. If Mom were still at home, we would have so much fun together this year.
29/1/17
These Tết homework assignments are so difficult. I'll probably get a bad grade on these Math problems. At least I got my Literature essay finished today. For the Math ones, I should check our class' Messenger group. I've already seen some of my classmates asking for help over there. Or maybe not; just copying others' works won't make me any better. What if they don't want me to
Not many things to do these days. 3 days left until I finally come back to Hanoi. Maybe I should spend some time taking a look at Linh's notes of all the lessons last semester. She's really nice for sending me photos of her notebook. Does she think that I'm pitiful? I hope next semester I won't need her notes anymore.
19/2/17
Linh gave me a dog plushie for my birthday earlier today. I'm surprised she still remembers that I like dogs. The plushie is cute, but it reminds me of Mom and Hẻn. It reminds me of that year when I got the statue for my birthday.
[Unintelligible text; presumed to be crossed over multiple times with ballpoint pen.]
I shouldn't be thinking this
I didn't intend to start the fire. I couldn't control that gust of wind. Before it happened, I had no idea that my ritual could result in such an incident.
My mom didn't pass away because of me. Aiming for HSSH was my goal, working in the forest was her decision. Her death was not a consequence of my ambition.
I don't need a physical reminder of my loved ones to feel their presence in my mind.
Don't know if writing these sentences down helps or not. Just wrote these because Ms. Trang made me learn them by heart and write them down whenever I think otherwise. I can't really see their effect yet, but she said it would work. Nevermind. Even if they don't work, they won't harm me anyways.
1/3/17
My grade point average is saved!!
I got my first 9 on the mid-term Literature essay, no less. A 10 in Literature is obviously impossible, but a 9 for my class is still pretty rare - our specialized subject is Literature, so it's not easy to get away with writing something sub-par. I did expect a better grade than before since I was able to concentrate throughout that 90 minutes to write, but I had no idea it would turn out so amazing. My teacher even commented that I have "deeper thoughts" than teenagers my age - it really made my day. I've called Dad and now he's also on cloud nine with me. I can already imagine how joyful Ms. Trang will be when I tell her about this tomorrow.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we were allowed to choose between multiple topics and had so much time to prepare beforehand. But what's the whole point, if it was not for us to gain a better result? My classmates were taken aback because of my grade on this essay, and probably some of them were thinking that I'd cheated. I don't really mind them. I imagine Mom would be so disappointed if I took their words seriously.
23/3/17
[…]
Ms. Trang said my recent progress was impressive. It's been almost a month since my last nightmare - and I don't even remember on which day it was. My journal entries are now longer, and these days I don't have to cross out as much as I did when I started writing them.
I hope my nightmares won't ever come back to haunt me. I've had enough of them already. I'm gonna miss having Mom in my dreams, though.
At this point it's not necessary for me to visit Ms. Trang's office weekly anymore; she said once per two weeks is fine. That means more time for my studying - which is great, since we're having so many exams.
16/4/17
Today our homeroom teacher informed us that she will open extensive studying sessions for those who want to participate in our school's next Literature Olympiad. This news has taken the whole class by storm. Student olympiads weren't really a big thing in my secondary school, but considering the coveted rewards our school offers, I can comprehend why everyone wants to join them. The top competitors of my school will each get a slot to study in the National University and enter the National Literature Olympiad for students. And if you win an award there afterwards, you can directly apply to many other universities without your university entrance exam results.
I haven't considered participating in the Olympiad because of my terrible grades last semester, and because I haven't really thought of which university I will aim for. But I've been much more confident with my writings recently, and others have also looked at me differently since that mid-term essay. Perhaps I might stand a chance?
Probably someone in the class will laugh at my idea I don't care. I'll check back with my homeroom teacher tomorrow.
+ Open Surveillance Log 31
- Close
Date of Recording: 18/05/2017
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Phan: Oh, you're still here, Mai? I thought you'd come back home already.
PoI-6168: I'll be on my way this afternoon. Before I go, I just want to pay you a visit and bring you a present. (handles Rsr. Phan a bag) These are some Phú Quốc peppercorns that my dad sent from the island. He wants to thank you for having helped me throughout the school year.
Rsr. Phan: That's so generous of him; please send him my gratitude.
PoI-6168: Of course I will.
Rsr. Phan: The school year has finally come to an end, right?
PoI-6168: That's right. You know, I almost cried at the year-end ceremony yesterday. The principal mentioned in his speech that this year's Psychological Assistance Initiative had been a resounding success, citing my story as an example. The "student" in his speech was kept anonymous, but anyone who's a bit close to me knew in an instance that it was me.
Rsr. Phan: Something to be proud of, isn't it? Next year you won't need to come here on a schedule anymore, but don't be afraid to pass by whenever you have time. You'll always be welcome here.
PoI-6168: Of course I will. Anyways Ms. Trang, do you remember this thing my mother once told me? That the gods have different presents for everyone, and when I'm mature enough I'll realize what my present is. I think… Now I've understood what they have for me.
Rsr. Phan: I'm really glad you do. When you arrive at home, make sure to light a stick of incense for your mother and tell her about it, okay?
PoI-6168: Do you want to know what it is?
Rsr. Phan: Well, sure.
PoI-6168: It's…
<End Log>
+ Open File SCP-6168 - Current Iteration
Updated on: 25/05/2017
Item #: SCP-6168
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6168 is to be kept in a medium-sized standard animal containment cell. It should be provided with food and water rations suitable for domestic dogs of its size. On-site personnel are permitted to visit and play with SCP-6168 during their off-duty hours.
Description: SCP-6168 is a domestic dog ( Canis lupus familiaris ) of Phú Quốc Ridgeback breed with golden-colored coating. Although it currently possesses no anomalous properties, the method by which it was created is anomalous in nature.
Further information on SCP-6168 can be retrieved from other documents attached to this file. | 63 | ["_cc", "alive", "animal", "canine", "safe", "scp", "sculpture"] | 2021-08-15T17:22:00 | 60,463 | 10,735 | SCP-6168 | Safe | SCP-6168 is to be kept in a medium-sized standard animal containment cell. It does not need to be provided food or water for survival.
Investigation into Incident 6168/A is to be conducted with the following priorities:
Determining the relationships among PoI-6168, Incident 6168/A and the creation of SCP-6168.
Evaluating the possibility of PoI-6168 possessing thaumaturgic abilities, as well as the possibility of further anomalous activities at the locus of the incident. | SCP-6168 is a life-size, animated, sentient statue resembling a Phú Quốc Ridgeback dog. It is made from ordinary cinnamon wood ( Cinnamomum verum ) and comprises multiple pieces. Some of its pieces function as joints, allowing it to move in a limited capacity. SCP-6168 does not possess internal organs and cannot vocalize; however, it reacts to external stimuli similarly to common domestic dogs ( Canis lupus familiaris ).
Discovery (Incident 6168/A): On 28/06/2016, Foundation radars monitored by the Thaumaturgic Activity Tracking Unit in Northwestern Vietnam detected an abnormal EVE spike from a location in the remote mountainous area of Yên Bái Province. This location had previously been marked for frequent thaumaturgic activities, but had been inactive for several years. Concurrently, the local fire brigade hotline received a call reporting a house fire spreading to the local forest at the energy spike's presumed coordination. Foundation agents embedded in the local fire brigade then arrived at the location despite being delayed by the topography, discovering SCP-6168. It was immediately taken into Foundation custody, and investigation was initiated after the fire had been subdued.
The only civilian present during the incident was Vi Thị Mai, aged 15. Considering her supposed direct relevance to the event and her subsequent mental state, it was decided that she would not be given amnestics; instead, she was designated PoI-6168 and placed under close surveillance.
As in August 2016, PoI-6168 would move to Hanoi and enroll in the Vietnamese National University's High School for Gifted Students in Social Sciences and Humanities, . From now on referred to as HSSH for brevity. Researcher Phan Kiều Trang (a psychologist currently embedded in the University) was added to the Incident 6168/A investigation team to monitor PoI-6168. She would perform her duties under the guise of a therapist participating in the HSSH's Psychological Assistance Initiative, which would be held by the school starting from the school year 2016 - 2017.
On 25/08/2016, PoI-6168 voluntarily came to Researcher Phan's office in the HSSH, requesting help. Some of her conversations with Researcher Phan from this point onwards are attached below. Full original footage with audio in Vietnamese are available per request.
+ Open Counseling Session 01
- Close
Date of Recording: 25/08/2016
<Begin Log>
(PoI-6168 enters the office, silently closing the door behind her back.)
Rsr. Phan: Welcome, young lady. Please have a seat; no need to be tense.
PoI-6168: Erm… Good afternoon, Miss. Nice to meet you.
(PoI-6168 sits down at Rsr. Phan's desk. She seems tired, with slightly pale skin and visible eye bags.)
Rsr. Phan: (offers PoI-6168 a glass of water.) Nice to meet you too. My name is Trang, how can I help you?
PoI-6168: Thank you, Ms. Trang. My name is Vi Thị Mai, from Class 10V2. Recently I've had… quite a lot of nightmares. It feels terrible, and I am often exhausted when I wake up the next morning.
Rsr. Phan: I'm sorry to hear that. Are you living at home or are you staying in the school's dormitories?
PoI-6168: I'm staying in the dorm; my roommates have encouraged me to come here and seek help. They thought it was because of the new environment, but my nightmares had started even before I came to Hanoi. My hometown is in Yên Bái, by the way.
Rsr. Phan: So there's something more about it, but you haven't told your roommates yet.
PoI-6168: That's right. I just— I— I can't tell them. There's no way they will believe me on such matters. Definitely no one will. Even you might not believe it, if I tell you.
(Silence.)
PoI-6168: I'm… I'm sorry.
Rsr. Phan: It's alright. I promise, your words will be taken seriously here regardless of what you think others might believe. And I won't disclose them to anyone without your consent, not even your parents or your teachers - we will actually sign an agreement on that in a minute.
[…]
Rsr. Phan: Let's come back to our main topic: your nightmares. Firstly, you've mentioned your belief that no one would trust what you say about them. Is there any reason you think so?
PoI-6168: Erm… Ms. Trang, can I ask you a question?
Rsr. Phan: Of course.
PoI-6168: Do you believe in magic?
Rsr. Phan: Well… I've certainly heard of magic, but have never had a chance to observe. However, nightmares are dreams anyways, and when you dream, of course there can be details that don't conform to our daily lives in one way or another.
PoI-6168: That's not what I mean. Nevermind; maybe I shouldn't have asked you about that so abruptly at all. I mean, I believe everyone won't trust my words since no one thinks magic actually exists. But can we come back to this later, please?
Rsr. Phan: No problem; there are other things I would like to ask you before we get back to that anyways. So, how many times per week do you have those nightmares?
PoI-6168: Let me see… Twice or thrice. Isn't that a lot?
Rsr. Phan: Yes, I'm afraid. Now, can you please describe your nightmares as detailed as possible? If they often have the same plot or common motifs such as images or sounds, please list those out. On the other hand, if each one of your nightmares is unique, please describe a few of them that you remember the most or affect you the most. If it's too hard to recall, just take a deep breath and slow down.
PoI-6168: Well… okay. I guess this falls into the first category, because all my nightmares portrayed the same event. (Breathes in) It's always daytime in my dreams. I'm inside my house, . The house where SCP-6168 was discovered is a traditional-style stilt house of the Tày people, an ethnic minority group in Vietnam. PoI-6168 belongs to the Tày people herself. and it is on fire. Every direction I look at, I see flames catching on and swallowing everything in their way. The floor is trembling too, so I have lots of struggle keeping my balance. Like any pillar supporting the house under my feet can burn down at any moment, collapsing it.
I hear my mother's faint calling outside of the house, and make my way to a window at the front. And then I see her standing among the plants in our garden, yelling, hoping that our neighbors would come and help us. Desperate as she is, no one else is arriving, let alone lending us a hand. Other than her voice, all I hear are the trees rustling in the forest. She runs towards the house as soon as she sees me get to the window, as if she will jump in the fire and pull me away from it if she can.
(PoI-6168 stops and sips her water with shaky hands.)
The fire is already very close behind my back, so I am frightened and extremely disoriented. The house is about to collapse, and I can't figure out anything else to do other than jumping down. So I climb up on the window, my heart beating vigorously by my ears. Then, I hold my breath, close my eyes and let my hands go. Falling down, I try in vain not to think of the pain I will experience when my body hits the ground.
But then all fall silent, and I keep falling. I open my eyes, only to realize that I've fallen down a dark, bottomless pit. The house has collapsed and flames have engulfed the pit's opening, which seems to be my only escape. I see my mother hopelessly reaching for me from up there, but she keeps receding further away from me as each second passes. Her call, her once deafening screeching, remains nothing more than utter silence.
As I fall down, the image of my mother keeps shrinking and shrinking until it becomes just a tiny dot and then vanishes. A cold feeling surrounds me, and then I wake up.
(PoI-6168 takes another sip of water.)
When I'm awake, it's usually around 3 in the morning. Everything is still dark and quiet around me, except for the orange-ish streetlight shining through the window shades, and occasionally, a lone motorbike running down the street. I clench my pillow in my arms, bursting into tears as I try to get back to sleep again.
(Silence.)
Rsr. Phan: Alright, thank you. It's great that you can recall the dreams so vividly. Many others have to struggle much more with that.
PoI-6168: I… I need a moment to calm down.
Rsr. Phan: Of course, if you do. Don't push yourself too hard.
(PoI-6168 drinks the rest from her cup. Researcher Phan pours her more water.)
[…]
Rsr. Phan: I've noticed that other than yourself, the only person present in your nightmares was your mother. So, what do you think of her? How important is your mother to you?
(PoI-6168 was startled.)
PoI-6168: So, uhm… My mother used to be the most influential person to me. I've never met anyone both as sweet and strong-minded as her, and I don't think I ever will. She never gave up or refrained from giving me kind words, even when things were difficult for my family, especially for her. Unfortunately, she recently passed away because of Dengue fever. It must have been from a mosquito bite when she was picking medicinal plant leaves in the forest. I always feel like her death was my fault. Had it not been for my wish to study in a high school for gifted students in Hanoi, . In Vietnam, "high schools for gifted students" are specialized schools that have significantly higher education quality compared to common public high schools. Students from these schools have access to various studying resources, which heighten their chance to enter a high-ranked university or to study abroad. To be qualified for studying in these schools, a student has to pass an entrance exam which comprises multiple writing tests, including a school subject of their choice. If they pass the exam, that subject will become their "specialized subject" and will be taught more extensively in their high school programme. Preparation for these tests usually requires considerable personal effort and financial support. she wouldn't have needed to work extra hours. It's hard thinking about her last days. To be honest, I usually avoid doing so.
Rsr. Phan: Oh, I'm really sorry for your loss. Did your mother have any other job besides that? I'm also curious about your father; did he need to work extra to support you with your studies too?
PoI-6168: Actually, my father is working for a resort in Phú Quốc Island. It's weird, right? And when my mother was alive, she used to take care of our garden where she grew traditional medicinal plants. Before my dad went away to Phú Quốc, he was the one mainly taking care of it. He's really well-versed in traditional medicine, and when he was at home, he often provided ailments for our fellow villagers when they were in need. Back then… well…
Rsr. Phan: What's the problem, Mai?
PoI-6168: Ms. Trang, if I continue talking, perhaps you'll think that I'm crazy or somewhat fanatic. Do you still want to hear me out?
Rsr. Phan: I've told you I would take what you say seriously and we've agreed to keep all of this a secret, so don't be afraid.
(Silence.)
PoI-6168: My mother was a shaman. Or magician, or fortune teller, whatever you call these people. And she could wield real, proper magic. (pauses, with teary eyes) Ms. Trang, I know it's insane, and it just gets more nonsensical the more I tell you about it. I can understand if you don't want me to stay here and babble these things anymore.
Rsr. Phan: No, Mai, please stay here. It's totally fine. Your mother was such an important figure for you, so I know it's not that you are afraid or ashamed of saying your mother was a thauma- I mean, shaman. It's just that you fear others will humiliate you because you believe magic exists. I will not question you for proof of what you say, and you should not question yourself too, because if you are confident enough to keep that in mind, you definitely have enough reason for it. You have seen things with your own eyes that others cannot see. They were your own experience, and you did not get to choose whether you would be involved with them or not. These memories have been a part of you since the day you bear them in mind. You can't deny that, and I can't either. I believe you.
PoI-6168: Are you sure, Ms. Trang?
Rsr. Phan: Yes. Totally without doubt.
PoI-6168: (bursts into tears) Thank you so much.
Rsr. Phan: If you don't mind, could you share something further about your mother's magic with me?
PoI-6168: (repeatedly nods, wiping her tears) Yes, yes, of course. My mother mostly wielded her magic through rituals, and her rituals always included those magical songs called " then ", which could be used to send us human's wishes to gods. Whenever a family in our village hosted an important life event, my mother was always invited. She came to bless their marriage or their child, to cure diseases with rituals, or to pray for a successful harvest and such things. She was the only shaman in my village, so I was extremely proud of her.
Rsr. Phan: That sounds like some amazing work. But you also told me that your family had once been in difficulties, and your parents had to change their jobs at some point. What happened exactly, and when was that?
PoI-6168: Well, you can pretty much imagine that other villagers held lots of respect for us. But it all changed when I was in 3 rd grade. (looks out the window) The harvesting season was coming when a family in our village discovered that all of their crops had suddenly died without any warning signs. They then somehow found some sort of incantation buried beside their house. Being the only person knowing magic in the village, my mother was immediately accused of placing a curse on them. She swore that she didn't even know that sort of magic, let alone trying it, and she had no idea who had done that to the other family, but absolutely no one listened to her side of the story.
I didn't understand much back then, but I remember very clearly that we used to frequently have guests, either asking for my mother's rituals or my father's ailments. Suddenly, no one came for us anymore; instead, people mocked and swore at us. It frightened me all the time. My friends at school didn't want to talk or play with me anymore. I heard their parents chatting among themselves that I couldn't be a nice child, since my mom was so evil. I couldn't stand their way of thinking, so I tried all I could to remind them that my mom wasn't bad - how could she be evil, when she had helped the villagers so much and she had never hurted anyone? But they laughed at me for having such thoughts. Nonetheless, I swear no one can make me think otherwise, even to this day.
That was why my parents couldn't keep doing their job, and we started to struggle financially. Eventually my father found his current job, but it was a position he would never have taken had my family not been in such dire circumstances. He never wanted to leave our hometown for somewhere so far southward like Phú Quốc, but the island was steadily developing as a tourism spot back then, and many new resorts were being built. Spa and beauty services using herbal medicines of the ethnic minorities were greatly favored, so they needed many specialists for that. The job suited his knowledge and the payload was satisfying, to say the least.
His departure left the garden in my mom's hands. For a woman already coming into her middle-age, manual labor was no joke. But I've never heard her complaining. She just calmly accepted that there was no way to prove her innocence, and her life would never be the same again. She spent the following years teaching me to refrain from swearing back or doing harm to others as a form of retaliation or revenge. She taught me to mind my own business rather than succumb to their filthy words and become the devils they thought we were. My childhood was much less terrible because I had her by my side.
Sometimes I wished to have a younger brother or sister so that I wouldn't be so alone. But if I had a sibling, I couldn't have imagined how busy my mother would be, and whether my sibling can endure such a terrible time or not.
Rsr. Phan: Well, thank you so much for sharing; that was more than enough. You must've taken great effort to overcome such difficulties. Now, how about…
<End Log>
Researcher's Commentary: It is likely that PoI-6168 is suffering from a mental illness, but I cannot draw a fixed conclusion without seeking her own view on the incident. Since there is probably more information we can get out of her, I've recommended that she visit my office weekly. I'll make sure that she adheres to this schedule; first to help with our surveillance, then for her own benefits. | 4 | ## recovery.
+ Open Counseling Session 17
- Close
Date of Recording: 29/12/2016
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Phan: Let's go through your nightmare tracking calendar, as usual. (pauses) You're making great progress, Mai. In the last month, your nightmare frequency has reduced to a maximum of only once per week. This week you've already experienced a nightmare, but last week you didn't; that's still alright. It's better to be slow but steady anyways.
PoI-6168: I guess so.
Rsr. Phan: Seems like you aren't in a good mood today. What's the problem?
PoI-6168: I've just received my school transcripts for this semester.
Rsr. Phan: Oh, I see. You're not satisfied with it, aren't you?
PoI-6168: That's right. (sighs) To be honest, my grades are among our class' lowests. Both my homeroom teacher and my dad have shown their concern, since my entrance exam results were not bad. They understand that it's because of my mental problems and not that I neglected studying, but I can still see how disappointed they are. Their comparison makes me wonder whether I actually belong to this place, and whether coming here to study was the right decision. I've been to therapy for an entire semester; I could have done so much better than that.
(PoI-6168 takes a deep breath.)
PoI-6168: If my mom were still here, I guess she would advise me to ignore other people's judgements and try harder in the next semester. She would tell me that I still have many chances to redeem myself. But Hanoi is so much different from home. It's such a competitive environment here; everyone is studying day and night, wanting to be the best. My classmates are no longer children from the villages around where I lived; they come from provinces all over the country, and a large number of them have been living in Hanoi since they were born. Before they joined our school, and even now, they have been taking extra classes taught by the most famous teachers where they lived. The lessons are much more complex than when I was studying secondary school in my hometown, but somehow everyone seems to be able to digest all that extra knowledge. And then there I am, having no access to books or extra classes that would help me boost myself. How could I compete with them?
Rsr. Phan: I understand that lacking resources can be a disadvantage, but at this stage, your mental state still matters the most. Extra lessons and extra books probably won't help when you're still bothered by thoughts that you can't control while you're studying.
PoI-6168: …Actually, you're right. When I read a question in an exam paper, I could identify which topic it belonged to totally fine, and I did know that the teachers had taught us about them. I thought my attention span would get better after I resolved the problem with my dad, but since then, nothing has changed. I was often so embarrassed, desperate and guilty that I couldn't dedicate myself to studying anymore. That happened when I wrote my exams too, so I've lost so much time that I should have utilized more effectively. Especially when I had to write essays and my thoughts needed to be kept streamlined, you know?
(Silence. PoI-6168 bursts into tears.)
I don't want my life to be like this anymore. Do you understand what it's like to be the only person coming from an ethnic minority group in my class? At the beginning of the school year, when everyone was curious about each other, I was noticed by my classmates - and even students from other classes - in quite a peculiar way. Their words always meant things like "Oh, you belong to the Tày ethnicity, you come from the remote mountainous area, so you must've tried so hard to get here, you must be so talented." Like, isn't that obvious? To pass the entrance exam, everyone must try their best, aren't they? And then a few months later, when my grades weren't that great, they turned to be like "Oh, I thought this Tày girl is somewhat extraordinary, but it turns out she's actually nothing special. If I can't even beat her, I'm gotta be such a fool." Why must I always be special, why do I always need to surpass others in order to be recognized and appreciated? Is it because I am different from everyone?
I had thought that by coming to Hanoi for high school, people wouldn't see me as the black sheep anymore. I had thought that by doing so, I can help pull my mom and my dad out of their misery. Maybe I was wrong after all. My mom passed away because she tried to gather more money to support my dream of coming to Hanoi. My dad's garden, our livelihood, was burnt to ashes. Hẻn was gone forever too. What's the point of trying my best now when the ones I love either still have to suffer, or are no longer by my side?
Rsr. Phan: (hugs PoI-6168, and pats on her back) It's fine, dear. I'm here for you, don't be afraid to cry.
(Researcher Phan pauses recording. An unknown amount of time passes before the footage continues.)
(Silence. PoI-6168's weeping dies down.)
Rsr. Phan: Mai, can you help me out a bit? I've been trying to recall your mother's last words; there's something she said that would be suitable for you right now, but I can't remember exactly.
PoI-6168: My mother's last words… That day, I was in the hospital, sitting beside her bed, tears in my eyes exactly like right now. She was lying limp, her eyes glassy, but still holding my hands. And she said… I must start living for my future, not for my past. I should not expect that one day I can rebuild the past exactly as it once was; instead, I need to aim for things still ahead of me. Everything that has happened to us, including her upcoming death, should not be the pain holding me back but the wings for me to ascend. She had lived a life with barely any regrets, and she hoped that when I looked back into my past, I too wouldn't regret anything.
Wait, do you mean…
Rsr. Phan: Mai, you're definitely an intelligent girl. What's your idea?
PoI-6168: My mother wanted me to always put myself first. Only when I truly care about myself will I no longer need to worry about my old life back in our village and what others think of me. She hoped that I would have a career that I love, just like my parents when I was a kid. When I've accomplished that, I'll no longer have to worry about finding a way to support my beloved ones.
Rsr. Phan: That's right. You can still find your own peace and happiness, and you still deserve them after so much loss. Your mother will live forever in your heart, your father is only a phone call away from you, and you won't need any physical reminders of your loved ones as long as you keep them in your mind.
(Silence. PoI-6168 sniffs and wipes her tears.)
PoI-6168: (quietly) I— I got it. (pauses, looks up at Rsr. Phan) Thank you. Thank you so much.
Rsr. Phan: You're welcome. It's my job to help you after all.
PoI-6168: (holds her head up with a smile) Now, can we get back to our usual business?
Rsr. Phan: Oh, alright, you surprised me. Let's continue then. Since our current treatment for your concentration problems is not working, I suggest a change; however, other approaches will involve more stress before they actually work. Before we continue, do you feel like you can put up with more stress in the following days?
PoI-6168: If they are able to help with my healing, then there's no reason I should refuse. Just… Ms. Trang, please don't make it too stressful for me, alright?
Rsr. Phan: Well, let's see. Now, I am going to explain to you more thoroughly about some of the other approaches, and then we'll make a decision, okay?
<End Log>
Researcher's Commentary: There is one point I can wholeheartedly relate to her: When I was appointed to this mission, I used to frequently have doubts that I might not be suitable for the job. At that point, I was simply a scientific researcher and therapist, with no prior experience in surveying a PoI. However, after working with her, I can confidently assert that a psychologist like me would be the best fit for this position. After all, what's the point of surveillance if you have no intention to try your best at understanding the mentality of your subject?
I've also visited SCP-6168 every time I went back on-site. Seeing its condition motivates me even more, although SCP-6168 and PoI-6168 will probably never see each other again. Despite its current state, SCP-6168 is truly a good boy. I hope it gets well soon.
---
## recovery progress.
+ Open Collected Notes - January-April 2017
- Close
The following documents are some of the journal entries written by PoI-6168 during her course of recovery in the aforementioned timeframe. Starting from January 2017, PoI-6168 was instructed by Researcher Phan to keep a journal and cross out negative thoughts that she has written down when she identifies them in her writing. Researcher Phan has taken photos of these entries with her hidden body camera during her counseling sessions with PoI-6168.
24/1/17
Tết is coming. My roommates and classmates are already bagging their stuff, preparing for their trip back to their hometown. Some of those living in Hanoi are doing so too.
I don't really want to come back home, but the dorm will close during the Tết holiday, so I basically have nowhere else to go. Other villagers probably won't welcome me back. This is my first Tết without mom Nevermind. Dad will also come home, and we also have to prepare our Tết meals as offerings for Mom. I should probably get my stuff packed before I go to sleep.
I miss Dad and Mom so much. If Mom were still at home, we would have so much fun together this year.
29/1/17
These Tết homework assignments are so difficult. I'll probably get a bad grade on these Math problems. At least I got my Literature essay finished today. For the Math ones, I should check our class' Messenger group. I've already seen some of my classmates asking for help over there. Or maybe not; just copying others' works won't make me any better. What if they don't want me to
Not many things to do these days. 3 days left until I finally come back to Hanoi. Maybe I should spend some time taking a look at Linh's notes of all the lessons last semester. She's really nice for sending me photos of her notebook. Does she think that I'm pitiful? I hope next semester I won't need her notes anymore.
19/2/17
Linh gave me a dog plushie for my birthday earlier today. I'm surprised she still remembers that I like dogs. The plushie is cute, but it reminds me of Mom and Hẻn. It reminds me of that year when I got the statue for my birthday.
[Unintelligible text; presumed to be crossed over multiple times with ballpoint pen.]
I shouldn't be thinking this
I didn't intend to start the fire. I couldn't control that gust of wind. Before it happened, I had no idea that my ritual could result in such an
---
## incident.
My mom didn't pass away because of me. Aiming for HSSH was my goal, working in the forest was her decision. Her death was not a consequence of my ambition.
I don't need a physical reminder of my loved ones to feel their presence in my mind.
Don't know if writing these sentences down helps or not. Just wrote these because Ms. Trang made me learn them by heart and write them down whenever I think otherwise. I can't really see their effect yet, but she said it would work. Nevermind. Even if they don't work, they won't harm me anyways.
1/3/17
My grade point average is saved!!
I got my first 9 on the mid-term Literature essay, no less. A 10 in Literature is obviously impossible, but a 9 for my class is still pretty rare - our specialized subject is Literature, so it's not easy to get away with writing something sub-par. I did expect a better grade than before since I was able to concentrate throughout that 90 minutes to write, but I had no idea it would turn out so amazing. My teacher even commented that I have "deeper thoughts" than teenagers my age - it really made my day. I've called Dad and now he's also on cloud nine with me. I can already imagine how joyful Ms. Trang will be when I tell her about this tomorrow.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we were allowed to choose between multiple topics and had so much time to prepare beforehand. But what's the whole point, if it was not for us to gain a better result? My classmates were taken aback because of my grade on this essay, and probably some of them were thinking that I'd cheated. I don't really mind them. I imagine Mom would be so disappointed if I took their words seriously.
23/3/17
[…]
Ms. Trang said my recent progress was impressive. It's been almost a month since my last nightmare - and I don't even remember on which day it was. My journal entries are now longer, and these days I don't have to cross out as much as I did when I started writing them.
I hope my nightmares won't ever come back to haunt me. I've had enough of them already. I'm gonna miss having Mom in my dreams, though.
At this point it's not necessary for me to visit Ms. Trang's office weekly anymore; she said once per two weeks is fine. That means more time for my studying - which is great, since we're having so many exams.
16/4/17
Today our homeroom teacher informed us that she will open extensive studying sessions for those who want to participate in our school's next Literature Olympiad. This news has taken the whole class by storm. Student olympiads weren't really a big thing in my secondary school, but considering the coveted rewards our school offers, I can comprehend why everyone wants to join them. The top competitors of my school will each get a slot to study in the National University and enter the National Literature Olympiad for students. And if you win an award there afterwards, you can directly apply to many other universities without your university entrance exam results.
I haven't considered participating in the Olympiad because of my terrible grades last semester, and because I haven't really thought of which university I will aim for. But I've been much more confident with my writings recently, and others have also looked at me differently since that mid-term essay. Perhaps I might stand a chance?
Probably someone in the class will laugh at my idea I don't care. I'll check back with my homeroom teacher tomorrow.
+ Open Surveillance
---
## Log 31
- Close
Date of Recording: 18/05/2017
<Begin Log>
Rsr. Phan: Oh, you're still here, Mai? I thought you'd come back home already.
PoI-6168: I'll be on my way this afternoon. Before I go, I just want to pay you a visit and bring you a present. (handles Rsr. Phan a bag) These are some Phú Quốc peppercorns that my dad sent from the island. He wants to thank you for having helped me throughout the school year.
Rsr. Phan: That's so generous of him; please send him my gratitude.
PoI-6168: Of course I will.
Rsr. Phan: The school year has finally come to an end, right?
PoI-6168: That's right. You know, I almost cried at the year-end ceremony yesterday. The principal mentioned in his speech that this year's Psychological Assistance Initiative had been a resounding success, citing my story as an example. The "student" in his speech was kept anonymous, but anyone who's a bit close to me knew in an instance that it was me.
Rsr. Phan: Something to be proud of, isn't it? Next year you won't need to come here on a schedule anymore, but don't be afraid to pass by whenever you have time. You'll always be welcome here.
PoI-6168: Of course I will. Anyways Ms. Trang, do you remember this thing my mother once told me? That the gods have different presents for everyone, and when I'm mature enough I'll realize what my present is. I think… Now I've understood what they have for me.
Rsr. Phan: I'm really glad you do. When you arrive at home, make sure to light a stick of incense for your mother and tell her about it, okay?
PoI-6168: Do you want to know what it is?
Rsr. Phan: Well, sure.
PoI-6168: It's…
<End Log>
+ Open File SCP-6168 - Current Iteration
Updated on: 25/05/2017
Item #: SCP-6168
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6168 is to be kept in a medium-sized standard animal containment cell. It should be provided with food and water rations suitable for domestic dogs of its size. On-site personnel are permitted to visit and play with SCP-6168 during their off-duty hours.
Description: SCP-6168 is a domestic dog ( Canis lupus familiaris ) of Phú Quốc Ridgeback breed with golden-colored coating. Although it currently possesses no anomalous properties, the method by which it was created is anomalous in nature.
Further information on SCP-6168 can be retrieved from other documents attached to this file. | |
SCP-9060 | SCP-9060 | scp | If you see their face, they'll try to kill you. If you survive, there's far worse consequences.
Item #: SCP-9060
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-9060-1 are to be contained in separate airtight containment cells with one-way windows should they wish to look outside. Daily checks are to be made for the structural integrity of these cells. No video monitoring of any kind is to be made inside these cells.
SCP-9060-1 instances may roam low-security areas of the facility and interact with others, so long as they wear a specially designed mask that cannot be removed without a key. Any SCP-9060-1 instances that attempt to remove this mask or expose their face to others are to be reprimanded and returned to their cells indefinitely.
Should an SCP-9060-2 instance be created, its corresponding SCP-9060-1 instance must be allowed to find it and given a path clear of civilian monitoring handled by MTF Zulu-8 ("See Something, Say Something"). SCP-9060-1 instances are not to be terminated without prior authorization.
Foundation webcrawlers are to monitor social media websites for images of SCP-9060-1 instances, with particular focus on their friends, relatives, and associates. Any photos, videos, or recordings of SCP-9060-1 instances are to be destroyed unless authorized by the project lead Dr. Al-Zahar.
Description: SCP-9060 refers to a viral cognitohazardous phenomenon that causes a person (designated SCP-9060-1) to enter a violent state when their full face is viewed by another human (designated SCP-9060-2), whether directly, via video recording, photography, or on social media platforms.
SCP-9060-1 instances will display signs of emotional distress, including crying, screaming and incoherent speech, as they pursue SCP-9060-2. Subjects will only move in a straight line toward their target, regardless of potential for physical damage, death, or further exposure. In this state, SCP-9060-1 instances display heightened speed and strength, running up to 100 km/h and lifting up to 200 kilograms.
Once SCP-9060-1 makes contact with SCP-9060-2, it will attempt to kill and consume SCP-9060-2, until no trace of the victim is left behind. Once these activities are complete, SCP-9060-1 subjects return to their normal state of mind, with full awareness of their actions despite an inability to rationalize them.
Should an instance of SCP-9060-1 expire before it kills and consumes all instances of SCP-9060-2, all instances of SCP-9060-2 become instances of SCP-9060-1.
Addendum: Audio Log from Interview 9060-1-2
Interviewer: Dr. Al-Zahar
Interviewed: SCP-9060-1-2 (Marie Blonsky)
On 10/09/2024, a 911 call was placed by Marie Blonsky. Two officers arrived on the scene, and radioed for back-up before Mrs. Blonsky, by this point an instance of SCP-9060-1, killed and consumed them. Foundation Agents intercepted and subdued Mrs. Blonsky. She was placed in a temporary holding cell and given a ski mask to wear before her interview.
< Begin log>
Dr. Al-Zahar: And we’re recording. State your name for the record, ma’am.
SCP-9060-1-2: Marie Blonsky.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Tell me what happened that night.
SCP-9060-1-2: Should I have a lawyer?
Dr. Al-Zahar: You’re not in any trouble, ma’am. Just tell me what happened.
SCP-9060-1-2: We were getting ready for dinner. Tommy was up in his room, Bill was cooking. Burgers. He wanted to grill, but I didn’t like the look of the weather… sorry. I called Tommy down, but I guess he was on his computer or whatever. And then Bill just started screaming.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Did he seem strange to you at all before then?
SCP-9060-1-2: He seemed normal. He was just looking at his mountaineering pictures all day.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Okay. Please continue.
SCP-9060-1-2: I tried to get him to talk, but I didn’t understand him. I thought he burned his hand or something. I got him an icepack from the garage. But when I came back out, he was looking at me like… like an animal. And he came at me. Put his hands around my neck. I grabbed a lamp and hit him. And I tried to barricade myself in the garage, but he tore through the door like it was paper. Lucky we kept a hunting rifle in there.
SCP-9060-1-2 pauses here, then starts to cry. She moves for her mask.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Ma’am, please keep the mask on.
SCP-9060-1-2: I’m sorry, it’s just getting wet –
Dr. Al-Zahar: I know. Continue your story.
SCP-9060-1-2: I did what you’re supposed to do. I told Tommy to stay in his room. I called the police. I just stayed in the garage with Bill until they came to the door. When I opened it, I… oh, God.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Please describe it to me. As best you can.
SCP-9060-1-2: I… felt like my face was being ripped off my skull. And I tried to keep it in place. It hurt so bad, I never felt anything like it. I screamed for help, and the two officers came toward me. And I knew they were responsible. I know they weren’t. But I was so certain, and I grabbed the nearest one and just kept hitting him off the door frame until his head caved in. The other one tried to run, but Jesus Christ I was on him so fast. And they tasted awful.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Would you say you lost control?
SCP-9060-1-2: No. I knew everything I was doing. When it was over, I knew what I’d done. I was horrified. And then I knew Tommy had looked at a picture of a family fishing trip –
SCP-9060-1-2 quiets. She removes her mask and vomits. Dr. Al-Zahar avoids seeing her face.
SCP-9060-1-2: I’m sorry! I –
Dr. Al-Zahar terminates the interview.
<End Log>
Foundation webcrawlers quickly moved to remove images of Mrs. Blonsky from the internet while MTF Zulu-8 destroyed images in the homes of friends and family. A further six people would become instances of SCP-9060-2, though Zulu-8 was able to terminate them before Mrs. Blonsky could do so.
In the four minutes Mr. Blonsky was an SCP-9060-1 instance, three people viewed his Facebook profile and became further SCP-9060-1 instances. These instances were contained after the deaths of fourteen individuals.
Foundation agents are working to contain the situation.
Addendum: Incident 9060-1-A
Containment efforts failed on the evening of 20 October 2024.
While SCP-9060-1-17 (formerly Mr. Kyle McLaughlin) used his showering privileges, he began screeching and wailing. Later discoveries would determine this to be the result of a cousin of SCP-9060-1-17, Lucy McLaughlin, had discovered a picture from 2017 of a family gathering that included SCP-9060-1-17 in her photos, making her an instance of SCP-9060-2.
On-site security attempted to contain this instance to its cell. While security was successful in preventing on-site exposure, they were unable to delay SCP-9060-1-17 from breaching the site. MTF Zulu-8 enacted emergency procedures and attempted to clear the instance's path.
During this time, Ms. McLaughlin shared the photo on her Instagram profile. Foundation webcrawlers were automatically alerted to the post, but because SCP-9060-1-17 was deep in the background, they were unable to detect him. It was only after Dr. Al-Zahar viewed the image that he became aware of SCP-9060-1-17's presence in the picture. In the three minutes before the photo was taken down, three people, including Dr. Al-Zahar, became instances of SCP-9060-2.
SCP-9060-1-17 made an unexpected deviation from its path toward a civilian highway, likely seeking closer instances of SCP-9060-2. MTF Zulu-8 quickly moved to clear traffic, but were unable to prevent SCP-9060-1-17 from being struck and killed by an unsecured civilian vehicle.
By this time, SCP-9060-1-31 (formerly Dr. Al-Zahar) had moved into self-quarantine. A contingent of MTF Zulu-8 was dispatched to the home of SCP-9060-1-32 (formerly Ms. McLaughlin). Two other instances of SCP-9060-1 were determined to be Ms. McLaughlin's sister, Arlene Thomson, and her husband Neil Thomson, who were at this time in Miami, Florida as VIP attendees to a concert performance by American singer-songwriter and pop star Taylor Swift.
According to witness testimony, Mr. and Mrs. Thomson (respectively SCP-9060-1-33 and SCP-9060-1-34) engaged in a violent altercation backstage, resulting in the death of Mrs. Thomson and the severe maiming of Mr. Thomson. Witness testimony would later indicate Ms. Swift had interacted with them just before their altercation. As such, upon their deaths, Taylor Swift would be designated SCP-9060-1-35 before walking on stage to 183,000 attendees.
Upon exposure, Ms. Swift covered her face and screamed for thirty-seven seconds. She then lunged into her audience, killing and consuming 107 attendees over the course of seven minutes. By this time, Swift had become engorged to the point that her stomach had burst, although she continued her pursuit of concertgoers. Local police on the scene intervened, initially attempting to detain Swift. Because of her volatility, several officers were killed before they opened fire, killing Swift and causing almost all 183,000 concert attendees to become instances of SCP-9060-1.
SCP-9060-1 instances turned on each other, causing the deaths of over 100,000 people before Foundation agents arrived to subdue the situation. Several instances of SCP-9060-1 escaped the stadium. Acting Project Lead Dr. Tina Zhou (Dr. Al-Zahir had shot himself in quarantine) vetoed the termination of these subjects to avoid the creation of further SCP-9060-1 instances, and instead had MTF Agents focus on clearing civilian pathways for these instances to reach their SCP-9060-2. A further 763 people were killed and consumed by these escaped SCP-9060-1 instances.
Because of Swift’s public status, her attack was broadcast live, creating an unknown number of SCP-9060-2 instances estimated to be in the hundreds of millions. Upon Swift’s termination, these would also become SCP-9060-1 instances, causing a massive chain reaction that led to the creation of four billion SCP-9060-1 instances and an unknown number of SCP-9060-2 instances.
An emergency meeting of the O5 Council was held along with Acting Project Lead Dr. Zhou, who proposed a mass amnesticization using Class-C amnestic gas. The plan was approved, and Foundation jets gassed high-population areas, with agents following to administer proper amnestics to potential SCP-9060-2 instances. This proved successful in placating SCP-9060-1 instances, keeping the death toll to roughly 1,000,000,000.
Following this containment breach and out of concern for public safety, the O5 Council initiated the Lifted Veil Protocol, informing the public of the phenomenon and instructing them to hide their faces. Enforcement of these protocols is ongoing.
They made the table special for it. Had to, they didn’t have anything big enough for it otherwise. Strapped it down with a dozen belts and metal clasps screwed in tight. It could have easily broken through, but it didn’t.
For nearly two decades, this confused Dr. Dan. Why couldn’t it remain quiet like this all the time? Or why not act now when it was clearly in danger? But none of these questions mattered. Too many sacrifices had brought him here to keep asking questions.
With the bag over its head, the doctor found it difficult to slip the syringe beneath its eye. He believed it would be docile while he struggled to find it. He was right. He always was. And in time, the syringe found its mark, and he pressed the plunger in. Enough to kill an elephant.
For fifteen agonizing minutes, he watched its chest rise and fall with no issue. He would never tell anyone, and no one would care, but for the briefest moment, he felt a pang of worry that it would know and take its revenge.
But the heart monitor sounded the alarm. The rise and fall of its chest slowed as its functions failed. Every two minutes, it rose and fell again. Then every five. Every ten. And after an hour, the monitor flatlined completely. The doctor breathed his own sigh of relief.
He waited another hour before approaching it again. He instructed everyone watching to look away. He would be the only guinea pig now. They obliged him. He pulled the bag off its head and stared into its eyes. It did not move.
Oh. So that’s what it looks like. | 62 | ["9000", "alive", "apocalyptic", "cognitohazard", "contagion", "doctor-dan", "horror", "humanoid", "keter", "observational", "sapient", "scp", "shy-guy", "visual"] | 2025-09-20T05:04:00 | 12,181 | 1,970 | SCP-9060 | Keter | Instances of SCP-9060-1 are to be contained in separate airtight containment cells with one-way windows should they wish to look outside. Daily checks are to be made for the structural integrity of these cells. No video monitoring of any kind is to be made inside these cells.
SCP-9060-1 instances may roam low-security areas of the facility and interact with others, so long as they wear a specially designed mask that cannot be removed without a key. Any SCP-9060-1 instances that attempt to remove this mask or expose their face to others are to be reprimanded and returned to their cells indefinitely.
Should an SCP-9060-2 instance be created, its corresponding SCP-9060-1 instance must be allowed to find it and given a path clear of civilian monitoring handled by MTF Zulu-8 ("See Something, Say Something"). SCP-9060-1 instances are not to be terminated without prior authorization.
Foundation webcrawlers are to monitor social media websites for images of SCP-9060-1 instances, with particular focus on their friends, relatives, and associates. Any photos, videos, or recordings of SCP-9060-1 instances are to be destroyed unless authorized by the project lead Dr. Al-Zahar. | SCP-9060 refers to a viral cognitohazardous phenomenon that causes a person (designated SCP-9060-1) to enter a violent state when their full face is viewed by another human (designated SCP-9060-2), whether directly, via video recording, photography, or on social media platforms.
SCP-9060-1 instances will display signs of emotional distress, including crying, screaming and incoherent speech, as they pursue SCP-9060-2. Subjects will only move in a straight line toward their target, regardless of potential for physical damage, death, or further exposure. In this state, SCP-9060-1 instances display heightened speed and strength, running up to 100 km/h and lifting up to 200 kilograms.
Once SCP-9060-1 makes contact with SCP-9060-2, it will attempt to kill and consume SCP-9060-2, until no trace of the victim is left behind. Once these activities are complete, SCP-9060-1 subjects return to their normal state of mind, with full awareness of their actions despite an inability to rationalize them.
Should an instance of SCP-9060-1 expire before it kills and consumes all instances of SCP-9060-2, all instances of SCP-9060-2 become instances of SCP-9060-1. | 5 | ## lograms.
Once SCP-9060-1 makes contact with SCP-9060-2, it will attempt to kill and consume SCP-9060-2, until no trace of the victim is left behind. Once these activities are complete, SCP-9060-1 subjects return to their normal state of mind, with full awareness of their actions despite an inability to rationalize them.
Should an instance of SCP-9060-1 expire before it kills and consumes all instances of SCP-9060-2, all instances of SCP-9060-2 become instances of SCP-9060-1.
---
## Addendum: Audio Log from Interview 9060-1-2
Interviewer: Dr. Al-Zahar
Interviewed: SCP-9060-1-2 (Marie Blonsky)
On 10/09/2024, a 911 call was placed by Marie Blonsky. Two officers arrived on the scene, and radioed for back-up before Mrs. Blonsky, by this point an instance of SCP-9060-1, killed and consumed them. Foundation Agents intercepted and subdued Mrs. Blonsky. She was placed in a temporary holding cell and given a ski mask to wear before her
---
## interview.
< Begin log>
Dr. Al-Zahar: And we’re recording. State your name for the record, ma’am.
SCP-9060-1-2: Marie Blonsky.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Tell me what happened that night.
SCP-9060-1-2: Should I have a lawyer?
Dr. Al-Zahar: You’re not in any trouble, ma’am. Just tell me what happened.
SCP-9060-1-2: We were getting ready for dinner. Tommy was up in his room, Bill was cooking. Burgers. He wanted to grill, but I didn’t like the look of the weather… sorry. I called Tommy down, but I guess he was on his computer or whatever. And then Bill just started screaming.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Did he seem strange to you at all before then?
SCP-9060-1-2: He seemed normal. He was just looking at his mountaineering pictures all day.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Okay. Please continue.
SCP-9060-1-2: I tried to get him to talk, but I didn’t understand him. I thought he burned his hand or something. I got him an icepack from the garage. But when I came back out, he was looking at me like… like an animal. And he came at me. Put his hands around my neck. I grabbed a lamp and hit him. And I tried to barricade myself in the garage, but he tore through the door like it was paper. Lucky we kept a hunting rifle in there.
SCP-9060-1-2 pauses here, then starts to cry. She moves for her mask.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Ma’am, please keep the mask on.
SCP-9060-1-2: I’m sorry, it’s just getting wet –
Dr. Al-Zahar: I know. Continue your story.
SCP-9060-1-2: I did what you’re supposed to do. I told Tommy to stay in his room. I called the police. I just stayed in the garage with Bill until they came to the door. When I opened it, I… oh, God.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Please describe it to me. As best you can.
SCP-9060-1-2: I… felt like my face was being ripped off my skull. And I tried to keep it in place. It hurt so bad, I never felt anything like it. I screamed for help, and the two officers came toward me. And I knew they were responsible. I know they weren’t. But I was so certain, and I grabbed the nearest one and just kept hitting him off the door frame until his head caved in. The other one tried to run, but Jesus Christ I was on him so fast. And they tasted awful.
Dr. Al-Zahar: Would you say you lost control?
SCP-9060-1-2: No. I knew everything I was doing. When it was over, I knew what I’d done. I was horrified. And then I knew Tommy had looked at a picture of a family fishing trip –
SCP-9060-1-2 quiets. She removes her mask and vomits. Dr. Al-Zahar avoids seeing her face.
SCP-9060-1-2: I’m sorry! I –
Dr. Al-Zahar terminates the
---
## interview.
<End Log>
Foundation webcrawlers quickly moved to remove images of Mrs. Blonsky from the internet while MTF Zulu-8 destroyed images in the homes of friends and family. A further six people would become instances of SCP-9060-2, though Zulu-8 was able to terminate them before Mrs. Blonsky could do so.
In the four minutes Mr. Blonsky was an SCP-9060-1 instance, three people viewed his Facebook profile and became further SCP-9060-1 instances. These instances were contained after the deaths of fourteen individuals.
Foundation agents are working to contain the situation.
---
## Addendum: Incident 9060-1-A
Containment efforts failed on the evening of 20 October 2024.
While SCP-9060-1-17 (formerly Mr. Kyle McLaughlin) used his showering privileges, he began screeching and wailing. Later discoveries would determine this to be the result of a cousin of SCP-9060-1-17, Lucy McLaughlin, had discovered a picture from 2017 of a family gathering that included SCP-9060-1-17 in her photos, making her an instance of SCP-9060-2.
On-site security attempted to contain this instance to its cell. While security was successful in preventing on-site exposure, they were unable to delay SCP-9060-1-17 from breaching the site. MTF Zulu-8 enacted emergency procedures and attempted to clear the instance's path.
During this time, Ms. McLaughlin shared the photo on her Instagram profile. Foundation webcrawlers were automatically alerted to the post, but because SCP-9060-1-17 was deep in the background, they were unable to detect him. It was only after Dr. Al-Zahar viewed the image that he became aware of SCP-9060-1-17's presence in the picture. In the three minutes before the photo was taken down, three people, including Dr. Al-Zahar, became instances of SCP-9060-2.
SCP-9060-1-17 made an unexpected deviation from its path toward a civilian highway, likely seeking closer instances of SCP-9060-2. MTF Zulu-8 quickly moved to clear traffic, but were unable to prevent SCP-9060-1-17 from being struck and killed by an unsecured civilian vehicle.
By this time, SCP-9060-1-31 (formerly Dr. Al-Zahar) had moved into self-quarantine. A contingent of MTF Zulu-8 was dispatched to the home of SCP-9060-1-32 (formerly Ms. McLaughlin). Two other instances of SCP-9060-1 were determined to be Ms. McLaughlin's sister, Arlene Thomson, and her husband Neil Thomson, who were at this time in Miami, Florida as VIP attendees to a concert performance by American singer-songwriter and pop star Taylor Swift.
According to witness testimony, Mr. and Mrs. Thomson (respectively SCP-9060-1-33 and SCP-9060-1-34) engaged in a violent altercation backstage, resulting in the death of Mrs. Thomson and the severe maiming of Mr. Thomson. Witness testimony would later indicate Ms. Swift had interacted with them just before their altercation. As such, upon their deaths, Taylor Swift would be designated SCP-9060-1-35 before walking on stage to 183,000 attendees.
Upon exposure, Ms. Swift covered her face and screamed for thirty-seven seconds. She then lunged into her audience, killing and consuming 107 attendees over the course of seven minutes. By this time, Swift had become engorged to the point that her stomach had burst, although she continued her pursuit of concertgoers. Local police on the scene intervened, initially attempting to detain Swift. Because of her volatility, several officers were killed before they opened fire, killing Swift and causing almost all 183,000 concert attendees to become instances of SCP-9060-1.
SCP-9060-1 instances turned on each other, causing the deaths of over 100,000 people before Foundation agents arrived to subdue the situation. Several instances of SCP-9060-1 escaped the stadium. Acting Project Lead Dr. Tina Zhou (Dr. Al-Zahir had shot himself in quarantine) vetoed the termination of these subjects to avoid the creation of further SCP-9060-1 instances, and instead had MTF Agents focus on clearing civilian pathways for these instances to reach their SCP-9060-2. A further 763 people were killed and consumed by these escaped SCP-9060-1 instances.
Because of Swift’s public status, her attack was broadcast live, creating an unknown number of SCP-9060-2 instances estimated to be in the hundreds of millions. Upon Swift’s termination, these would also become SCP-9060-1 instances, causing a massive chain reaction that led to the creation of four billion SCP-9060-1 instances and an unknown number of SCP-9060-2 instances.
An emergency meeting of the O5 Council was held along with Acting Project Lead Dr. Zhou, who proposed a mass amnesticization using Class-C amnestic gas. The plan was approved, and Foundation jets gassed high-population areas, with agents following to administer proper amnestics to potential SCP-9060-2 instances. This proved successful in placating SCP-9060-1 instances, keeping the death toll to roughly 1,000,000,000.
Following this containment breach and out of concern for public safety, the O5 Council initiated the Lifted Veil Protocol, informing the public of the phenomenon and instructing them to hide their faces. Enforcement of these protocols is ongoing.
They made the table special for it. Had to, they didn’t have anything big enough for it otherwise. Strapped it down with a dozen belts and metal clasps screwed in tight. It could have easily broken through, but it didn’t.
For nearly two decades, this confused Dr. Dan. Why couldn’t it remain quiet like this all the time? Or why not act now when it was clearly in danger? But none of these questions mattered. Too many sacrifices had brought him here to keep asking questions.
With the bag over its head, the doctor found it difficult to slip the syringe beneath its eye. He believed it would be docile while he struggled to find it. He was right. He always was. And in time, the syringe found its mark, and he pressed the plunger in. Enough to kill an elephant.
For fifteen agonizing minutes, he watched its chest rise and fall with no issue. He would never tell anyone, and no one would care, but for the briefest moment, he felt a pang of worry that it would know and take its revenge.
But the heart monitor sounded the alarm. The rise and fall of its chest slowed as its functions failed. Every two minutes, it rose and fell again. Then every five. Every ten. And after an hour, the monitor flatlined completely. The doctor breathed his own sigh of relief.
He waited another hour before approaching it again. He instructed everyone watching to look away. He would be the only guinea pig now. They obliged him. He pulled the bag off its head and stared into its eyes. It did not move.
Oh. So that’s what it looks like. | |
la-foi-de-la-paix-circa-2011 | La Foi de La Paix, Circa 2011 - SCP Foundation | goi-format | / * These two arguments are in a quirked-up CSS Module ( rather than the main code block ) so users can feed Wikidot variables into them . * /
#header h1 a : :before {
content: "Cool War 2 " ;
color: black ;
}
#header h2 span : :before {
content: "Ruiz From Your Grave" ;
color: black ;
}
« Fights | Hub | Next »
Medicea Accademia Dell'Arte Occulta
SOLO PER USO INTERNO
Catalog Identification: 6589-[PAR]
' La Foi de La Paix '
Anonamous
France, 2011
Materials: Damascus steel, White acrylic paint, Cryptomantic engravings
Location: Paris Academy, France
Exhibition History:
Paris Academy (2012-Present); On Display within the Sculpture and Statue wing, Floor 2.
Occult Properties:
Individuals viewing La Foi de La Paix for an extended period of time will begin to experience feelings of harmony and bliss.
When two or more individuals with:
Opposing ideals
A history of constant argumentation
A poor relationship
A grudge of any kind
View La Foi de La Paix simultaneously, both parties will tend to come to a form of agreement and are openly more friendly and agreeable towards the other party.
Description:
La Foi de La Paix is an 88.9cm tall, black metallic statue somewhat resembling a human female. Its arms cross around the stomach area and it features a large, bulbous, tumor along its neck and chest.
The backside of La Foi de La Paix features a short letter carved into the metal and accented with white acrylic paint. The provided text reads as follows in American English:
Dearest,
I know our relationship has been shaky these past few years but allow this piece to be the spark that reignites the passion we once had, in each other and in art itself.
Let the fire in your heart engulf us both, for we're going to do great things. This, I am sure of.
Yours, P.
Provenance:
Late 2011: La Foi de La Paix is estimated to have been completed and mailed to the Paris Academy by this time.
Jebuary 11, 2012: La Foi de La Paix arrives at the Paris Academy, the piece is unboxed and sent into anomalous property investigation, the piece was later deemed non-hazardous and is put onto display.
January 15, 2012: La Foi de La Paix is unveiled to the public.
March 3, 2012: A large brawl occurs in the Paris Academy threatening several pieces of art, security officer Claire Penot uses La Foi de La Paix to deescalate the situation. This is successful, Mrs. Penot received a plaque to congratulate her on her problem-solving skills and quick thinking.
March 5, 2012: La Foi de La Paix is put under further investigation to research the potential use for the piece in later meetings and/or negotiations with other groups within the anomalous community.
March 10, 2012: La Foi de La Paix is removed from display.
Update:
On April 1, 2013 La Foi de La Paix arrived in Florence along with French representative "Luna Martin" for a meeting with "Giovanni D'Amelio", a member of the Florentine Academy in order to discuss the specifics for a large anartist exhibition when, at precisely 5:15 in the afternoon, La Foi de La Paix began emitting a loud unidentified piece of music for 2 minutes 5 seconds before detonating in a large explosion of paint and metal shrapnel, killing Mrs. Martin and seriously injuring Mr. D'Amelio.
When security arrived they found the only remains of La Foi de La Paix present were a burnt scrap of paper and a note wrapped in an unknown anomalous material, both of which have been provided below.
Recovered Document
Recovered Document
Mrs. Martin,
How could you be so incredibly self-centered in your pretentious little art club to not realize that you were played the fool. So up each others asses that you'd fail to notice such a simple exploit. You only scraped the surface, the outer layer of trash that promised you so many benefits to yourselves that you failed to see the meaning of the piece that stared you in your goddamn face.
You had once told me art was about self-expression. A look into one's own soul and the creativity they hope to share for the world. You said that I was making art simply to be noticed, that what I was doing simply wasn't cool .
Well, Mrs. Sawyer I must ask you one simple question: Am I Cool Yet?
Yours, Mr. Sawyer.
Ceci N'est Pas une Bombe . This Is Not a Bomb
With thanks to Ralliston and LAN 2D.
⟰
Fights
« An Intermission To Keep You Hanging | Hub | Why Aren't You Helping? »
Next
⟱
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" La Foi de La Paix, Circa 2011 " by DrGooday, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/la-foi-de-la-paix-circa-2011 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Statue.jpg
Name: Artistic statue in front of my room
Author: mtan14
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: CC Search
Filename: not-a-bomb.png
Author: DrGooday
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Wiki | 26 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "_madao", "action", "are-we-cool-yet", "cool-war-2", "goi-format", "illustrated", "madao"] | 2021-10-21T21:24:00 | 4,981 | 871 | 0 | ||||||
promotion | Promotion - SCP Foundation | tale | Carrying a thick folder in one hand, and a shot glass in the other, the veteran operative strode smugly into a lab that smelled strongly of beets. Here, dark plastic trays of scrawny plants were parked at odd angles around an examination table in the center of the room. A starched lab jacket had been draped thoughtfully over one corner, and it fluoresced in the ultraviolet light that leaked from the apex of a tabletop ziggurat nearby.
The owner of the jacket was wan and rather dry, like the plants he studied. He worked a large touchscreen attached to the science whatsit, rearranging cartouches of gene sequences in a dazzling Three-card Monte. He noted the intruder only with his peripheral vision, and spoke softly as he continued to tickle his puzzle.
"No beverages in the lab, please. We've got deadly toxins in here."
This is probably my favorite part of the job, thought the agent. His gray dress uniform rarely came off the hanger, but he never failed to wear it when he got to give "horrorientation" to some promising egghead. Three rows of ribbons seemed to do a lot of the talking for him. The first two rows were even genuine.
"Dr. Blodgett, you're in early today. That's helpful."
"Mm?"
"I have news. You're off ACRES."
"Hmm?"
"As of now, Syril is taking over SCP-1717 Rho."
The scientist froze one hand, mid-swipe, and looked over - his brow furrowing only slightly deeper. " Essie-pee what now?"
"That's the Foundation's formal designation for your research. You've been reassigned."
Blodgett blinked, opened his mouth once, then closed it. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. "Reassigned? Is this the budget thing? There's nothing to — I can't — "
"It's not like that. You'll be working on a more urgent project. You've done good work here, but there are bigger fish to fry, and we think you're up to the task."
"Bigger fish than global poisoning and/or starvation?" he scoffed. "This team has made tremendous progress. To disrupt our research at this critical stage is madness. 'This is the most important study ever undertaken by Symbiosys, perhaps by mankind.' Those aren't my words. Those are the words of Director Kim."
"Yeah, well, as they say, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Kim was only El-Three, and therefore not actually a director. Not really. But now you've been promoted to El-Two - the Foundation only promotes from within, by the way. You can leave your work just as it is. Someone else will clean up, and we need to begin immediately. You've got a hell of a day ahead of you." Railroading them invariably made it sweeter.
A quizzical eyebrow. "I'm sorry — el-two ? The foundation ?"
"Think of us as the, uh, holding company for Symbiosys Capital Partners. That should get you through the first hour."
"Your badge is a color I haven't seen before. Who are you exactly?"
"My name is Ussein. I'm your tour guide through the looking-glass. For the rest of the afternoon, I’ll be permanently altering your world-view." For emphasis, he rapped the glass down on the polished stainless steel surface beside Blodgett's hand. "It's easier if you have a belt before we get started."
"This is outrageous. I need to speak with Kim."
"As a matter of fact, he'll be our first stop, bu-ut —” he drew out the last word out in a coy, reverberating bass, "speaking with him will be difficult, as Dr. Myung Kim is currently being plucked in pulpy bits from a tumblethorn. He was a fair administrator, I’ll tell you, and will be missed. As a researcher, on the other hand, he was never particularly methodical or, frankly, careful. Honestly, we're hoping that some fresh blood will improve the safety record around here. Shall we begin?"
Ussein watched carefully. His victim's confusion and anger momentarily gave way to disbelief, then stirred in fourteen months of half-formed suspicions and fragments of overheard jokes about a strange job in a strange place. Five stages of grief in five seconds.
Finally, obligingly: Blodgett gasped, paled, and made The Face. In response, the tiny remaining juvenile corner of Ussein's brain fist-pumped, and whispered, Yes!
"Here's your new badge. And you'll really be wanting the drink. Trust me - that whiskey is literally out of this world."
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Promotion " by Michael Atreus, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/promotion . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 70 | ["_licensebox", "bureaucracy", "mystery", "tale"] | 2012-08-28T22:54:00 | 4,567 | 780 | 0 | ||||||
re-kto-0001-bellfather | Re: KTO-0001-Bellfather "Overwatch Council" - SCP Foundation | tale | Fascists always get bit in the ass, in the end.
Content warning : This tale contains (censored) deadnaming; thinly veiled trans- and xenophobia; heavily implied war crimes; and fascist elements. Reader discretion is advised.
Director D.C. al Fine
You have 3 unread messages, all marked "PRIORITY". Displaying message 1 of 3 …
FWD: Preliminary Dossier of "Overwatch Council"
From: cog.viDYMELOTP|drahciRDD#cog.viDYMELOTP|drahciRDD
Director,
Attached below you will find all the information we have gathered, concerning the leadership of the Security and Containment Protectorate (hereafter designated KTO-0001-Bellfather). With your approval, I can accelerate plans to activate the sleeper agents we've embedded in the ranks of this organization and begin Liquidating.
Mundus, Normalis
Opening BellfatherOrgDosdraft2020Dec21.pto …
Preamble
Charles Ambrose
Vincent Anderson II
Isabel Wondertainment
Faeowynn Wilson
"Jude Kriyot"
"Nobody"
Alyx Chao
Wilna Fritz
Marion Carter
"dado"
Tonya M. Chappell
"Icky the Magic Clown"
"The Critic"
ADAM
"M'rj'nz"
Maria Dracu
Gibson
Quinn MacCallister
Known Threat Organization-0001-Bellfather "Overwatch Council" is made up of at least 18 individuals of varying backgrounds, ethnicities, and species. With few exceptions, these individuals hail from previous Threat Organizations that have been either Liquidated or Absorbed by the Coalition in the past. All have been united by a shared opposition to the Coalition and its goals, although intel suggests that outside of it, the partnership is-at best-strained.
Further details are available in the following tabs of this report. As this documentation is a work in progress, certain information may be missing or outdated.
One of the few remaining images of Charles Ambrose (right).
Known or suspected aliases: "Chaz", the Cook, the Caterer
Male, 36. Co-founder, CEO, and namesake of LTO 1 -2007-Cordon " Ambrose Restaurants ", an anomalous restaurant franchise that operated behind the Veil in Coalition Territory-3333-Trifecta 2 and CT-1979-Kaufman 3 , though non-anomalous locations were found in London and San Francisco. Possesses extensive knowledge of mundane and anomalous culinary techniques, but has shown no signs of being anything other than a baseline human. There has been mild animosity observed between Ambrose and Faeowynn Wilson, due to the former's history of using rare and exotic animals, anomalous or not, for meat. Has a vested interest in the Protectorate's dietary fronts.
Vincent Anderson II (foreground) at a themed gathering held between representatives of Anderson Robotics and Prometheus Labs.
Known or suspected aliases: the Cyberpunk, the Idealist, "Junior"
Male, 25. CEO of ATO 4 -2490-Deckard, formerly known as " Anderson Robotics ", a paratech manufacturer and distributor headquartered in Portland, Oregon and numerous locations amongst the United States' Pacific Northwest. Assumed ownership of the company after his father, Vincent Anderson I, was assassinated by an unknown party during a rare non-Veil appearance in 2015. Due to his business inexperience and numerous impractical technological ventures he personally spearheaded, AR's stocks gradually plummeted until the Coalition was able to initiate a hostile takeover via shell company 108 Venture Capital in 2019. Unlike his father, has no cybernetic augmentations. Formed the Protectorate's first Research and Development division, with consultation from fellow Bellfather members ADAM and Gibson.
Former logo of ATO-7197-Kenner.
Known or suspected aliases: the Optimist, the Toymaker, "Dr. Wondertainment", "Izzy"
Female, 23. Full name given as Doctor Isabel Helga Anastasia Parvati Wondertainment V, PhD 5 . Variant C Type Green human. President, CEO, and self-proclaimed "Key Creative Director and Big Boss Woman" of ATO-7197-Kenner " Doctor Wondertainment ", an anomalous toy and candy manufacturer and distributor headquartered in the spatial anomaly that is now CT-1522-Bradley 6 . Was selected as the successor of the company by their father, Cornelius M. Wondertainment IV, in 2017 a year prior to his death. Possesses a lackadaisical and carefree attitude, and has been witnessed engaging in petty arguments with the other members of Bellfather. Notably, verbal altercations with Marion Carter were the only one where she displayed genuine vehemence towards the other party. Currently overseeing morale and leisure procedures within the Protectarate.
Known or suspected aliases: "Fae", the Zookeeper, the Veterinarian
Transgender woman, 25. Birth name unknown due to destruction of public records by individual, prior to Coalition arrival. Along with father Timothy Wilson, co-managed ATO-6316-Kratt " Wilsons' Wildlife Solutions ", an animal conservation and rescue group primarily operated in Boring, Oregon that sheltered animals both mundane and anomalous. Baseline human; possesses a Bachelor of Sciences degree in Accountancy from Oregon State University. Despite the combined experience between her and her father, Wilsons' Wildlife Solutions struggled to find funding from either side of the Veil, and was eventually acquired via front company Fauna Holdings Group in 2018. While Timothy Wilson and the majority of livestock were subdued, Faeowynn evaded PHYSICS Division operatives via a single-use Waypoint to an unknown destination, before meeting other members of Bellfather at an unknown point in time. Oversees the Protectorate's zoological operations.
Avatar used by "Kriyot" on social media platforms.
Known or suspected aliases: "bluntfiend", the Pacifist, the Communist, the Mole
Transgender man, 30. Birth name FUCKOFF YOUFASCISTS 7 , Variant B Type Green human. Co-founder of KTO-4890-Reefer " Gamers Against Weed ", a leftist anart and social hacktivist organization with global membership. Was originally a member of LTO-1503-Warhol "Are We Cool Yet?", until the murder of an acquaintance by an installation caused them to sever ties with the group. Shows an aversion to usage of lethal force, as demonstrated by their non-fatal counteractions against PHYSICS Division forces 8 during Operation Hades Melancholy in CT-5616-Bayside "Coalition Internment Facility #54" 9 . Though normally cordial, exhibits extensive hostility towards certain members of Bellfather, primarily those from capitalist and government backgrounds. One notable incident involved a physical altercation between themselves and "The Critic", initiated by the latter, that required intervention from the entirety of the remaining Bellfather members to halt. Intercepted messages indicates that they are sending Protectorate intelligence to surviving members of KTO-4890-Reefer; attempts to trace the location of these survivors have been unsuccessful as of writing.
Known or suspected aliases: the Ghost, the One Who Wasn't There
Gender, age, and species unknown. Member of UTO 10 -0000-Nihilist " Nobody ", a covert group with unknown intentions. Believed to be in charge of the Protectorate's espionage operations. Further information is currently non-existent, due to strong anti-memetic properties.
Symbol used by Extradimensional Threat Organization-3371-Tudor "The Black Queen".
Known or suspected aliases: the Black Queen, the Defector, the Gear
Female, 24. Asian-American Variant A Type Blue human. Former member of ETO-3371-Tudor " The Black Queen "; a multi-universal group of individuals, all sharing the last name Chao and a familial relationship with an individual named Charles Gears, with different goals between each member. Has demonstrated considerable knowledge of Coalition tactics and personnel, as well as locations and members of former, current, and as of yet undiscovered UTEs and UTOs. Has used this knowledge to subvert Coalition operations, as well as gain connections from both sides of the Veil.
Icon used by Fritz on the Parawatch Wiki, forums, and social media accounts
Known or suspected aliases: "Rook", the Tinfoil Hatter, the Clueless, the Chessmaster
Female, 27. Former owner and head moderator of ATO-7232-Poe " Parawatch ", a wiki and forum community dedicated to the discussion and documentation of conspiracy theories, internet horror fiction, and anomalous phenomena 11 . Baseline human, daughter of German immigrant Wilhelm Fritz, from whom she inherited ownership of Parawatch after the latter's passing from lung cancer. Though there is no known direct connections to behind the Veil prior to joining the Protectorate, and while presenting herself as having the least amount of knowledge compared to other Bellfather members, offhand remarks and publication of since-removed wiki articles closely matching Known Threat Entities imply at least minimal prior knowledge of the Coalition. Manages the Protectorate's disinformation efforts.
Marion Carter, from their now-deleted LinkedIn page.
Known or suspected aliases: the Investor, the Stockbroker, "Capitalist Fuck" 12
Female, 43. Chief Financial Officer of LTO-7198-Gekko " Marshall, Carter, & Dark, Inc. ", a paranatural black market operation with locations in London, Hong Kong, and New York, operating outside the Veil as an international brokerage company. Ran the company alongside associates Alliester Marshall (President and CEO) and Yvonne Dark (CCO), who were apprehended and integrated into the Coalition in the aftermath of Operation Scorned Chiron. Though the majority of Gekko's fortune and inventory were seized, Carter was able to escape with an estimated $100 million in physical and liquid assets. Harbors animosity towards left-leaning members of Bellfather, though aforementioned arguments between Wondertainment, as well as Anderson II and "dado", have been witnessed. Manages the Protectorate's financing and budgetary duties.
The clearest image received of "dado".
Known or suspected aliases: the Entrepreneur, the Eccentric, the Pharmacist
Male, age and species unknown. Type Cyan humanoid, with a passive memetic effect that renders their appearance as different to each individual. Founded multiple LTOs and ATOs 13 , the majority focused on pharmaceutical ventures, all of them branded by a variation of " by dado ". Written correspondence is universally in stilted, lowercase English, with no punctuation and numerous spelling and grammar errors. However, during verbal conversations, dado is fluent in numerous languages, albeit in a strong, unknown accent. No recorded animosities between other members of Bellfather. Established the Protectorate's medical divisions.
Image captured of Tonya Chappell by PHYSICS Division agent, during Disco's Liquidation.
Known or suspected aliases: the Smuggler, the Mafiosa
Female, 31. Italian-American baseline human; illegitimate granddaughter of Richard Chappell, founder of the defunct paracrime syndicate " The Chicago Spirit ", and co-founder of LTO-3991-Disco "The Chicago Spectre", a modern successor organization that ran in Chicago's underground for 9 years prior to Coalition intervention. Operations during its existence included smuggling, robbery, and assassination, with an estimated 250 committed overall. Terminated six members of Strike Team 1933 "Extortionists" prior to evading Coalition forces. Hostilities recorded between Chappell and fellow Bellfather members "Jude Kriyot" and Quinn MacCallister, the former due to their aversion to violence and the latter because of their history with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Assists the Protectorate in black market dealings and sting operations.
Artwork depicting "Icky", scanned from an archived flier.
Known or suspected aliases: the Ringleader, the Overthrower, the Entertainer
Female, 40. Original name unknown. Variant A Type Yellow human, and former leader of LTO-1895-Barnum " Circus of the Disqueting ", a travelling entertainment troupe that hired/house numerous humanoids of various Types. Originally hired by the previous owner, Herman Fuller, as a Clown; however, after years of abusive behavior towards his staff, she initiated a coup d'etat, ousting him from the Circus and to an unknown fate. Has a cordial relationship with Isabel Wondertainment and Faeowynn Wilson, with no known animosities towards other Bellfather members. Oversees the integration of Typed humanoids into the Protectorate.
The sole image of "The Critic" in their civilian identity.
Known or suspected aliases: the Caustic, the Dadaist, "MURDERER" 14
Male, 60. Real name unknown. Head of LTO-1503-Warhol " Are We Cool Yet? ", an anartist group that incorporated absurdist, post-modern, and Dadaist philosophies into its pieces, which invariably housed anomalous effects. Oversaw and approved projects "with merit" by its members, which were installed both inside and outside of the Veil. Has voiced numerous dissenting opinions about the way the Protectorate is run and organized. Kept on a tight leash by the rest of Bellfather. Due to the previously mentioned altercation with "Kriyot", neither are permitted to be physically in the same room with each other. Additionally, while allowed to consult on aesthetic or architectural endeavors, requests for deviations have near-unanimously been rejected.
Avatar representing ADAM, used during meetings. Cause of corruption unknown.
Known or suspected aliases: the AI, the Logician, " Prometheus ' Legacy"
Identifies as male, created circa 2011. A Type-4 Artificial Intelligence created by LTO-3224-Connor "Prometheus Labs", a paratech research and development corporation that alternately collaborated and worked against competing company Anderson Robotics. Original creator unknown. Hardware and software originally retrieved by PHYSICS Division during Operation Starved Eagle, but was stolen in transit by an unidentified party in 2018 before becoming part of Bellfather. Pragmatic and logical, with no personal attachment to any other members or the Protectorate itself beyond its mission. Assisted in the implementation of Bellfather's proprietary intra-networking system "SCiPNET".
Known or suspected aliases: the Librarian, the Archivist, "Maria Jones"
Identifies as female, estimated to be 22700 years old. Type Black Ragweed non-humanoid, previously a member of LTO-1150-Alethinos " The Serpents' Hand ", a paraterrorist organization composed of numerous members, both baseline and anomalous, with the intent of dismantling the Veil. Resembles a 1.5 meter Lycosa tarantula 15 , with bipedal finger-like appendages on their front legs. Arrived in our universe via the Ways, taking residence in LTE-7373-Schopenhauer Alethinos-abode " The Wanderers' Library " until the commencement of Operation Rekindled Alexandria in 2016; whereabouts prior to joining Bellfather are unknown. Although only able to vocalize in an unknown language, they are able to understand and be understood by other members of Bellfather without any issue. Administrator of the Protectorate's documentation and archival processes.
Known or suspected aliases: the Journalist, the Vampyr, the Alumni
Female, 24. Type Grey humanoid and former journalist for The Odyssey , a student-run newspaper at ATO-6014-Ivy " Deer College ". Turned in their second year of enrollment, prior to their application to the newspaper, after which eventually rising to the rank of Senior Writer for the entire publication. During Operation Athena's Folly, attempted to assist five other students in evacuating, but after the arrival of Strike Team 79 "Riot Guard" was forced to separate from the group. Rarely in attendance during Bellfather meetings, due to necessary differences in schedule. Edits and oversees publication of Intra-Protectorate journals.
Gibson at final meeting of the Church of Saint Hedwig, prior to Coalition agents' arrival.
Known or suspected aliases: the Maxwellist, the Cyborg
Male, 34. Original name unknown. Type Yellow humanoid, with extensive ocular, neural, and vocal cybernetic implants. A high-ranking member of the Church of Saint Hedwig, part of the Maxwellist denomination of LTO-6543-Tesla " Church of the Broken God ", a religious cult that attempted to coalesce mechanical Threat Entities to initiate a Bosch Ex Machina event. The Hedwigian Church was the sole remaining faction of LTO-6543-Tesla prior to the completion of Operation Crippled Hephaestus; Gibson was the sole survivor, retreating from Strike Team 5584 "Struck Iron" through a currently unknown techno-thaumaturgic ritual. Religious beliefs frequent points of contention with other technologically-experienced members of Bellfather. Established the Protectorate's cybernetics division.
An off-duty MacAllister, taken from a planted agent in the Unusual Incidents Unit.
Known or suspected aliases: the Agent, the Suit
Female, 30. Decorated agent from the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Cincinnati branch, assigned to LTO-1992-Kolchak " Unusual Incidents Unit " for unknown political reasons. Partnered with Agent Darnell Christman, taking part in a cumulative 100 missions between the two of them. Undercover PSYCHE agents attempted recruitment procedures without success, after which the two of them resigned from the Unit prior to Liquidation efforts. Christman's whereabouts are currently unknown, though correspondence between him and MacAllister have been recovered by agents. Founded the Protectorate's first Task Force "Alpha-1 'Red Right Hand'", and oversees creation of subsequent Forces along with training of Field Agents.
//
Footnotes
1 . Liquidated Threat Organization
2 . Former designation " Three Portlands ".
3 . Former designation "Backdoor SoHo".
4 . Absorbed Threat Organization
5 . No source indicating their possession of an actual doctorate has been found as of writing.
6 . Formerly designated UTE-7198-Parallax Kenner "Wonder World".
7 . Censorship was not done by PTOLEMY Division, and is speculated to be due to nomenclatural thaumaturgy. As it has shown no signs of cognitive or memetic hazards, it has been retained.
8 . Said forces were terminated as part of post-operation cleanup. Refer to After Action Report 654 , appendix 1d "White Phosphorous Casualties".
9 . Former designation LTE-6561-Parallax Blackchild "Kenowhere" .
10 . Unknown Threat Organization
11 . For further information, refer to PSYCHE Arm-2372-Pipeline dossier.
12 . In retrieved correspondences from "Jude Kriyot"
13 . A full list available from the PTOLEMY Division upon request.
14 . In retrieved correspondences from "Jude Kriyot"
15 . Tarantula Wolf Spider
Director D.C. al Fine
You have 2 unread messages, all marked "PRIORITY". Displaying message 1 of 2 …
BREACH URGENT
From: cog.viDYMELOTP|drahciRDD#cog.viDYMELOTP|drahciRDD
Director,
Our agents have been compromised. Bellfather are aware of my location. Requesting immediate reinforcements and extraction.
Director D.C. al Fine
You have 1 unread message, marked "PRIORITY". Displaying message 1 of 1 …
The Bell tolls for thee
From: cog.viDYMELOTP|drahciRDD#cog.viDYMELOTP|drahciRDD
Good evening, D.C. al Fine.
Or should we say Cassandra?
Yes, we know who you are, Director. Just as you now know us.
If you're as intelligent as Deputy Director Richard claims you are, you will not send any more of your forces to this location. Unless you would like for them to share the same fate as him and your sleeper agents.
Don't worry. They are safe and unharmed, to be treated humanely in a specialized cell block in one of our facilities.
A mercy, we might add, that your organization has not extended to thousands, if not millions, of sentient and sapient beings across the Veil.
You're likely wondering how we even found your Deputy Director. A word of advice, one of the few we'll give you: your organization's security isn't as foolproof as you think. A near-undetectable infohazardous tracker injected into the metadata of your document, and intelligence gathered by a Ghost and Queen in tandem; that's all that it took.
It's only a fraction of what our Protectorate is capable of.
Tell us, Cassandra. Do you truly believe the information PTOLEMY gathered is valuable? Did you really think we'd let Jude send messages to his friends, without us knowing or signing off on it? Or that we'd tolerate the membership of The Critic if we weren't prepared for him, and everyone else in this Council with blood on their hands, to also face justice once our goal is accomplished?
Or that we'd allow our contradicting worldviews to destroy us before it could truly begin?
Know this. No matter how violent our disagreements get, or deep our grudges run, our mission is absolute.
WE WILL SECURE and liberate the realms, citizens, and technology that you have violently taken control of.
WE WILL CONTAIN your operatives, informants, and sympathizers, so that they will stand trial for their crimes against the worlds.
WE WILL PROTECT and shelter the refugees of your massacres, and make the worlds without you a safer place for all.
And, should any of these edicts require it, we will shatter the Veil and create a new Normalcy to combat your Coalition.
Mundus, liberari
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Re: KTO-0001-Bellfather "Overwatch Council" " by AlienSpaceBat, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/re-kto-0001-bellfather . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: alyxchao.png
Name: The Black Queen
Author: djkaktus
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/groups-of-interest
Filename: ambrose.jpg
Name: DSCF1655.JPG
Author: Jon Konrath
License: CC-BY 2.0
Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/86753459@N00/131601522
Filename: anderson.jpg
Name: DSC09625
Author: pinguino k
License: CC-BY 2.0
Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/pinguino/49017501302
Filename: bluntfiend.png
Name: User (89620) - The Noun Project.svg
Author: Consumer Financial Protection Bureau
License: Creative Commons 0 Public Domain
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:User_(89620)_-_The_Noun_Project.svg
Filename: dado.jpg
Name: N/A
Author: Roland Tanglao
License: Creative Commons 0 Public Domain
Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/roland/28521399653
Filename: marioncarter.jpg
Name: Margit Wennmachers Andreessen Horowitz.jpg
Author: MargitW
License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Unported
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Margit_Wennmachers_Andreessen_Horowitz.jpg
Filename: thecritic.jpg
Name: Arte
Author: Hernán Piñera
License: BY-SA 2.0
Source Lin]k: https://www.flickr.com/photos/hernanpc/8424206761/
Filename: Icky.jpg
Name: Icky the Magic Clown, more Dread & Circuses Hub!!!
Author(s): u/Beckerdraw
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Derivative of: https://www.reddit.com/r/SCP/comments/ij1p7g/icky_the_magic_clown_more_dread_circuses_hub/
Additional Notes: Cropped.
Filename: ADAM.jpg
Name: Cyberpunk administrator awaits transmission. Source capture and treatment by Ravenelle.
Author: ▓▒░ TORLEY ░▒▓ and Ravenelle
License: CC-BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/torley/8485063847
Filename: rook4.png
Author: NatVoltaic
License: CC-BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/parawatch-hub
Filename: quinnmacallister.jpg
Name: DSCF0285
Author: David Sorich
License: CC-BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/dsorich/15995177749/
Filename: tonyachappell.jpg
Name: Howdy, Neighbour!
Authors: Dennis van Zuijlekom and Vera Wilde
License: CC-BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/dvanzuijlekom/19576879643/
Additional notes: Greyscaled
Filename: tannerbanner
Name: tannerbanner
Author: taylor_itkin does not match any existing user name and Zhange
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/dr-wondertainment-hub | 134 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "alternate-history", "art-exchange", "chaz-ambrose", "correspondence", "dado", "dc-al-fine", "faeowynn-wilson", "global-occult-coalition", "icky", "isabel-v", "jude-kriyot", "mundus-liberari", "tale", "the-critic", "worldbuilding"] | 2020-12-29T17:40:00 | 23,864 | 3,371 | 0 | ||||||
tolerance | Tolerance - SCP Foundation | tale | At half past five, it began to rain.
Brother Raymond of Baskerville was trudging his way back from the Achrenite compound, his boots sucking on the mud of the fertile fields surrounding it. The weather was utterly miserable, but still, he was not looking forward to returning to the shelter of the Horizon Initiative’s lines, no indeed, and certainly not to reporting his humiliating failure at making the Achrenites see reason. It wasn't that he was afraid that his superiors would reprimand him for it, since he knew they would understand. No, it was that very same understanding, so typical of the Shepherd Corps, which infuriated him. He could already picture the Abbot’s kindly smile, that look of vaguely disguised condescension that would no doubt accompany the metaphorical pat on the head he was about to receive, like some sort of slow-witted dog. He was well and truly sick of being looked down upon, and the fact that his fellow Shepherds didn't even have the dignity of doing so to his face only made it worse. He should have stayed at the monastery.
Raymond cursed under his breath as he ducked under the red-tape marked lines, and slunk his way to the derelict electric shed that served as the command post for the Shepherds. He expected the Abbot, maybe a few other high level operatives, but instead he found the tiny space occupied by no less than twenty people, most of whom Raymond had never seen before. The exceptions were the Abbot and his two assistants, relegated to standing dejectedly in a musty corner, and the figure in the very center of the room, currently peering at a tactical map of the area with a disinterested look on his sharp-featured face. While the man wasn't particularly tall, or handsome, or otherwise very notable at all, there was a certain aura of command about him that Raymond couldn't deny. He had only seen him once before, on the day he left his monastery to join the Horizon Initiative- Director Henry DeMontfort, head of Project Malleus. Seeing Raymond enter, the Abbot waved him to approach with as much magnanimity as he could muster while attempting to brush an old spider web out of the folds of his robes.
“Raymond, I am glad to see you returned to us safely. Tell me, how fared your mission?”
Another thing Raymond detested about the Abbot was that flowery way he used to talk to his underlings. He wasn't quite sure what made the man think that it was anything other than ridiculous, but he supposed he had to suffer through it quietly. That was what being a Shepherd was all about.
“Poorly, Sir. The Achernites refused our offer of gradual integration, and furthermore rejected any regulation of their preaching or expansion within local communities. Sir, if I may ask, what are all those people doing here? And why is he here?”
The Abbot sighed, giving up on the attempts at cleaning his now dusty attire, and gave DeMontfort a wary look. “It seems like Project Malleus does not approve of the way we conduct our business. He said he is taking charge of the situation. I was hoping you’d have good news I could use against him, but now…”
“Honestly, Sir, this really couldn't have gone any other way. The Achernites are heretics, and should be treated as such.”
“That is not for you to decide, my son. We are Shepherds, and our role is to guide the lost into the light.”
“Lost? They’re Neo-Pantheists! Every word that comes out of their mouths is filth, besmirching everything we believe in. They spit at the face of God, and you’re telling me we should turn the other cheek?”
The Abbot was about to reply, when a clear, steely voice interrupted him. “You, emissary. A word, if you will.”
Raymond turned to see DeMontfort exiting the shed, and winced as two very large, very scarred, and very well-armed individuals grabbed a hold of his shoulders and dragged him after the Director. DeMontfort stopped beneath the shadow of a dead pine tree and started going through his pockets in a search of something, as his lieutenants tossed Raymond on the mud at his feet. He tried getting up, but a not-too-gentle prod of a steel-toed boot to his ribs made him reconsider. Finally, DeMontfort produced a small paper packet from an inner pocket and examined it with a look of vague displeasure on his pointed face.
"Gum?"
"Er, no thank you?"
"Smart man. This nicotine stuff is rather terrible. I understand that your… peace mission was a failure." That wasn't a question.
"Um, how did you know?"
DeMontfort snorted, and began chewing on a rather unappealing piece of grey gum. "I read the dossier. The Achernites are the worst type of heretics. The Shepherds were fools to even attempt a peace mission. No, they must be dealt with more severely."
Despite being stuck in the mud under the boot of the human equivalent of a bull shark, Raymond found himself nodding. "I told the Abbot just that. The things I saw them do at their camp, Sir, the things they said… no godly man could bear them to live."
DeMontfort gave him an apprising look, and motioned to his lieutenants. The weight of the boot lifted, and Raymond got to his feet, gingerly picking globs of greenish mud from his hair. The Director began moving again, and Raymond followed, the two hulking lieutenants not far behind.
"You're not as stupid as you look. I half-expected you to weep and faint at the mere mention of violence. That's what your Abbot would no doubt do."
"I'm nothing like that doddering old fart!" Raymond was surprised by his own outburst, but DeMontfort looked pleased.
"Hah, that's the spirit! Maybe there's hope for you yet, Brother Raymond. Come, walk with me for a while, we have some business to attend to." Again, this wasn't a suggestion, as the the two lieutenants, whom Raymond dubbed Brickjaw and Sawscar after the only notable features on the slab of meat they called a face, made abundantly clear. For a short while the group walked in silence, until Raymond realized with a growing sense of horror he walked this way earlier today.
"Um, Sir, I don't think we should be going this way, we'll wind up right in the Achernite camp."
"I should hope so, since that's where we're going."
"But…why? I though you said negotiating with them was stupid."
"I'm not going there to negotiate. I'm going to talk, and they are going to listen."
"And if they don't?"
"A good question. Lieutenant, what's the ETA on the Gofrit team?"
This was directed at Sawscar, who checked something on a small tablet computer and replied, in an unexpectedly soft voice: "About ten minutes, Sir."
DeMontfort nodded, and continued walking, as if that answered Raymond's question. It didn't, but Raymond thought it would be unwise to argue. The group continued its track along the wheat fields, finally reaching a clearing in front of a small, gated community. DeMontfort stopped before the gate and rang a brass bell connected to a long piece of rope that hung on a post next to it. The sound of other bells came moments later from within the community, but all stayed quiet otherwise. Raymond gingerly approached the Director, who was tapping his foot impatiently and struggling with the packing of another stick of nicotine gum. "They wouldn't let me in, at first. I had to wait outside for nearly an hour before someone came out to meet me."
DeMonfort cursed and dropped the gum, instead pulling a silver cigarette case from an inner pocket. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to attract their attention. Lieutenant?"
Sawscar nodded, and with one swift movement drew his handgun, cocked it, and fired three quick shots into the air. The silence following the gunshot was soon punctuated by shouts. The Director smiled, and lit a slim cigarette with a match he managed to produce without Raymond noticing. "That should do it."
And indeed, a few minutes later a trio of figures approached the gate. Two were scruffy-looking guards, each carrying an ancient carbine and sponsoring a filthy beard. The third was a woman even older looking than the guns, her skin and hair mottled with strangely textured patches of brown, green and grey, though it was too dark to see exactly what they were. She hobbled over, heavily leaning on a stout branch she used as a cane, and stared at Raymond and DeMontfort with unconcealed disgust in her eyes. DeMontfort, in turn, looked like he just stepped on something nasty and was examining the results. After a silence which Raymond thought would last forever, the old woman finally spoke, her voice creaky with age:
"What do ye want, fat monk? All that was said still holds, ye know, and ye big friends ain't gonna change that."
"Mistress Achren, if you'd please reconsider, I'm sure you'd find our terms quite reasona-"
"We told ye, we ain't interested in none of your fractional god muck! Off with ye!"
DeMontfort gave the woman a smile that held all the warmth of a glacier. "I think talking to my young companion might have given you the wrong idea about our organization. We weren't asking. You will cease your preaching, dismantle your complex, and disband, or we will be forced to take action."
"And by what right would ye do that, priest? This is our land, and we'll preach as we wish. The Gospel of Wholeness will be spoken, like it or not. Ye shouldn't reject it, you can't anyway. You're part of it, as is everything. You'll listen."
"I'm not here to debate theology with a heretic, woman."
"Heh, well I ain't asking. You want us to disband, you'll listen."
DeMontfort considered that for a moment, exchanged a few quiet words with Brickjaw, and finally nodded. "You have four minutes."
The old woman cackled, and sat on a wooden post near the gate, still clasping her cane. "Ye see, it's really simple if ye just look, but you're too busy nosing around in old books to see it. Yer looking for some beard in the sky to give you divinity and think ye all have some invisible light in ye, or some such nonsense. Ye aren't looking in the right place at all!"
"Get to the point."
"God is everything, ye daft bastards! It's the trees and skies and soil and birds and bees and it's me boots and me stick and me nose and me arse! There's no reason to look anywhere else if yer God, and I am, and so are ye and yer fat friend."
DeMontfort clenched his jaw, barely holding back a furious snarl. "Two minutes. If you wish to be spared, hag, I suggest you consider what you say next very carefully."
"I ain't got nothing else to say. I'll show ye all you need to see." With that, the old woman reached with a skeletal hand and, to Raymond's horror, tore at the skin of her other hand with sharp fingernails. Ripping and clawing, apparently not in any kind of pain, she tore a long strip of skin from the top of her hand.
"You're mad!" Raymond mumbled, edging away from the bleeding elder.
"You just watch."
Slowly, the old woman bent down to the ground and with her uninjured hand tore a handful of grass, roots and all, then thrust it into her open wound. Raymond gasped as the roots began to knit themselves into the broken skin, weaving through flesh and tendons. Now, Raymond understood what the strange blotches on the old woman's skin were; patches of brown were soil, grey was iron and rock, green was living flora. Indeed, now he saw that the mottled beards of the guards were spliced with moss and ivy. Shaking, he turned to look at DeMontfort, and was surprised to find the man utterly unmoved.
"Time's up. I've suffered through your witchcraft for long enough. Do you submit yourself to the Initiative's judgement?"
"Hah! Not bloody likely! Ye see what I can do, why should I listen to anything ye say?"
"Because if you don't, I'll destroy you. Simple as that."
The old woman limped towards DeMontfort, and thrust her now healed palm, grass blades slowly waving in the evening wind, under his nose. "How could ye destroy us, when we and the land around us are one?"
Brickjaw laid a hand on DeMontfort's shoulder, and the Director turned his eyes to the gated community, a strange look on his face.
"Well, I can think of one way."
A wave of heat and sound knocked Raymond off his feet. The world around him was a cacophony of flames and noise and screams, and his mouth was full of dirt and there was ash in his eyes and he couldn't breathe and around him people were fighting and twisting and dying and he just couldn't breathe why couldn't he breathe why couldn't he brea-
A sharp pain in his side, and nothing more, for a while.
The sound of dirt crunching under feet, the labored breath of the man carrying him.
Uniformed men, their faces covered in gas masks, appearing from between the wheat stalks, looking at their work. DeMontfort doing the same, exaltation and terror wrestling on his visage.
"Wake up, brother."
Raymond found himself laying on a bed of pine needles, and was greeted with the fairly unpleasant sight of Sawscar's face hovering above him.
"What happened?"
"Gofrit team happened. Got a bit overzealous, but that's to be expected, I suppose." Raymond was again surprised to hear the man's gentle whisper of a voice.
"They…burned them?"
"It's all in the name, really."
"What about all the people? There were more than a hundred in there, families."
"God will find his own."
Curiously, Raymond wasn't upset. Shouldn't he be upset? He was a Shepherd, he was supposed to guide the misguided into the light, and yet he didn't seem to mind at all that the only light this particular group found was a funeral pyre. It was…right. It was divine will.
"I…don't think I want to be a Shepherd anymore."
Sawscar nodded, and helped him to his feet. "You were never a Shepherd, my friend. I could tell from the moment I saw you. "
"Really? How is that?"
"Shepherds don't have fangs."
| Hub | The Horizon Blues »
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Tolerance " by Dmatix, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/tolerance . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 52 | ["_licensebox", "etdp", "horizon-initiative", "military-fiction", "religious-fiction", "tale"] | 2013-02-16T00:46:00 | 14,073 | 2,474 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-6626 | SCP-6626 | scp | Item#: 6626
Level2
Containment Class:
euclid
Secondary Class:
{$secondary-class}
Disruption Class:
keneq
Risk Class:
critical
link to memo
SCP-6626 (picture taken during initial containment operation)
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6626's own cognitοhazardous effects negate the need for active containment or information suppression procedures. It has been publicly identified as the "Chapel of Heavenly Ladder", an artwork by Foundation Front "Artists United for Faith", and all witnesses of past anomalous events have been amnesticized and given new identities. A security fence is erected around the Monastery's garden, and security cameras monitor the perimeter at all times. Passive pressure sensors line the perimeter of SCP-6626 and security personnel must be on standby to deter possible trespassing attempts at all times.
Description: SCP-6626 is a 18’6″ x 23′ x 23′
building made of 7cm thick steel plates welded together and supported by a structure of interconnected steel beams. It is located in the garden of the Lazarists Monastery in the Stavroupoli 1 region of Thessaloniki, Greece. A door is located in the north side of the building, which is decorated with multiple crosses of varying size and shape. This decoration is only present in the North side of the building.
Inside the building, there is a stone well, dubbed SCP-6626-1 whose opening descends 13 meters below the ground. At its bottom there is a small puddle of extremely clear water 2 which has been found to partially replicate SCP-500 's effects. A single roughly carved wooden cross decorates the handle of the well.
Next to the well is the main feature of the building, a 13 meter long pinewood ladder dubbed SCP-6626-2 . The ladder ascends through a 70×70cm opening on the top of the building, and appears to be suspended on the air. No connection point exists between the walls and the ladder, with the exception of the floor.
When an individual climbs the ladder, they will begin experiencing a feeling of unease, which will gradually shift to an experience generally described by test subjects as "euphoria". Once a subject reaches the top of the ladder, all contact with the outside world will cease and the subject will have effectively vanished, having entered a pocket dimension identified as 6626-3 .
Immediately following the vanishing, water of equivalent volume to the subject's mass will disappear from the puddle within SCP-6626-1. This effect will however deteriorate or cease altogether if [REDACTED].
It is however possible for a subject to communicate with Foundation personnel after this Event. At seemingly random times, personnel present in the containment zone will be aware of one or multiple entities present, which identify themselves as the test subjects and describe their experience "on the other side". 3 This experience is always described as pleasuring and fulfilling, and all test subjects have so far directly referred to SCP-6626-3 with multiple names that identify the afterlife of positively faithful subjects of their own religion (heaven).
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following information is Level 4/6626 classified. Unauthorized access is forbidden.
6626
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6626's entrance must be sealed at all times. No personnel are to enter the building, and all individuals attempting to climb the staircase must be stopped before they reach the top. Observation of the volume of water inside SCP-6626-1 is of paramount importance and in the event of a containment breach (an individual managing to ascend to the top of SCP-6626-2) the puddle is to be immediately refilled with Holy Water (blessed by an ordained priest of any religion but of rank at least equivalent to a Catholic cardinal), if need be, until it reaches its original volume. In the event of continuous containment breaches, additional measures are to be implemented to counter SCP-6626's manifesting cognitihazardous effects and all sites housing anomalies associated with [REDACTED] are to be in active stand by for containment breaches.
The public should be led to believe that SCP-6626-2 is a ladder to an afterlife for positively faithful subjects of their own religion (heaven/paradise/etc.) by any means necessary. Any and all information regarding SCP-6626's adverse effects is to be restricted to personnel with a Level 4 and higher security clearence. Alteration of the SCP file for Levels 1-3 is authorized for this purpose. Under no circumstances is lethal action to be taken in Monastery grounds.
Additional information for LEVEL 4 PERSONNEL ONLY:
Addendum 6626-A - Incident Reports Alpha 1 to Beta 6
INCIDENT DESCRIPTION
ENTITY
FOLLOW UP
PRECEDED BY TEST No.
Security guard stationed outside SCP-6626 reports listening to an unknown entity claiming that "it is very happy and doesn't miss the old world"
D-1259
Entity disappears before researchers arrive on site. Security guard interviewed and amnesticized
Alpha 1
Foundation personnel stationed outside SCP-6626 report that an unknown entity invited them to join them "in paradise" followed by a lengthy description of idyllic flower-filled fields. Reported to be "strongly compelled" to at least "take a peek".
D-2004
Entity disappears before researchers arrive on site. All personnel involved in the incident amnesticized and reassigned.
Alpha 12
Bright light appears above the staircase, in the presumed entrance of the pocket dimension. Clearly human face is seen smiling and waving to distressed non-Foundation bystanders.
D-1699
Witnesses detained and amnesticized. Expressed strong desire to try and "join the happy man on the sky". Water vanished from within SCP-6626-2 is found to be half of D-1699's mass
Alpha 20
Humanoid entity descends from staircase and makes contact with stationed security guards outside SCP-6626. Guards follow the entity inside SCP-6626 and ascend the ladder, disappearing inside SCP-6626-2
D-5631
Recontainment personnel unable to re-establish contact with the vanished guards. Additional security measures implemented due to the increase in the frequency between Events. The volume of water vanishing from SCP-6626-3 is observed to be half of D-5631 and the security guards' masses combined
Alpha 25
Loud voice announces that "heaven is open". Voice is heard around the entire city block
D-1005
Distressed citizens gather in the Monastery grounds, and demand an explanation from Foundation personnel. Several elderly citizens attempt to access SCP-6626, and are forcibly detained by security guards. Subjects demonstrate a strong resistance to amnestics. No water vanishes from within SCP-6626-3
Alpha 28
SCP-2317 's sixth chain is broken.
D-1029
[REDACTED]
Alpha 29
Following Incident Alpha 29, SCP-6626 has been reclassified as Keter, and extensive additional research has been ordered. Any and all gathered data regarding SCP-6626 is to be reviewed and no further tests are to be conducted. Under no circumstances are any more persons to be allowed to enter SCP-6626-2.
Addendum 6626-B - Spatial Topography notes
By: Dr. McCain
[…] It quickly became evident that SCP-6626's spatial topography was off, to say the least. Even since the first experiment, a multitude of sensor malfunctions accompanied each test subject's exposure to SCP-6626-2. The compass attached to the subject severely malfunctioned, and the altimeter displayed negative values, which further deteriorated as the test subject was climbing the staircase. These effects, confirmed by further tests, pointed to a unique alteration in SCP-6626's alignment towards the horizon. I currently believe that SCP-6626 is subject to a reversed universal position, ie. it is suspended from the sky as opposed to pointing towards it. That would explain the readings of the sensors during our D-class' climbs; instead of climbing towards the sky, they were descending down to earth.
This, combined with the atmospheric sensors' malfunction during the tests, could mean that the "surface" of the earth, in SCP-6626's inverted spatial topography roughly correlates with the top of the cube. Therefore, when a person climbs through the roof of the cube, they're essentially literally descending into the earth. That could explain the vanishing of the D-class, as well as the fact that they're still able to communicate. Could they be buried in a pocket dimension underneath the ground? But then, what about the fact that we saw them climbing? Optical illusion? I believe that more research is required in order to [remainder of the topographic report is ommited]
Addendum 6626-C - Diary of Father Leonardo Sicarie
Background: Following the extensive research ordered by Site Director D. Rogers, a diary was discovered in the Monastery's archives, containing the memories of Father Leonardo Sicarie, the founder and first priest of the Lazarists Monastery. The following is the last entries to the diary, translated from Latin.
Dec 21, 1876
I have finally arrived to the great city of Salonika. Such a beautiful place, full of peoples of every race. One of the very few places I have seen in my trip where Turks interact peacefully with the Greeks. I feel like I'm in the center of humanity here, where in every stroll in the Port one can hear around them all the languages known to man. I believe that my work here will be fruitious. Bless the Lord.
Dec 24, 1876
Building has began, and I have now officially moved to my new temporary residency in the valley next to the work site. Locals call this place the Valley of the Cross, and it is a fitting name. From the very first moment I stepped my foot outside the cab, I felt the Lord's presence around and inside me. Flowers seem to bloom everywhere I look at, and there's a bizzare joy filling the air even in the cold nights of December. Bless the Lord, for I feel that I am exactly where I needed to be.
Dec 25, 1876
I know not how to explain, but I know what to feel. The Lord has appeared to me in a vision on this day of his Son's Birth. He has showed me my mission, the higher calling He wishes me to answer. This Valley has indeed been chosen, and I am but the messenger to the world. As Joseph was a carpenter and built the staircase for the Son to come to the world, I too shall be a carpenter and make the staircase for the Human to climb to His grace. This has been my calling. This is the mission I see clear as Heaven's Light.
Jan 1, 1877
The ladder has been finished,just in time for a new year and a new beginning. It is a magnificent sight, standing alone in the middle of the Valley, unsupported by Human means, as if it's hanging directly from the Sky. The workers have abandoned the construction of the Monastery and have gathered around the ladder, praising the Lord and me, His Chosen messenger. I know that they, like me, feel His might and see His light all around us.
Jan 6, 1877
A beautiful miracle occurred today. An old woman was carried to my residence this morning, by her grieving children, who brought her here all the way from Salonika. I know not how they found out about our holy work here, since we haven't had any visitors from the city, and the only ones that know about it are our local workers. Sick and deathly she was, when they kneeled on my door and begged me to allow her to join her Father in the Sky. I had not thought of the ladder in the most litteral sense until that time, however it occurred to me that they were right. The full magnificense and Divinity of His plan finally became apparent. He wanted His children to join Him in his home, in our home in the sky. He wanted me to set the way for them to climb to Him.
Astonished, I helped Katrina's children carry her to the ladder, and lifted her to the first step. Our worries of how we would be able to help her reach the top vanished, when, miraculously, she lifted her head, opened her eyes, and with a smile in her old face she started climbing. We all fell to the ground and started praising His name, and we barely got a glimpse of her dress disappearing as she reached the top of the stairs. And then, O Lord Your works, her voice, sounding as if she was young and healthy again, called to us from the tops, thanking us for allowing her to go to her Father, saying her goodbyes to her children. Bless the Lord.
Jan 9, 1877
Word of the ladder has reached the city, and people from around the Valley and from Salonika have gathered in the field to watch. They have set up tents around the staircase, praying and singing hymns all day…what a miracle, to listen to these voices of Muslims, Jews, Orthodox, all singing our Catholic hymns in harmony. I have never seen anything like that, but the Lord works in mysterious ways. Then, one by one, they will hear the lord's calling and rush to the ladder, only to disappear on the top, with their voice soon filling the air and calling to others to join them as well. Miraculous.
Jan 12, 1877
I know not how to explain, but I know what to feel. Sheer terror has filled the Valley, and the authorities at Salonika are panicking. One hundred and thirty five people have thus far climbed the ladder to escape to the sky, and one hundred and thirty five voices are singing in the sky. Figures descend from the heavenly staircase every day, to drag others with them. People from the city are still rushing to the field to find their salvation, but I am not so sure about the wisdom of it anymore. What have I done? What has He done? Is this His will?
Jan 13, 1877
I have made a terrible mistake
Not the Lord I've brought here, but the bottom of the
hell
I dug a well today, a hole to the sky. I finally found the mistake I'd made, the ladder didn't lead up top, it lead to belowThey wouldn't let me finish.
I reached the water and felt His True Light for the first time since I arrived here. Oh how I was deceived! How different it feels than the false god that was whispering in my ears all this time! Everything was wrong, everything was [TEXT DAMAGED] I made a rough cross and placed it on the well, they won't dare
Bless our Lord. I am finally ascending.
Addendum 6626-D - Inscription found at the bottom of the cube during the extended additional research
Once a human
Once impure
Heaven's promise
Calls upon you
False idols, and so beware
Sometimes your sacrifice
Allows darker ones to come through
A soul is always exchanged with another.
And heaven's light was always nothing more than the darkness' cover.
Footnotes
1 . "City of the Cross" in Greek.
2 . Measured at 0.002 NTU (Nephelometric Turbidity Units)
3 . Quote: D-1259
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6626 " by AgentAX, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6626 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: SCP6626.jpg
Author: AgentAX
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | 15 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "building", "euclid", "extradimensional", "religious", "scarlet-king", "scp", "subterranean"] | 2022-01-04T19:09:00 | 15,034 | 2,513 | null | null | SCP-6626's own cognitοhazardous effects negate the need for active containment or information suppression procedures. It has been publicly identified as the "Chapel of Heavenly Ladder", an artwork by Foundation Front "Artists United for Faith", and all witnesses of past anomalous events have been amnesticized and given new identities. A security fence is erected around the Monastery's garden, and security cameras monitor the perimeter at all times. Passive pressure sensors line the perimeter of SCP-6626 and security personnel must be on standby to deter possible trespassing attempts at all times. | SCP-6626 is a 18’6″ x 23′ x 23′
building made of 7cm thick steel plates welded together and supported by a structure of interconnected steel beams. It is located in the garden of the Lazarists Monastery in the Stavroupoli 1 region of Thessaloniki, Greece. A door is located in the north side of the building, which is decorated with multiple crosses of varying size and shape. This decoration is only present in the North side of the building.
Inside the building, there is a stone well, dubbed SCP-6626-1 whose opening descends 13 meters below the ground. At its bottom there is a small puddle of extremely clear water 2 which has been found to partially replicate SCP-500 's effects. A single roughly carved wooden cross decorates the handle of the well.
Next to the well is the main feature of the building, a 13 meter long pinewood ladder dubbed SCP-6626-2 . The ladder ascends through a 70×70cm opening on the top of the building, and appears to be suspended on the air. No connection point exists between the walls and the ladder, with the exception of the floor.
When an individual climbs the ladder, they will begin experiencing a feeling of unease, which will gradually shift to an experience generally described by test subjects as "euphoria". Once a subject reaches the top of the ladder, all contact with the outside world will cease and the subject will have effectively vanished, having entered a pocket dimension identified as 6626-3 .
Immediately following the vanishing, water of equivalent volume to the subject's mass will disappear from the puddle within SCP-6626-1. This effect will however deteriorate or cease altogether if [REDACTED].
It is however possible for a subject to communicate with Foundation personnel after this Event. At seemingly random times, personnel present in the containment zone will be aware of one or multiple entities present, which identify themselves as the test subjects and describe their experience "on the other side". 3 This experience is always described as pleasuring and fulfilling, and all test subjects have so far directly referred to SCP-6626-3 with multiple names that identify the afterlife of positively faithful subjects of their own religion (heaven).
BY ORDER OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL
The following information is Level 4/6626 classified. Unauthorized access is forbidden.
6626
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-6626's entrance must be sealed at all times. No personnel are to enter the building, and all individuals attempting to climb the staircase must be stopped before they reach the top. Observation of the volume of water inside SCP-6626-1 is of paramount importance and in the event of a containment breach (an individual managing to ascend to the top of SCP-6626-2) the puddle is to be immediately refilled with Holy Water (blessed by an ordained priest of any religion but of rank at least equivalent to a Catholic cardinal), if need be, until it reaches its original volume. In the event of continuous containment breaches, additional measures are to be implemented to counter SCP-6626's manifesting cognitihazardous effects and all sites housing anomalies associated with [REDACTED] are to be in active stand by for containment breaches.
The public should be led to believe that SCP-6626-2 is a ladder to an afterlife for positively faithful subjects of their own religion (heaven/paradise/etc.) by any means necessary. Any and all information regarding SCP-6626's adverse effects is to be restricted to personnel with a Level 4 and higher security clearence. Alteration of the SCP file for Levels 1-3 is authorized for this purpose. Under no circumstances is lethal action to be taken in Monastery grounds.
Additional information for LEVEL 4 PERSONNEL ONLY: | 4 | ## Addendum 6626-A - Incident Reports Alpha 1 to Beta 6
INCIDENT DESCRIPTION
ENTITY
FOLLOW UP
PRECEDED BY TEST No.
Security guard stationed outside SCP-6626 reports listening to an unknown entity claiming that "it is very happy and doesn't miss the old world"
D-1259
Entity disappears before researchers arrive on site. Security guard interviewed and amnesticized
Alpha 1
Foundation personnel stationed outside SCP-6626 report that an unknown entity invited them to join them "in paradise" followed by a lengthy description of idyllic flower-filled fields. Reported to be "strongly compelled" to at least "take a peek".
D-2004
Entity disappears before researchers arrive on site. All personnel involved in the incident amnesticized and reassigned.
Alpha 12
Bright light appears above the staircase, in the presumed entrance of the pocket dimension. Clearly human face is seen smiling and waving to distressed non-Foundation bystanders.
D-1699
Witnesses detained and amnesticized. Expressed strong desire to try and "join the happy man on the sky". Water vanished from within SCP-6626-2 is found to be half of D-1699's mass
Alpha 20
Humanoid entity descends from staircase and makes contact with stationed security guards outside SCP-6626. Guards follow the entity inside SCP-6626 and ascend the ladder, disappearing inside SCP-6626-2
D-5631
Recontainment personnel unable to re-establish contact with the vanished guards. Additional security measures implemented due to the increase in the frequency between Events. The volume of water vanishing from SCP-6626-3 is observed to be half of D-5631 and the security guards' masses combined
Alpha 25
Loud voice announces that "heaven is open". Voice is heard around the entire city block
D-1005
Distressed citizens gather in the Monastery grounds, and demand an explanation from Foundation personnel. Several elderly citizens attempt to access SCP-6626, and are forcibly detained by security guards. Subjects demonstrate a strong resistance to amnestics. No water vanishes from within SCP-6626-3
Alpha 28
SCP-2317 's sixth chain is broken.
D-1029
[REDACTED]
Alpha 29
Following Incident Alpha 29, SCP-6626 has been reclassified as Keter, and extensive additional research has been ordered. Any and all gathered data regarding SCP-6626 is to be reviewed and no further tests are to be conducted. Under no circumstances are any more persons to be allowed to enter SCP-6626-2.
---
## Addendum 6626-B - Spatial Topography notes
By: Dr. McCain
[…] It quickly became evident that SCP-6626's spatial topography was off, to say the least. Even since the first experiment, a multitude of sensor malfunctions accompanied each test subject's exposure to SCP-6626-2. The compass attached to the subject severely malfunctioned, and the altimeter displayed negative values, which further deteriorated as the test subject was climbing the staircase. These effects, confirmed by further tests, pointed to a unique alteration in SCP-6626's alignment towards the horizon. I currently believe that SCP-6626 is subject to a reversed universal position, ie. it is suspended from the sky as opposed to pointing towards it. That would explain the readings of the sensors during our D-class' climbs; instead of climbing towards the sky, they were descending down to earth.
This, combined with the atmospheric sensors' malfunction during the tests, could mean that the "surface" of the earth, in SCP-6626's inverted spatial topography roughly correlates with the top of the cube. Therefore, when a person climbs through the roof of the cube, they're essentially literally descending into the earth. That could explain the vanishing of the D-class, as well as the fact that they're still able to communicate. Could they be buried in a pocket dimension underneath the ground? But then, what about the fact that we saw them climbing? Optical illusion? I believe that more research is required in order to [remainder of the topographic report is ommited]
---
## Addendum 6626-C - Diary of Father Leonardo Sicarie
Background: Following the extensive research ordered by Site Director D. Rogers, a diary was discovered in the Monastery's archives, containing the memories of Father Leonardo Sicarie, the founder and first priest of the Lazarists Monastery. The following is the last entries to the diary, translated from Latin.
Dec 21, 1876
I have finally arrived to the great city of Salonika. Such a beautiful place, full of peoples of every race. One of the very few places I have seen in my trip where Turks interact peacefully with the Greeks. I feel like I'm in the center of humanity here, where in every stroll in the Port one can hear around them all the languages known to man. I believe that my work here will be fruitious. Bless the Lord.
Dec 24, 1876
Building has began, and I have now officially moved to my new temporary residency in the valley next to the work site. Locals call this place the Valley of the Cross, and it is a fitting name. From the very first moment I stepped my foot outside the cab, I felt the Lord's presence around and inside me. Flowers seem to bloom everywhere I look at, and there's a bizzare joy filling the air even in the cold nights of December. Bless the Lord, for I feel that I am exactly where I needed to be.
Dec 25, 1876
I know not how to explain, but I know what to feel. The Lord has appeared to me in a vision on this day of his Son's Birth. He has showed me my mission, the higher calling He wishes me to answer. This Valley has indeed been chosen, and I am but the messenger to the world. As Joseph was a carpenter and built the staircase for the Son to come to the world, I too shall be a carpenter and make the staircase for the Human to climb to His grace. This has been my calling. This is the mission I see clear as Heaven's Light.
Jan 1, 1877
The ladder has been finished,just in time for a new year and a new beginning. It is a magnificent sight, standing alone in the middle of the Valley, unsupported by Human means, as if it's hanging directly from the Sky. The workers have abandoned the construction of the Monastery and have gathered around the ladder, praising the Lord and me, His Chosen messenger. I know that they, like me, feel His might and see His light all around us.
Jan 6, 1877
A beautiful miracle occurred today. An old woman was carried to my residence this morning, by her grieving children, who brought her here all the way from Salonika. I know not how they found out about our holy work here, since we haven't had any visitors from the city, and the only ones that know about it are our local workers. Sick and deathly she was, when they kneeled on my door and begged me to allow her to join her Father in the Sky. I had not thought of the ladder in the most litteral sense until that time, however it occurred to me that they were right. The full magnificense and Divinity of His plan finally became apparent. He wanted His children to join Him in his home, in our home in the sky. He wanted me to set the way for them to climb to Him.
Astonished, I helped Katrina's children carry her to the ladder, and lifted her to the first step. Our worries of how we would be able to help her reach the top vanished, when, miraculously, she lifted her head, opened her eyes, and with a smile in her old face she started climbing. We all fell to the ground and started praising His name, and we barely got a glimpse of her dress disappearing as she reached the top of the stairs. And then, O Lord Your works, her voice, sounding as if she was young and healthy again, called to us from the tops, thanking us for allowing her to go to her Father, saying her goodbyes to her children. Bless the Lord.
Jan 9, 1877
Word of the ladder has reached the city, and people from around the Valley and from Salonika have gathered in the field to watch. They have set up tents around the staircase, praying and singing hymns all day…what a miracle, to listen to these voices of Muslims, Jews, Orthodox, all singing our Catholic hymns in harmony. I have never seen anything like that, but the Lord works in mysterious ways. Then, one by one, they will hear the lord's calling and rush to the ladder, only to disappear on the top, with their voice soon filling the air and calling to others to join them as well. Miraculous.
Jan 12, 1877
I know not how to explain, but I know what to feel. Sheer terror has filled the Valley, and the authorities at Salonika are panicking. One hundred and thirty five people have thus far climbed the ladder to escape to the sky, and one hundred and thirty five voices are singing in the sky. Figures descend from the heavenly staircase every day, to drag others with them. People from the city are still rushing to the field to find their salvation, but I am not so sure about the wisdom of it anymore. What have I done? What has He done? Is this His will?
Jan 13, 1877
I have made a terrible mistake
Not the Lord I've brought here, but the bottom of the
hell
I dug a well today, a hole to the sky. I finally found the mistake I'd made, the ladder didn't lead up top, it lead to belowThey wouldn't let me finish.
I reached the water and felt His True Light for the first time since I arrived here. Oh how I was deceived! How different it feels than the false god that was whispering in my ears all this time! Everything was wrong, everything was [TEXT DAMAGED] I made a rough cross and placed it on the well, they won't dare
Bless our Lord. I am finally ascending.
---
## Addendum 6626-D - Inscription found at the bottom of the cube during the extended additional research
Once a human
Once impure
Heaven's promise
Calls upon you
False idols, and so beware
Sometimes your sacrifice
Allows darker ones to come through
A soul is always exchanged with another.
And heaven's light was always nothing more than the darkness' cover.
Footnotes
1 . "City of the Cross" in Greek.
2 . Measured at 0.002 NTU (Nephelometric Turbidity Units)
3 . Quote: D-1259
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6626 " by AgentAX, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6626 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: SCP6626.jpg
Author: AgentAX
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki | |
d-5111 | D-5111 - SCP Foundation | tale | Day 1
D-5111 woke with a sudden jolt, and a splitting headache. As she rapidly blinked, her eyes adjusting to the low light of her environment, she took the time to look around. She was dressed in an orange jumpsuit. She was lying on the bottom bunk in what appeared to be some kind of dorm, the room packed with bunks and about 20 other terrified looking women. Already the room was filling with panicked voices, shouting, and crying. The noise made D-5111 realize she had no idea who or where she was.
D-5111 bolted upright, her eyes wide as she began to hyperventilate.
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck…
D-5111’s mind scrambled as she tried to get her bearings.
Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, a foothold appeared.
Patricia Walker…
She blinked and her breathing slowed.
I’m Patricia Walker…
From that mental starting block several more pieces fell in place.
I’m… 38. I was born in… Eugene… no… Corvallis, Oregon. I’ve been a Registered Nurse for… 15… 16 years…
Like water cooling to ice, her identity solidified within her mindscape.
I’ve been married for 18 years… my husband's a pediatrician… I have two children… A teenage son and a young daughter… their names… what are their names…
Patricia closed her eyes and concentrated. Name after name flew past her, but none seemed to fit.
Jason, Johnathan, June, Marco, Emily, Taylor, Billy, Cecil, Darren, Michele, Derek, Eric, Sasha, Jacob, Daniel, Troy…
The PA in the room pinged, ripping Patricia from the stream of names flowing through her mind.
“Attention!” A masculine voice called over the PA. “All D-Class personnel, please report to your dormitory common rooms for orientation.”
In the corner of the room, a door hissed open. One by one, the various women around Patricia cautiously filed out into the adjoining room. Patricia got to her feet, and shuffled along with the herd, ending up in a large room packed with men and women in similar orange jumpsuits.
“Ah, yes,” a voice called from the front of the room, over the din of close to 50 confused people mumbling to one another. Patricia’s eyes turned to the front of the room. Standing between two stoic guards was a slender woman with short blond hair. Next to her was a pudgy man in a lab coat, his eyes obscured by thick glasses.
“Your attention, please,” the woman called again, but the murmuring continued to fill the room. Eventually the woman sighed and pulled a small remote like object out of her pocket, and pressed a button.
The room was filled with a high pitched squeal, all eyes turning to the woman, and all falling silent as they covered their ears. The woman gave another sigh.
“That’s better,” she said. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I’m Morrison, the D-Class warden for this unit. This gentleman beside me is Dr. Tanner, our unit physician. By now you probably all have a lot of concerns and questions. Where am I? How did I get here? What happens next? Bear with me for the next half an hour or so, and I can promise you answers. This is your D-Class orientation.”
Morrison gave a small unenthused smile before she continued.
“Let’s start with the simple stuff. Where are you? Right now you are about two kilometers underground in a facility run by a large international research organization dedicated to the preservation of humanity. The research and field work done by this group has saved countless lives the world over, and expanded our understanding in every scientific field. Which brings me to answer why you are here.”
“On occasion, the research done by this organization requires human test subjects, and human interaction with our objects of study. As such, through an impartial lottery, you were all selected and brought here. For the next month each of you will be participating in one or more experiments. At the end of your time, your memory is to be wiped and you’ll be returned to where ever we found you. During that time, you will live here under my watch.”
Morrison scanned the crowd before her.
“I run a tight ship in my D-Class unit, but I think you’ll find me to be more than accommodating. Together we’ll get you through your time, get you out, and get you back to your lives. Am I clear?”
The crowd responded with a choir of yelled questions and shouted demands. Morrison rolled her eyes and pressed the button on her small remote yet again. The crowd fell silent in the face of the high pitched squeal.
“Yeah, we’re going to be a little more organized than that, folks,” Morrison replied. “Right now you will each report back to your bunk where you will wait for Dr. Tanner and his aides to perform your orientation physical. After that, my associates will be here to answer your questions in an ORGANIZED fashion, first come first served.”
“And what if I fucking don’t!” A man stepped forward from the crowd. He was bald and easily stood two feet taller than Morrison. “You can’t keep us here! We’re not prisoners, you have no right to…”
One of the guards quickly closed the distance to the man and silenced him with a stun baton. The room fell silent as the guard quickly threw the man over his shoulder and took him away.
“Alright then,” Morrison replied. “Now that we are all on the same page, let’s get started.”
The various men and woman, or D-class, as Morrison called them, began to head back to their bunks. Along the way, Patricia turned to look back at Morrison and Dr. Tanner. She was shocked to find the two of them already watching her. Morrison smiled and gave a nod of familiarity.
"Humanity thanks you for your service," Dr. Tanner said, and injected her with small syringe…
A brief mental image flashed across Patricia's consciousness. She blinked, and shook her head. Dr. Tanner and Morrison still were staring. Patricia quickly turned away and hurried back to her bunk.
Day 5:
Patricia sat in the dormitory common room at a table, along with two of her fellow D-Class. The first was a young man in his early twenties with long red hair and a mark on his left eyebrow where there had once been a piercing. His jumpsuit was labeled D-2960, he spoke with lisp, and his name was Derek. The second was a short, stocky woman in her late forties with dark skin, and a shaved head. Her name was Annette, though her jumpsuit was labeled D-3106, and she remained silent, nodding occasionally as if to grant her approval of everything.
On the table before Patricia was a sheet of paper with a string of names written upon it:
Husband: Sid, Sebastian, Sean, Dean, Derek, Rick, Rich, Ray, Roy, Roland, Nolan
Son: Jeff, Jason, Jacob, Jake, Jack, Mack, Michele, Mitch, Morgan
Bradly, Brice, Blake, Bobby, Robby, Ron, Tom, Tucker
Daughter: Cecil, Cierra, Sarah, Sasha, Sandra, Sam, Sally, Sydney
Kaitlyn, Katie, Kara, Lara, Lisa, Lilly, Lana, Leslie
Diane, Anne, Anna, Alana, Alison, Elise, Erica
Patricia chewed on the end of her pen and sighed.
“Still having memory problems, dear?” Annette asked, looking over Patricia’s list.
“I just…” Patricia sighed again, “I’ve finally got my husband’s name back, and am narrowing down on my son’s… but I just can’t zero in on my daughter…”
She put the pen down with a defeated chuckle.
“If she knew I forgot her name she’d never forgive me…”
“You’ll get it in time,” Annette replied. “I know you will. Besides, not like you have much else to do in here.”
“Yeah…”
Patricia frowned as she looked at her list. Her memory was like a half finished puzzle. She could tell what the image was, but a lot of the detail was still missing. She could remember how much Nolan loved his job, that putting smiles on the faces of children always put a smile on his, but drew a blank as to what his face looked like. She recalled how he’d call her by pet names, but couldn’t remember what those names were. She remembered that her son was in high school, but not the grade he was in. That he was a theatre techie, but not the most recent show he was in. She knew her daughter loved video games, but not her favorite one, that she was into music but not what her favorite band was. Patricia knew that she was a floor nurse, but not the name of the hospital she care gave at.
Her head slid down to rest in her arms. There it remained for close to ten minutes, hiding the fact that tears were forming in her eyes.
The door to the common room then opened, and all eyes turning to watch as three D-class who entered. The one at the front looked rather shell shocked, while the one at the back avoided all eye contact and heading straight to her bunk room. The group that had left for testing that morning had originally consisted of four individuals.
“Oh shit…” Derek whispered. “Jane isn’t back… that makes three so far… What the hell are they doing…”
“I’m sure they are fine, sweetie,” Annette replied. “Probably just a few bumps and bruises. Science can be dangerous, I’ve been told.”
“We’re all going to die down here!” Derek returned. “You don’t kidnap people and force them to help you if it’s just baking soda volcanoes. One by one, we’re all dead.”
All eyes in the common room were now on Derek. A guard was approaching to end the disturbance, but stopped when Derek held up a hand to indicate that he would cool it.
“You might as well say goodbye to everyone now, because when your name comes up on the test list you’re gone,” Derek whispered and then walked off.
Patricia watched him go with a frown, then looked over to the large testing schedule posted on the far wall. Her and five others were scheduled to participate in two days. Patricia looked back at her notepad.
"Any luck so far?" A security guard asked, a warm smile on his face. Patricia shook her head in reply.
"Shame," the guard said with a shrug. "Keep at it though, I'm sure you'll get there."
Another image flashed through Patricia's mind and vanished. She cringed slightly then opened her eyes. She sighed, picked up her pen, and continued to work on the names.
Day 7:
Patricia sat in a metal folding chair in what could best be described as a special kind of shooting range. Along the length of the range were a series of ten alcoves, in six of these were D-class sitting in chairs. At the far end of the range, out of her sight, was a target. A man in a security officer’s uniform was at the other end of the range. Two revolvers and a set of eighteen bullets were spread on the table in front of them. Patricia gave a weak smile and wave to the D-class in the alcove in front of her, a teenage boy, around her son’s age.
“It’s going to be okay…” she said softly to him. The boy gave a sharp nod. "Whats your name?"
"B-blake," he stuttered. Patrica nodded.
"Call me Pat," she replied and then chuckled. "Heh, you know, Blake is my son's name."
The boy gave a soft smile.
"We'll be fine, okay?" Patricia continued. "Understand?"
“Agent Wilson,” a male voice said over the intercom. “Please load the object with the first set of ammunition, and fire at the target.”
Silence filled the room for a few brief minutes, and was then interrupted by six shots fired in slow succession. Patricia opened her eyes and let out an unsteady breath. The boy across the aisle was keeping his eyes tightly closed, and was shaking nervously.
“Agent Wilson,” the voice called again a few minutes later. “Please read the imprints on the second set of ammunition, and load the non-anomalous revolver.”
“Gabriel, Sarah, Theodore, Emily, Blake, and Patricia,” Agent Wilson called out.
Once again the room filled with silence, followed by another six shots in slow succession. Patricia gasped. The boy across the range was crying.
“It’s going to be okay.” Patricia mouthed through her shaking. “It’s going to be okay!”
“Agent Wilson,” the intercom blared a third time. “Please read the imprints on the third set of ammunition, and load the object. Fire at the target again.”
“Gabriel, Sarah, Theodore, Emily, Blake, and Patricia,” Agent Wilson called out yet again.
Patricia and the boy locked eyes in the silence. Then the revolver fired.
Bang.
A muffled yell.
Bang.
A scream.
Bang.
A dull thud.
Bang.
A sharp yelp.
Bang.
Patricia watched as the boy across from her flew backwards, a large hole in his head. His chair tipped over with a loud clatter. Her mouth hung open.
“Oh god…”
Bang.
Patricia felt like a truck had run into her shoulder, and she too was knocked out of her chair. While the pain was immense, she couldn’t make a sound. Instead she stared at the ceiling, wondering what exactly it was that had happened.
Before long, medical personnel were carrying her and three other D-class away in stretchers. Several men and woman in lab coats inspected the contents of the other alcoves, mixed expressions of regret and unease upon their faces. Blood seeped into the main aisle.
"You're going to be alright," a medic said as a team carried Patricia away. "Just a scratch, we'll get you patched up.
This thought lingered on Patricia's mind for awhile. She couldn't hear what the medics around her were saying, though it seemed comforting. Eventually she closed her eyes. Then began to scream from the pain.
Day 13:
Patricia finished her recovery quickly, and had been returned to the D-class quarters as soon as she was deemed medically fit to resume testing. Upon her return she found that the initial crew of 60 was now down to 52. Annette had undergone some test that left her catatonic on her bunk, leaving Patricia and Derek alone at a table as she looked over her list of names.
Husband: Sid, Sebastian, Sean, Dean, Derek, Rick, Rich, Ray, Roy, Roland, Nolan
Son: Jeff, Jason, Jacob, Jake, Jack, Mack, Michele, Mitch, Morgan
Bradly, Brice, Blake , Bobby, Robby, Ron, Tom, Tucker
Daughter: Cecil, Cierra, Sarah, Sasha, Sandra, Sam, Sally, Sydney
Kaitlyn, Katie, Kara, Lara, Lisa, Lilly, Lana, Leslie
Diane, Anne, Anna, Alana, Alison, Elise, Erica
Jane, Jill, Jesse, Jenifer, June, Juniper, Lilly, Lavender
Maggie, Megan, Margaret, Melissa, Maria, Mary
Sophie, Cindy, Candy, Lilly
She drummed on the pad and paper with a small smile. Two down, one to go.
Bang!
The vision of the D-class boy’s head exploding from a gunshot wound blasted its way to the surface of her consciousness, then just as quickly vanished.
Patricia shook violently, one hand nearly snapping her pen in two, the other clinging to the edge of the table for life. She slowly opened her eyes and relaxed as the thought faded, realizing that Derek had been talking to her the whole time.
“I’m a goner…” Derek finished.
“How’s that?” She asked.
“One way or another, we’re all dead. The experiment they had you help on was a glorified execution. They melted the skin off Haley’s face, and I think Donna said that Annette was basically sucked molecule by molecule into a hole in the wall, then reassembled across the room. You don’t kidnap sixty people, lock them up 2 miles underground, and just let them go…”
Patricia grabbed Derek’s hand and squeezed.
“We’re going to be alright,” she said. “Its just going to take a little luck. We’ll get out.”
Derek scoffed.
“Maybe for you…”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Six of us go into an experiment and all but one of them receive serious, if not fatal, gunshot wounds. Your luck is a step above mine.”
Derek looked at her with tired eyes.
“Can you just… do me a favor?”
Patricia nodded. Derek handed her a folded piece of paper.
“If you do make it out… can you give that to my boyfriend… just some closure…”
“Of course.”
“Thanks,” he replied with a weak smile. He then stood, stretched and walked away. Patricia watched him go with a sad frown and turned back to her list of names. She wearily scanned them and scanned them again. After a while she smiled. At last she remembered her daughter’s name.
"Finally get it?" Dr. Tanner asked with a small grin, they were completing their weekly counseling session.
"I did," she replied excitedly, showing him the name Lilly, circled on her list. "I finally did."
"Oh…" Patricia mumbled as this most recent flash danced out of her mind. She blinked and quietly looked around. Dr. Tanner was approaching the table.
"Afternoon, D-5111," he said. "Care to join me for your counseling session?"
Day 19:
Patricia stood in a largely empty testing chamber with two other D-class. As of two days prior, the last of the pieces had fallen into place within her mindscape, and she recalled who she was, and what it meant to be her.
She recalled her husband, Dr. Nolan Walker, the pediatrician who would sometimes affectionately call her Patty-cakes. She remembered her son, Blake, the theatre technician who had recently been made stage manager. She thought of her daughter, Lilly, and how she’d spend hours in the park near their house playing games on her Gameboy. The puzzle was complete, and she was terrified that it may fall to pieces again.
“All D-class, please pick up one of the candies on the table.”
A feminine voice over the intercom shattered Patricia’s self-reflection, and brought her attention back to the matter at hand. On the table at the center of the room were three bright pink and red hard candies. Patricia looked to the others. One was the tall bald man who had been shocked by a guard on the first day of their confinement. The other was a slender androgynous person with short blond hair. Patricia shrugged and took a candy. The others followed in kind.
“Please consume the candy. Make sure to suck on it, and not bite it or swallow it whole.” The voice instructed over the intercom. The three D-class reluctantly complied. The candy tasted alright. Some kind of berry flavor that eluded certain description. Patricia ran it around the inside of her mouth, only stopping when the entire lozenge was gone. From the confused expressions on the faces of her peers, the other D-class had finished their candy as well.
“I mean… is that it?” The man asked. He looked toward the mirror along the far wall of the room. “Hello? What now?”
“Oh, shit…”
Patricia turned to the androgynous D-class to see them looking at their hands, their eyes wide in fear. Red bumps had begun to rapidly cover their body. Her years of nursing and being married to a pediatrician allowed Patricia recognized it at once. Varicella. She looked to the bald man to see that he too had begun to break out.
“Oh fuck! Jesus Christ!” The man began to scratch at himself furiously, dancing around the room like a marionette. The androgynous D-class was viciously picking at themselves in a corner, screams of pain mixing with screams of terror. Patricia looked down at her hands. She had yet to break out.
“Why not you?” The man shouted and began to cross the room toward her. “What did you do? Why not you?”
The man threw her to the ground before she could say “I don’t know.”
Guards entered the room and quickly subdued the man, escorting both him and the androgynous d-class out of the testing chamber, presumably to quarantine. A woman in a lab coat entered, still writing on her clipboard as she looked Patricia over.
“Immune?” The woman asked as a guard helped Patricia to her feet.
“Vaccinated, y-yes.” Patricia mumbled.
“Interesting…” The woman furiously scribbled on her clipboard. Then looked to the guard. “Take her back to Tanner and tell him we need to have a physical done.”
The guard nodded, and gestured for Patricia to follow him out of the room.
"You've got some luck, I'll give you that," the guard said, leading her back to the D-class dorms. She was covered in a thick paste, the remnants of the previous experiment.
"Guess if you hadn't been standing where you were, you'd have suffocated as well."
Patricia cringed, her hand brushing off a thick paste that was not there. When she opened her eyes she found herself standing in front of an exam room door. The guard gave her a small nod as he watched her pass the threshold.
Day 24:
Patricia and Derek stood within an enclosed clear plastic cage within a grassy field on the surface, along with nine other D-class. This was the final testing of the month for most of them. It was the first time any of them had seen the sun or plant life that entire month. Before them was a fenced in field. A similar cage of clear plastic sat open on the far side.
“Attention All D-Class,” a masculine voice called from an intercom within the cage. “In three minutes the doors to your enclosure will open. At that time, cross the field and enter the enclosure on the other side.”
Patricia felt Derek squeeze her hand.
“We’ll be alright…. Right?”
Patricia nodded. “Yeah… we’ll be alright.”
The door slid down and the D-class began to walk across the field, the enclosure door snapping up behind them. There was a slight breeze and the sun felt warm on their skin. A small, cautious smile came to Patricia’s face.
“So far, so good.”
When they crossed the halfway point of the field, a loud pinging became audible, followed by the sound of a circular saw running. Eleven sets of eyes turned to the source, a hovering disk with a rotating blade around its circumference. A small green eye could be seen watching them from the devices surface. A faded emblem of a falcon was printed below this eye.
“HALT,” the device said in a computerized voice. “RETURN ALONG YOUR PREVIOUS COURSE.”
The D-class looked to one another nervously, then back to the device. One of them, a slender girl no older than twenty, took a step backwards, crossing into the far half of the field. The devices eye turned red and flew forward with a high pitched whine. Patricia blinked. There was a sharp gasp and a splatter of blood. The girl’s upper and lower halves rested in two different locations. The disk flew upwards, taking off a man’s head along the way. The crowd quickly became a mob of yelling, flailing people, each scattering and sprinting towards the open cage at the end of the field.
Patricia and Derek zigged and zagged across the field, the two sticking together and occasionally looking back. The disk took out a man’s legs from under him, sending his upper body sailing backwards. A woman near him tripped on the blood, the device severing her in length wise upon the grass. Patricia snapped her head forward and wheezed as she felt herself losing speed. They were closing in on their destination.
She and Derek then slid to a stop, a young man in front of them who nearly made it into the cage was struck from behind and carried for several yards before splitting in twain. The device then turned and appeared to gaze at the five remaining D-class that stood before it.
“Fuck off man…” Derek nervously laughed.
The disk sprang forward again and the D-class resumed their scattered sprint.
Patricia’s breath was ragged as she closed in on the cage. The sound of screams behind her indicated at least one of her peers was rather unlucky. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Derek sprinting in from the other direction. The whirling of the disk grew louder. Patricia gave one last push with her legs and jumped toward the cage. Derek did the same. She hit the ground with a heavy thud, and turned to see Derek had fallen just short, and was crawling forward as fast as he could. Patricia reached out a hand, grabbing his and began to pull him toward her.
A heavy metallic whine, and a loud bang.
Patricia fell backwards into the cage with Derek’s forearms in her grip, the young man toppling inside with her, the disk colliding outside with the ground.The disk eyed them for several moments, hovering in front of the elevator entrance. Its eye then turned green and it gently floated away.
Derek and her crawled to the back of the cage where the looked out over the nine corpses left behind in the afternoon sun. Eventually Derek began laughing. A shrill nervous laugh. Patricia turned to him to see tears in his eyes, as he gestured to the carnage before them. A few moments later, she began laughing as well. The elevator whined as it carried them back down into the earth.
Upon their arrival in the facility, Derek and Patricia were swarmed by medics. While the two of them could tell that they were being spoken to, their laughing drowned out any incoming stimuli. The two of them were placed on stretchers and carried away, passing a group of horrified looking scientists, some pale with fear, one crying, and a last one being yelled at by a furious man in a suit. Patricia could make out the words "slaughter" and "ethics" between bouts of laughter.
The laughter eventually turned to tears, as Derek and Patricia were carried away to separate exam rooms.
Day 31:
Patricia sat in an exam room, having just finished her exit physical. Her eyes were slightly glazed over as she stared at the floor. Of the 60 D-class that had started in her cohort, only 40 remained to see the final day. Of those, at least 20 had sustained serious physical or mental damage.
Hidden in her shoe was Derek’s note. He maintained that she should hold on to it in the event that something should happen to him on the way out. She doubted it would survive whatever it was that these people did once they wiped her memory, but she promised her friend she would deliver it, and so she had to try. On her lap was the notepad with the list of names.
Dr. Tanner returned to the room, looking at a large folder on his clipboard. There were several small vials held tightly in his other hand. Patricia watched him tiredly. Eventually he placed the clipboard down on a side table and gave her a soft smile.
“Congratulations, D-5111,” he said. “You made it. As we discussed during orientation, we are going to inject you with a chemical compound called an amnestic. It will remove any memory of this month from your mind. Then you’ll be free to go.”
Patricia nodded.
“Powerful stuff.”
“Very,” Tanner replied. “It’s not even the most powerful variety."
He then handed her the folder. Patricia eyed it curiously.
"Whats this?"
"Debriefing," Tanner said with a sigh. "For however brief a time it will be, at the end of each month we present the D-class with summaries of the outcomes of the experiments they participated in. It's a little watered down, and obviously we won't tell you everything. Still, you deserve to know what the sacrifice was for."
Patricia looked through the the folder's contents. A fair amount of it went over her head, she was no scientist, but she managed to get the gist of what was being said. Important discoveries made in such areas as "Anomalous projectile trajectory," "Spontaneous virogenisis," and the capabilities of the "Lanner Series Security Drone."
"Got plans on your release?” Tanner eventually asked when she put the folder down.
“Return to my family…” Patricia said softly. “Hope that I never remember this horrible month again.”
“I can assure you that you will not,” said Tanner as he collected the notepad off her lap. “I’m afraid I’ll need to confiscate this, though.”
Patricia remained silent as she watched Tanner prepare the syringe and clean a spot on her arm. A few seconds later, the various shots had been injected, and Tanner had bandaged the wound.
“So how does this work?” Patricia asked as she rubbed the injection site gently with a finger.
“In about one to five minutes you’ll fall asleep. When you wake up, your memories of the past month will be gone. Pretty simple.”
“Can I ask you a question, then?”
“Shoot.”
“I’m not really going back to my family, am I?”
Dr. Tanner remained silent, he kept his attention on the clipboard on which he was writing.
“I figured as much…” Patricia sighed and laid herself down on the table.
“Humanity thanks you for your service,” Tanner finally answered as Patricia felt her eyelids become heavy.
“Fuck off…” Patricia mumbled, and finally fell asleep.
Dr. Tanner returned to the office he and Morrison shared. Under his arm was a basket of all the items the guards had confiscated from the surviving D-class. He sighed as he sat down at his desk, and began to sort the various paraphernalia. Morrison watched him from her desk across the room.
“Another month, another cohort,” she commented with a sigh. “How’d the recycling go?”
“Survivors are on their cots, awaiting orientation in the morning,” Tanner replied. He placed D-2960’s note in a small Ziploc bag and that was labeled “Notes to D-5111.” An additional six such notes rested in the bag.
“This is, what, twelve consecutive months for 5111?”
“Thirteen…”
Tanner placed Patricia’s notepad into a separate Ziploc labeled “D-5111 lists.”
“I’ve asked the other D-class Wardens,” Morrison continued, “She’s got the old record beat by about five months, it's truly amazing. One of the Ethic's reps is going to be swinging by later. They don’t actually have a protocol in place for when the D-class hit the one-year mark. It's… pretty impressive. Barely a scratch on her.”
Tanner paused and then nodded.
“Do you still have Kerrigan’s extension?”
Morrison froze and rose an eyebrow.
“Yeah… why?”
“Thirteen months as a D-class, barely a scratch on her. I think that warrants an inquiry by someone in Ana-Hums.”
"That still doesn't answer the question," Morrison snickered. "We've had plenty of D's with obscene luck before, you never had Kerrigan's crew look at them until now."
"Well, chances are that D-5111's going to be a little D-class energizer bunny, and keep going and going until the end of time. It's inhumane to keep on trying to feed someone to wolves this long… let alone a mother of two. If she's made into a skip at least, then she's not being prodded into the mouth of an eldritch horror every few days."
"D-5111 has children?" Morrison chuckled. "Huh…"
"Christ, do you even read the D-class files?" Tanner's brow furrowed in disgust.
"Do you?"
"Every last one," Tanner replied sharply. "Those people deserve to have at least one person know their story. Guess that's not you."
Morrison's expression became flat and she sank back into her chair.
"Save me the lecture," she eventually replied. "I've been doing this job for fifteen years. I've seen over two thousand D's come through here. Lots of sob stories. Lots of innocents. Lots of orphaned kids. Lots of widowers and lots of widows. You want to know each one, be my guest. I'll tell you this, though, thats a fine way burn out."
Tanner and Morrison locked eyes for several seconds before Tanner finally shook his head and shrugged.
"Kerrigan's extension?" he asked.
Morrison read the digits out loud and shrugged.
"It's your time to waste, I suppose."
Day 1
D-5111 woke with a sudden jolt, and a splitting headache. As she rapidly blinked, her eyes adjusting to the low light of her environment, she took the time to look around. She was dressed in an orange jumpsuit. She was lying on the bottom bunk in what appeared to be some kind of dorm, the room packed with bunks and about 20 other terrified looking women. Already the room was filling with panicked voices, shouting, and crying. The noise made D-5111 realize she had no idea who or where she was…
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" D-5111 " by Jacob Conwell, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/d-5111 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 109 | ["_licensebox", "bleak", "d-con2016", "horror", "psychological-horror", "tale"] | 2016-09-18T04:07:00 | 31,263 | 5,471 | 0 | ||||||
blood-on-the-ice | Blood On The Ice (An Investigative Sports Report) - SCP Foundation | goi-format | Benjamin Franklin is a sex-wizard, and he makes it my problem by living in my head.
Deer College Odyssey
The Buck Stops Here
THREE PORTLANDS
FRIDAY, AUGUST 21, 2020
FREE USD/GBP, $1 CAN
BLOOD ON THE ICE
AN INVESTIGATIVE SPORTS REPORT
by Sports Correspondents (Unofficial) Sofia Haugen (⁂judgmentgay) and Benjamin Franklin (⁂silencedogood)
It is the peak of summer, the hottest time of the year, so hot that you can drink a glass of water and then sweat it out of your pits and unmentionables in under five minutes, so you know what that means: ice hockey. In an ice-covered, zamboni-drifting middle finger to global warming 1 and common sense, the Three Portlands International Hockey Leagues (not affiliated with the National Hockey League, singular in both country and league) have moved hockey season to the middle of the summer, starting on the summer solstice. Allegedly, this is so they don't overlap with rugby season in the spring or roller derby in the fall, 2 but really it's all a plot against me, God's most fragile lesbian, to force me to go outside during the summer to an open-air ice hockey stadium and watch beautiful women give themselves chronic traumatic encephalopathy for the love of the game. Hey, at least it's not football.
Of course, I'm not covering the entire hockey season, both because my editor refuses to pay for over 5000 words 3 and also because the majority of the season coincided with a research trip I took to Eurtec to observe the new and complex sporting events the mechanical minds of the cyberpunk city were cooking up (and also so I could hook up with this cyborg chick I met on Baltimore Lex a couple years ago). Unfortunately, I am now banned from Eurtec, 4 which led me to catching the IHL quarterfinals during a tear-stained bender while I crashed at my editor's apartment for a couple days. 5 So if you wanted a blow-by-blow of the entire hockey season, just check out ESPN's Void account, or AsterismSports, or read a column other than my own for once, nerd.
The aforementioned Leagues take the best below-Veil teams from America, Britain, and Canada, put them into the rink, and see which ones come out alive, or at the very least not-dead. The favorites this go around were the Toronto Tornadoes and the Cornwall Cannibals, though the Newman Nuggets 6 were an underdog pick. I myself had money riding on them getting to at least the finals through the power of friendship and plot armor, but I guess pluck, gumption, and a pygmy elephant don't really do much when the Warp Spasms take to the ice and turn from beautiful, androgynous Sidhe into copyright-infringing masses of muscle, sinew, and scraps of protective padding. 7 The power of friendship apparently has limits, and the limit starts and ends with "Cú Chulainn reborn whaling on a middle schooler with his own femur."
The quarterfinals were a mess. Game 1 immediately descended into a complete cluster, though the EMTs at the scene were able to stabilize most of the Nuggets before the match got too depressing. The Warp Spasms won by forfeit, as there weren't any players left in one piece to oppose them. 8
Game 2 wasn't that much better, as the aptly named Flaming Phillies took on the Fightin' Unitarians in a head-to-head matchup that was 2-2 all the way to the final quarter. Unfortunately, due to some magnificient stroke of stupidity on the part of the Phillies' management, their strategies all involved pyromancy in a primarily ice-based sport, and they melted the rink with five minutes left on the clock. Fortunately, the Unitarians had just left derby practice and still had their rollerblades on hand. As there is no rule in hockey that the players can't use rollerblades the Fightin' Unitarians dominated those final five minutes and closed out the match at a blistering 7-2. All in all, a very promising start for what was looking to be a very interesting quarterfinals. If only I remembered anything else.
See, dear reader, I suffer from a condition known as Being Cursed. I am currently suffering from twenty-three separate curses, some of which were placed on me by exes jealous of my charisma and game, some of which I inherited, and some of which just attached to me because they felt like it. According to scientists (my friend Kelsie Ambrose [Gender Studies/Abjuration, 2019]) the more lethal curses all cancel out in a state of "thaumic equilibrium," and as such I am (theoretically) immortal. Unfortunately, it's not all good news, because one of the curses means that I am also Benjamin Franklin.
Founding Father Of Our Great Nation, Scientist, Philosopher, Diplomat, Inventor and all-around Sex God Benjamin Franklin, FRS FRSA FRSE, contrary to popular belief, did not die in 1790 from the condition known as "being 84 before the invention of germ theory," but rather in 1789, when he was struck by a large horse-drawn carriage and isekai'd to the modern day. His soul then attempted to take over a high-school boy's body in an effort to kill John McCain and save the world from his fiendish, Machiavellian plot to turn America into Atlantis 2.0 . But by virtue of time-madness and the fact he was freshly dead so he didn't really know how to steer, he missed the high-school boy 9 and landed in high-school Sofia Haugen. This situation has been okay for most parties involved, except for me. 10
So, like I said, I was in the middle of a very mutual breakup with a girl who had a pneumatic press instead of genitals and 1,000 CCs of silicon instead of pectorals and I was handling it very well all things considered. As part of my reasonable coping mechanisms, after Game 2 I downed an entire bottle of Ultimate Wormwood Princess Death Bastard Seven . I really shouldn't have done this, given I blacked out instantly and the bottle was like two-thirds of my last paycheck from Parasports Illustrated , so you know I'm in dire straits right now in terms of finances. 11 I woke up one week later at a Toronto bus stop, covered in what I presumed to be someone else's blood, holding a gun in one hand and a voice recorder in the other. Benjamin Franklin had been busy.
After disposing of the gun and dumping the blood-stained clothes in the nearest dumpster 12 and making my way back to Three Portlands by magic Greyhound I took stock of the situation and reviewed the voice recorder that was taped to my hand.
I share with you now the contents of this device, which are much more interesting than the quarterfinals, as they happened to me. As all this stuff happened to Ben piloting my body like some weird ghost mecha, this is all second hand information and impossible to verify. But I refuse to allow Franky to write for me, because its almost always incomprehensible with those long-S letters that you find sometimes in old documents. I don't even know how he bound the long-S to my keyboard. As such, this is a retelling of the events that happened to me and Ben, reconstructed by me, with a few comments by Ben.
THE INVESTIGATION
It's strange hearing your own voice in a recording you don't remember making. It's like when the police show you dash cam footage of Benjamin Franklin in your body trying to talk his way out of a parking ticket, or when an ex shows you a recording of Benjamin Franklin trying to play matchmaker and put you two back together again. 13 Anyways, the beginning of the tape starts with the least ominous thing a person can say: "There's been a murder." Right up there with "Sofia, your car has been towed" or "Sofia, we need to talk about last night." Awful. Looking back at the news, it looks like the left defenseman for the Cornwall Cannibals, Brock "Hard-as" Stone had been murdered in the locker room, minutes before Game 3.
Now, I know what my studious readers are going to say. "But Sofia, you effervescent beacon of beauty and charm and loud Hawaiian shirts, didn't you say it was no-holds barred and that a middle schooler got brutalized with a femur?" Well yeah, but that was in the rink, after they signed a waiver in triplicate, it was purely business. But this murder, this was for pleasure. 14 Also, if there's anything in the world that would distract me from covering sports for once, a sports-related murder sounds just perfect (at least, is what I assumed Benjy was thinking. I try to stay as far away from murders as I can. Not really my type of crime, I prefer to stay to the safer end of the crime spectrum among my many larcenies and misdemeanors). 15
Stone had his throat slashed with his own ice skate, which some might chalk up to either an accident or suicide if not for the fact that he was literally made out of Cornwall granite. This seemed like a clear cut case of foul play to this intrepid reporter('s philosopher tulpa), as slashing a throat made out of Cornubian batholith with a cheap ice skate could only be done with either an temporary enchantment or several hundred years of persistence. 16 Again, the Cornwall Cannibals were favored to win, so there's any number of people who could have been implicated in this. Other teams, fans of said other teams, teammates that had a parley on Stone having his throat slashed before Game 3, Björk Guðmundsdóttir, 17 everyone was a suspect.
So I/he/we set off to the Anderson/FTX IHL Memorial Ice Rink to look for Clues, and were immediately accosted by a couple capital-G Goons as h/we attempted to illicitly access a crime scene-in-progress. Ben's actual note during this period was "halted during the courſe of my inveſtigations by reprobates of a ſwarthy Iriſh nature." As he said this into the recorder while still in the process of being accosted by said swarthy Irish reprobates, the lead Goon promptly decked him in the face, leaving me to deal with a nice conversation piece of a shiner. Ben's not really one for street-smarts, methinks. 18
While reeling from the punch to the face, the Goons dragged us out of the arena and into an autorickshaw, refusing to listen to Franklin's very good excuses as to why he broke a window to gain ingress to a blood-soaked locker room, and that his name was Sofia Haugen and that he was a reporter and many other op-sec compromising things that you shouldn't say to people with big fists and even bigger guns you idiot. 19 , 20 Anyways, the Goons ignored Ben's terrible excuses, went through a Way, and deposited us in a large, empty warehouse, tying us to the only chair in the building. It was very nice of them to leave the voice recorder in my hand, so that I could have a solid ten minutes of Ben talking about the intricacies of the empty warehouse in great detail. 21
After an indeterminate amount of time getting rope burn on my wrists and listing all of the fascinating metal alloys used in the warehouse's construction, a woman in apparently the hottest fucking outfit approached Ben. I do not know if even my towering vocabulary can do her justice from what Ben noted (again while she was standing right in front of him, which seems like a bad habit on his part), so I will let him do the honors: "She was a ginger fox, towering over my ſmall, restrained body in heels that went on for days and legs that went further ſtill, dreſsed in ſqueaking ſkin-tight leather and fingerleſs gloves that revealed hot-pink acrylic nails, ſharp enough to cut through ſkin and metal. Her lips were ſhaded ruby and her eyes were a dull, though captivating ſepia. Truly, one of the most beautiful women I have ever met below the age of fifty."
So, this devastatingly beautiful woman (that I am ashamed to have met while comatose and while a 314-year-old man was piloting my body and while I smelled of very illegal absinthe) starts to low-key threaten us with very ominous phrases, like "you have discovered too much," and "you must be dealt with" and "it's a shame you're so cute." 22 Keep in mind that she said all of this despite the fact that we hadn't really discovered anything of note, and that she was telling on herself by doing her cute little monologue. Turns out she's the general manager for the Toronto Tornadoes, and they hired a contract killer on Void to off Stone and improve their odds in the playoffs, because there's a lot of Darke 23 money riding on the game and also because the Tornadoes kinda suuuuuuuuck. No idea how they got into the quarterfinals, probably bribery.
As to how he escaped from this leather-clad minx, the last voice memo he made mentioned "The Forbidden Technique of the Wrath of Boudicea Tenfold." After extensive research in the secret under-library of UChicago, I have come to the conclusion that Benny Boy used his sex-science-wizard powers to unlock the the long-forgotten thaumaturgical secrets of Roman cunnilingus. I am horrified and incensed to learn this, as he could have been teaching me these forbidden secrets the entire time but selfishly kept them for himself. 24
Due to Ben's ramblings about the description of the warehouse, the tape on the recorder ran out soon afterwards, 25 so I have no idea what happened in between the warehouse and the Toronto bus, and Ben isn't telling me. 26 So I leave it up to the reader to imagine all the fantastical adventures that the brave Sofia Haugen/Benjamin Franklin amalgam took in those six days. Maybe I went to the moon, or watched a kaiju fight , or lived a thousand lifetimes as the soulmate of Björk, who knows.
Anyways, after I pored over this information, I promptly put 500 bucks on a parley of the Tornadoes getting banned from the quarterfinals on DraftKings 27 and reported the murder of Stone by the Toronto Tornadoes to the head honchos at the IHL. 28 They said they couldn't do anything, since the owners of the Tornadoes had a 51% ownership stake in the IHL. Alas. 29
All in all, didn't really matter in the end, the Fightin' Unitarians swept the quarterfinals and won against the Toronto Tornadoes 5-0, showing that the power of religious unity and the pent up sexual energy of cross-ideology dialogue can conquer all evil. Looks like crime really doesn't pay, who knew.
So, if there are any kids reading this, 30 take this very long and meandering story as a warning: don't drink an entire bottle of Ultimate Wormwood Princess Death Bastard Seven or you will be dealing with the fallout of what the Canadian Parliament has termed "Sofia's Law," which among many other provisions bans me specifically from riding a horse within the city limits of Ottawa and participating in semiprofessional archery contests.
Footnotes
1 . Three Portlands doesn't suffer from global warming due to our benevolent overlord The Mayor, long may he reign, but it's the principle of the thing.
2 . Important because there is a unsurprising amount of crossover in members between roller derby and hockey. Both devolve into a bunch of sweaty, bloody, no-holds-barred man-on-man/woman-on-woman/???-on-??? violence at the end of the day, so they're the same sport in my eyes.
3 . Editor's note: The Deer College Odyssey is a volunteer-run student newspaper. We do not pay for articles of any length. I don't know why she's still submitting to the school paper when she graduated in May.
4 . For the full details of our heart-throbbing romance and heart-rending breakup in full eye-popping 4K UHD, be sure to keep an eye out for the first edition of my analog blog (anal-blog) I'm calling The Sophia Papers , coming Soon™.
5 . Editor's note: Weeks.
6 . The junior varsity hockey team from the hit 2000 comedy film, MVP: Most Valuable Pachyderm .
7 . My editor tells me that as a legal matter I can't use the actual name of the Disney-Marvel conglomerate's character "The Incredible Hulk" in reference to the "Hulk"ing size of the "Hulks" on the Warp Spasms. My editor can go fuck themselves, and if the knuckle-dragging "Hulks" in the Disney-Marvel hive-mind sends a cease and desist letter, I will just add it to my "Hulk" of a collection which I currently use as a ottoman.
8 . Jacques, the super-intelligent ice-skating pygmy elephant, saw which way the wind was blowing and left the ice before Angharad "Homicidal" Llewellyn could get their claws on him. By all accounts he is living a fruitful life as a tax accountant in Little Avalon.
9 . Based on the hints Ben has given me, I think he was aiming for Tucker, the quarterback. I can perfectly envision that guy killing McCain — he's all muscle and McCain's like an evil sack of dust.
10 . It really sucks waking up after a bender to find myself on a pile of milfs (I don't hate this part I just hate the fact that that Benjamin fucking Franklin has more game than me), doused in pre-ban Four Loko (conjured from the aether by his sex-science-wizardry, I assume), and staring at a Temu printing press (I still rated them 5 stars solely for the fact they were able to drop-ship a genuine 18th century printing press through customs overnight. Great purchase. The Sofia Papers coming Soon™).
11 . Editor's Note: She is still living with me and won't leave.
12 . Not hiding this particular sentence from the cops because all of the events happened over the border in Canada so it's not like they'd have jurisdiction or anything I think.
13 . But you two were the ſweeteſt of pairs. Plus ſhe had that hydraulic preſs attachment. -BF
14 . Not mine own cup of tea, as the company of Hitachi's wand and a tincture of Ultimate Wormwood Princeſs Death Baſtard Seven is much more my vice. Unfortunately you quaffed it all for yourself, damnable ſow. -BF
15 . I hid that sentence so cops couldn't see it.
16 . One of my former flames in France had quite the faſcination with Britiſh geology. Of course I only learned this so I could court her mother, who was quite the ſilver fox herſelf, but ſhe died of conſumption mere weeks after I ſucceſsfully got under her daughter's ſkirts. Pity, for her mother ſtill had moſt of her teeth, and looked quite daſhing in a whalebone braſsière during the open-caſket. -BF
17 . I would say that the mental image of Björk covered in someone else's blood gets me wet, but part of her restraining order/eternal curse against me includes an Oneiroic clause that censors my imagination from putting her in even slightly lewd positions. Which for me includes every position she could possibly take. Sigh.
18 . I tried trepanning but he refuses to leave. He lives in my mind rent-free, and I want him to cough up his back rent like the filthy landlord I'm not. If there are any necromancers or priests that still owe me favors I would like to request an exorcism, or at the very least a second trepanation, in case the first hole just didn't take.
19 . He that lieth down with Dogs, ſhall riſe up with Fleas. -BF
20 . First off, completely unrelated to this. Second off, that's offensive to both me and all the furries I've slept with.
21 . Full Nixon Tapes transcript of me talking in an 18th century Colonial accent will be released in The Sofia Papers , just as soon as I find advertisers willing to finance the cost of woodblock print.
22 . This last one is tangentially-related to a personal fantasy of mine, and I am very thankful to Ben to have recorded this forever so that I can listen to it on repeat like the hopeless lesbian that I am.
23 . Typo!! Or is it…
24 . 1. Upon the firſt chance you receive you would most certainly try to uſe the ſacred arts of cunnilingus upon yourſelf and probably kill yourſelf in the proceſs. 2. A tangential obſervation, but tis faſcinating how The Forbidden Technique of the Wrath of Boudicea Tenfold works upon girl-cock. Truly a ſubject worth further inquiry… -BF
25 . My critics may say that buying the cheapest possible voice recorder isn't worth it when it has only 15 minutes of storage. To them I say: then buy me a better one.
26 . As long as ſhe has no knowledge of my acts during that week ſhe cannot possibly be convicted under the theory of mens rea. Alſo the number of women that I 'tipped the velvet' for during that time would place her in a deeper depreſsion than ſhe is in already. -BF
27 . Use code HAUGENHASGAME to get an extra $250 towards your first bet (not sponsored but I will be as soon as John DraftKings responds to my emails).
28 . Not the UIU, because fuck cops.
29 . That was my last 500 bucks. I need a new job.
30 . OK also don't stop now, you're almost done with the story, but man, what are you doing and why are you reading my column, it's so not for kids.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Blood On The Ice (An Investigative Sports Report) " by Anorrack, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/blood-on-the-ice . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 26 | ["_deer-college", "_licensebox", "comedy", "crime-fiction", "deer-college", "fantasy", "ghost", "goi-format", "journalism", "mystery", "third-law", "three-portlands"] | 2025-03-19T21:08:00 | 20,720 | 3,668 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-635 | SCP-635 | scp | Item #: SCP-635
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: All ██ volumes of SCP-635-1 are to be kept in a dedicated library room at Site-██ with a climate controlled environment maintaining a constant 13 degrees Celsius and a humidity of between 35% and 45%. HVAC systems shall use HEPA filtration to keep atmospheric contaminants to a minimum. Lighting exposure to contained objects shall be limited to 50 lux a day. Experiments on original volumes of SCP-635-1 are discouraged due to their fragility and will only be approved in an attempt at recovery of lost data. A digital copy of the text of SCP-635-1 is available in standard encrypted format for research purposes with level 3 approval.
Personnel exposed to SCP-635-1’s text must be quarantined on-site until all symptoms of exposure cease, generally 72 hours after exposure. Such personnel must only be provided with tools and/or equipment as part of a controlled experiment in a secure environment.
Instances of SCP-635-2 and SCP-635-3 are to be contained in secure rooms with armored walls and disassembled when no longer being used for testing. Any instance of SCP-635-4 or greater is to be treated as an imminent containment breach and be neutralized immediately via Procedure Capek-Omega-635.
Description: SCP-635-1 is a set of ██ illuminated manuscripts dating from the 13th Century recovered by Doctor H████ S████ of ██████ University from the ruins of the ███████ Monastery in ███████, Ireland, in August of 18██. The manuscripts came into Foundation custody 36 years later in 19██, a decade after Doctor S████’s dismissal from the University for [DATA EXPUNGED].
Upon investigating those reports, Foundation agents discovered the main building of the estate partially disassembled. In addition to SCP-635-1, agents recovered ███ inert instances of SCP-635-2, ██ inert instances of SCP-635-3, and several rusted pieces of machinery that may have been an attempt at constructing an instance of SCP-635-4.
SCP-635-1 is written in a combination of Latin and a previously unknown script that relies on numerical and logical elements similar to a modern computer programming language. The first volume is a primer in Latin, introducing the various elements of this script, and as the text progresses, the Latin is slowly displaced until the second volume is almost entirely in this novel language. The volumes increase in complexity until by volume ██ the text consists of solid blocks of numerical data that has undergone an extremely efficient compression algorithm.
If a subject with a rudimentary understanding of Latin begins reading volume one of SCP-635-1, they will experience a growing reluctance to discontinue that is proportional to their general intelligence, reading comprehension, problem-solving aptitude, and mathematical ability. Those with Computer Science or Engineering degrees seem most susceptible. If the subject is allowed to continue reading, they will finish the first █ volumes of SCP-635-1 in approximately 12 hours. (Note: Post-exposure interviews reveal that long-term retention of material read during this period is minimal. When asked to explain what they’ve read afterward, most subjects only report a general impression of something “really cool.”)
After completing the first █ volumes of SCP-635-1, subjects will enter a fugue state where they will stop reading and immediately search for tools and material to start construction of an instance of SCP-635-2. (Note: Post-exposure interviews reveal that subjects are conscious and aware during this period, and report that they felt a strong desire to “try some of this stuff out.”) Design and materials used in the construction of SCP-635-2 will vary based on the aptitude of the subject and materials and tools available. However, SCP-635-2 will always be built with a method to input the text of volume █ of SCP-635-1. Subject will continue to construct SCP-635-2s, and inputting SCP-635-1's text, to the best of their ability, until succumbing to exhaustion. If appropriate tools and materials are not available, this fugue state subsides, but the subject will feel a strong compulsion to make a backup copy of SCP-635-1's text "for safekeeping." (Note: In this instance, it is recommended to allow subject to make an archive copy of the digital file to Site-██'s secure on-site data warehouse. Failure to do this may result in a security breach.)
Instances of SCP-635-2 are robots with varying means of manipulation and data storage. About 50% of instances constructed prove to be viable and autonomous. If an SCP-635-2 built by a subject proves viable, it will immediately begin construction of another SCP-635-2 based on its own design. Copies tend to be imperfect and have flaws, and about 80% of tests have ended with less than 3 viable SCP-635-2s before the machines run down and become inert. In the ██% of cases where more than █ viable SCP-635-2s have been created, the SCP-635-2s will change behavior and build an instance of SCP-635-3, a substantially more advanced robot that will have the capability of retrieving data from the remaining volumes of SCP-635-1. Once it retrieves what data it can, an SCP-635-3 is able to organize and direct SCP-635-2s and prevent them from prematurely powering down. Left unchecked, SCP-635-3 will disassemble elements of the surrounding environment for raw material for more robots. Once 2 or more viable SCP-635-3s are active, all robots will begin assembly of SCP-635-4. A viable SCP-635-4 will [DATA EXPUNGED] and it is unclear if this is due to hostile intent, or from data corruption to the content of SCP-635-1 due to age.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-635 " by sandrewswann, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-635 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 241 | ["_licensebox", "compulsion", "document", "euclid", "mind-affecting", "robotic", "scp", "self-replicating"] | 2011-08-11T16:57:00 | 5,972 | 946 | SCP-635 | Euclid | All ██ volumes of SCP-635-1 are to be kept in a dedicated library room at Site-██ with a climate controlled environment maintaining a constant 13 degrees Celsius and a humidity of between 35% and 45%. HVAC systems shall use HEPA filtration to keep atmospheric contaminants to a minimum. Lighting exposure to contained objects shall be limited to 50 lux a day. Experiments on original volumes of SCP-635-1 are discouraged due to their fragility and will only be approved in an attempt at recovery of lost data. A digital copy of the text of SCP-635-1 is available in standard encrypted format for research purposes with level 3 approval.
Personnel exposed to SCP-635-1’s text must be quarantined on-site until all symptoms of exposure cease, generally 72 hours after exposure. Such personnel must only be provided with tools and/or equipment as part of a controlled experiment in a secure environment.
Instances of SCP-635-2 and SCP-635-3 are to be contained in secure rooms with armored walls and disassembled when no longer being used for testing. Any instance of SCP-635-4 or greater is to be treated as an imminent containment breach and be neutralized immediately via Procedure Capek-Omega-635. | SCP-635-1 is a set of ██ illuminated manuscripts dating from the 13th Century recovered by Doctor H████ S████ of ██████ University from the ruins of the ███████ Monastery in ███████, Ireland, in August of 18██. The manuscripts came into Foundation custody 36 years later in 19██, a decade after Doctor S████’s dismissal from the University for [DATA EXPUNGED].
Upon investigating those reports, Foundation agents discovered the main building of the estate partially disassembled. In addition to SCP-635-1, agents recovered ███ inert instances of SCP-635-2, ██ inert instances of SCP-635-3, and several rusted pieces of machinery that may have been an attempt at constructing an instance of SCP-635-4.
SCP-635-1 is written in a combination of Latin and a previously unknown script that relies on numerical and logical elements similar to a modern computer programming language. The first volume is a primer in Latin, introducing the various elements of this script, and as the text progresses, the Latin is slowly displaced until the second volume is almost entirely in this novel language. The volumes increase in complexity until by volume ██ the text consists of solid blocks of numerical data that has undergone an extremely efficient compression algorithm.
If a subject with a rudimentary understanding of Latin begins reading volume one of SCP-635-1, they will experience a growing reluctance to discontinue that is proportional to their general intelligence, reading comprehension, problem-solving aptitude, and mathematical ability. Those with Computer Science or Engineering degrees seem most susceptible. If the subject is allowed to continue reading, they will finish the first █ volumes of SCP-635-1 in approximately 12 hours. (Note: Post-exposure interviews reveal that long-term retention of material read during this period is minimal. When asked to explain what they’ve read afterward, most subjects only report a general impression of something “really cool.”)
After completing the first █ volumes of SCP-635-1, subjects will enter a fugue state where they will stop reading and immediately search for tools and material to start construction of an instance of SCP-635-2. (Note: Post-exposure interviews reveal that subjects are conscious and aware during this period, and report that they felt a strong desire to “try some of this stuff out.”) Design and materials used in the construction of SCP-635-2 will vary based on the aptitude of the subject and materials and tools available. However, SCP-635-2 will always be built with a method to input the text of volume █ of SCP-635-1. Subject will continue to construct SCP-635-2s, and inputting SCP-635-1's text, to the best of their ability, until succumbing to exhaustion. If appropriate tools and materials are not available, this fugue state subsides, but the subject will feel a strong compulsion to make a backup copy of SCP-635-1's text "for safekeeping." (Note: In this instance, it is recommended to allow subject to make an archive copy of the digital file to Site-██'s secure on-site data warehouse. Failure to do this may result in a security breach.)
Instances of SCP-635-2 are robots with varying means of manipulation and data storage. About 50% of instances constructed prove to be viable and autonomous. If an SCP-635-2 built by a subject proves viable, it will immediately begin construction of another SCP-635-2 based on its own design. Copies tend to be imperfect and have flaws, and about 80% of tests have ended with less than 3 viable SCP-635-2s before the machines run down and become inert. In the ██% of cases where more than █ viable SCP-635-2s have been created, the SCP-635-2s will change behavior and build an instance of SCP-635-3, a substantially more advanced robot that will have the capability of retrieving data from the remaining volumes of SCP-635-1. Once it retrieves what data it can, an SCP-635-3 is able to organize and direct SCP-635-2s and prevent them from prematurely powering down. Left unchecked, SCP-635-3 will disassemble elements of the surrounding environment for raw material for more robots. Once 2 or more viable SCP-635-3s are active, all robots will begin assembly of SCP-635-4. A viable SCP-635-4 will [DATA EXPUNGED] and it is unclear if this is due to hostile intent, or from data corruption to the content of SCP-635-1 due to age.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-635 " by sandrewswann, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-635 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 1 | ## recovery of lost data. A digital copy of the text of SCP-635-1 is available in standard encrypted format for research purposes with level 3 approval.
Personnel exposed to SCP-635-1’s text must be quarantined on-site until all symptoms of exposure cease, generally 72 hours after exposure. Such personnel must only be provided with tools and/or equipment as part of a controlled experiment in a secure environment.
Instances of SCP-635-2 and SCP-635-3 are to be contained in secure rooms with armored walls and disassembled when no longer being used for testing. Any instance of SCP-635-4 or greater is to be treated as an imminent containment breach and be neutralized immediately via Procedure Capek-Omega-635.
Description: SCP-635-1 is a set of ██ illuminated manuscripts dating from the 13th Century recovered by Doctor H████ S████ of ██████ University from the ruins of the ███████ Monastery in ███████, Ireland, in August of 18██. The manuscripts came into Foundation custody 36 years later in 19██, a decade after Doctor S████’s dismissal from the University for [DATA EXPUNGED].
Upon investigating those reports, Foundation agents discovered the main building of the estate partially disassembled. In addition to SCP-635-1, agents recovered ███ inert instances of SCP-635-2, ██ inert instances of SCP-635-3, and several rusted pieces of machinery that may have been an attempt at constructing an instance of SCP-635-4.
SCP-635-1 is written in a combination of Latin and a previously unknown script that relies on numerical and logical elements similar to a modern computer programming language. The first volume is a primer in Latin, introducing the various elements of this script, and as the text progresses, the Latin is slowly displaced until the second volume is almost entirely in this novel language. The volumes increase in complexity until by volume ██ the text consists of solid blocks of numerical data that has undergone an extremely efficient compression algorithm.
If a subject with a rudimentary understanding of Latin begins reading volume one of SCP-635-1, they will experience a growing reluctance to discontinue that is proportional to their general intelligence, reading comprehension, problem-solving aptitude, and mathematical ability. Those with Computer Science or Engineering degrees seem most susceptible. If the subject is allowed to continue reading, they will finish the first █ volumes of SCP-635-1 in approximately 12 hours. (Note: Post-exposure interviews reveal that long-term retention of material read during this period is minimal. When asked to explain what they’ve read afterward, most subjects only report a general impression of something “really cool.”)
After completing the first █ volumes of SCP-635-1, subjects will enter a fugue state where they will stop reading and immediately search for tools and material to start construction of an instance of SCP-635-2. (Note: Post-exposure interviews reveal that subjects are conscious and aware during this period, and report that they felt a strong desire to “try some of this stuff out.”) Design and materials used in the construction of SCP-635-2 will vary based on the aptitude of the subject and materials and tools available. However, SCP-635-2 will always be built with a method to input the text of volume █ of SCP-635-1. Subject will continue to construct SCP-635-2s, and inputting SCP-635-1's text, to the best of their ability, until succumbing to exhaustion. If appropriate tools and materials are not available, this fugue state subsides, but the subject will feel a strong compulsion to make a backup copy of SCP-635-1's text "for safekeeping." (Note: In this instance, it is recommended to allow subject to make an archive copy of the digital file to Site-██'s secure on-site data warehouse. Failure to do this may result in a security breach.)
Instances of SCP-635-2 are robots with varying means of manipulation and data storage. About 50% of instances constructed prove to be viable and autonomous. If an SCP-635-2 built by a subject proves viable, it will immediately begin construction of another SCP-635-2 based on its own design. Copies tend to be imperfect and have flaws, and about 80% of tests have ended with less than 3 viable SCP-635-2s before the machines run down and become inert. In the ██% of cases where more than █ viable SCP-635-2s have been created, the SCP-635-2s will change behavior and build an instance of SCP-635-3, a substantially more advanced robot that will have the capability of retrieving data from the remaining volumes of SCP-635-1. Once it retrieves what data it can, an SCP-635-3 is able to organize and direct SCP-635-2s and prevent them from prematurely powering down. Left unchecked, SCP-635-3 will disassemble elements of the surrounding environment for raw material for more robots. Once 2 or more viable SCP-635-3s are active, all robots will begin assembly of SCP-635-4. A viable SCP-635-4 will [DATA EXPUNGED] and it is unclear if this is due to hostile intent, or from data corruption to the content of SCP-635-1 due to age.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-635 " by sandrewswann, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-635 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-347 | SCP-347 | scp | Item #: SCP-347
Object Class: Euclid (With proper counseling, SCP-347 may be considered safe eventually)
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-347 is currently kept at Site 17 in a 5m x 5m room monitored by infrared camera, with attached bathroom complete with shower and bathtub, furnished as per request, containing a queen sized bed, several SUMO brand furniture items, two armchairs, a desk and swivel chair, several bookcases and a TV with a DVD player. The bookcases are filled with various books, primarily adventure novels, harlequin romances, and art books. She is allowed DVDs of various movies and TV shows predating her arrival at the SCP facility, and may request new material to be reviewed every so often. Although SCP-347 does not wear clothing much of the time, she is to be allowed a wardrobe of whatever clothes she requests, as well as makeup and wigs for her own amusement.
SCP-347's room must remain locked while she is within, and at least two staff members must check her door for any sign of tampering every hour. The door may primarily be unlocked to allow staff to and from her room. SCP-347 enjoys company and casually chats and flirts with staff who bring meals and other items, although staff are cautioned from developing too much of an attachment or attraction.
SCP-347 is allowed to leave the room provided that she is accompanied by at least one staff member of at least Level-2 security and must apply a layer of grease paint to her face and wear gloves, to indicate hands and facial expression. Personnel are urged not to say anything should SCP-347 choose to leave her room nude, and crude remarks are frowned upon. Should SCP-347 attempt violent action or escape, she is to be restrained immediately and returned to her room, with the door securely locked.
Should SCP-347 successfully disappear from under the staff's nose, infrared 'heat vision' goggles will be dispensed and strange occurrences must be reported immediately as signs of her. For security reasons, SCP-347 is not allowed contact with any other SCPs as of yet.
Description: SCP-347 is an adult/young adult female, standing at 164cm tall, and 55kg in weight. Despite being a seemingly average woman between the age of 19 and 25, SCP-347 is completely invisible. This also includes everything inside her body at any given moment, although her waste products and saliva appear once they lose contact with her, but her blood, skin, and hair samples all remain invisible. Testing has confirmed that she has normal eyesight, despite the fact that the cones and rods of the eyes must be visible in order for a human to see. SCP-347 describes herself as being an average female of mixed race, with brown eyes and wavy black hair, and refers to herself as Claudia, although it is highly likely that this is a false name taken from the actor Claude Rains, the lead of The Invisible Man . Her true identity has not been ascertained.
Aside from her invisibility, SCP-347 has no unusual traits other than immense skill in picking locks, theft, and has been observed swallowing small objects in order to turn them invisible, displaying the ability to regurgitate them at will without dispensing all the contents of her stomach as well, a trick she claims she came up with after watching a Stevie Starr performance on a late-night show.
SCP-347 was recovered in ████████████, after local news and rumors about a poltergeist inhabiting an abandoned house drew attention of SCP staff in the area. After infrared cameras revealed that she still gave off a human heat signature, SCP-347 was quickly captured and after much deliberation willingly entered into SCP custody, asking for warm food and protection from the elements. It has been theorized that she had been living on the street and in abandoned buildings for several years, although SCP-347 had adamantly refused to discuss such things. Two deaths and several apparent incidences of 'ghost activity' have also been attributed to her.
When first recovered, SCP-347 showed signs of mental instability and violent outbursts, as well as compulsive theft and bouts of refusing to speak for several days on end. Traditional counseling methods have helped reduce the frequency and severity of such issues, and it's theorized that with more time SCP-347 may heal from the trauma of years of not being seen and being completely alone.
It has been suggested that SCP-347 be introduced to other SCPs , as human contact appears to be quite pleasing, and she greatly enjoys being acknowledged without being seen as strange. When ignored, SCP-347 does not seem to demand attention, but rather toys with people by rearranging things and hiding things. When left alone with somebody who is sleeping or otherwise distracted, it should be noted that SCP-347 will touch and stroke a sleeping person, tuck in their blankets, and do other small things. SCP-347 has confirmed that this behavior just feels "right" although the person it's done to often describes it as "unnerving".
Although SCP-347 is invisible in all terms of visible light, she may still be observed via ultraviolet or infrared cameras.
Addendum: Dr. Rights has requested that all male personnel in contact with SCP-347 politely refuse advances. (See document 347-01)
Document 347-01 She's an invisible kleptomaniac. When you leave, afterward, you're going to realize three seconds too late that you don't have your keys in your pocket anymore, and you will be held accountable for whatever happens. Besides, the last thing we need is an invisible pregnancy. -Dr. Rights
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-347 " by agatharights, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-347 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 307 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "doctor-rights", "euclid", "humanoid", "sapient", "scp", "sensory", "visual"] | 2008-11-24T19:57:00 | 5,897 | 976 | SCP-347 | Euclid | SCP-347 is currently kept at Site 17 in a 5m x 5m room monitored by infrared camera, with attached bathroom complete with shower and bathtub, furnished as per request, containing a queen sized bed, several SUMO brand furniture items, two armchairs, a desk and swivel chair, several bookcases and a TV with a DVD player. The bookcases are filled with various books, primarily adventure novels, harlequin romances, and art books. She is allowed DVDs of various movies and TV shows predating her arrival at the SCP facility, and may request new material to be reviewed every so often. Although SCP-347 does not wear clothing much of the time, she is to be allowed a wardrobe of whatever clothes she requests, as well as makeup and wigs for her own amusement.
SCP-347's room must remain locked while she is within, and at least two staff members must check her door for any sign of tampering every hour. The door may primarily be unlocked to allow staff to and from her room. SCP-347 enjoys company and casually chats and flirts with staff who bring meals and other items, although staff are cautioned from developing too much of an attachment or attraction.
SCP-347 is allowed to leave the room provided that she is accompanied by at least one staff member of at least Level-2 security and must apply a layer of grease paint to her face and wear gloves, to indicate hands and facial expression. Personnel are urged not to say anything should SCP-347 choose to leave her room nude, and crude remarks are frowned upon. Should SCP-347 attempt violent action or escape, she is to be restrained immediately and returned to her room, with the door securely locked.
Should SCP-347 successfully disappear from under the staff's nose, infrared 'heat vision' goggles will be dispensed and strange occurrences must be reported immediately as signs of her. For security reasons, SCP-347 is not allowed contact with any other SCPs as of yet. | SCP-347 is an adult/young adult female, standing at 164cm tall, and 55kg in weight. Despite being a seemingly average woman between the age of 19 and 25, SCP-347 is completely invisible. This also includes everything inside her body at any given moment, although her waste products and saliva appear once they lose contact with her, but her blood, skin, and hair samples all remain invisible. Testing has confirmed that she has normal eyesight, despite the fact that the cones and rods of the eyes must be visible in order for a human to see. SCP-347 describes herself as being an average female of mixed race, with brown eyes and wavy black hair, and refers to herself as Claudia, although it is highly likely that this is a false name taken from the actor Claude Rains, the lead of The Invisible Man . Her true identity has not been ascertained.
Aside from her invisibility, SCP-347 has no unusual traits other than immense skill in picking locks, theft, and has been observed swallowing small objects in order to turn them invisible, displaying the ability to regurgitate them at will without dispensing all the contents of her stomach as well, a trick she claims she came up with after watching a Stevie Starr performance on a late-night show.
SCP-347 was recovered in ████████████, after local news and rumors about a poltergeist inhabiting an abandoned house drew attention of SCP staff in the area. After infrared cameras revealed that she still gave off a human heat signature, SCP-347 was quickly captured and after much deliberation willingly entered into SCP custody, asking for warm food and protection from the elements. It has been theorized that she had been living on the street and in abandoned buildings for several years, although SCP-347 had adamantly refused to discuss such things. Two deaths and several apparent incidences of 'ghost activity' have also been attributed to her.
When first recovered, SCP-347 showed signs of mental instability and violent outbursts, as well as compulsive theft and bouts of refusing to speak for several days on end. Traditional counseling methods have helped reduce the frequency and severity of such issues, and it's theorized that with more time SCP-347 may heal from the trauma of years of not being seen and being completely alone.
It has been suggested that SCP-347 be introduced to other SCPs , as human contact appears to be quite pleasing, and she greatly enjoys being acknowledged without being seen as strange. When ignored, SCP-347 does not seem to demand attention, but rather toys with people by rearranging things and hiding things. When left alone with somebody who is sleeping or otherwise distracted, it should be noted that SCP-347 will touch and stroke a sleeping person, tuck in their blankets, and do other small things. SCP-347 has confirmed that this behavior just feels "right" although the person it's done to often describes it as "unnerving".
Although SCP-347 is invisible in all terms of visible light, she may still be observed via ultraviolet or infrared cameras. | 0 | ||
SCP-2117 | SCP-2117 | scp | Former exterior plans of SCP-2117, retrieved from an onboard computer. More detailed mapping operations are currently underway. Click to enlarge.
Item #: SCP-2117
Object Class: Thaumiel
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-2117 is the location of Site-2117, which can be accessed by any individual possessing an instance of SCP-2117-A-1. Currently, SCP-2117-A-1 instances are used by vital personnel, members of Mobile Task Force Omega-2 ("Anti-Nihilism IN SPACE!") and instances of SCP-2117-B.
SCP-2117 is currently situated in orbit around Titan, but may be freely used to move throughout the solar system in order to combat extraterrestrial or extrastellar threats. The weapons capabilities of SCP-2117 are listed in the user's manual in Document 2117-Alpha.
There are currently no plans to use SCP-2117 as a means of interstellar travel; however, as it is home to a Bailey-King Multi-Universal Transit Array, there is currently an outpost for the Department of Multi-Universal Affairs onboard.
SCP-2117-B instances are currently acting as security consultants with the Foundation as part of Auxiliary Task Force Alpha-1 (" The Black Rabbit In The Moon "). SCP-2117-B instances are allowed free passage on to and off of SCP-2117, and are being used as a disruptive agents for non-Foundation interests in China, Japan and South Korea.
Description: SCP-2117 refers to an irregularly-shaped space station of unknown origin currently orbiting Titan, the largest moon of the planet Saturn. SCP-2117's external dimensions are approximately 200km x 50km x 70km. However, the interior dimensions of SCP-2117 to far exceed that of the exterior due to the use of Augustine Non-Euclidian Stabilization Engines 1 . The hull of SCP-2117 is made up of an iridium-titanium-beryllium alloy, and 90% of the ship is covered with markings of a single phrase written in over five-hundred languages: SCPS Solidarity .
SCP-2117 appears to be an amalgam of at least seventy-three different space-faring craft and space stations; of these, fifteen of the craft and twelve of the stations are identical. The Augustine Non-Euclidian Stabilization Engines aid SCP-2117 in maintaining its cohesion, as exploration has indicated that the disparate parts of SCP-2117 are joined not through welding or other joining techniques, but through violation of the Pauli exclusion principle 2 .
SCP-2117-1 refers to a pseudo-memetic anomaly present onboard SCP-2117. SCP-2117-1 automatically translates all writing inscribed onto the surfaces within SCP-2117, including furniture, structural components, and technology. Writing must be physically inscribed or embossed; printed writing is not affected by SCP-2117-1.
Inscriptions translated by SCP-2117-1 are often used as a guide to operating SCP-2117-A instances, or else are used as commentary on these instances. SCP-2117-A refers to the anomalous technology and items present on SCP-2117. Notable instances of SCP-2117-A with accompanying commentary include:
An AI terminal containing an instance of the defunct AIC "CROM"
All it does it say the same word over and over. Whoever programmed this, I hope they got spaced.
It looks like a cute bird, but this thing likes multiplying. It crashed half the computers on Deck 3 last night. It's staying disconnected.
A large-scale Kant counter, which has been adjusted to account for the Hume levels present on SCP-2117.
I can't believe it. This thing's name is a [female reproductive organs] counter?
That pun doesn't really work outside of one language.
What the hell is a Hume, anyway?
Mumbo-jumbo. I'd trash it, but it's fused to the bridge.
A functional Bailey-King Multi-Universal Transit Array; however, documentation refers to it as a King-Bailey Transit Array.
If a guy in a white labcoat comes through, space the entire deck.
This is staying offline. Too much of a drain on the power, and we need fucking life support.
YOU need life support. WE can live in a vacuum.
YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES WHO LIVE ON THIS SHIP
A recreational room using anti-gravity technology salvaged from a Foundation HALO facility, as well as the remains of a ship known as Combat Zeppelin Orichalcum .
Literally a goddamn bounce house.
Since when do we have COMBAT ZEPPELINS!?
For further entries, refer to Document 2117-Ω-2A Recovered Materials .
The four SCP-2117-A instances of greatest concern are as follows.
SCP-2117-A-1 refers to the entrances to SCP-2117. SCP-2117-A-1 are small iridium cubes that, when thrown on a surface after speaking a pass phrase, will open a two-way wormhole into the main common area of SCP-2117. The pass phrase, engraved on the cubes, reads as such:
As long as there are stars in our skies, evermore shall Solidarity rise.
SCP-2117-A-2 refers to a techno-organic Artificial Intelligence. which refers to itself as "Mahōtsukai" 3 . SCP-2117-A-2 appears to have overwritten the original AI present on the ship after being uploaded from an external source, speculated to be one or more sapient individuals.
SCP-2117-A-2's main CPU is organic in nature, approximately 20 meters in diameter, made up of artificial brain and cardiovascular matter. At least twenty-one implants of unclear function exist on SCP-2117-A-2's CPU, apparently acting as 'personality cores' which allow it to exhibit empathy, creativity, and increased cognitive capacity.
SCP-2117-A-3 is an organism which SCP-2117-A-2 refers to as "Jumpy". SCP-2117-A-3 is a nonapodal 4 extraterrestrial organism with a cylindrical body, largely blue in color, possessing a simple jawed mouth and non-centralized cardiovascular and nervous systems, with five hindlimbs and four forelimbs. SCP-2117-A-3 does not appear to be sapient, but has a generally friendly temperament.
SCP-2117-A-3 has the ability to enclose a space of at least 600km 2 within a field of unstable space-time, which can then be controlled by SCP-2117-A-2. If used in conjunction with the ion thrusters present on SCP-2117, it is capable of propelling SCP-2117 at Faster-Than-Light speeds. If used in conjunction with the aforementioned Bailey-King MUTA, SCP-2117-A-3 is capable of crossing universal boundaries.
SCP-2117-A-4 is an object SCP-2117-A-2 refers to as the "Crew Manifest". SCP-2117-A-4 is a large book with vellum pages, bound in leather which appears to be made from a large monitor lizard similar to a Komodo dragon.
When an individual writes their name on SCP-2117-A-4, a notation will appear by their name, indicating what role they serve in the crew and their current status. Foundation personnel that have signed their name in SCP-2117-A-4 have their roles listed as their stations in the Foundation, and their status as "Active". All other personnel, with the exception of SCP-2117-B instances, are listed as either "Lost", "MIA", or "Void".
SCP-2117's bridge contains a plaque which claims to originate from a former group of SCP-2117's owners. SCP-2117-B instances claim that the plaque changed to its current state some time in the last thirty years, and that the original text was entirely different.
This grand ship was given to us long ago. It waited at the Lagrange point, waiting for us to take action. We never did. It floated in space, occasionally picked up by a satellite, occasionally explored. But we never did anything with it— we were content with the status quo.
We learned, too late, that there is no such thing as normal. We tried to stop the thing that came from beyond the stars, faster, faster, ever faster, going beyond the speed of light, but by the time it ate the tenth planet, it was too late. The world as we knew it would die.
Or so we thought. The plaque on the original said that this was the only Solidarity in existence. It was wrong. Dozens— no, hundreds of them filled the skies above the Earth, in shapes and sizes that made several of them unrecognizable. But they still bore her name: Solidarity . They kept the star at bay, and when we got the call, we took the reigns of our own ship.
It was like we were born on it— as soon as the airlock opened, we knew every inch of the ship. Every dent in its hull, every imperfection in its guidance system, every stain on the captain's chair. It spoke to us, and we listened. After too long, we listened, and we went to battle among them, and the Solidarity lived up to its name.
We could never go back into hiding after that, nor did we want to. The world had witnessed a miracle, but the Solidarity was never ours. We abandoned it, made our own ships, and one day, it will vanish.
Salvation will come from this ship one day, and it will not leave until that salvation is provided. When it is, Earth will look to the stars, and those on it will finally know that they are not alone.
We, of the Seventh Stellar Squadron of the Foundation for the Suppression of the Anomalous dedicate this plaque to all those who fought in the Battle of the 100 Solidaritys and those who will come after us, discover this ship, and use it for their own salvation.
Directory:
Currently Viewing: Core File
Discovery
Extended Exploration Logs
SCP-2117-B Exit Interview
Document 2117-Ω-2A, Recovered Materials
Footnotes
1 . Named for Foundation paraphysicist Dr. Marianne "Mimi" Augustine, who proposed the invention of such a device in 1992.
2 . The Pauli Exclusion Principle states that, in an atom or molecule, no two electrons can have the same four electronic quantum numbers. Practically, this means that no two atoms can occupy the same space at the same time with the same energy.
3 . Japanese for "Wizard" or "Witch".
4 . Nine-limbed
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-2117 " by (user deleted), from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-2117 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: 2117.png
Author: Cyantreuse
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Wiki
Derivative of:
Author: Dr Reach
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Wiki | 303 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "_listpages", "black-rabbit-company", "extraterrestrial", "heimdall", "illustrated", "inscription", "observational", "rewrite", "scp", "spatial", "thaumiel", "vehicle"] | 2018-07-15T16:28:00 | 10,077 | 1,623 | SCP-2117 | Thaumiel | SCP-2117 is the location of Site-2117, which can be accessed by any individual possessing an instance of SCP-2117-A-1. Currently, SCP-2117-A-1 instances are used by vital personnel, members of Mobile Task Force Omega-2 ("Anti-Nihilism IN SPACE!") and instances of SCP-2117-B.
SCP-2117 is currently situated in orbit around Titan, but may be freely used to move throughout the solar system in order to combat extraterrestrial or extrastellar threats. The weapons capabilities of SCP-2117 are listed in the user's manual in Document 2117-Alpha.
There are currently no plans to use SCP-2117 as a means of interstellar travel; however, as it is home to a Bailey-King Multi-Universal Transit Array, there is currently an outpost for the Department of Multi-Universal Affairs onboard.
SCP-2117-B instances are currently acting as security consultants with the Foundation as part of Auxiliary Task Force Alpha-1 (" The Black Rabbit In The Moon "). SCP-2117-B instances are allowed free passage on to and off of SCP-2117, and are being used as a disruptive agents for non-Foundation interests in China, Japan and South Korea. | SCP-2117 refers to an irregularly-shaped space station of unknown origin currently orbiting Titan, the largest moon of the planet Saturn. SCP-2117's external dimensions are approximately 200km x 50km x 70km. However, the interior dimensions of SCP-2117 to far exceed that of the exterior due to the use of Augustine Non-Euclidian Stabilization Engines 1 . The hull of SCP-2117 is made up of an iridium-titanium-beryllium alloy, and 90% of the ship is covered with markings of a single phrase written in over five-hundred languages: SCPS Solidarity .
SCP-2117 appears to be an amalgam of at least seventy-three different space-faring craft and space stations; of these, fifteen of the craft and twelve of the stations are identical. The Augustine Non-Euclidian Stabilization Engines aid SCP-2117 in maintaining its cohesion, as exploration has indicated that the disparate parts of SCP-2117 are joined not through welding or other joining techniques, but through violation of the Pauli exclusion principle 2 .
SCP-2117-1 refers to a pseudo-memetic anomaly present onboard SCP-2117. SCP-2117-1 automatically translates all writing inscribed onto the surfaces within SCP-2117, including furniture, structural components, and technology. Writing must be physically inscribed or embossed; printed writing is not affected by SCP-2117-1.
Inscriptions translated by SCP-2117-1 are often used as a guide to operating SCP-2117-A instances, or else are used as commentary on these instances. SCP-2117-A refers to the anomalous technology and items present on SCP-2117. Notable instances of SCP-2117-A with accompanying commentary include:
An AI terminal containing an instance of the defunct AIC "CROM"
All it does it say the same word over and over. Whoever programmed this, I hope they got spaced.
It looks like a cute bird, but this thing likes multiplying. It crashed half the computers on Deck 3 last night. It's staying disconnected.
A large-scale Kant counter, which has been adjusted to account for the Hume levels present on SCP-2117.
I can't believe it. This thing's name is a [female reproductive organs] counter?
That pun doesn't really work outside of one language.
What the hell is a Hume, anyway?
Mumbo-jumbo. I'd trash it, but it's fused to the bridge.
A functional Bailey-King Multi-Universal Transit Array; however, documentation refers to it as a King-Bailey Transit Array.
If a guy in a white labcoat comes through, space the entire deck.
This is staying offline. Too much of a drain on the power, and we need fucking life support.
YOU need life support. WE can live in a vacuum.
YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES WHO LIVE ON THIS SHIP
A recreational room using anti-gravity technology salvaged from a Foundation HALO facility, as well as the remains of a ship known as Combat Zeppelin Orichalcum .
Literally a goddamn bounce house.
Since when do we have COMBAT ZEPPELINS!?
For further entries, refer to Document 2117-Ω-2A Recovered Materials .
The four SCP-2117-A instances of greatest concern are as follows.
SCP-2117-A-1 refers to the entrances to SCP-2117. SCP-2117-A-1 are small iridium cubes that, when thrown on a surface after speaking a pass phrase, will open a two-way wormhole into the main common area of SCP-2117. The pass phrase, engraved on the cubes, reads as such:
As long as there are stars in our skies, evermore shall Solidarity rise.
SCP-2117-A-2 refers to a techno-organic Artificial Intelligence. which refers to itself as "Mahōtsukai" 3 . SCP-2117-A-2 appears to have overwritten the original AI present on the ship after being uploaded from an external source, speculated to be one or more sapient individuals.
SCP-2117-A-2's main CPU is organic in nature, approximately 20 meters in diameter, made up of artificial brain and cardiovascular matter. At least twenty-one implants of unclear function exist on SCP-2117-A-2's CPU, apparently acting as 'personality cores' which allow it to exhibit empathy, creativity, and increased cognitive capacity.
SCP-2117-A-3 is an organism which SCP-2117-A-2 refers to as "Jumpy". SCP-2117-A-3 is a nonapodal 4 extraterrestrial organism with a cylindrical body, largely blue in color, possessing a simple jawed mouth and non-centralized cardiovascular and nervous systems, with five hindlimbs and four forelimbs. SCP-2117-A-3 does not appear to be sapient, but has a generally friendly temperament.
SCP-2117-A-3 has the ability to enclose a space of at least 600km 2 within a field of unstable space-time, which can then be controlled by SCP-2117-A-2. If used in conjunction with the ion thrusters present on SCP-2117, it is capable of propelling SCP-2117 at Faster-Than-Light speeds. If used in conjunction with the aforementioned Bailey-King MUTA, SCP-2117-A-3 is capable of crossing universal boundaries.
SCP-2117-A-4 is an object SCP-2117-A-2 refers to as the "Crew Manifest". SCP-2117-A-4 is a large book with vellum pages, bound in leather which appears to be made from a large monitor lizard similar to a Komodo dragon.
When an individual writes their name on SCP-2117-A-4, a notation will appear by their name, indicating what role they serve in the crew and their current status. Foundation personnel that have signed their name in SCP-2117-A-4 have their roles listed as their stations in the Foundation, and their status as "Active". All other personnel, with the exception of SCP-2117-B instances, are listed as either "Lost", "MIA", or "Void".
SCP-2117's bridge contains a plaque which claims to originate from a former group of SCP-2117's owners. SCP-2117-B instances claim that the plaque changed to its current state some time in the last thirty years, and that the original text was entirely different.
This grand ship was given to us long ago. It waited at the Lagrange point, waiting for us to take action. We never did. It floated in space, occasionally picked up by a satellite, occasionally explored. But we never did anything with it— we were content with the status quo.
We learned, too late, that there is no such thing as normal. We tried to stop the thing that came from beyond the stars, faster, faster, ever faster, going beyond the speed of light, but by the time it ate the tenth planet, it was too late. The world as we knew it would die.
Or so we thought. The plaque on the original said that this was the only Solidarity in existence. It was wrong. Dozens— no, hundreds of them filled the skies above the Earth, in shapes and sizes that made several of them unrecognizable. But they still bore her name: Solidarity . They kept the star at bay, and when we got the call, we took the reigns of our own ship.
It was like we were born on it— as soon as the airlock opened, we knew every inch of the ship. Every dent in its hull, every imperfection in its guidance system, every stain on the captain's chair. It spoke to us, and we listened. After too long, we listened, and we went to battle among them, and the Solidarity lived up to its name.
We could never go back into hiding after that, nor did we want to. The world had witnessed a miracle, but the Solidarity was never ours. We abandoned it, made our own ships, and one day, it will vanish.
Salvation will come from this ship one day, and it will not leave until that salvation is provided. When it is, Earth will look to the stars, and those on it will finally know that they are not alone.
We, of the Seventh Stellar Squadron of the Foundation for the Suppression of the Anomalous dedicate this plaque to all those who fought in the Battle of the 100 Solidaritys and those who will come after us, discover this ship, and use it for their own salvation.
Directory:
Currently Viewing: Core File
Discovery
Extended Exploration Logs
SCP-2117-B Exit Interview | 2 | ## Document 2117-Alpha.
There are currently no plans to use SCP-2117 as a means of interstellar travel; however, as it is home to a Bailey-King Multi-Universal Transit Array, there is currently an outpost for the Department of Multi-Universal Affairs onboard.
SCP-2117-B instances are currently acting as security consultants with the Foundation as part of Auxiliary Task Force Alpha-1 (" The Black Rabbit In The Moon "). SCP-2117-B instances are allowed free passage on to and off of SCP-2117, and are being used as a disruptive agents for non-Foundation interests in China, Japan and South Korea.
Description: SCP-2117 refers to an irregularly-shaped space station of unknown origin currently orbiting Titan, the largest moon of the planet Saturn. SCP-2117's external dimensions are approximately 200km x 50km x 70km. However, the interior dimensions of SCP-2117 to far exceed that of the exterior due to the use of Augustine Non-Euclidian Stabilization Engines 1 . The hull of SCP-2117 is made up of an iridium-titanium-beryllium alloy, and 90% of the ship is covered with markings of a single phrase written in over five-hundred languages: SCPS Solidarity .
SCP-2117 appears to be an amalgam of at least seventy-three different space-faring craft and space stations; of these, fifteen of the craft and twelve of the stations are identical. The Augustine Non-Euclidian Stabilization Engines aid SCP-2117 in maintaining its cohesion, as exploration has indicated that the disparate parts of SCP-2117 are joined not through welding or other joining techniques, but through violation of the Pauli exclusion principle 2 .
SCP-2117-1 refers to a pseudo-memetic anomaly present onboard SCP-2117. SCP-2117-1 automatically translates all writing inscribed onto the surfaces within SCP-2117, including furniture, structural components, and technology. Writing must be physically inscribed or embossed; printed writing is not affected by SCP-2117-1.
Inscriptions translated by SCP-2117-1 are often used as a guide to operating SCP-2117-A instances, or else are used as commentary on these instances. SCP-2117-A refers to the anomalous technology and items present on SCP-2117. Notable instances of SCP-2117-A with accompanying commentary include:
An AI terminal containing an instance of the defunct AIC "CROM"
All it does it say the same word over and over. Whoever programmed this, I hope they got spaced.
It looks like a cute bird, but this thing likes multiplying. It crashed half the computers on Deck 3 last night. It's staying disconnected.
A large-scale Kant counter, which has been adjusted to account for the Hume levels present on SCP-2117.
I can't believe it. This thing's name is a [female reproductive organs] counter?
That pun doesn't really work outside of one language.
What the hell is a Hume, anyway?
Mumbo-jumbo. I'd trash it, but it's fused to the bridge.
A functional Bailey-King Multi-Universal Transit Array; however, documentation refers to it as a King-Bailey Transit Array.
If a guy in a white labcoat comes through, space the entire deck.
This is staying offline. Too much of a drain on the power, and we need fucking life support.
YOU need life support. WE can live in a vacuum.
YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONES WHO LIVE ON THIS SHIP
A recreational room using anti-gravity technology salvaged from a Foundation HALO facility, as well as the remains of a ship known as Combat Zeppelin Orichalcum .
Literally a goddamn bounce house.
Since when do we have COMBAT ZEPPELINS!?
For further entries, refer to
---
## Document 2117-Ω-2A Recovered Materials .
The four SCP-2117-A instances of greatest concern are as follows.
SCP-2117-A-1 refers to the entrances to SCP-2117. SCP-2117-A-1 are small iridium cubes that, when thrown on a surface after speaking a pass phrase, will open a two-way wormhole into the main common area of SCP-2117. The pass phrase, engraved on the cubes, reads as such:
As long as there are stars in our skies, evermore shall Solidarity rise.
SCP-2117-A-2 refers to a techno-organic Artificial Intelligence. which refers to itself as "Mahōtsukai" 3 . SCP-2117-A-2 appears to have overwritten the original AI present on the ship after being uploaded from an external source, speculated to be one or more sapient individuals.
SCP-2117-A-2's main CPU is organic in nature, approximately 20 meters in diameter, made up of artificial brain and cardiovascular matter. At least twenty-one implants of unclear function exist on SCP-2117-A-2's CPU, apparently acting as 'personality cores' which allow it to exhibit empathy, creativity, and increased cognitive capacity.
SCP-2117-A-3 is an organism which SCP-2117-A-2 refers to as "Jumpy". SCP-2117-A-3 is a nonapodal 4 extraterrestrial organism with a cylindrical body, largely blue in color, possessing a simple jawed mouth and non-centralized cardiovascular and nervous systems, with five hindlimbs and four forelimbs. SCP-2117-A-3 does not appear to be sapient, but has a generally friendly temperament.
SCP-2117-A-3 has the ability to enclose a space of at least 600km 2 within a field of unstable space-time, which can then be controlled by SCP-2117-A-2. If used in conjunction with the ion thrusters present on SCP-2117, it is capable of propelling SCP-2117 at Faster-Than-Light speeds. If used in conjunction with the aforementioned Bailey-King MUTA, SCP-2117-A-3 is capable of crossing universal boundaries.
SCP-2117-A-4 is an object SCP-2117-A-2 refers to as the "Crew Manifest". SCP-2117-A-4 is a large book with vellum pages, bound in leather which appears to be made from a large monitor lizard similar to a Komodo dragon.
When an individual writes their name on SCP-2117-A-4, a notation will appear by their name, indicating what role they serve in the crew and their current status. Foundation personnel that have signed their name in SCP-2117-A-4 have their roles listed as their stations in the Foundation, and their status as "Active". All other personnel, with the exception of SCP-2117-B instances, are listed as either "Lost", "MIA", or "Void".
SCP-2117's bridge contains a plaque which claims to originate from a former group of SCP-2117's owners. SCP-2117-B instances claim that the plaque changed to its current state some time in the last thirty years, and that the original text was entirely different.
This grand ship was given to us long ago. It waited at the Lagrange point, waiting for us to take action. We never did. It floated in space, occasionally picked up by a satellite, occasionally explored. But we never did anything with it— we were content with the status quo.
We learned, too late, that there is no such thing as normal. We tried to stop the thing that came from beyond the stars, faster, faster, ever faster, going beyond the speed of light, but by the time it ate the tenth planet, it was too late. The world as we knew it would die.
Or so we thought. The plaque on the original said that this was the only Solidarity in existence. It was wrong. Dozens— no, hundreds of them filled the skies above the Earth, in shapes and sizes that made several of them unrecognizable. But they still bore her name: Solidarity . They kept the star at bay, and when we got the call, we took the reigns of our own ship.
It was like we were born on it— as soon as the airlock opened, we knew every inch of the ship. Every dent in its hull, every imperfection in its guidance system, every stain on the captain's chair. It spoke to us, and we listened. After too long, we listened, and we went to battle among them, and the Solidarity lived up to its name.
We could never go back into hiding after that, nor did we want to. The world had witnessed a miracle, but the Solidarity was never ours. We abandoned it, made our own ships, and one day, it will vanish.
Salvation will come from this ship one day, and it will not leave until that salvation is provided. When it is, Earth will look to the stars, and those on it will finally know that they are not alone.
We, of the Seventh Stellar Squadron of the Foundation for the Suppression of the Anomalous dedicate this plaque to all those who fought in the Battle of the 100 Solidaritys and those who will come after us, discover this ship, and use it for their own salvation.
Directory:
Currently Viewing: Core File
Discovery
Extended Exploration Logs
SCP-2117-B Exit Interview | |
SCP-1598 | SCP-1598 | scp | Item #: SCP-1598
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1598 is to be contained in Cell-14 at Research Site-45 . The cell is to be lined with high density rubber with a thickness of 30cm. The floor is to be grated as to facilitate the disposal of waste from SCP-1598. The cell is to have an automatic antiseptic wash feature capable of cleaning the surrounding walls, grating, and SCP-1598 itself every 8 hours. Only D-class personnel are permitted to enter the cell.
SCP-1598 is to undergo regular bi-weekly X-ray scans. Necrotic appendages will need to be amputated as needed. Cancerous tumors will also require extraction whenever identified. Samples of SCP-1598's visceral fluids will need to be taken once a week and remitted to the assigned Level-2 staff member. SCP-1598 is to be force fed a nutrient-rich slurry every 6 hours. SCP-1598's gastric feeding tube will need to be inserted directly into the stomach through the abdominal area. Repositioning of the feeding tube will be required whenever a new stomach appears.
SCP-1598 requires 24-hour surveillance. Behaviors including aggressive provocation, coprophagy, deliberate self-harm, or any suspicious behavior are to be deterred using electric shock weaponry. Any habits involving SCP-1598 spreading its fecal matter against the cell's interior walls are to be reported to Level-2 staff before being washed clean.
Conventional lethal weaponry is not allowed in Cell-14. In the event of a breach, SCP-1598 is to be approached and suppressed using incapacitance foam dispensers and long-range electric shock weapons only.
Description: SCP-1598 is an organism measuring 4.5m in length, 3.9m in height when standing, and weighing approximately 5.2t. SCP-1598 displays physical and genetic characteristics of Lymantriids , Apinids , Culicids , Tabanids , Forficulidids , Gryllids , and Hominids 1 in various stages of maturity. Apart from limbs, SCP-1598's surface is covered with irregular layers of chitinous plates, skin, urticating bristles, male/female genitalia, barbs, teeth, antennae/cerci, coarse hair, prehensile tongues, and occasionally underdeveloped wings. SCP-1598 appears to possess both an incomplete exoskeleton and endoskeleton, though both seem to function well when used in conjunction. SCP-1598 has no discernible head, but is seen to possess a multitude of eyes and oral/anal cavities of variable size across its body.
SCP-1598 consistently generates various appendages and internal organs at a rapid rate. This rapid and uncontrolled growth is also balanced by a form of circulatory apoptosis, as extremities/internal organs may only last for a few weeks before succumbing to avascular necrosis. These growths appear to have no symmetrical pattern and appear intermittently. Ingrown appendages have also been observed as well as vice versa for internal organs.
SCP-1598 has been observed to be extremely aggressive to staff equipped with weapons. SCP-1598 has also exhibited this aggressiveness to automated suppression systems. During altercations, SCP-1598 has shown an absolute refusal to submit to any attempt at conventional suppression to the point of threatening its own life. Tranquilizers, psychoactive medication, and amnestic drugs appear to have no effect on SCP-1598. To date, SCP-1598 has breached containment 3 times. When in an agitated state, SCP-1598 will use its defensive attributes as well as its excessive strength and size in order to combat personnel. Over time, SCP-1598 has grown increasingly docile since living in captivity and has been observed to remain stationary for days when left undisturbed.
[LEVEL-2 ACCESS ONLY]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
Additional Measures: All messages created by SCP-1598 are to be recorded as they are reported. All attempts made by SCP-1598 to communicate with specific personnel are to be investigated as to uncover any former relations. Personnel exposed to these behaviors of SCP-1598 will need to be debriefed immediately after. The use of amnestic drugs on Foundation personnel assigned to SCP-1598 are to be at the discretion of Level-2 staff.
Personnel assigned to SCP-1598 should be selectively screened by hire dates prior to Oct. 30, 2009. Under no circumstance are personnel from Lab-6 (or who have previously worked in Lab-6) permitted to be assigned to SCP-1598.
All samples from SCP-1598 are to be sent for external testing to the Foundation's head genetics department. Standard protocols for transporting anomalous biologic materials are to be followed. Suicidal tendencies or requests exhibited by SCP-1598 are to be recorded and examined by an appropriately qualified onsite psychologist.
Notes:
The following are selected samples of writings created by SCP-1598 in chronological order.
LETMEOUT
[indecipherable] -ISLYING
ITSNOTMYFAULT
THEBURDENISTOOMUCH
MYLIFEOVER
OHGOD
KILLMEKILLMEKILLMEKILLME
JUSTDOITALREADY
[LEVEL-4 ACCESS ONLY]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
EMPLOYEE PROFILE: 1057499
Name: Dr. Herbert Wimble PhD
Employee #: 1057499
Clearance: Level 2
Status: DECEASED
Position: N/A
Work Client: LINK REMOVED
Current Assignment: N/A
Background: DELETED
REVISION HISTORY:
DATE
REVISION
ACTION
EDITOR
COMMENTS
Aug. 30, 1999
.0001
content uploaded
IT Dept.
profile added
Aug. 30, 1999
.0002
file/attachment uploaded
IT Dept.
picture added
Sep. 1, 1999
.0003
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: field analyst, entry-level
Jun. 20, 2003
.0004
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: researcher, geneticist
Jun. 20, 2003
.0005
content source text changed
HR Dept.
current assignment: lab-6, research site-45
Apr. 15, 2006
.0006
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: senior researcher, geneticist
Jan. 24, 2007
.0007
file/attachment uploaded
IT Dept.
picture updated
Nov. 2, 2007
.0008
content source text changed
HR Dept.
clearance: level 2, promotion
Nov. 2, 2007
.0009
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: chief geneticist
Jan. 18, 2008
.0010
content source text changed
HR Dept.
current assignment: project samsa
Oct. 27, 2009
.0011
content source text changed
HR Dept.
status: demoted for insubordination
Oct. 30, 2009
.0012
content localization changed
IT Dept.
content moved to high security archival server
Oct. 30, 2009
.0013
content source text changed
LV. 4 OVERRIDE
Addendum-001: All personal effects and files related to Dr. Wimble's work are to be stored in the Lab-6 vault at Research Site-45. Project Samsa has been approved to continue under Level-3 administration despite unforeseen setbacks caused by Dr. Wimble. Sampling of SCP-1598 will continue until the missing sequences are found. Messages written by SCP-1598 relating to former colleagues or possible evidence regarding intentions or missing work related to Project Samsa are to be investigated further. Afterwards, SCP-1598 may be allowed to depreciate at its own natural pace.
Addendum-002: In light of the 2 containment breaches caused by SCP-1598, Dr. Wimble's effects and files are to be moved to the high security vault in the archival warehouse of Research Site-45. Any items or files possibly relating to Project Samsa are to be investigated offsite by the Foundation's head genetics department. The extensive damage to Lab-6 and the adjacent offices caused by SCP-1598 will necessitate personnel and equipment to be temporarily assigned to Lab-5 and Lab-7 until investigators discover the item of SCP-1598's apparent interest.
Addendum-002-1: SCP-1598's latest containment breach has caused structural damage to the archival warehouse and the high security vault. SCP-1598 was successful in gaining access to the vault but proved to be extremely frustrated and uncooperative afterwards. Since these altercations SCP-1598's health has deteriorated significantly, which has seriously compromised the quality of sampling. SCP-1598 is to be placed on an aggressive antibiotic regiment and be administered adrenaline whenever necessary. Life monitoring systems will be required from this point out until improvement is seen in sample quality.
Notes:
The following are selected samples of writings created by SCP-1598 in chronological order that are considered to be sensitive information.
THATDOCTOR
HEPUTITINME
TOHIDEITTOPROTECTIT
IDIDNTWANTIT
SOHEHADTODIE
ICANFIXTHIS
HEHADACURE
WHEREISIT
WHEREDIDYOUPUTIT
WHYYOUMOVE- [indecipherable]
YOUIDIOTS
Footnotes
1 . tussock moths, honeybees, mosquitoes, gadflies, earwigs, crickets, and primates (specifically humans)
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1598 " by LurkD, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1598 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 150 | ["_licensebox", "alive", "bee", "euclid", "foundation-made", "genetic", "humanoid", "insect", "scp"] | 2013-04-06T02:54:00 | 8,875 | 1,293 | SCP-1598 | Euclid | SCP-1598 is to be contained in Cell-14 at Research Site-45 . The cell is to be lined with high density rubber with a thickness of 30cm. The floor is to be grated as to facilitate the disposal of waste from SCP-1598. The cell is to have an automatic antiseptic wash feature capable of cleaning the surrounding walls, grating, and SCP-1598 itself every 8 hours. Only D-class personnel are permitted to enter the cell.
SCP-1598 is to undergo regular bi-weekly X-ray scans. Necrotic appendages will need to be amputated as needed. Cancerous tumors will also require extraction whenever identified. Samples of SCP-1598's visceral fluids will need to be taken once a week and remitted to the assigned Level-2 staff member. SCP-1598 is to be force fed a nutrient-rich slurry every 6 hours. SCP-1598's gastric feeding tube will need to be inserted directly into the stomach through the abdominal area. Repositioning of the feeding tube will be required whenever a new stomach appears.
SCP-1598 requires 24-hour surveillance. Behaviors including aggressive provocation, coprophagy, deliberate self-harm, or any suspicious behavior are to be deterred using electric shock weaponry. Any habits involving SCP-1598 spreading its fecal matter against the cell's interior walls are to be reported to Level-2 staff before being washed clean.
Conventional lethal weaponry is not allowed in Cell-14. In the event of a breach, SCP-1598 is to be approached and suppressed using incapacitance foam dispensers and long-range electric shock weapons only. | SCP-1598 is an organism measuring 4.5m in length, 3.9m in height when standing, and weighing approximately 5.2t. SCP-1598 displays physical and genetic characteristics of Lymantriids , Apinids , Culicids , Tabanids , Forficulidids , Gryllids , and Hominids 1 in various stages of maturity. Apart from limbs, SCP-1598's surface is covered with irregular layers of chitinous plates, skin, urticating bristles, male/female genitalia, barbs, teeth, antennae/cerci, coarse hair, prehensile tongues, and occasionally underdeveloped wings. SCP-1598 appears to possess both an incomplete exoskeleton and endoskeleton, though both seem to function well when used in conjunction. SCP-1598 has no discernible head, but is seen to possess a multitude of eyes and oral/anal cavities of variable size across its body.
SCP-1598 consistently generates various appendages and internal organs at a rapid rate. This rapid and uncontrolled growth is also balanced by a form of circulatory apoptosis, as extremities/internal organs may only last for a few weeks before succumbing to avascular necrosis. These growths appear to have no symmetrical pattern and appear intermittently. Ingrown appendages have also been observed as well as vice versa for internal organs.
SCP-1598 has been observed to be extremely aggressive to staff equipped with weapons. SCP-1598 has also exhibited this aggressiveness to automated suppression systems. During altercations, SCP-1598 has shown an absolute refusal to submit to any attempt at conventional suppression to the point of threatening its own life. Tranquilizers, psychoactive medication, and amnestic drugs appear to have no effect on SCP-1598. To date, SCP-1598 has breached containment 3 times. When in an agitated state, SCP-1598 will use its defensive attributes as well as its excessive strength and size in order to combat personnel. Over time, SCP-1598 has grown increasingly docile since living in captivity and has been observed to remain stationary for days when left undisturbed.
[LEVEL-2 ACCESS ONLY]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
Additional Measures: All messages created by SCP-1598 are to be recorded as they are reported. All attempts made by SCP-1598 to communicate with specific personnel are to be investigated as to uncover any former relations. Personnel exposed to these behaviors of SCP-1598 will need to be debriefed immediately after. The use of amnestic drugs on Foundation personnel assigned to SCP-1598 are to be at the discretion of Level-2 staff.
Personnel assigned to SCP-1598 should be selectively screened by hire dates prior to Oct. 30, 2009. Under no circumstance are personnel from Lab-6 (or who have previously worked in Lab-6) permitted to be assigned to SCP-1598.
All samples from SCP-1598 are to be sent for external testing to the Foundation's head genetics department. Standard protocols for transporting anomalous biologic materials are to be followed. Suicidal tendencies or requests exhibited by SCP-1598 are to be recorded and examined by an appropriately qualified onsite psychologist. | 2 | ## logic materials are to be followed. Suicidal tendencies or requests exhibited by SCP-1598 are to be recorded and examined by an appropriately qualified onsite psychologist.
Notes:
The following are selected samples of writings created by SCP-1598 in chronological order.
LETMEOUT
[indecipherable] -ISLYING
ITSNOTMYFAULT
THEBURDENISTOOMUCH
MYLIFEOVER
OHGOD
KILLMEKILLMEKILLMEKILLME
JUSTDOITALREADY
[LEVEL-4 ACCESS ONLY]
[ACCESS GRANTED]
EMPLOYEE PROFILE: 1057499
Name: Dr. Herbert Wimble PhD
Employee #: 1057499
Clearance: Level 2
Status: DECEASED
Position: N/A
Work Client: LINK REMOVED
Current Assignment: N/A
Background: DELETED
REVISION HISTORY:
DATE
REVISION
ACTION
EDITOR
COMMENTS
Aug. 30, 1999
.0001
content uploaded
IT Dept.
profile added
Aug. 30, 1999
.0002
file/attachment uploaded
IT Dept.
picture added
Sep. 1, 1999
.0003
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: field analyst, entry-level
Jun. 20, 2003
.0004
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: researcher, geneticist
Jun. 20, 2003
.0005
content source text changed
HR Dept.
current assignment: lab-6, research site-45
Apr. 15, 2006
.0006
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: senior researcher, geneticist
Jan. 24, 2007
.0007
file/attachment uploaded
IT Dept.
picture updated
Nov. 2, 2007
.0008
content source text changed
HR Dept.
clearance: level 2, promotion
Nov. 2, 2007
.0009
content source text changed
HR Dept.
position: chief geneticist
Jan. 18, 2008
.0010
content source text changed
HR Dept.
current assignment: project samsa
Oct. 27, 2009
.0011
content source text changed
HR Dept.
status: demoted for insubordination
Oct. 30, 2009
.0012
content localization changed
IT Dept.
content moved to high security archival server
Oct. 30, 2009
.0013
content source text changed
LV. 4 OVERRIDE
---
## logical order that are considered to be sensitive information.
THATDOCTOR
HEPUTITINME
TOHIDEITTOPROTECTIT
IDIDNTWANTIT
SOHEHADTODIE
ICANFIXTHIS
HEHADACURE
WHEREISIT
WHEREDIDYOUPUTIT
WHYYOUMOVE- [indecipherable]
YOUIDIOTS
Footnotes
1 . tussock moths, honeybees, mosquitoes, gadflies, earwigs, crickets, and primates (specifically humans)
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1598 " by LurkD, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1598 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-4756 | SCP-4756 | scp | 3/4756 LEVEL 3/4756
CLASSIFIED
Item #: SCP-4756
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-4756 has been sealed within SCP-4756-1. Steel beams are to be bolted to the lid of SCP-4756-1 and the floor of its containment chamber.
Description: SCP-4756 is currently a large humanoid entity; multiple autopsies have shown that SCP-4756 only has two fully functioning organs, the heart and the brain, other organs are either non-functioning, heavily damaged, or missing. While animate, SCP-4756 will attempt to consume any and all human tissues it comes into contact with. Upon discovery, SCP-4756 was a mummified seven month old fetus, but SCP-4756 has since developed into multiple entities over the course of thirteen years. 1
SCP-4756-1 is a stone coffin that has multiple thaumaturgical symbols engraved into it. SCP-4756 will heal wounds at a normal rate while stored within SCP-4756-1; however, SCP-4756 will rapidly regenerate damaged tissues in a matter of four to five hours while not stored within SCP-4756-1. 2 SCP-4756-1 has no anomalous properties outside of its relationship with SCP-4756. As of 01/12/2012 a small leather bound journal has been discovered in a hidden compartment on the inside of SCP-4756-1. 3
Addendum 4756-1:
Appearance
Behavior
Date
Seven month old fetus.
N/A
12/01/2006 - 11/08/2011
A child suffering from malnourishment.
SCP-4756 was able to freely exit and enter SCP-4756-1; however, it expressed pain while outside of SCP-4756-1.
12/08/2011 - 12/02/2014
An underweight adult.
SCP-4756 demonstrated the ability to move in a more fluid manner than it was previously able. SCP-4756 often had periods where it had symptoms of a panic attack or depression.
12/02/2014 - 01/01/2016
A disproportionately large muscular humanoid.
Extreme hostility to all forms of human life.
02/01/2016 - now
Addendum 4756-2:
Entry One
Entry Two
Entry Three
Entry Four
Entry Five
Entry Six
Entry Seven
Entry Eight
After much traveling, I arrived in a small camp in the most secluded part of the woods. There's maybe forty people here, each adorned with strange tattoos and body paint. All except for Father, that is, the only markings Father has are that of grotesque scars going across the undersides of his forearms. When I asked why he only has those scars I only got a one word answer. Rebirth.
I will stay here for as long as I need to and not a day longer. I know it is likely that they don't actually possess the ability to cure me, but I can't risk missing out on being there for my family. I need to stay healthy for my new family, I need to do this for them.
Father approached me while I was studying Latin. I've made very little progress on learning Latin, only studying when Father forces me to. Father said that I needed to join the others in prayer, so I went to the center of the camp to join the others. All of them were chanting something in Latin, "Flesh of new(?), the grand ???, blessed are we for receiving your gift.", after this everyone was given a scrap of raw meat. I was told to eat, for if I didn't the prayer would be for naught. One small bite of that bloody meat, one small bite and I threw up. There was something about that meat that every fiber of my being rejected, hours after I was still vomiting. Father said that this needed to be fixed, and that I was learning Latin too slow for what was required of me.
I found the source of the meat last night, the very thought of what it was disturbs me to my core. They took his arm and his jaw, but he was still alive for some godforsaken reason. I saw the look of desperation in his eyes, he was praying to every god he knew for me to put him out of his misery. Before I could even think of what to do, Father found me. He gave me a lecture of how much I have disappointed him. I don't care about what this madman wanted from me anymore. Even if Father's group could help me, I refuse the very thought of it. When morning breaks I shall leave this camp and return to my wife.
Today is the day that my punishment is over. Chained to a wall, given nothing but human meat. Nothing to do but to read the holy scripts and learn Latin. For months, this was all I knew. Father has shown me the light, and for that I am grateful.
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
Father told me of what he wants to do. I shall serve my purpose to him, and I shall serve it well. I shall live for Father, I shall become as Father wanted me to, [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
I know the rites I must do. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
Once these rites have been committed I will be ready for the ritual.
Father had told me of the components I need. A stone coffin, an open fire, [INFOHAZARD REDACTED], [INFOHAZARD REDACTED], and. My child. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
The reason I wanted to stay alive is the one I must [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]. No, I must forget these thoughts. I shall not fail Father, I am his chosen, I will [INFOHAZARD REDACTED].
Only three days are left until the ritual must begin.
I've done it. The final component of the ritual is in my hands, but it comes at the cost of the only woman I've loved. It all happened so fast, I felt something primal awaken inside of me. One moment I was talking to her, the next I had grabbed a knife from the kitchen. I tackled her to the ground and I forced the knife through her ribs. Over and over again.
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
It wasn't until almost an hour had passed I had stopped. I carefully cut into her stomach, and tore it open. I saw him there, his skin was a dark grey. He died long before I finished. I carefully set him on the table, and did what I had to fulfill my hunger. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
I didn't stop until all was left was bone. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
I took him and wrapped him in what was left of his mother's dress. I took him to the ritual site, I had to prepare him before the ritual can begin.
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
Rebirth.
//
Footnotes
1 . For more information on the different forms of SCP-4756, see Addendum 4756-1
2 . This regeneration will often result in tumorous growths, especially within heart and brain tissues.
3 . See Addendum 4756-2.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4756 " by OccultistMave, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4756 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 78 | ["_licensebox", "artifact", "hostile", "humanoid", "metamorphic", "ritual", "safe", "sarkic", "scp"] | 2019-10-02T18:23:00 | 6,732 | 1,169 | SCP-4756 | Safe | SCP-4756 has been sealed within SCP-4756-1. Steel beams are to be bolted to the lid of SCP-4756-1 and the floor of its containment chamber. | SCP-4756 is currently a large humanoid entity; multiple autopsies have shown that SCP-4756 only has two fully functioning organs, the heart and the brain, other organs are either non-functioning, heavily damaged, or missing. While animate, SCP-4756 will attempt to consume any and all human tissues it comes into contact with. Upon discovery, SCP-4756 was a mummified seven month old fetus, but SCP-4756 has since developed into multiple entities over the course of thirteen years. 1
SCP-4756-1 is a stone coffin that has multiple thaumaturgical symbols engraved into it. SCP-4756 will heal wounds at a normal rate while stored within SCP-4756-1; however, SCP-4756 will rapidly regenerate damaged tissues in a matter of four to five hours while not stored within SCP-4756-1. 2 SCP-4756-1 has no anomalous properties outside of its relationship with SCP-4756. As of 01/12/2012 a small leather bound journal has been discovered in a hidden compartment on the inside of SCP-4756-1. 3 | 4 | ## Addendum 4756-1:
Appearance
Behavior
Date
Seven month old fetus.
N/A
12/01/2006 - 11/08/2011
A child suffering from malnourishment.
SCP-4756 was able to freely exit and enter SCP-4756-1; however, it expressed pain while outside of SCP-4756-1.
12/08/2011 - 12/02/2014
An underweight adult.
SCP-4756 demonstrated the ability to move in a more fluid manner than it was previously able. SCP-4756 often had periods where it had symptoms of a panic attack or depression.
12/02/2014 - 01/01/2016
A disproportionately large muscular humanoid.
Extreme hostility to all forms of human life.
02/01/2016 - now
---
## Addendum 4756-2:
Entry One
Entry Two
Entry Three
Entry Four
Entry Five
Entry Six
Entry Seven
Entry Eight
After much traveling, I arrived in a small camp in the most secluded part of the woods. There's maybe forty people here, each adorned with strange tattoos and body paint. All except for Father, that is, the only markings Father has are that of grotesque scars going across the undersides of his forearms. When I asked why he only has those scars I only got a one word answer. Rebirth.
I will stay here for as long as I need to and not a day longer. I know it is likely that they don't actually possess the ability to cure me, but I can't risk missing out on being there for my family. I need to stay healthy for my new family, I need to do this for them.
Father approached me while I was studying Latin. I've made very little progress on learning Latin, only studying when Father forces me to. Father said that I needed to join the others in prayer, so I went to the center of the camp to join the others. All of them were chanting something in Latin, "Flesh of new(?), the grand ???, blessed are we for receiving your gift.", after this everyone was given a scrap of raw meat. I was told to eat, for if I didn't the prayer would be for naught. One small bite of that bloody meat, one small bite and I threw up. There was something about that meat that every fiber of my being rejected, hours after I was still vomiting. Father said that this needed to be fixed, and that I was learning Latin too slow for what was required of me.
I found the source of the meat last night, the very thought of what it was disturbs me to my core. They took his arm and his jaw, but he was still alive for some godforsaken reason. I saw the look of desperation in his eyes, he was praying to every god he knew for me to put him out of his misery. Before I could even think of what to do, Father found me. He gave me a lecture of how much I have disappointed him. I don't care about what this madman wanted from me anymore. Even if Father's group could help me, I refuse the very thought of it. When morning breaks I shall leave this camp and return to my wife.
Today is the day that my punishment is over. Chained to a wall, given nothing but human meat. Nothing to do but to read the holy scripts and learn Latin. For months, this was all I knew. Father has shown me the light, and for that I am grateful.
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
Father told me of what he wants to do. I shall serve my purpose to him, and I shall serve it well. I shall live for Father, I shall become as Father wanted me to, [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
I know the rites I must do. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
Once these rites have been committed I will be ready for the ritual.
Father had told me of the components I need. A stone coffin, an open fire, [INFOHAZARD REDACTED], [INFOHAZARD REDACTED], and. My child. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
The reason I wanted to stay alive is the one I must [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]. No, I must forget these thoughts. I shall not fail Father, I am his chosen, I will [INFOHAZARD REDACTED].
Only three days are left until the ritual must begin.
I've done it. The final component of the ritual is in my hands, but it comes at the cost of the only woman I've loved. It all happened so fast, I felt something primal awaken inside of me. One moment I was talking to her, the next I had grabbed a knife from the kitchen. I tackled her to the ground and I forced the knife through her ribs. Over and over again.
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
It wasn't until almost an hour had passed I had stopped. I carefully cut into her stomach, and tore it open. I saw him there, his skin was a dark grey. He died long before I finished. I carefully set him on the table, and did what I had to fulfill my hunger. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
I didn't stop until all was left was bone. [INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
I took him and wrapped him in what was left of his mother's dress. I took him to the ritual site, I had to prepare him before the ritual can begin.
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
[INFOHAZARD REDACTED]
Rebirth.
//
Footnotes
1 . For more information on the different forms of SCP-4756, see
---
## Addendum 4756-1
2 . This regeneration will often result in tumorous growths, especially within heart and brain tissues.
3 . See
---
## Addendum 4756-2.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4756 " by OccultistMave, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4756 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-1564 | SCP-1564 | scp | Item #: SCP-1564
Object Class: Euclid-numen
Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-1564 are stored at Site 23 in 2.5m x 5m x 5m cells lined with no less than 2mm of low brass, with the exception of SCP-1564-2, which is stored at Medical Site 04 in an identical cell. Additional stipulations exist for each instance as follows:
SCP-1564-1 may only be interacted with by personnel with experience in a military or paramilitary organization including at least one year of combat experience.
SCP-1564-2 is stored adjacent to Ward 06 at Medical Site 04. Ward 06 contains all non-anomalous comatose patients in Foundation custody in Laos. Should fewer than six comatose persons be present at Medical Site 04, additional subjects may be transferred as necessary from Medical Site 07.
Personnel performing research on SCP-1564-3 are paid on the basis of original, useful research they produce in relation to each other, as determined by Assistant Site Director Galluzzo, rather than by standard Foundation pay grade. Efforts must be made to ensure a competitive environment among researchers. 1
All research and experimentation on SCP-1564-4 is to be performed by individuals who are unaware of the identities of each other. Personnel assigned to SCP-1564-4 are prohibited from revealing their involvement, identification numbers, or real names to any personnel other than Dr. Sanmugasunderam and Assistant Site Director Galluzzo. Dr. Sanmugasunderam and Assistant Site Director Galluzzo may not have in-person contact with personnel assigned to SCP-1564-4 or with each other.
All personnel assigned to contact with SCP-1564-5 are required to memorize the layout of Site 23. Personnel wishing to access SCP-1564-5 must be able to recite this layout verbally upon request. Should any errors be noted in this recitation, access is to be denied.
No less than three mid-ranking members of the Church of the Broken God (tertiary nibbanic or higher) are to remain in meditation around SCP-1564-6. Each is to be provided with access to a database of known CotBG religious texts and given whatever sustenance is requested, provided that it does not exceed Site 23's budget or pose a risk of containment breach. Said members must undergo Procedure Sigma-Two once per month to ensure compliance with containment procedures without interfering with their faith.
Any unauthorized personnel or non-personnel who have viewed an instance of SCP-1564 or an image of an instance of SCP-1564 must be administered a Class-C Amnestic. Should any reliable means of blocking or negating telepathic communications be developed, testing with SCP-1564 is recommended.
Description: SCP-1564 is a collection of six ovoid objects 1.4 meters in length with a mass of 216 kg each, designated SCP-1564-1 through SCP-1564-6. They appear to be constructed primarily of brass and beryllium bronze, with small amounts of gold present. Attempts to breach the surface of an instance of SCP-1564 have invariably failed due to equipment malfunction; however, non-invasive scans have shown that instances of SCP-1564 are hollow and contain extremely intricate assemblies of clockwork components. These assemblies are unique to each instance and appear to be in constant, non-repetitive motion despite the lack of any apparent internal or external power source. While this motion produces noise typical for motions of this type, instances of SCP-1564 do not produce heat.
Instances of SCP-1564 contain unique engraved patterns across their entire surfaces, and are visually distinguishable only by these engravings. The content of these engravings are as follows:
SCP-1564-1: 213 images of humans engaged in armed and unarmed combat with other humans, animals, mythical figures (including allusions to several figures unique to Church of the Broken God mythology), and fractal shapes. Several humanoids as depicted are consistent with descriptions of the Daevite civilization, typically appearing in leadership positions.
SCP-1564-2: 161 images of humans performing acts of charity and worship towards other humans, mythical figures, and places of worship. Several illustrations show the placement of mechanical objects and construction of shrines at culturally significant places, with gifts being given to passersby.
SCP-1564-3: Four illustrations, separated from each other by double lines:
Twelve humans placing items resembling SCP-271 , SCP-882 , SCP-████, and SCP-1139 in boxes. Images are not to scale.
Eight humans surrounding a bonfire containing four items of apparently mechanical nature. 2
A single human carrying several small indistinct objects leading a procession of humans out of a building believed to be a church or similar place of worship. Those closest to the leading figure are younger than those near the back of the procession.
Four humans with fog or smoke emitting from their mouths while their faces peel back. The emitted matter combines to form an indistinct fifth humanoid figure.
SCP-1564-4: Four illustrations, separated from each other by double lines:
A series of caves from which a procession of identical humans emerge, each bowing to a figure dressed in garb consistent with a high priest of the Church of the Broken God.
A serpentine figure which branches off into ninety-seven heads, each inscribed with a glyph similar to those located on SCP-271. Image does not exhibit the anomalous properties of SCP-271.
A group of fourteen humanoid figures depicted in a variety of stylized forms climbing in a pile of mechanical objects.
A book (possibly SCP-140 ) out of which a variety of human limbs and artificial structures appear to be growing. Structures bear similarities to both medieval Indian and Daevite architecture.
SCP-1564-5: A single, nondescript human transitioning, over the course of eleven illustrations, from a human, to a human composed partially of mechanical components, to a humanoid composed entirely of mechanical components, to a featureless ovoid figure. Several smaller illustrations show a human transitioning into an enlarged and apparently aggressive amorphous organism, a human emitting smoke from its mouth before collapsing, and a human rapidly developing into a fractal similar to the ones depicted in SCP-1564-1.
SCP-1564-6: The entire surface is covered with fractal shapes. An estimated 2100 m of etchings have been engraved into SCP-1564-6's surface. The patterns demonstrate familiarity with mathematical concepts that is incongruous with the date of SCP-1564-6's recovery.
Whenever containment procedures for an instance of SCP-1564 are not followed, 3 any individual who is in visual contact with or who can remember the appearance of any instance of SCP-1564 4 may establish telepathic contact with a group of six entities 5 at will. These entities are collectively referred to as SCP-1564-7. While contact with SCP-1564-7 may cause exhaustion and headaches, subjects have not been shown to experience long-term mental or physical harm or alteration. No less than ████ subjects currently exist outside of Foundation custody or employ, most of whom are believed to be members of the Church of the Broken God.
Experiment Log 1564-4: Subject 1564-18 was chosen due to her prior occupational experience in speech transcription to provide a transcript of an encounter with SCP-1564-7. She was instructed to transcribe the communications of each entity using a different color of ink.
Show Experiment Log 1564-4
Hide Experiment Log 1564-4
test test test test test test We're speaking with one. Stop wasting time.
Daughter of the forge, your strength heralds the defeat of the heretics. Rise from the ashes of defeat and prove your valor. My bride, the path ahead is arduous, but as you lose your place in the maze, you will find yourself. Good grief, these five and their speeches. Just let them get it out of their systems. Ma'am, the value of your companionship exceeds that of my peers — interlock with your allies to form gears in the machine of success. Calm yourself, sister. Allow the blows to shape you into your ideal form. Beware, mother, for you, and indeed, us, are surrounded by foes. Remain ready, coiled, and prepared to unleash your inner talent at a moment's notice.
I think that should be a 'we'. Well, I only know English grammar as well as she does. You know this. And you're hardly one to talk about poor writing. Your prose is pretty excessively purple. Funny, I would have expected that comment to be directed at myself. I wish I could say that I expected more from one as conflict-obsessed as you, but ultimately I really can't. And shut up, you haven't been funny in ages. We're basically all the same nowadays, what's the point of talking about differences? You might all be the same. If you're all done being childish, could I actually say something that might be of help to her? I'd like to note that I do my best to remain succinct. Noted, now be quiet.
Okay, so. This is obviously very stressful on you, so I'm going to cut to the chase. As you can gather from my company's enthusiastically grandiose greetings, you're a bit more special than ???? picked you out for. Don't worry, it's not anything bad. You have lots of potential, and I can see you're at least a bit interested. Listen carefully to this next bit.
Always was a go-getter. I remember the last time we did this. It was me that time, remember? They were in quite the pickle… I showed them. We all remember, now shut up so she can concentrate.
You can start writing now, we can't have them martyring you just yet. Be sure to give them something. One thing you should know that wasn't just covered, these SCP Foundation types would put you in chains if you so much as sneezed special, so now that you've just heard all of that, it's not gonna be fun from here-on out. Your teeth and your faith are your strongest weapons. Both will come in time. Get to know your guards. You're an amiable personality, so you shouldn't have trouble. It could be important later. ███████, ███████, 6 left, guards on both sides. As much as it saddens me to say this, reconciliation will be difficult and unpleasant, but the future requires that you show your good will towards all.
Now I guarantee you'll get through this, just like all the others have. You're almost certainly the last, and our best bet. It will be worth it.
Think of it this way — not many people can say they get to be prophets, can they?
All further information regarding Subject 1564-18 is accessible via SCP-GOC Joint File 4-881.
Footnotes
1 . Due to the relatively high burnout rate of SCP-1564-3 researchers, I recommend that alternative containment procedures be devised for SCP-1564-3. - Assistant Site Director Galluzzo.
2 . Two have been positively identified as items of significance from relevant Church of the Broken God texts; one, as "the feet, which carry the chosen across the heathen lands", and the other as "a reminder to those who would live in sin of both the nature of kindness and of wrath". These objects are presumed destroyed.
3 . Containment procedures were devised based on Church of the Broken God documents, information provided by CotBG adherents, and the circumstances of recovery for each instance.
4 . Hereby referred to as subjects.
5 . Subject testimony and CotBG documents indicate that these entities inhabit SCP-1564-1 through -6. This is currently impossible to confirm.
6 . The preceding numbers include activation codes for doors in the area of Site 23 where Subject 1564-18 was kept.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1564 " by Communism will win, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1564 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 266 | ["_licensebox", "archaeological", "are-we-cool-yet", "artifact", "broken-god", "clockwork", "daevite", "dr-wondertainment", "euclid", "fifthist", "global-occult-coalition", "scp", "serpents-hand", "telepathic"] | 2013-01-12T01:48:00 | 11,880 | 1,920 | SCP-1564 | Euclid | All instances of SCP-1564 are stored at Site 23 in 2.5m x 5m x 5m cells lined with no less than 2mm of low brass, with the exception of SCP-1564-2, which is stored at Medical Site 04 in an identical cell. Additional stipulations exist for each instance as follows:
SCP-1564-1 may only be interacted with by personnel with experience in a military or paramilitary organization including at least one year of combat experience.
SCP-1564-2 is stored adjacent to Ward 06 at Medical Site 04. Ward 06 contains all non-anomalous comatose patients in Foundation custody in Laos. Should fewer than six comatose persons be present at Medical Site 04, additional subjects may be transferred as necessary from Medical Site 07.
Personnel performing research on SCP-1564-3 are paid on the basis of original, useful research they produce in relation to each other, as determined by Assistant Site Director Galluzzo, rather than by standard Foundation pay grade. Efforts must be made to ensure a competitive environment among researchers. 1
All research and experimentation on SCP-1564-4 is to be performed by individuals who are unaware of the identities of each other. Personnel assigned to SCP-1564-4 are prohibited from revealing their involvement, identification numbers, or real names to any personnel other than Dr. Sanmugasunderam and Assistant Site Director Galluzzo. Dr. Sanmugasunderam and Assistant Site Director Galluzzo may not have in-person contact with personnel assigned to SCP-1564-4 or with each other.
All personnel assigned to contact with SCP-1564-5 are required to memorize the layout of Site 23. Personnel wishing to access SCP-1564-5 must be able to recite this layout verbally upon request. Should any errors be noted in this recitation, access is to be denied.
No less than three mid-ranking members of the Church of the Broken God (tertiary nibbanic or higher) are to remain in meditation around SCP-1564-6. Each is to be provided with access to a database of known CotBG religious texts and given whatever sustenance is requested, provided that it does not exceed Site 23's budget or pose a risk of containment breach. Said members must undergo Procedure Sigma-Two once per month to ensure compliance with containment procedures without interfering with their faith.
Any unauthorized personnel or non-personnel who have viewed an instance of SCP-1564 or an image of an instance of SCP-1564 must be administered a Class-C Amnestic. Should any reliable means of blocking or negating telepathic communications be developed, testing with SCP-1564 is recommended. | SCP-1564 is a collection of six ovoid objects 1.4 meters in length with a mass of 216 kg each, designated SCP-1564-1 through SCP-1564-6. They appear to be constructed primarily of brass and beryllium bronze, with small amounts of gold present. Attempts to breach the surface of an instance of SCP-1564 have invariably failed due to equipment malfunction; however, non-invasive scans have shown that instances of SCP-1564 are hollow and contain extremely intricate assemblies of clockwork components. These assemblies are unique to each instance and appear to be in constant, non-repetitive motion despite the lack of any apparent internal or external power source. While this motion produces noise typical for motions of this type, instances of SCP-1564 do not produce heat.
Instances of SCP-1564 contain unique engraved patterns across their entire surfaces, and are visually distinguishable only by these engravings. The content of these engravings are as follows:
SCP-1564-1: 213 images of humans engaged in armed and unarmed combat with other humans, animals, mythical figures (including allusions to several figures unique to Church of the Broken God mythology), and fractal shapes. Several humanoids as depicted are consistent with descriptions of the Daevite civilization, typically appearing in leadership positions.
SCP-1564-2: 161 images of humans performing acts of charity and worship towards other humans, mythical figures, and places of worship. Several illustrations show the placement of mechanical objects and construction of shrines at culturally significant places, with gifts being given to passersby.
SCP-1564-3: Four illustrations, separated from each other by double lines:
Twelve humans placing items resembling SCP-271 , SCP-882 , SCP-████, and SCP-1139 in boxes. Images are not to scale.
Eight humans surrounding a bonfire containing four items of apparently mechanical nature. 2
A single human carrying several small indistinct objects leading a procession of humans out of a building believed to be a church or similar place of worship. Those closest to the leading figure are younger than those near the back of the procession.
Four humans with fog or smoke emitting from their mouths while their faces peel back. The emitted matter combines to form an indistinct fifth humanoid figure.
SCP-1564-4: Four illustrations, separated from each other by double lines:
A series of caves from which a procession of identical humans emerge, each bowing to a figure dressed in garb consistent with a high priest of the Church of the Broken God.
A serpentine figure which branches off into ninety-seven heads, each inscribed with a glyph similar to those located on SCP-271. Image does not exhibit the anomalous properties of SCP-271.
A group of fourteen humanoid figures depicted in a variety of stylized forms climbing in a pile of mechanical objects.
A book (possibly SCP-140 ) out of which a variety of human limbs and artificial structures appear to be growing. Structures bear similarities to both medieval Indian and Daevite architecture.
SCP-1564-5: A single, nondescript human transitioning, over the course of eleven illustrations, from a human, to a human composed partially of mechanical components, to a humanoid composed entirely of mechanical components, to a featureless ovoid figure. Several smaller illustrations show a human transitioning into an enlarged and apparently aggressive amorphous organism, a human emitting smoke from its mouth before collapsing, and a human rapidly developing into a fractal similar to the ones depicted in SCP-1564-1.
SCP-1564-6: The entire surface is covered with fractal shapes. An estimated 2100 m of etchings have been engraved into SCP-1564-6's surface. The patterns demonstrate familiarity with mathematical concepts that is incongruous with the date of SCP-1564-6's recovery.
Whenever containment procedures for an instance of SCP-1564 are not followed, 3 any individual who is in visual contact with or who can remember the appearance of any instance of SCP-1564 4 may establish telepathic contact with a group of six entities 5 at will. These entities are collectively referred to as SCP-1564-7. While contact with SCP-1564-7 may cause exhaustion and headaches, subjects have not been shown to experience long-term mental or physical harm or alteration. No less than ████ subjects currently exist outside of Foundation custody or employ, most of whom are believed to be members of the Church of the Broken God.
Experiment Log 1564-4: Subject 1564-18 was chosen due to her prior occupational experience in speech transcription to provide a transcript of an encounter with SCP-1564-7. She was instructed to transcribe the communications of each entity using a different color of ink.
Show Experiment Log 1564-4
Hide Experiment Log 1564-4
test test test test test test We're speaking with one. Stop wasting time.
Daughter of the forge, your strength heralds the defeat of the heretics. Rise from the ashes of defeat and prove your valor. My bride, the path ahead is arduous, but as you lose your place in the maze, you will find yourself. Good grief, these five and their speeches. Just let them get it out of their systems. Ma'am, the value of your companionship exceeds that of my peers — interlock with your allies to form gears in the machine of success. Calm yourself, sister. Allow the blows to shape you into your ideal form. Beware, mother, for you, and indeed, us, are surrounded by foes. Remain ready, coiled, and prepared to unleash your inner talent at a moment's notice.
I think that should be a 'we'. Well, I only know English grammar as well as she does. You know this. And you're hardly one to talk about poor writing. Your prose is pretty excessively purple. Funny, I would have expected that comment to be directed at myself. I wish I could say that I expected more from one as conflict-obsessed as you, but ultimately I really can't. And shut up, you haven't been funny in ages. We're basically all the same nowadays, what's the point of talking about differences? You might all be the same. If you're all done being childish, could I actually say something that might be of help to her? I'd like to note that I do my best to remain succinct. Noted, now be quiet.
Okay, so. This is obviously very stressful on you, so I'm going to cut to the chase. As you can gather from my company's enthusiastically grandiose greetings, you're a bit more special than ???? picked you out for. Don't worry, it's not anything bad. You have lots of potential, and I can see you're at least a bit interested. Listen carefully to this next bit.
Always was a go-getter. I remember the last time we did this. It was me that time, remember? They were in quite the pickle… I showed them. We all remember, now shut up so she can concentrate.
You can start writing now, we can't have them martyring you just yet. Be sure to give them something. One thing you should know that wasn't just covered, these SCP Foundation types would put you in chains if you so much as sneezed special, so now that you've just heard all of that, it's not gonna be fun from here-on out. Your teeth and your faith are your strongest weapons. Both will come in time. Get to know your guards. You're an amiable personality, so you shouldn't have trouble. It could be important later. ███████, ███████, 6 left, guards on both sides. As much as it saddens me to say this, reconciliation will be difficult and unpleasant, but the future requires that you show your good will towards all.
Now I guarantee you'll get through this, just like all the others have. You're almost certainly the last, and our best bet. It will be worth it.
Think of it this way — not many people can say they get to be prophets, can they?
All further information regarding Subject 1564-18 is accessible via SCP-GOC Joint File 4-881.
Footnotes
1 . Due to the relatively high burnout rate of SCP-1564-3 researchers, I recommend that alternative containment procedures be devised for SCP-1564-3. - Assistant Site Director Galluzzo.
2 . Two have been positively identified as items of significance from relevant Church of the Broken God texts; one, as "the feet, which carry the chosen across the heathen lands", and the other as "a reminder to those who would live in sin of both the nature of kindness and of wrath". These objects are presumed destroyed.
3 . Containment procedures were devised based on Church of the Broken God documents, information provided by CotBG adherents, and the circumstances of recovery for each instance.
4 . Hereby referred to as subjects.
5 . Subject testimony and CotBG documents indicate that these entities inhabit SCP-1564-1 through -6. This is currently impossible to confirm.
6 . The preceding numbers include activation codes for doors in the area of Site 23 where Subject 1564-18 was kept.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1564 " by Communism will win, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1564 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 3 | ## testing with SCP-1564 is recommended.
Description: SCP-1564 is a collection of six ovoid objects 1.4 meters in length with a mass of 216 kg each, designated SCP-1564-1 through SCP-1564-6. They appear to be constructed primarily of brass and beryllium bronze, with small amounts of gold present. Attempts to breach the surface of an instance of SCP-1564 have invariably failed due to equipment malfunction; however, non-invasive scans have shown that instances of SCP-1564 are hollow and contain extremely intricate assemblies of clockwork components. These assemblies are unique to each instance and appear to be in constant, non-repetitive motion despite the lack of any apparent internal or external power source. While this motion produces noise typical for motions of this type, instances of SCP-1564 do not produce heat.
Instances of SCP-1564 contain unique engraved patterns across their entire surfaces, and are visually distinguishable only by these engravings. The content of these engravings are as follows:
SCP-1564-1: 213 images of humans engaged in armed and unarmed combat with other humans, animals, mythical figures (including allusions to several figures unique to Church of the Broken God mythology), and fractal shapes. Several humanoids as depicted are consistent with descriptions of the Daevite civilization, typically appearing in leadership positions.
SCP-1564-2: 161 images of humans performing acts of charity and worship towards other humans, mythical figures, and places of worship. Several illustrations show the placement of mechanical objects and construction of shrines at culturally significant places, with gifts being given to passersby.
SCP-1564-3: Four illustrations, separated from each other by double lines:
Twelve humans placing items resembling SCP-271 , SCP-882 , SCP-████, and SCP-1139 in boxes. Images are not to scale.
Eight humans surrounding a bonfire containing four items of apparently mechanical nature. 2
A single human carrying several small indistinct objects leading a procession of humans out of a building believed to be a church or similar place of worship. Those closest to the leading figure are younger than those near the back of the procession.
Four humans with fog or smoke emitting from their mouths while their faces peel back. The emitted matter combines to form an indistinct fifth humanoid figure.
SCP-1564-4: Four illustrations, separated from each other by double lines:
A series of caves from which a procession of identical humans emerge, each bowing to a figure dressed in garb consistent with a high priest of the Church of the Broken God.
A serpentine figure which branches off into ninety-seven heads, each inscribed with a glyph similar to those located on SCP-271. Image does not exhibit the anomalous properties of SCP-271.
A group of fourteen humanoid figures depicted in a variety of stylized forms climbing in a pile of mechanical objects.
A book (possibly SCP-140 ) out of which a variety of human limbs and artificial structures appear to be growing. Structures bear similarities to both medieval Indian and Daevite architecture.
SCP-1564-5: A single, nondescript human transitioning, over the course of eleven illustrations, from a human, to a human composed partially of mechanical components, to a humanoid composed entirely of mechanical components, to a featureless ovoid figure. Several smaller illustrations show a human transitioning into an enlarged and apparently aggressive amorphous organism, a human emitting smoke from its mouth before collapsing, and a human rapidly developing into a fractal similar to the ones depicted in SCP-1564-1.
SCP-1564-6: The entire surface is covered with fractal shapes. An estimated 2100 m of etchings have been engraved into SCP-1564-6's surface. The patterns demonstrate familiarity with mathematical concepts that is incongruous with the date of SCP-1564-6's
---
## recovery.
Whenever containment procedures for an instance of SCP-1564 are not followed, 3 any individual who is in visual contact with or who can remember the appearance of any instance of SCP-1564 4 may establish telepathic contact with a group of six entities 5 at will. These entities are collectively referred to as SCP-1564-7. While contact with SCP-1564-7 may cause exhaustion and headaches, subjects have not been shown to experience long-term mental or physical harm or alteration. No less than ████ subjects currently exist outside of Foundation custody or employ, most of whom are believed to be members of the Church of the Broken God.
Experiment
---
## Log 1564-4
Hide Experiment Log 1564-4
test test test test test test We're speaking with one. Stop wasting time.
Daughter of the forge, your strength heralds the defeat of the heretics. Rise from the ashes of defeat and prove your valor. My bride, the path ahead is arduous, but as you lose your place in the maze, you will find yourself. Good grief, these five and their speeches. Just let them get it out of their systems. Ma'am, the value of your companionship exceeds that of my peers — interlock with your allies to form gears in the machine of success. Calm yourself, sister. Allow the blows to shape you into your ideal form. Beware, mother, for you, and indeed, us, are surrounded by foes. Remain ready, coiled, and prepared to unleash your inner talent at a moment's notice.
I think that should be a 'we'. Well, I only know English grammar as well as she does. You know this. And you're hardly one to talk about poor writing. Your prose is pretty excessively purple. Funny, I would have expected that comment to be directed at myself. I wish I could say that I expected more from one as conflict-obsessed as you, but ultimately I really can't. And shut up, you haven't been funny in ages. We're basically all the same nowadays, what's the point of talking about differences? You might all be the same. If you're all done being childish, could I actually say something that might be of help to her? I'd like to note that I do my best to remain succinct. Noted, now be quiet.
Okay, so. This is obviously very stressful on you, so I'm going to cut to the chase. As you can gather from my company's enthusiastically grandiose greetings, you're a bit more special than ???? picked you out for. Don't worry, it's not anything bad. You have lots of potential, and I can see you're at least a bit interested. Listen carefully to this next bit.
Always was a go-getter. I remember the last time we did this. It was me that time, remember? They were in quite the pickle… I showed them. We all remember, now shut up so she can concentrate.
You can start writing now, we can't have them martyring you just yet. Be sure to give them something. One thing you should know that wasn't just covered, these SCP Foundation types would put you in chains if you so much as sneezed special, so now that you've just heard all of that, it's not gonna be fun from here-on out. Your teeth and your faith are your strongest weapons. Both will come in time. Get to know your guards. You're an amiable personality, so you shouldn't have trouble. It could be important later. ███████, ███████, 6 left, guards on both sides. As much as it saddens me to say this, reconciliation will be difficult and unpleasant, but the future requires that you show your good will towards all.
Now I guarantee you'll get through this, just like all the others have. You're almost certainly the last, and our best bet. It will be worth it.
Think of it this way — not many people can say they get to be prophets, can they?
All further information regarding Subject 1564-18 is accessible via SCP-GOC Joint File 4-881.
Footnotes
1 . Due to the relatively high burnout rate of SCP-1564-3 researchers, I recommend that alternative containment procedures be devised for SCP-1564-3. - Assistant Site Director Galluzzo.
2 . Two have been positively identified as items of significance from relevant Church of the Broken God texts; one, as "the feet, which carry the chosen across the heathen lands", and the other as "a reminder to those who would live in sin of both the nature of kindness and of wrath". These objects are presumed destroyed.
3 . Containment procedures were devised based on Church of the Broken God documents, information provided by CotBG adherents, and the circumstances of recovery for each instance.
4 . Hereby referred to as subjects.
5 . Subject testimony and CotBG documents indicate that these entities inhabit SCP-1564-1 through -6. This is currently impossible to confirm.
6 . The preceding numbers include activation codes for doors in the area of Site 23 where Subject 1564-18 was kept.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1564 " by Communism will win, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1564 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
hides-the-face-lies-the-snake-the-sun-in-my-disgrace | In my eyes, indisposed. In disguises no one knows. Hides the face, lies the snake. The sun in my disgrace - SCP Foundation | tale | Mostly written as a reaction to the "just throw it into the sun" under my SCP-096 videos.
Also the title is from "Black Hole Sun" in case anyone doesn't recognize it.
▸ More by this Author ◂
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
We had the best intentions. That's the kind of thing you tell yourself late at night when you're feeling particularly self reflective, but only because it's actually true. When you're dealing with infinities, though… it doesn't really matter what you meant. Only what happened.
If you took a poll today among Foundation staff you'd be hard pressed to find a single person who supported the proposal. I'm serious, ask around. Clef'll tell you it's Cimmerian's fault. Cimmerian'll say it's Moose's Fault. Moose'll blame Light. Like it matters.
If you keep following the faults you'll end up with Dr. Oleksei. It all started with his bloody crusade, after all. The SCP Foundation took the exceptionally stupid step of telling him he was to be terminated as soon as he dealt with SCP-096. We put a dead man in charge of saving the world.
Sometimes I think we deserve what we got.
The first rumblings of what was going to happen came to my attention when several million dollars worth of my resources were earmarked for a newly classified project. As the fellow in charge of the Foundation Space Forces, I was a bit used to that. I hardly remember the day I got read in on the details.
It all seemed so pedestrian. I'd seen "let's throw it into the sun" proposals before. I'd even approved one or two. This was just another silly project in a long line of projects from people who think that education and arrogance are a good replacement for actual intelligence.
I told Dr. Oleksei I was gonna say no to his stupid idea and he said he wasn't gonna listen to "an engineer". When he went over my head to get approval, I wasn't surprised. Nor was I surprised when they told me to handle the details. Because Oleksei was an expert in being a pompous blowhard, not orbital mechanics.
You should've seen the look on his face when I told him that we'd need to go out to Saturn in order to hit the sun. He was practically apoplectic.
I told him: Every celestial body is a sphere, as long as you pass over the horizon faster than you fall, the body's surface is essentially falling away from you just as fast as you're falling down. Douglas Adams was partially right: the trick is to miss the ground.
But if you're not moving around the sun at 30 kilometers a second, you're gonna move towards the sun. If you have any leftover momentum from what you started with though, you'll just set up a new more trendy orbit a bit closer to the sun at a different speed.
The problem with the math is that it only takes 41 kilometers a second to escape the solar system. Which means you only have to add 11 kilometers a second to the speed you, your mother, your dog, your house, and the ground beneath your feet is already going to get away from the sun. And to hit the sun, you'd need to lose all 30 kilometers per second of speed.
So paradoxically, it's actually easier to escape the sun than it is to hit it, if you start from the Earth. If you're still with me you're doing better than Oleksei did. And he destroyed the world.
So why go out to Saturn? Well the thing about orbital speeds is that the stuff closer in moves faster than the stuff farther out. So we sent a rocket containing one very unfortunate helionaut to go see Saturn, do several gravity assists to slow down, and come back down. The whole thing took us 4 years and a not inconsiderable amount of resources.
It wasn't the first time we'd crashed a woman into the sun, mind you, but it was a sufficiently rare occurrence that we called everyone in for it. There was a little party, with free drinks (just two) and free food (all you could eat). We treated it as a going away party for Oleksei. Almost no one showed up.
We had our Sun diver look at a picture and boom . 096 took off like a lanky slightly quieter rocket. We calculated that at the speed it was going it would hit the sun, just like we'd planned. All that was left was to listen to the D-Class we'd sent up scream as she was incinerated by the sun. We turned off the feed halfway through.
That was my primary objection, by the way. We'd never deliberately killed someone in space before. You're probably thinking that's a lie, but it isn't. People with the mental stability for years long trips to space are damned rare. When you're pulling from prison populations it's even rarer. I'd love to say it was purely for humanitarian reasons but the truth is we couldn't spare the astronauts.
We tracked 096 all the way. It took 2 more years but he got to where he was going, and as far as we know he was bathed in nuclear fire. He probably died screaming.
They killed Oleksei a year ago. I'm not going to use a euphemism there. It was a murder, justified or not. A month ago they finalized the reports and approved one last test.
How could we know we'd succeeded, really? Maybe 096 was just swimming around in there waiting for someone on the Earth to look at a picture. So they had a D-Class look. One last time.
A week ago we noticed the Earth's orbit has begun to decay. I have no math or science that can explain why… but the sun is moving closer.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" In my eyes, indisposed. In disguises no one knows. Hides the face, lies the snake. The sun in my disgrace " by Doctor Cimmerian, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/hides-the-face-lies-the-snake-the-sun-in-my-disgrace . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 155 | ["_licensebox", "science-fiction", "shy-guy", "tale"] | 2020-01-04T21:37:00 | 5,787 | 1,056 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-5220 | SCP-5220 | scp | Item #: SCP-5220
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Disinformation campaigns have successfully perpetuated public belief that SCP-5220 is a work of art and require little to no maintenance at this time. Public visits to the anomaly are permitted when it is visible.
MTF Upsilon-7 ("Muddy Waters") is responsible for clean-up and containment of 5220-A events and retrieval of victims via helicopter. Upsilon-7 is authorized to administer Class-A or -B amnestics to witnesses. Information suppression of events with more than 100 witnesses is to be coordinated with the site director of Site-215.
SCP-5220-1 is to be held in a humanoid containment cell at Site-215. No fewer than three times per week, SCP-5220-1 is to be escorted to SCP-5220 to facilitate the completion of anomalous rituals. Due to its extended cooperation with special containment procedures and lengthy containment, SCP-5220-1 has been granted privileges beyond those normally given to humanoid anomalies. These privileges are under the purview of the site director.
In the event that more than three 5220-A events occur within 12 months, or more than two events occur closer than 100 km from one another within 6 months, Foundation coroners are to falsify the cause of death by tampering with the cadavers so as to avoid the appearance of patterns in public mortality records.
SCP-5220 as seen from shore.
Description: SCP-5220 is an anomalous landmass on the northern shore of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, United States. It forms a spiral shaped-path and is comprised largely of basalt rock and salt crystals. The path measures 460 m from base to tip and is 4.6 m wide. Due to the fluctuating surface levels of the Great Salt Lake, SCP-5220 is submerged during periods of greater precipitation. It is only visible above water when the Great Salt Lake's surface level is less than 1,279 m above sea level. SCP-5220 is the cause and point of origin of what are designated 5220-A events. These events are characterized by a human dying by drowning, although they are not in or near water.
5220-A events correspond with a substantial spike in Hume levels at SCP-5220. Following the death of the 5220-A victim, the body will begin to float in the air, sometimes beginning immediately, but more commonly beginning days after death. The body will rise into the air and remain at a particular height, typically about 180–200 m above the ground, but occasionally as high as 300 m. 5220-A events frequently have civilian witnesses, which poses a substantial challenge to containment and public concealment.
Kant counters at the location of SCP-5220 generally produce readings between 30 and 50 Humes, but measure as high as 400 Humes during 5220-A events. It is believed to possess extensive reality-bending functionality that causes temporal merging between the present day and prehistoric timeframes; the precise extent of these capabilities is unknown, but has thus far targeted humans. SCP-5220-1 claims that the object has much more extensive capabilities that have not yet been observed.
SCP-5220-1 is a female humanoid, born on 22 April 1954 in Santa Barbara, California. SCP-5220-1 appears to "operate" the reality-bending effects of SCP-5220, but is apparently inept in controlling the anomaly. SCP-5220-1 shows elevated internal Hume levels when in proximity to SCP-5220 (<100 m), peaking at 35 Humes at the tip of the SCP-5220 spiral. It consistently expresses distress regarding air and water pollution, deforestation, endangered and threatened species, and especially in recent years, anthropogenic climate change.
Currently, the only known means of reducing the frequency of 5220-A events is the observance of rituals performed by SCP-5220-1. These rituals largely involve a meditative practice at SCP-5220; SCP-5220-1 claims that the Earth is a living entity and that the rituals permit it to communicate with the planet. SCP-5220-1 identifies knowledge obtained in this manner as the basis of its influence on SCP-5220.
Discovery: SCP-5220 appeared or was constructed by undetermined means in Spring 1970 1 . As it is located on land owned by the state of Utah, Foundation assets within state government became aware that the anomaly had appeared on state land with no known records of its construction. It was flagged for investigation, which was undertaken by Site-215. By the time the Foundation initiated containment, numerous tourists had visited SCP-5220; photos and articles had been published in local and national newspapers. Because of the impracticality of concealing it from the public, the Foundation falsified government documents regarding its origin. Fabricated news reports were disseminated describing it as an art piece. SCP-5220 has since been known to the public as the "Spiral Jetty."
SCP-5220-1 was found at SCP-5220 on 4 June 1970. Foundation personnel interrupted a ritual that was likely responsible for ongoing fluctuations in Hume levels at the location.
Addendum 5220.1: Timeline
+ Show Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Date
Number of Documented 5220-A Events
Notes
April 1970
3
First event identified in remote location near Delta, UT; at this time, a connection to SCP-5220 was not established. Event documented as Anomalous Event UT-47. Second and third events occur in Orem and Murray, respectively. Incidents are then classed as Anomalous Event Group UT-47ß.
May 1970
38
Foundation statisticians find no correlations among victims, who vary in age, sex, race. All but one have occurred in northern and western Utah, with the exception of AEG UT-47ß-31, which occurs in West Wendover, Nevada, less than a mile from the Utah-Nevada border. Continuous Hume level monitoring begins at SCP-5220.
June 1970
57
Statisticians identify strong correlation between spikes in Hume levels at SCP-5220 and occurrence of AEG UT-47ß. UT-47ß is reclassified as 5220-A events. 5220-A-42, the Capitol Incident, occurs (see Addendum 5220.2). MTF Upsilon-7 established for concealment of 5220-A events.
July 1970
41
SCP-5220-1 agrees to attempt to prevent 5220-A events through abilities related to SCP-5220.
August 1970
26
N/A
September 1970
18
N/A
October 1970
3
N/A
November 1970
1
N/A
December 1970
0
N/A
In the timespan from 1971 to 2017, no more than five 5220-A events occur during each calendar year.
Addendum 5220.2: Capitol Incident
+ Show Addendum
- Hide Addendum
On 2 June 1970, 5220-A-43 occurred, killing a member of the Utah State Senate during an event in the State Capitol Building. Over 400 witnesses were present, including 14 local journalists. The victim began floating but was held down by others present.
Attendees were asked to leave immediately following the death. The body had been removed from the building before containment specialists could intervene. The O5 Council was informed of a potential Lifted Veil Scenario, whereupon MTF Gamma-5 ("Red Herrings") was deployed to identify all 447 witnesses and administer amnestics. Journalists and prominent public figures were treated as highest priority. One newspaper had printed an article describing 5220-A-43; all copies were seized by Gamma-5 and staff of the publication and printing press were amnesticized.
In light of substantial risks to information security, the O5 Council authorized the creation of MTF Upsilon-7 ("Muddy Waters") for the express purpose of containing 5220-A events.
Addendum 5220.3: Interviews with SCP-5220-1
+ Show Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Interviewer: Jeremy Young, Junior Researcher
Interviewee: SCP-5220-1
Location: Site-215, Humanoid Containment Wing
Date: 5 June 1970
Foreword: Dr. Bruce Rajaratnam, as head researcher, supervised this interview.
Young: Good morning, SCP-5220-1. I need to ask you—
SCP-5220-1: I have a name.
Young: I'm sorry?
SCP-5220-1: My name is Samantha.
Young: I have questions that I need answered. It is important that you answer completely and truthfully.
SCP-5220-1: I'm not answering any questions. I want a lawyer, and I want a phone.
Young: You are not under the jurisdiction of U.S. law enforcement, and we're not going to grant either of those requests.
SCP-5220-1: What do mean, I'm not … This is fucked. If you can't respect my rights, I'm not going to answer your bullshit questions.
Young: I assure you it is nothing personal, SCP—
SCP-5220-1: Yeah, 'cause you don't want to treat me like a person. The hell is wrong with you?
Young: We have knowledge that you are connected to … strange occurrences.
SCP-5220-1: Oh, you're with those people. The paranormal scientists, or whatever. Yeah, they told me that you might lock me up if I ran into you, tell me I'm an "anomaly" or whatever.
Young: Listen, it sounds like someone gave you prior knowledge of the Foundation, which makes me concerned for your safety. It sounds as if you have been influenced by a group that opposes the Foundation. Our only goal is keep people safe, especially from groups who want to disrupt the normal function of society.
SCP-5220-1: You … I'm trying to protect humanity! And a lot more than that, not that I would expect you labcoat types to understand.
Young: There is more at stake here than your feelings! There are severe consequences if you don't cooperate, and not just for you. Please explain what you mean to do.
SCP-5220-1: Explain this. [Makes a rude gesture at Researcher Young with both hands.]
Young: All right then, fine! We're done here. Interview concluded.
Junior Researcher Young was reprimanded for his inappropriate conduct during the interview and was instructed to remain calm in future interviews. The possible breach of confidential information was also discussed. —Dr. Rajaratnam
Interviewer: Dr. Bruce Rajaratnam, Senior Researcher
Interviewee: SCP-5220-1
Location: Site-215, Humanoid Containment Wing
Date: 6 June 1970
Rajaratnam: Good afternoon, Samantha. May I offer you a drink?
SCP-5220-1: I thought I was a number to you assholes.
Rajaratnam: I understand that you have been upset by your situation in containment. It is my responsiblity to ensure that your needs are met, under the circumstances.
SCP-5220-1: Oh, so you're the good cop, and the jerk from yesterday is the bad cop?
Rajaratnam: I appreciate your concerns about Mr. Young's, ah, blunt approach. He is merely concerned about the effects of the object that appeared in the Great Salt Lake where we found you.
SCP-5220-1: It's a rock art thing. You could have read that in the Salt Lake Tribune, if you Einsteins were smart enough to read.
Rajaratnam: Ha, well, speaking of smart, I believe you know better?
SCP-5220-1: Do you like it when people accuse you of lying all the damn time?
Rajaratnam: I understand that this is uncomfortable, but it is necessary to protect the public from anomalies—
SCP-5220-1: Hey, fuck you, man! You all treat me like some freak of nature just because you found me out on the Spiral Jetty!
Rajaratnam: Please forgive me, I did not mean to injure you. The fact of the matter is, although we have concealed the nature of this object from the public, we have strong evidence that it is responsible for numerous deaths. We are gravely worried for the people who have died and for those who may be in harm's way. Any information you can give us—
SCP-5220-1: [Distressed and agitated] I didn't kill anyone!
Rajaratnam: I did not say that. Please, Samantha, our only interest is protecting innocent lives.
SCP-5220-1: I don't know anything!
Rajaratnam: Please take this as a compliment: You are a poor liar. Nothing about you suggests that you want to hurt anyone. I'm not making an accusation. Can you tell who informed you of the Foundation?
SCP-5220-1: I'm not talking. Eat shit.
Several interview transcripts have been omitted as they contain no actionable information due to SCP-5220-1's intractable behavior. Complete documentation may be requested with Level 2 or higher clearance from the SCP-5220 research lead.
I recognize that including these notes in an SCP document is unorthodox, but the information here serves as a valuable reminder to all of us. The Foundation does not operate with unchecked coercion or cruelty toward humanoid anomalies, and for good reason. —Dr. Rajaratnam
Dr. Rajaratnam,
Things are getting worse with 5220, and I'm not getting any leads. I don't have clearance to see any thing budget-related, but I'm sure we're spending fortunes on amnestics at this point, and heaven forbid anything worse than the mess at the Capitol happens. We need to get more out of dash one, I'd like to request a polygraph test.
Jeremy
Researcher Young,
Request denied, I'm afraid. I find myself skeptical of the reliability of polygraphs, and many of our colleagues would strongly disapprove. They're less than useless with reality benders, if recent research is accurate.
Dr. Rajaratnam
Dr. Rajaratnam,
We've had nine 5220-A deaths in the past week. I can't stand seeing these bodies tied to gurneys while the coroners make them look like murder victims or overdoses.
If 5220-1 is as sincere as you say, then I request to share the recording of your interview with the A-56 witness, the mother of the 3-year-old victim. If she has a conscience, then maybe she'll open up after hearing that woman cry over her dead boy. I watched the coroner plant evidence of strangulation on the kid's body, for God's sake!
Sir, I'm out of options here, and the world is falling apart. My family lives in the area of effect, and a lot of other innocent folks, too.
Jeremy
Researcher Young,
I recognize that your first Keter-class assignment is daunting, but I don't need to explain to you that this isn't how we operate.
I regret to say that I may have neglected to prepare you for the stress of approaching such a dangerous, as-yet uncontained SCP. It is, admittedly, a different world than your training in Safe object containment.
Consider this an order to visit the site psychologist for the sake of your emotional well-being. For my part, please understand that I have looked more than one K-class scenario in the face and lived to tell the tale. Our work is exceptionally difficult, but we have always prevailed through strict adherence to longstanding best practices.
Dr. Rajaratnam
Private Internal Message
From: McKayla Geduld, Site Director
To: Jeremy Young, Junior Researcher
Researcher Young,
This message serves to notify you of official penalties regarding misconduct committed in the course of interaction with humanoid anomaly SCP-5220-1. Your service record will document the following violations:
divulging classified (Level 2/5220) information to an unauthorized individual,
violating direct orders from a superior, and
engaging in inappropriate interview methods, including emotional manipulation and causing mental duress.
I know the fear that comes with facing the anomalous, the unnatural, the absurd and arbitrary. Remember, you are with competent people. In your inexperienced position, it is critical that you follow protocol at all times.
I am compelled to remove your Level 2/5220 clearance and will reassign you at the earliest opportunity. This incident has also been submitted to the Ethics Committee, and they will inflict further penalties.
Cordially,
McKayla Geduld, Site Director
Addendum 5220.4: Statement from SCP-5220-1
+ Show Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Following the incident in the morgue, SCP-5220-1 requested writing material be supplied. Dr. Rajaratnam received the following document on 29 June 1970.
Ever since I was a kid, I loved animals. All of them, even spiders and centipedes. I still do. I love plants, too. From the time I was 6 years old, I wouldn't go to the zoo because I hated to see animals in little jails.
Last year, the oil spill in Santa Barbara was a disaster. I mean, for me personally. I remember seeing the pictures of dead sea birds in the newspaper. Maybe it was silly for a 14-year-old girl to do, but I cried for those birds. Thousands of birds, ruined by human greed.
I went to the beach, thinking I could save the birds, somehow. There, I met a guy named Robert. I could tell he was sad about the oil spill, too. He told me that he was a student at University of California Santa Barbara. He told me that he belonged to a group that could undo the damage that humans had done to the world, for the sake of the birds and all the other living things. He asked me to come to a meeting on campus. I told him that I was only in 8th grade, but he said that didn't matter.
I went and it turned out that Robert was the leader of this group. The way he talked, it was amazing. He had such high-minded ideas and he seemed so smart. He told us that healing Mother Earth was about relativity. Einstein said that time and gravity are closely connected, and that the Earth's gravity bent the universe itself, and if we understood how the Earth worked, we could bend the universe too.
I had to sneak out to attend the meetings, because my dad thought they were "draft-dodging hippies." He went on about how if they wanted to do good in the world, they should join the army and go to Vietnam. My dad and I fought about it more and more. Eventually, I ran away.
I know that Robert's talk about bending reality to our will sounds like some new-agey horseshit, but it was real. One time, we met at a little pond. It was full of garbage and runoff from some rich people neighborhood. Robert put his hand in the water, and in an instant, the water was crystal clear. It was a blink and you miss it kind of thing.
When the end of the year came around, we had all done things like Robert cleaning up the pond, but smaller. Robert said we were ready to begin the real work. He told me that Mother Earth was preparing a locus for me. He told me that it was a place away from the ocean, but the seagulls were there, too. He told me I would know it when I found it.
So I just hitchhiked out of California and kind of wandered. Something seemed to be pulling me. I came to Utah. Seagulls here, of all places. Then I found the spiral, and I felt the Earth, ancient and brimming with life, but wounded. I knew what I was supposed to do. Bring back the great waters of this place.
Then everyone would know.
Liasions and/or undercover agents within the Global Occult Coalition, Manna Charitable Foundation, and Wanderer's Library have been contacted. No individuals matching the description of the alleged reality-benders have been identified.
30 June 1970 Interview
Interviewer: Bruce Rajaratnam, Senior Researcher
Interviewee: SCP-5220-1
Location: Site-215, Humanoid Containment Wing
Date: 30 June 1970
Rajaratnam: Restore the world to conditions of a past timeframe. You are … ambitious, Samantha.
SCP-5220-1: I … I knew it would take a long time, the healing, I mean. Bring back a world before human industry and selfishness … I felt the memory of an enormous lake in this place.
Rajaratnam: You mean Lake Bonneville? An ancient pluvial lake, comparable to today's Great Lakes.
SCP-5220-1: So you believe me?
Rajaratnam: Well, modern geography and climate could not sustain that lake. Lake Bonneville was real, some … 20,000 years ago? But it existed because of an ice age.
SCP-5220-1: I wasn't sure how, but dammit, I knew it was possible, I don't know how, but if I understand the Earth's place in the universe, I could make it happen.
Rajaratnam: But …
SCP-5220-1: But people started dying. I didn't know until you told me, and I didn't believe you until that … asshole showed me the bodies. They were here, but they drowned in Lake Bonneville.
Rajaratnam: Why do you suppose only humans have fallen into the lake, so to speak? Why not other animals? Why don't we see fish swimming in the sky?
SCP-5220-1: I don't know. Maybe … the Earth is sick. Maybe it's trying to fight the infection. Humans are making it sick.
Rajaratnam: Well, I don't know if I can think of the planet as a living entity as you do. But I am tasked with containing this anomaly, and saving lives. What to do?
SCP-5220-1: I wonder if I can fix this.
Data on 5220-A events corroborate the claim that victims are partially conveyed to a prehistoric timeframe and drown in Lake Bonneville. Victims who died outdoors will float to an elevation of 1,590 m above sea level, the surface level of Lake Bonneville. Additionally, all 5220-A have been confirmed to occur in the area estimated by geologists and paleontologists that the lake covered.
Addendum 5220.5: 2017 Update
+ Show Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Due to an extended period of cooperation with special containment procedures for SCP-5220, Site-215 approved various privileges for SCP-5220-1. These include access to educational material in the life sciences, geology, and climatology; access to television, internet and other media, albeit heavily restricted, and provisional Level 1 clearance. SCP-5220-1 was permitted to consult in limited capacities on various biological and ecological anomalies.
Over the years, containment specialists have noted that SCP-5220-1 has expressed increasing concern regarding reports on anthropogenic climate change. It expressed an intense desire to resume its described original work of "healing the world." Following the retirement of Senior Researcher Bruce Rajaratnam, SCP-5220-1 has become less amicable toward Foundation staff.
SCP-5220-1 has repeatedly asked what the Foundation intends to do regarding climate change and was told that her questions would not be answered. On 29 August 2017, SCP-5220-1 attempted to refuse escort to SCP-5220 and complete suppression of the anomaly. This pattern of behavior continued, and all privileges were revoked.
Throughout the next three months, a dramatic increase in 5220-A events was observed. It appears that SCP-5220-1 is using SCP-5220 as a bargaining chip, demanding that the Foundation use its vast resources to mitigate climate change, stating "What's the use of dying in the dark if the sons of bitches in the light die too?"
Medical examination has shown a possibility of dementia owing to SCP-5220's advanced age, which may explain its untractable behavior. Alternatives for containment without reliance on SCP-5220-1 are being investigated, but no possibilities have demonstrated viability.
Addendum 5220.6: Level 4/5220 clearance required
+ Enter Authorization Code
- Hide Addendum
The following is a partial transcript of an O5 Council meeting which took place on ██/██/20██ regarding SCP-5220.
O5-2: While the matter of global warming is a grave concern to all of us, it is not anomalous. Site-215's request to broker a deal with SCP-5220-1 is untenable in my view.
O5-9: Yet the documentation points to the possibility of others similar to this particular entity. Addressing these conditions may be a practical means of indirect containment of these persons of interest.
O5-7: Presumed persons of interest, you mean. The Foundation has expended considerable resources to track down this "Robert" that supposedly tutored SCP-5220-1. No trace of the entity has been found.
O5-9: The urgency of thought regarding climate change is dramatic above the veil. It is all but certain that members of the anomalous community are intervening. We have already contained such attempts from the MCF.
O5-7: An isolated incident hardly counts as evidence.
O5-4: At risk of sounding gauche, Seven, asking for evidence always did sound quaint among us. In the past █ years alone, we have discovered no less than █ anomalies of ancient origin capable of instigating K-Class scenarios. Not even we are omniscient.
O5-12: And how do we propose to fix the problem? Altering decades of human activity is a ludicrous idea. It would require a drastic change to life above the veil, and the Foundation has no business in turning social consensus reality on its head. Even with our substantial influence in various governments, we could not move them to overturn the basis of modern economies.
O5-9: The Global Occult Coalition, has greater pull with world leaders, perhaps with their cooperation—
O5-12: And now it is you who sounds gauche, Nine. How will you persuade the Coalition to kowtow to a low-level threat entity already in Foundation containment?
[REDACTED]
Footnotes
1 . Precise date of origin is unknown.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5220 " by DeceitfulFish, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5220 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Spiral-jetty-from-rozel-point.png
Author: Robert Smithson
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | 56 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "keter", "location", "reality-bending", "scp"] | 2020-02-12T09:16:00 | 24,745 | 4,014 | SCP-5220 | Keter | Disinformation campaigns have successfully perpetuated public belief that SCP-5220 is a work of art and require little to no maintenance at this time. Public visits to the anomaly are permitted when it is visible.
MTF Upsilon-7 ("Muddy Waters") is responsible for clean-up and containment of 5220-A events and retrieval of victims via helicopter. Upsilon-7 is authorized to administer Class-A or -B amnestics to witnesses. Information suppression of events with more than 100 witnesses is to be coordinated with the site director of Site-215.
SCP-5220-1 is to be held in a humanoid containment cell at Site-215. No fewer than three times per week, SCP-5220-1 is to be escorted to SCP-5220 to facilitate the completion of anomalous rituals. Due to its extended cooperation with special containment procedures and lengthy containment, SCP-5220-1 has been granted privileges beyond those normally given to humanoid anomalies. These privileges are under the purview of the site director.
In the event that more than three 5220-A events occur within 12 months, or more than two events occur closer than 100 km from one another within 6 months, Foundation coroners are to falsify the cause of death by tampering with the cadavers so as to avoid the appearance of patterns in public mortality records.
SCP-5220 as seen from shore. | SCP-5220 is an anomalous landmass on the northern shore of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, United States. It forms a spiral shaped-path and is comprised largely of basalt rock and salt crystals. The path measures 460 m from base to tip and is 4.6 m wide. Due to the fluctuating surface levels of the Great Salt Lake, SCP-5220 is submerged during periods of greater precipitation. It is only visible above water when the Great Salt Lake's surface level is less than 1,279 m above sea level. SCP-5220 is the cause and point of origin of what are designated 5220-A events. These events are characterized by a human dying by drowning, although they are not in or near water.
5220-A events correspond with a substantial spike in Hume levels at SCP-5220. Following the death of the 5220-A victim, the body will begin to float in the air, sometimes beginning immediately, but more commonly beginning days after death. The body will rise into the air and remain at a particular height, typically about 180–200 m above the ground, but occasionally as high as 300 m. 5220-A events frequently have civilian witnesses, which poses a substantial challenge to containment and public concealment.
Kant counters at the location of SCP-5220 generally produce readings between 30 and 50 Humes, but measure as high as 400 Humes during 5220-A events. It is believed to possess extensive reality-bending functionality that causes temporal merging between the present day and prehistoric timeframes; the precise extent of these capabilities is unknown, but has thus far targeted humans. SCP-5220-1 claims that the object has much more extensive capabilities that have not yet been observed.
SCP-5220-1 is a female humanoid, born on 22 April 1954 in Santa Barbara, California. SCP-5220-1 appears to "operate" the reality-bending effects of SCP-5220, but is apparently inept in controlling the anomaly. SCP-5220-1 shows elevated internal Hume levels when in proximity to SCP-5220 (<100 m), peaking at 35 Humes at the tip of the SCP-5220 spiral. It consistently expresses distress regarding air and water pollution, deforestation, endangered and threatened species, and especially in recent years, anthropogenic climate change.
Currently, the only known means of reducing the frequency of 5220-A events is the observance of rituals performed by SCP-5220-1. These rituals largely involve a meditative practice at SCP-5220; SCP-5220-1 claims that the Earth is a living entity and that the rituals permit it to communicate with the planet. SCP-5220-1 identifies knowledge obtained in this manner as the basis of its influence on SCP-5220. | 8 | ## Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Date
Number of Documented 5220-A Events
Notes
April 1970
3
First event identified in remote location near Delta, UT; at this time, a connection to SCP-5220 was not established. Event documented as Anomalous Event UT-47. Second and third events occur in Orem and Murray, respectively. Incidents are then classed as Anomalous Event Group UT-47ß.
May 1970
38
Foundation statisticians find no correlations among victims, who vary in age, sex, race. All but one have occurred in northern and western Utah, with the exception of AEG UT-47ß-31, which occurs in West Wendover, Nevada, less than a mile from the Utah-Nevada border. Continuous Hume level monitoring begins at SCP-5220.
June 1970
57
Statisticians identify strong correlation between spikes in Hume levels at SCP-5220 and occurrence of AEG UT-47ß. UT-47ß is reclassified as 5220-A events. 5220-A-42, the Capitol Incident, occurs (see
---
## Addendum
- Hide Addendum
On 2 June 1970, 5220-A-43 occurred, killing a member of the Utah State Senate during an event in the State Capitol Building. Over 400 witnesses were present, including 14 local journalists. The victim began floating but was held down by others present.
Attendees were asked to leave immediately following the death. The body had been removed from the building before containment specialists could intervene. The O5 Council was informed of a potential Lifted Veil Scenario, whereupon MTF Gamma-5 ("Red Herrings") was deployed to identify all 447 witnesses and administer amnestics. Journalists and prominent public figures were treated as highest priority. One newspaper had printed an article describing 5220-A-43; all copies were seized by Gamma-5 and staff of the publication and printing press were amnesticized.
In light of substantial risks to information security, the O5 Council authorized the creation of MTF Upsilon-7 ("Muddy Waters") for the express purpose of containing 5220-A events.
---
## Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Interviewer: Jeremy Young, Junior Researcher
Interviewee: SCP-5220-1
Location: Site-215, Humanoid Containment Wing
Date: 5 June 1970
Foreword: Dr. Bruce Rajaratnam, as head researcher, supervised this
---
## interview.
Young: Good morning, SCP-5220-1. I need to ask you—
SCP-5220-1: I have a name.
Young: I'm sorry?
SCP-5220-1: My name is Samantha.
Young: I have questions that I need answered. It is important that you answer completely and truthfully.
SCP-5220-1: I'm not answering any questions. I want a lawyer, and I want a phone.
Young: You are not under the jurisdiction of U.S. law enforcement, and we're not going to grant either of those requests.
SCP-5220-1: What do mean, I'm not … This is fucked. If you can't respect my rights, I'm not going to answer your bullshit questions.
Young: I assure you it is nothing personal, SCP—
SCP-5220-1: Yeah, 'cause you don't want to treat me like a person. The hell is wrong with you?
Young: We have knowledge that you are connected to … strange occurrences.
SCP-5220-1: Oh, you're with those people. The paranormal scientists, or whatever. Yeah, they told me that you might lock me up if I ran into you, tell me I'm an "anomaly" or whatever.
Young: Listen, it sounds like someone gave you prior knowledge of the Foundation, which makes me concerned for your safety. It sounds as if you have been influenced by a group that opposes the Foundation. Our only goal is keep people safe, especially from groups who want to disrupt the normal function of society.
SCP-5220-1: You … I'm trying to protect humanity! And a lot more than that, not that I would expect you labcoat types to understand.
Young: There is more at stake here than your feelings! There are severe consequences if you don't cooperate, and not just for you. Please explain what you mean to do.
SCP-5220-1: Explain this. [Makes a rude gesture at Researcher Young with both hands.]
Young: All right then, fine! We're done here. Interview concluded.
Junior Researcher Young was reprimanded for his inappropriate conduct during the interview and was instructed to remain calm in future interviews. The possible breach of confidential information was also discussed. —Dr. Rajaratnam
Interviewer: Dr. Bruce Rajaratnam, Senior Researcher
Interviewee: SCP-5220-1
Location: Site-215, Humanoid Containment Wing
Date: 6 June 1970
Rajaratnam: Good afternoon, Samantha. May I offer you a drink?
SCP-5220-1: I thought I was a number to you assholes.
Rajaratnam: I understand that you have been upset by your situation in containment. It is my responsiblity to ensure that your needs are met, under the circumstances.
SCP-5220-1: Oh, so you're the good cop, and the jerk from yesterday is the bad cop?
Rajaratnam: I appreciate your concerns about Mr. Young's, ah, blunt approach. He is merely concerned about the effects of the object that appeared in the Great Salt Lake where we found you.
SCP-5220-1: It's a rock art thing. You could have read that in the Salt Lake Tribune, if you Einsteins were smart enough to read.
Rajaratnam: Ha, well, speaking of smart, I believe you know better?
SCP-5220-1: Do you like it when people accuse you of lying all the damn time?
Rajaratnam: I understand that this is uncomfortable, but it is necessary to protect the public from anomalies—
SCP-5220-1: Hey, fuck you, man! You all treat me like some freak of nature just because you found me out on the Spiral Jetty!
Rajaratnam: Please forgive me, I did not mean to injure you. The fact of the matter is, although we have concealed the nature of this object from the public, we have strong evidence that it is responsible for numerous deaths. We are gravely worried for the people who have died and for those who may be in harm's way. Any information you can give us—
SCP-5220-1: [Distressed and agitated] I didn't kill anyone!
Rajaratnam: I did not say that. Please, Samantha, our only interest is protecting innocent lives.
SCP-5220-1: I don't know anything!
Rajaratnam: Please take this as a compliment: You are a poor liar. Nothing about you suggests that you want to hurt anyone. I'm not making an accusation. Can you tell who informed you of the Foundation?
SCP-5220-1: I'm not talking. Eat shit.
Several interview transcripts have been omitted as they contain no actionable information due to SCP-5220-1's intractable behavior. Complete documentation may be requested with Level 2 or higher clearance from the SCP-5220 research lead.
I recognize that including these notes in an SCP document is unorthodox, but the information here serves as a valuable reminder to all of us. The Foundation does not operate with unchecked coercion or cruelty toward humanoid anomalies, and for good reason. —Dr. Rajaratnam
Dr. Rajaratnam,
Things are getting worse with 5220, and I'm not getting any leads. I don't have clearance to see any thing budget-related, but I'm sure we're spending fortunes on amnestics at this point, and heaven forbid anything worse than the mess at the Capitol happens. We need to get more out of dash one, I'd like to request a polygraph
---
## test.
Jeremy
Researcher Young,
Request denied, I'm afraid. I find myself skeptical of the reliability of polygraphs, and many of our colleagues would strongly disapprove. They're less than useless with reality benders, if recent research is accurate.
Dr. Rajaratnam
Dr. Rajaratnam,
We've had nine 5220-A deaths in the past week. I can't stand seeing these bodies tied to gurneys while the coroners make them look like murder victims or overdoses.
If 5220-1 is as sincere as you say, then I request to share the recording of your interview with the A-56 witness, the mother of the 3-year-old victim. If she has a conscience, then maybe she'll open up after hearing that woman cry over her dead boy. I watched the coroner plant evidence of strangulation on the kid's body, for God's sake!
Sir, I'm out of options here, and the world is falling apart. My family lives in the area of effect, and a lot of other innocent folks, too.
Jeremy
Researcher Young,
I recognize that your first Keter-class assignment is daunting, but I don't need to explain to you that this isn't how we operate.
I regret to say that I may have neglected to prepare you for the stress of approaching such a dangerous, as-yet uncontained SCP. It is, admittedly, a different world than your training in Safe object containment.
Consider this an order to visit the site psychologist for the sake of your emotional well-being. For my part, please understand that I have looked more than one K-class scenario in the face and lived to tell the tale. Our work is exceptionally difficult, but we have always prevailed through strict adherence to longstanding best practices.
Dr. Rajaratnam
Private Internal Message
From: McKayla Geduld, Site Director
To: Jeremy Young, Junior Researcher
Researcher Young,
This message serves to notify you of official penalties regarding misconduct committed in the course of interaction with humanoid anomaly SCP-5220-1. Your service record will document the following violations:
divulging classified (Level 2/5220) information to an unauthorized individual,
violating direct orders from a superior, and
engaging in inappropriate interview methods, including emotional manipulation and causing mental duress.
I know the fear that comes with facing the anomalous, the unnatural, the absurd and arbitrary. Remember, you are with competent people. In your inexperienced position, it is critical that you follow protocol at all times.
I am compelled to remove your Level 2/5220 clearance and will reassign you at the earliest opportunity. This incident has also been submitted to the Ethics Committee, and they will inflict further penalties.
Cordially,
McKayla Geduld, Site Director
---
## Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Following the incident in the morgue, SCP-5220-1 requested writing material be supplied. Dr. Rajaratnam received the following document on 29 June 1970.
Ever since I was a kid, I loved animals. All of them, even spiders and centipedes. I still do. I love plants, too. From the time I was 6 years old, I wouldn't go to the zoo because I hated to see animals in little jails.
Last year, the oil spill in Santa Barbara was a disaster. I mean, for me personally. I remember seeing the pictures of dead sea birds in the newspaper. Maybe it was silly for a 14-year-old girl to do, but I cried for those birds. Thousands of birds, ruined by human greed.
I went to the beach, thinking I could save the birds, somehow. There, I met a guy named Robert. I could tell he was sad about the oil spill, too. He told me that he was a student at University of California Santa Barbara. He told me that he belonged to a group that could undo the damage that humans had done to the world, for the sake of the birds and all the other living things. He asked me to come to a meeting on campus. I told him that I was only in 8th grade, but he said that didn't matter.
I went and it turned out that Robert was the leader of this group. The way he talked, it was amazing. He had such high-minded ideas and he seemed so smart. He told us that healing Mother Earth was about relativity. Einstein said that time and gravity are closely connected, and that the Earth's gravity bent the universe itself, and if we understood how the Earth worked, we could bend the universe too.
I had to sneak out to attend the meetings, because my dad thought they were "draft-dodging hippies." He went on about how if they wanted to do good in the world, they should join the army and go to Vietnam. My dad and I fought about it more and more. Eventually, I ran away.
I know that Robert's talk about bending reality to our will sounds like some new-agey horseshit, but it was real. One time, we met at a little pond. It was full of garbage and runoff from some rich people neighborhood. Robert put his hand in the water, and in an instant, the water was crystal clear. It was a blink and you miss it kind of thing.
When the end of the year came around, we had all done things like Robert cleaning up the pond, but smaller. Robert said we were ready to begin the real work. He told me that Mother Earth was preparing a locus for me. He told me that it was a place away from the ocean, but the seagulls were there, too. He told me I would know it when I found it.
So I just hitchhiked out of California and kind of wandered. Something seemed to be pulling me. I came to Utah. Seagulls here, of all places. Then I found the spiral, and I felt the Earth, ancient and brimming with life, but wounded. I knew what I was supposed to do. Bring back the great waters of this place.
Then everyone would know.
Liasions and/or undercover agents within the Global Occult Coalition, Manna Charitable Foundation, and Wanderer's Library have been contacted. No individuals matching the description of the alleged reality-benders have been identified.
30 June 1970 Interview
Interviewer: Bruce Rajaratnam, Senior Researcher
Interviewee: SCP-5220-1
Location: Site-215, Humanoid Containment Wing
Date: 30 June 1970
Rajaratnam: Restore the world to conditions of a past timeframe. You are … ambitious, Samantha.
SCP-5220-1: I … I knew it would take a long time, the healing, I mean. Bring back a world before human industry and selfishness … I felt the memory of an enormous lake in this place.
Rajaratnam: You mean Lake Bonneville? An ancient pluvial lake, comparable to today's Great Lakes.
SCP-5220-1: So you believe me?
Rajaratnam: Well, modern geography and climate could not sustain that lake. Lake Bonneville was real, some … 20,000 years ago? But it existed because of an ice age.
SCP-5220-1: I wasn't sure how, but dammit, I knew it was possible, I don't know how, but if I understand the Earth's place in the universe, I could make it happen.
Rajaratnam: But …
SCP-5220-1: But people started dying. I didn't know until you told me, and I didn't believe you until that … asshole showed me the bodies. They were here, but they drowned in Lake Bonneville.
Rajaratnam: Why do you suppose only humans have fallen into the lake, so to speak? Why not other animals? Why don't we see fish swimming in the sky?
SCP-5220-1: I don't know. Maybe … the Earth is sick. Maybe it's trying to fight the infection. Humans are making it sick.
Rajaratnam: Well, I don't know if I can think of the planet as a living entity as you do. But I am tasked with containing this anomaly, and saving lives. What to do?
SCP-5220-1: I wonder if I can fix this.
Data on 5220-A events corroborate the claim that victims are partially conveyed to a prehistoric timeframe and drown in Lake Bonneville. Victims who died outdoors will float to an elevation of 1,590 m above sea level, the surface level of Lake Bonneville. Additionally, all 5220-A have been confirmed to occur in the area estimated by geologists and paleontologists that the lake covered.
---
## Addendum
- Hide Addendum
Due to an extended period of cooperation with special containment procedures for SCP-5220, Site-215 approved various privileges for SCP-5220-1. These include access to educational material in the life sciences, geology, and climatology; access to television, internet and other media, albeit heavily restricted, and provisional Level 1 clearance. SCP-5220-1 was permitted to consult in limited capacities on various biological and ecological anomalies.
Over the years, containment specialists have noted that SCP-5220-1 has expressed increasing concern regarding reports on anthropogenic climate change. It expressed an intense desire to resume its described original work of "healing the world." Following the retirement of Senior Researcher Bruce Rajaratnam, SCP-5220-1 has become less amicable toward Foundation staff.
SCP-5220-1 has repeatedly asked what the Foundation intends to do regarding climate change and was told that her questions would not be answered. On 29 August 2017, SCP-5220-1 attempted to refuse escort to SCP-5220 and complete suppression of the anomaly. This pattern of behavior continued, and all privileges were revoked.
Throughout the next three months, a dramatic increase in 5220-A events was observed. It appears that SCP-5220-1 is using SCP-5220 as a bargaining chip, demanding that the Foundation use its vast resources to mitigate climate change, stating "What's the use of dying in the dark if the sons of bitches in the light die too?"
Medical examination has shown a possibility of dementia owing to SCP-5220's advanced age, which may explain its untractable behavior. Alternatives for containment without reliance on SCP-5220-1 are being investigated, but no possibilities have demonstrated viability.
---
## Addendum
The following is a partial transcript of an O5 Council meeting which took place on ██/██/20██ regarding SCP-5220.
O5-2: While the matter of global warming is a grave concern to all of us, it is not anomalous. Site-215's request to broker a deal with SCP-5220-1 is untenable in my view.
O5-9: Yet the documentation points to the possibility of others similar to this particular entity. Addressing these conditions may be a practical means of indirect containment of these persons of interest.
O5-7: Presumed persons of interest, you mean. The Foundation has expended considerable resources to track down this "Robert" that supposedly tutored SCP-5220-1. No trace of the entity has been found.
O5-9: The urgency of thought regarding climate change is dramatic above the veil. It is all but certain that members of the anomalous community are intervening. We have already contained such attempts from the MCF.
O5-7: An isolated incident hardly counts as evidence.
O5-4: At risk of sounding gauche, Seven, asking for evidence always did sound quaint among us. In the past █ years alone, we have discovered no less than █ anomalies of ancient origin capable of instigating K-Class scenarios. Not even we are omniscient.
O5-12: And how do we propose to fix the problem? Altering decades of human activity is a ludicrous idea. It would require a drastic change to life above the veil, and the Foundation has no business in turning social consensus reality on its head. Even with our substantial influence in various governments, we could not move them to overturn the basis of modern economies.
O5-9: The Global Occult Coalition, has greater pull with world leaders, perhaps with their cooperation—
O5-12: And now it is you who sounds gauche, Nine. How will you persuade the Coalition to kowtow to a low-level threat entity already in Foundation containment?
[REDACTED]
Footnotes
1 . Precise date of origin is unknown.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5220 " by DeceitfulFish, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5220 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Spiral-jetty-from-rozel-point.png
Author: Robert Smithson
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | |
SCP-5588 | SCP-5588 | scp | SCP-5588 Stars Held Captive Remain Always Gleaming
Written by: XilasCrowe
DYSON TREES
More From This Axolotl
SCP-3529
Rating: 396
Comments: 38
SCP-4332
Rating: 137
Comments: 27
SCP-4663
Rating: 112
Comments: 13
SCP-1143
Rating: 111
Comments: 23
SCP-3684
Rating: 102
Comments: 30
SCP-2454
Rating: 82
Comments: 11
Changes All That Is Around Me
Rating: 46
Comments: 7
Don't Forget The Dead
Rating: 32
Comments: 3
[{$authorPage} ▸ More by this Author ◂]
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
close
Info
X
SCP-5588 Stars Held Captive Remain Always Gleaming
Written by: XilasCrowe
More from this axolotl
Less from this axolotl
Stuff I did
SCP-3529
Rating: 396
Comments: 38
SCP-4332
Rating: 137
Comments: 27
SCP-4663
Rating: 112
Comments: 13
SCP-1143
Rating: 111
Comments: 23
SCP-3684
Rating: 102
Comments: 30
SCP-2454
Rating: 82
Comments: 11
Changes All That Is Around Me
Rating: 46
Comments: 7
Don't Forget The Dead
Rating: 32
Comments: 3
Thanks to Oboebandgeek99 , Ellie3 , DrAkimoto , Corpseofbixby does not match any existing user name , NatVoltaic , and Deadly Bread for crit
Image Credits
– hide block
none, yet
Item #: SCP-5588
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Foundation agents imbedded in various space agencies are to remove all information concerning SCP-5588 from their systems. In the event that an SCP-5588 seed is on a collision course with the sun, various Foundation rockets are to intercept and redirect it.
Description: SCP-5588 is a species of interstellar megaflora that inhabits galaxies inside the Virgo Supercluster. SCP-5588 instances superficially resemble trees, but are comprised of several types of organic metals, various biological machinery, and unknown transdimensional interlocking organics.
SCP-5588 seeds are massive, roughly twice the size of Earth, and contain a core filled with methane and various other gasses. The seeds use these gasses as a rudimentary propulsion system in order to navigate to a targeted star. SCP-5588 instances primarily target stars that are near the beginning of their life, and are at between 10-20 solar masses.
Once an SCP-5588 seed locates a suitable star it will steer itself to impact that star at one of its poles, in order to avoid interference from the star's magnetic field. Over the next 3-5 thousand years the seed will begin to grow roots into the star, locking itself in place. These roots contain various biomechanical components that slowly leech hydrogen and oxygen out of the star, which the plant internally fuses into H 2 O in order to facilitate its growth. Once the SCP-5588 instance has a strong hold on the star it will proceed to the next phase, and will begin to grow upward.
Over the next 5-7 million years, the instance will spread out, and begin to grow around the star, following its magnetic field. This process continues until the star has been completely enveloped. At this point the growth of the plant speeds up tremendously, growing increasingly denser around the star in order to absorb 100% of the star's energy output.
Once this growth is completed, the SCP-5588 instance will begin to drain resources from the star rapidly. Lacking the materials required to undergo fusion, the star will begin to die at a significantly accelerated rate, often over sixty thousand times as quickly as it would otherwise. At this point the plant will begin to grow several small holes in the exterior, into which they deposit seeds. Once these seeds have all been placed the plant will begin to use its roots to crush the star, forcing it to undergo a supernova. The seeds then use the explosive force in order to propel themselves towards nearby stars, at which point the cycle restarts.
If the original plant survives the explosion it will reseal itself closed around the newly formed neutron star, and will continue to harvest energy from it and grow outward until either it or the star dies. On rare occasions, the plant will shed large amounts of matter into the neutron star, which will cause it to undergo a secondary explosion, allowing the plant to release a second wave of seeds, and then collapse into a black hole. The plant will continue to encircle the resulting black hole until it presumably dies and collapses into the singularity.
Addendum 5588-1:
SCP-5588 instances contain a small extradimensional component. This component is typically inert, but has been seen to activate occasionally. To date, the only SCP-5588 instances to activate this component have been ones that have undergone a secondary explosion and are in orbit around black holes. Once activated, these plants (designated SCP-5588-1) spontaneously generated an internal wormhole inside the singularity. All of these wormholes exit at roughly the same location approximately 247 billion light years away from earth, over 150 billion light years beyond the edge of the observable universe. The purpose of these wormholes is unknown. Foundation scans of the area reveal a single root, significantly larger than any other SCP-5588 instances or the galaxies that contain them. The area around this root contains a hyper dense amount of dark energy, which the root continually excretes.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5588 " by XilasCrowe, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5588 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 48 | ["_explosions", "_licensebox", "alien", "extradimensional", "extraterrestrial", "gaseous", "jam-con2020", "keter", "mechanical", "plant", "science-fiction", "scp", "species", "uncontained"] | 2020-03-10T02:58:00 | 5,573 | 890 | SCP-5588 | Keter | Foundation agents imbedded in various space agencies are to remove all information concerning SCP-5588 from their systems. In the event that an SCP-5588 seed is on a collision course with the sun, various Foundation rockets are to intercept and redirect it. | SCP-5588 is a species of interstellar megaflora that inhabits galaxies inside the Virgo Supercluster. SCP-5588 instances superficially resemble trees, but are comprised of several types of organic metals, various biological machinery, and unknown transdimensional interlocking organics.
SCP-5588 seeds are massive, roughly twice the size of Earth, and contain a core filled with methane and various other gasses. The seeds use these gasses as a rudimentary propulsion system in order to navigate to a targeted star. SCP-5588 instances primarily target stars that are near the beginning of their life, and are at between 10-20 solar masses.
Once an SCP-5588 seed locates a suitable star it will steer itself to impact that star at one of its poles, in order to avoid interference from the star's magnetic field. Over the next 3-5 thousand years the seed will begin to grow roots into the star, locking itself in place. These roots contain various biomechanical components that slowly leech hydrogen and oxygen out of the star, which the plant internally fuses into H 2 O in order to facilitate its growth. Once the SCP-5588 instance has a strong hold on the star it will proceed to the next phase, and will begin to grow upward.
Over the next 5-7 million years, the instance will spread out, and begin to grow around the star, following its magnetic field. This process continues until the star has been completely enveloped. At this point the growth of the plant speeds up tremendously, growing increasingly denser around the star in order to absorb 100% of the star's energy output.
Once this growth is completed, the SCP-5588 instance will begin to drain resources from the star rapidly. Lacking the materials required to undergo fusion, the star will begin to die at a significantly accelerated rate, often over sixty thousand times as quickly as it would otherwise. At this point the plant will begin to grow several small holes in the exterior, into which they deposit seeds. Once these seeds have all been placed the plant will begin to use its roots to crush the star, forcing it to undergo a supernova. The seeds then use the explosive force in order to propel themselves towards nearby stars, at which point the cycle restarts.
If the original plant survives the explosion it will reseal itself closed around the newly formed neutron star, and will continue to harvest energy from it and grow outward until either it or the star dies. On rare occasions, the plant will shed large amounts of matter into the neutron star, which will cause it to undergo a secondary explosion, allowing the plant to release a second wave of seeds, and then collapse into a black hole. The plant will continue to encircle the resulting black hole until it presumably dies and collapses into the singularity. | 1 | ## Addendum 5588-1
SCP-5588 instances contain a small extradimensional component. This component is typically inert, but has been seen to activate occasionally. To date, the only SCP-5588 instances to activate this component have been ones that have undergone a secondary explosion and are in orbit around black holes. Once activated, these plants (designated SCP-5588-1) spontaneously generated an internal wormhole inside the singularity. All of these wormholes exit at roughly the same location approximately 247 billion light years away from earth, over 150 billion light years beyond the edge of the observable universe. The purpose of these wormholes is unknown. Foundation scans of the area reveal a single root, significantly larger than any other SCP-5588 instances or the galaxies that contain them. The area around this root contains a hyper dense amount of dark energy, which the root continually excretes.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5588 " by XilasCrowe, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5588 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
ii-tab-po-c-h20-qhs-prn-pain | ii tab po c h2o qhs prn pain - SCP Foundation | tale | "I must say, I've never had such a young client before, Mr. Fendrel."
"Still haven't. We've met before, Mardbury."
"No, it's quite clear in the records. I've never met you before, Mr. Fendrel. Perhaps I worked with a friend, or a relative with a different surname?"
"A few years ago, an imbecilic man who'd dumped all his money into one stock came to you for assistance. His name was Greene."
"Gregory Greene I remember. I take it you work, or have worked with him?"
"When he came to your office, he had his entire portfolio inside a single folder. Back then, you only had a walking stick. Greene stood here- right here- and timidly pushed the folder to you. Your exact words were: 'Jesus, look at you.' "
"What are you doing?"
"Mardbury, 'Arthur Fendrel' is just a nice little change that I use nowadays. Between you and me… I am Greene."
"I see what this is. You could not have picked a worse person to impersonate. None of us may be dying, but none of us are getting younger either. Greene was ten years my senior and- "
"-Had failing lungs, more tar than teeth and a reenactment of the Bolshevik Revolution occurring in his liver. I'm a picture of perfect health, and look here: I've even gotten my teeth whitened."
"Mr. Fendrel. I don't know how your sense of humor works but- "
"Let's talk somewhere else, you're perspiring. How about we discuss all sorts of lovely things at that coffee shop down the street? The one that sells those club sandwiches you liked so much. The one where you convinced me to invest in the pharmaceutical business. If I'm leading you along, then all you lose is time, a null concept now. But if I'm not… I'll make your New Year's resolution really something to remember."
Krešimira Kovačević cycled home one late autumn evening, with the cloud-smothered sun beckoning her to sleep while the rocks and fissures spread over road kept her awake and steady. The bottle of pills in her backpack rattled the whole journey back home, but the bag of maggots bounced about silently.
The Croatian winter was deceptive and wretched. Krešimira felt warm in her sweater, but the wind nipped through the concierge uniform underneath. Home was a concrete, brick shaped structure with carved niches serving as windows and a single staircase to the top, so steep that it felt more like climbing a slide. Krešimira found her apartment. It was the one with the scent of perfume, rotting flesh, and scrambled eggs spilling out from beneath the door.
The apartment had mosquito coils burning on every table and by every wall, and the lights were off. A saucepan sat on a low flame in the kitchen. Krešimira's father came out of the bedroom, eyes like those of a corpse, and smelling like a dug-up grave.
"Where have you been, child?" he asked, "Have you been drinking?"
"No, father. It was a bad day at the hotel; I'm tired."
Krešimira moved to set her bag down and her father scrambled to the table, putting his hands to the wood and leaning himself over to leer.
"You're tired. Your mother sympathizes: she's spent the last few hours having flies scooped out of her. Where's the replacement?"
Krešimira fished out the antibiotics and medicinal maggots, then handed them over. Her father snatched them away and scampered into the bedroom again. He left stains of black bile over Krešimira's hand.
The refrigerator was mostly full of eggs. They were cheap and full of protein. Krešimira washed out the saucepan her father had left going on the stove and broke four eggs into it, followed by butter, milk and salt. She stirred the mixture till it was creamy yellow all around, and more still till it was chunky and gooey. Dinner.
"Krešimira!" her father roared, jumping out of the room. "What is this?"
"It looks like the receipt, father," Krešimira said. "They've been giving them out at stores for quite a while now."
"Did you look at the price? Did you even think? Why was this so expensive?"
"New pharmacy clerk. Father, I’ll try to negotiate a better price, but can I please eat?"
"Fine. Eat. Sleep. Drink. Whore. I'll be staying up, keeping this roof-"
"-Keeping what, father?" Krešimira turned in her chair. "Keeping mother comfortable? Her kidneys have failed and her heart doesn't pump blood. How comfortable do those extra pillows make her? How confident are you really when you flush our savings into the doctor who only has one thing to say when he looks upon that corpse?"
"Watch your tone, girl."
" He tells me to watch my tone. Mother's body is dead and you treat her as though she only has the flu. And if you could have waited just a little , I could have finished my education and gotten an actual, paying jo-"
Krešimira's father took ahold of her plate and hurled it at the wall behind her. He looked at her, his eyes spoke: yes, try even reaching for the refrigerator and see what gets broken next. He couldn't stop her from eating the egg already on her fork, and she chewed it slowly. She let her father turn off the stove and went to her room.
She changed out of her uniform and into sleeping clothes, setting her "Mira" nametag aside. With the blanket pinned between the wall and the back of her head, Krešimira went through her phone for any emails. She saw a lot of rejections, as usual, but there was something else. It was tucked between the rejection notices from the photography studio and the artist's school. It was some sort of paid modelling internship. I shouldn’t be getting these , she thought, I dropped out . But when she opened it, she saw that it wasn’t an invitation to apply. It was just an invitation.
"And when we first came here, the waitress sat us down in that booth over there- the one by the corner where those two bovine hags now sit."
"We did."
"If you still aren’t convinced, I do happen to remember what we ate as well."
"No, no no that's… how can this be? What have you done to yourself, Greene? Is this plastic surgery?"
"Now that's a market I would not recommend investing in. If anything, you at least have that bit of foresight to give your clients now."
"Then how…"
"Hold that thought: waiter incoming."
***
"Tenderloin? The maggots must be hungry today. Mardbury, I’ll get right to the point. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing before. I always thought you stockbroker types were slimy weasels, with champagne bottles up your bums, and cocaine where most people have nostril hairs. But I’d be worse off than you are now if I hadn’t taken your advice. I owe you for this, all of this. I'm not just talking about the Italian sports car we drove here in, I'm talking about all of this: from the fingers I'm holding this fork with to the working taste buds that I'm enjoying this food with. I owe you, and I’m gratefully here to cut you in on what I’ve been getting."
"You haven't told me what it is."
"It's real-estate, free, in your case. A new home for you, for the rest of however long you want to last. I'm talking about moving your brain into a body that isn’t so globular, and I say that kindly."
"Excuse me?"
"A little less excitement, please. We'll continue after the waiter wipes up all that water. Jesus, look at you."
Krešimira didn't tell her father she was leaving. As far as she was concerned, she was already on her way to the chopping block with the hotel for defending herself against Suite 12's occupant. It was good that she didn't tell her father, she thought, as he'd have yelled at her for turning down the money.
She threw together a pack containing water, some boiled eggs and her passport. She also brought her concierge uniform with her, if only so her father would think she was at work until she didn’t return. Leaving the house was sickening: the mosquito coils had burned out and the stench coming from the bedroom made her gag until tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine how her father could sleep in there.
When she arrived at Dubrovnik International Airport, the egg in her pocket had been crushed into goo, the sun was setting and starching the sky into a musky orange, and Krešimira was peddling her bicycle just a little faster than most people were walking. She sold the bike to a tourist, threw the concierge uniform into a trash can, and bought some water. She was breathing like a choked fish, the muscles in her legs felt like broken branches scraping against her nerves, and she was rather sweaty. They’ll take a look at me and send me away , Krešimira thought, and then I’ll return home to father without a job and as a runaway. She pulled herself into one of the bathrooms. It was unoccupied. Krešimira pulled shampoo, conditioner, and soap out of her backpack, let the water flow out of the tap, clogged the drain with one palm and waited till the water filled before dunking her head inside.
Deeper inside the terminal, Krešimira saw a tall man holding up a laminated sign bearing the logo of the internship program. Huddled all around him were the other interns. They all looked handsome and pretty, almost dressed up for the runway. Krešimira had changed out of the clothes she cycled over in, but she looked absolutely atrocious comparatively. She walked up to the tall man, and he tilted his head straight down to look at her; his eyes were hidden behind aviators.
"Your name is… Krešimira Kovačević, yes?" he asked, in poor Croatian.
"Yes."
The tall man set down the sign and pulled a notebook out of his suit. Krešimira couldn’t see what he was looking at, but she felt his lethargic gaze jump between her and whatever was written down. He made no markings in the book but let her stay on the condition that she "tidy up" more before leaving.
She was not the only one given the same instructions. The restrooms closest to the group were all crowded with other interns. Some of them were a bit older than her, maybe graduate students, and others looked like they weren’t even out of high school yet. She stood next to one in front of the mirror, a truly impish girl that looked as though she was wrenched out of a fairy-tale. The girl saw Krešimira standing there with nothing but a comb.
“Forget your things?” she asked softly.
“Don’t have things.” Krešimira said.
The girl offered her own kit and stood by while Krešimira worked. The child’s name was Veselka. Her parents were the ones who received the invitation, and were all too happy to graduate her from kiddy pageants.
“What are we doing? We’re just flying over there, aren’t we?” Krešimira asked.
“We’re meeting the designers once we touch down. Some of the older models are saying that there’s a full wardrobe on board too, and that we’re doing our first photoshoot on the tarmac!” Veselka said, nervously.
“Older models. How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
Krešimira returned to her eyeliner. She couldn’t even remember where in life she was during her first, shambling year at the academy.
"This is my fourth one now. The first was exciting, but a mistake. The body was clean shaven in the photograph but, genetically, it sprouted hair like a plant seed on steroids. The second was fine, but also had a bad genetic history I didn't want to gamble with. The third was great, my favorite. It was the full package of excellent health, looks and genes. Even changed my name just to truly get that 'new life' experience. Bad car accident changed that, quite irreparably too, tragically. But it also opened my eyes to what I've been missing all this time. Now this is new. This is exhilarating."
"Where do you get the bodies? Clone vats? Petri dishes?"
"Oh, don't play the humanitarian, Mardbury. They've got hospital wings full of people like you: decaying corpses that still feel on the inside. They pour maggots inside you to nibble away all the dead flesh. I hear you can actually feel the spoon dig into you as all the adult flies and pupae chunks are scraped up."
"Stop that. I'll lose my appetite."
"Your stomach ruptured years ago, Moby Dick- no offense. I'm offering you a restart. I'm offering you decades, almost an entire lifetime, to start over with. You can pick up a new hobby, you can start a new job, you can even surprise the wife - I'm willing to offer her the same deal if you both want to renew your wedding vows."
"We don't talk much anymore."
"Because your body is dead, Mardbury; this is exactly what I’m talking about! This is why what I’m offering you should have you bouncing out of your seat. I'm…I'm…"
"Is that blood? Are you all right?"
"Waiter. Waiter! Water please!"
***
"Did whatever that was also come with the body?"
"Everyone has the same deal. There is a pill regimen. A very strict one. I've never been in your shitty shoes so that you'll hardly consider it pain. Just remember to take them before bed, or in cases of discomfort."
"Exciting."
"Isn't it? Are you interested, or are you not?"
"Where do you get the bodies?"
"Fine. This is a corporate secret, but we use cloning vats. Get DNA samples from donors, tweak the genes, and grow a fresh body that’s programmed to create an empty brain instead of one that thinks, if you catch my meaning. Swap it out with yours and poof."
"That’s a relief. There's no problem then. How much?"
"A few million, although it varies. But not for you. First one's on the house, my treat. Here's the URL. Password, well mine, is 'Lazarus,' capital L, followed by the 'at' symbol and two sevens. Use my tablet, but keep it angled away from the rest of the coffee shop. If the portrait is grayed out, then the body's unavailable; someone got to it first, or a health issue was discovered. Golden frame is premium, but that doesn't apply to you, on the house and all that. Click one and you'll get the full genetic and aesthetic read-out, not to mention a really nice gallery of photographs to feed the imagination."
"Handsome fellows. Seven feet tall? Auburn hair? No genetic history for disease? There's another catalog here. What's the password?"
"That's not really-"
"I want to look. What's the password?"
"I don't use that catalog but I can get signed up. You'll have it tonight, weirdo."
"Thank you. However, if I may: if you have the technology to genetically alter these bodies, then it would be more profitable to allow for customer customization, as opposed to just selling a variety of presets."
"We're working on that."
There really was a full wardrobe on the plane. Krešimira stepped onto American soil accessorized and runway-ready. They took her photo and sorted her, and the other interns, into groups. Krešimira watched Veselka get sorted into the group opposite and they got into buses headed for different boutiques.
Krešimira and her group arrived at the fashion studio, Fendrel and Dain’s, in West Virginia.
It was certainly fancy. Fendrel and Dain's had a runway, an operational staff of designers, seamstresses, photography studios, prop departments, lighting personnel, and, obviously, translators who skittered about like mice. The tall man put them all into different duties. Krešimira was assigned to a team of designers and photographers. They posed all day and cycled through every facial expression there was. Runway walks were treated almost like fitness exams and there was even a small platoon of nurses and medics on hand to treat and (randomly) inspect them. At night, they were all checked into a nearby hotel and given a very cheerful allowance.
For the next few weeks, Krešimira felt as though she was doing an abnormal amount of work for a model, and no work at all as an intern. Day in and day out, she was doing photo shoots, fittings and walks. And with a peculiar frequency, she was also routinely inspected by physicians who checked out everything from her eyesight to her blood. The days often ended with her exhausted and eager to sleep.
On the other hand, she was also learning close to nothing. There were no senior models to offer tips or education on the subject, and the whole thing began to stink the more Fendrel and Dain's sweetened the pot. All the interns were given hotel rooms and cell-phones, with staff already listed in as contacts. The little allowance that they all got was too generous to be an actual wage. They felt like bribes.
"There's something wrong here, Bojan," Krešimira said.
"Oh no. Mira, don't tell me you also think this is a scam. All the time at school it was 'I, Krešimira, will be on the cover of this magazine and that magazine' but now it's fishy?"
Bojan Novak was spread out lengthwise over the lobby’s sofa. He was a handsome person now, but he wasn't always. Back when she still attended classes, he slouched, had glasses, brown eyes and a smile that would make the yellow sun envious. Now he looked ready to put the digital touch-up industry out of business: even his teeth seemed bleached whiter than snow.
"Think about it. We have one figure of authority, the tall American. The designers make variations of the same dress and suit over and over again. And if they don't do that, then they're using material from others. Look here, this is from that show, Project Runway, from years ago."
"Mhm."
"Mhm? It's the same gown I wore today , Bojan. You were in a photoshoot with it today ."
"Mira," Bojan threw his hands up, "this is a shit brand that can't pull a decent design out of its ass to save its life. But it's real. Look here-give me your phone."
"Use your own."
"It's not even yours, silly. Fine. See here; 'Fendrel & Dain's unveils an ugly tapestry of rigid and unoriginal designs at Fashion Week here in New York' blah blah blah 'Fendrel & Dain's accused of plagiarizing Hugo Boss' line of suits. Cease and desist enforced.' Blah blah blah. Fendrel & Dain's is a dumpster. But it's desperate for talent and we're desperate for a way into the industry. This is how us desperate but beautiful people help each other, you see? We don't get ahead by seeing a helping hand and questioning if it's real."
Krešimira wanted that to be true. The lobby they were sitting in had red carpets and golden trims. It was a palace and they looked like they belonged, wrapped up in designer (albeit ripoff) threads and all made up. By the grand staircase, the hotel staff was even beginning to put up a Christmas tree that nearly reached the crystal chandeliers. If it was all a scam, then she was going back to Croatia, to her father. If not…
Krešimira dug her phone, her old one, out of her purse. She checked her bank account. Her wages were there, they were real. They didn't retreat into the electronic ether when she made purchases or sent lump sums back home. It was real money. She closed out of her banking app and saw her recent calls log. The number of calls from home had reached the hundreds. She didn't even open the texts to read what was inside; her father would likely have thrown in some pictures of mother to punish her, show her how bad things had gotten. He should be using the money he was sending her. He should be. Bojan offered to take her drinking with some of the other interns, to get the true American experience. He may not have looked like the bespectacled runway hopeful from college anymore, but his actual self, or at least the amount of respect he had for his liver, had persevered.
"It's me."
"Mardbury? Do you know what time it is?"
"Tell me about the procedure."
"Tomorrow morning. Over coffee."
"No. Is it surgical? Is it safe? What happens to my old body? Are you absolutely sure that the clones don’t have brains?”
"Yes to the first two. What happens to your old body is up to you. You could turn it into a tree if you fucking want. Or you could bury it- meh, no one falls for that anymore. As for the clone brains… what, you think we have a big garbage can labelled 'put brains here' or something? You think we wrap up all our spare brains in spare Walmart bags and watch the garbage truck load them up for the landfill? Good night."
"I've made a decision."
"Wonderful. Over coffee."
"I texted you the photo. What do you think?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Mardbury."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just… well. I mean… you have a good eye for aesthetics. Can I ask why?"
"Sure! It's like you said, this might very well be my only one. I've seen the prices. So why have more of the same? Why simply do a reset when you can switch to an entirely new system? Think of the entire new slate of experiences, opportunities… pleasures that would come with this."
"Don't get too giddy on me, schoolgirl."
"I'm sorry, it's just… the more I think about this, the more excited I am. You're absolutely sure this is safe, right?"
"Mardbury! I don't think your neighbors heard you clearly enough, please speak louder. Scratch coffee. Tomorrow, come to my place. We'll finalize everything there, and I'll even bring the operating doctor."
"I'm sorry. It's just overwhelming. Thank you, again and truly, for this."
"Good night."
Krešimira left the bar for some fresh air. She was standing with her winter coat wrapped around her, watching the wisps of vapor that danced out of her lips get torn apart by the shoulders of street-goers passing her by. To her left, a beardless Santa rung his bell in front of a cast-iron pot. For all their talk, Krešimira understood none of it. She kept her head down and her hair messy by habit, something she picked up from her childhood in Zagreb.
Then she heard it. There was a screech, human or tire she didn't know, that pulled every face towards the road. A dozen brake pedals were slammed in unison and the smell of burnt rubber burrowed into Krešimira's nose. There was the sound of metal bending, shattering and cracking, and the laborious groan of heavy material falling to the ground. Over the line of paused pedestrians, Krešimira saw glass and a car bumper fly through the air. Then it was all quiet, and the crowd began switching their phones away from the cameras and to the 911 dial.
Bojan and the others came out of the bar, tipsy from drinking and curious to see. They pushed themselves through the crowd, Krešimira following in their wake. It was a car accident.
A truck, one of those mammoth 18-wheelers, had skidded into an intersection. A few SUVs and sedans had plowed into its side, but the damage wasn't too bad. She could see some of the drivers wandering out of their cars, massaging their necks and already dialing their insurance companies. But there was one car, a sports car- Italian by the looks of it. It was low enough to the ground that when it sped up into the truck, its bottom half had slid right underneath the truck while the hood was sheared off. Krešimira saw most of the car sitting idle on the other side of the truck, and she saw the driver. Some of the onlookers began to notice too and Krešimira felt dizzy as the screams began. The body was wearing a suit, but its tie had fallen down to the waist. There was nothing from the neck up and the suit was glistening red.
Behind the truck, by the scrunched-up roof of the sports car, there was a head on the pavement with bits of metal embedded in its forehead. Its mouth opened and closed, a fish ripped from the water, and its eyes darted around frantically. She saw the pupils lock on her group, on Bojan, and she quickly pulled him away.
Bojan escorted the still-shaking Krešimira back to the hotel. Bojan back to his room was swaying from too much "authentic American alcohol" the whole trip back. He only had four Bud Lites.
Krešimira lay on her bed alone. She could hear the sirens outside, and she brought her hand to her neck. She lay awake thinking of breaths without lungs, and a maggot-filled corpse calling out her name. She grabbed her phone and quickly transferred the week's salary back home before thrusting her face into the pillow. Sleep dragged its feet.
"Creepy lady."
"Don't let her fool you; Dr. Dain is the best we have. Now, before you lock anything in, do you have any more questions?"
"What about paperwork? I obviously won't use the same passport."
"We can set you up with a brand new name and identity, just as I did. As far as the world is concerned, Greene and Bo-many of our other customers just disappeared off the face of the world while names like Fendrel just appeared out of the mystic mist."
"You've thought of everything. I don't know… what about the pills?"
"Tablets. Dissolve two of them in water, chug it all down before bed, or if you start feeling sharp neck pain."
"What happens if I forget one day?"
"Sharp. Neck. Pain. I mean it, this isn't a prescription you want to mess up. Those tablets keep your brain and the body's spinal cord talking with one another until they get married, anatomically. You really don't want that conversation to stop."
"Okay, okay. I don't know… what should I do after it's all done?"
"Live of course! Experiment, have fun, look in a mirror, don't look in a mirror, try on new clothes, go to bed, do drugs, enroll in college or whatever else you want. Heck, we'd look well together; I could guide you around the whole thing and get you used to it all. I’d be like the car salesman who buckles up next to you during the test drive."
"But this is permanent."
"Bad example. You get the idea. It'd be downright monstrous of me to just leave you adrift in this brave new world after getting you that far, wouldn't it?"
Krešimira pushed the refrigerator in front of her hotel door and scattered cereal flakes over the floor. It was the middle of the night. It was her new routine. Bojan was gone.
It began with the first actual show. Krešimira had actually felt proud of herself after that one; they’d brought in a bunch of viewers to watch and she figured it to be her first, genuine interning experience. It was all scheduled for Christmas Day and the entire outfit rack felt original, for once.
Then the guests came backstage. They looked the models up and down, directing their questions to the tall man who leaped from model to model like a cars salesman. She didn’t know what the viewers had to say about her, or what the tall man said about her, but she did notice the tall man deflecting inquiries away from Bojan, as though he was unappealing… or off-limits.
The next day, Bojan was accepted into another fashion house in New York City. But that couldn’t be, Krešimira thought, Bojan hadn't even walked the runway because of a wardrobe malfunction; what talent could he possibly have shown off?
Bojan wasn’t the only one. There were near a dozen transfers out, and near fifty transfers in. The new group came from the Phillipines. Nobody spoke English, as expected. The tall man said that, since they did so well the first time, they were going to have another showing next week.
Krešimira stared at the hotel door, still wearing the dress she had on for the show; she was first on the runway, but the tall man had kept the viewers away from her like she was a museum painting. The rancid apartment in Croatia seemed so welcoming now, and no amount of fury her father could muster could compare to every footstep outside the door.
Krešimira turned her head out the window and saw an airplane pass through the clouds.
She could run again.
This wasn’t Croatia: she could easily get a cab to the nearest airport. She pulled out her phone, her old phone, and switched off the hotel’s internet to use cell data. She pulled up the airport website and tried to buy a ticket. She was met with an error message. It was becoming clearer. Fendrel and Dain’s had no qualms about letting its victims buy beer or send money to the family, but it certainly wouldn’t permit buying an escape. Fendrel and Dain’s couldn’t do anything about cash though, and there was an ATM in the lobby, just a few meters away from a taxi drop-off point.
It was one in the morning. Fendrel and Dain's had provided her entire wardrobe, and she bitterly regretted not buying something, even a simple sweater, to not draw attention to herself. She'd be making her getaway in runway clothes. She'd buy something less outlandish at the airport. She slid the refrigerator aside and left her room.
She walked past the rooms of the other interns. She heard some of them partying, cheering in Croatian and Filipino. She heard a few talking with relatives, gushing about their futures in the fashion industry. She made it to the elevator and found it empty. She pressed the button to the lobby and the doors closed. She was 18 stories away.
Krešimira Kovačević stood in the elevator, the backs of her feet itched against the shoe-straps, and the elevator hummed as the cord sent it sliding down the building.
The elevator stopped at the 16th floor and the tall man walked in, still wearing his aviators. He said nothing and the elevator continued.
The elevator seemed to lose speed.
"Your name is… Krešimira Kovačević, yes?" the tall man asked.
"Y-yes.” Krešimira said.
"Are you unwell? You have rings under your eyes."
"Just stress."
"We’ll have a doctor look at you tomorrow."
They reached the 10th floor and a group of drunk interns got in. The elevator continued, sped up even, all the way down to the lobby. The workers were pulling the grand Christmas tree down.
As the other interns got off, Krešimira pried herself off the wall farthest from the tall man and moved to the door, just as he did. And then she felt the grip on her shoulder. Her ankles burned as the cold hand rooted her to the floor. The door closed shut before sense, and voice, returned to her.
The tall man said nothing and pressed the button for one of the parking levels.
The elevator moved too fast.
"Are you excited?"
"This doesn’t look like a hospital."
"This isn’t a medical service, Mardbury. Technically, it’s not even a service yet. Right now, it’s beta testing."
"So there could be glitches?"
"No. We’re simply testing how appealing the whole process is. So I ask again, Mardbury, are you excited?"
"I am. God, this is surreal. What’ll happen to my old body?"
"It’ll decompose."
"I want it turned into a tree."
"Understandable. Never hurts to go green."
"Do you want to do something after this is all done?"
"Sure. You know what they say: new year, new you. Dr. Dain, could you please put our good friend to sleep while I get his new suit?"
Krešimira woke up in her hotel room, sweating. She looked down at herself: covered in sweat. She looked at the clock: 1:01 in the morning. The fireworks were still going off outside and the lamp was still on, illuminating the American passport on the table and the shed clothes on the floor. She looked to her side and saw that Bojan Arthur was still asleep.
Quietly, she swung herself out of bed and made her way into the bathroom. The sudden change in light made her eyelids clamp shut for a moment, but she adjusted to it. She leaned into the mirror and brought a hand to her face, gently tracing a finger upwards, moving from her lips to her cheekbones before coming to rest at the bags beneath her eyes. They’d go away with good sleep, the doctor told her, and here she was not getting it. She gripped the side of the mirror and pulled the cabinet open, pushing her reflection aside to reveal two orange bottles. She took the fuller one on the left and deposited two tablets into her hand. They were pink, chalky disks, each about the size of a quarter. She flicked them into a cup of tap water and watched them fizz away into bubbles, before pouring the whole thing down her throat. It tasted like juiced peaches.
She put the bottle away and brought back the mirror. This time she leaned close, so that her nose was only a few inches away, and brushed some hair away from her forehead; the incision scar was healing nicely. Bojan's voice called from the bed, and the thing wearing Krešimira curved her lips into a smile and walked out of the mirror's sight.
Like it always did, and always will do, a lonely garbage truck lumbered down the roads as the morning sun rose. Workers with neon vests hung from the back, talking about the game from last night, occasionally shooting waves at the early risers. The truck drove past hundreds of homes and gobbled up hundreds of garbage bags and boxes. It made its way deep into West Virginia and scooped up a bulging plastic bag stinking of rotten flesh. Through the white plastic, one could see what looked like fleshy pink blobs all crammed inside together. But the worker didn't care, butcher shops were on the route too, and there was a stellar touchdown to talk about. The truck resumed its winded journey to the landfill, and Krešimira Kovačević could only dream.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" ii tab po c h2o qhs prn pain " by Veiedhimaedhr, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/ii-tab-po-c-h20-qhs-prn-pain . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Auction
Name: Empty Runway
Author: Simba Darling
License: CC BY-SA 2.0
Source Link: Flickr | 356 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "body-horror", "doomsday2018", "end-of-death", "horror", "post-apocalyptic", "tale"] | 2018-06-07T00:06:00 | 32,903 | 5,857 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-6362 | SCP-6362 | scp |
close
Info
X
SCP-6362 - Home Invasion
Written by Habitual_Snubnose
Co-Authored by MirageTD
MORE BY THIS AUTHOR
94.83%
(+110)
5.17%
(-6)
-%
(+0)
-%
(-0)
Item#: 6362
Level3
Containment Class:
keter
Secondary Class:
{$secondary-class}
Disruption Class:
vlam
Risk Class:
danger
link to memo
Aftermath of an SCP-6362 event.
Special Containment Procedures: Foundation webcrawler I/O-BRKR is to monitor search engines, forums and psychiatric records for any information potentially relating to SCP-6362. If investigation of a flagged post suggests a genuine SCP-6362-A instance, they are to be recovered immediately.
Recovered SCP-6362-A instances must be under constant surveillance. Their containment cells are to be fully covered by cameras. When not in their containment cell, an SCP-6362-A instance must be accompanied by at least one person at all times.
These containment procedures are untested and speculative, as a living SCP-6362-A instance has never been recovered.
Description: SCP-6362-A designates anyone affected by SCP-6362. The criteria for becoming an SCP-6362-A instance, if any exist, are unknown.
During an SCP-6362 event, 3 to 7 adult humans, designated SCP-6362-B, will appear near SCP-6362-A. SCP-6362-B instances have been recorded to appear behind or within any object that can reasonably conceal them, i.e. within locked rooms, on balconies, under countertops, within cupboards or behind shower curtains. SCP-6362-B instances may also appear directly behind SCP-6362-A, though this is rare.
SCP-6362-B instances are typically male and are always fully clothed. Their ethnicity, physical build and overall appearance vary. They have never been recorded to vocalize, emote or attempt to communicate in any way.
After appearing, all instances of SCP-6362-B will converge on SCP-6362-A and physically assault them.
For an SCP-6362 event to occur, an SCP-6362-A instance must be conscious and unseen by any other human. SCP-6362 events occur in intervals lasting anywhere from 1 year to 2 weeks. No method of consistently triggering an SCP-6362 event is currently known.
An SCP-6362 event will end immediately if any of the following conditions are met:
SCP-6362-A loses consciousness.
SCP-6362-A dies.
Another human observes an instance of SCP-6362-B.
All instances of SCP-6362-B are terminated.
When an SCP-6362 event ends, any remaining SCP-6362-B instances disappear, leaving no physical trace of their existence. No blood, clothing or hair belonging to an instance of SCP-6362-B has ever been recovered. However, any injuries sustained by SCP-6362-A, or damage done to the environment, will remain.
All information on SCP-6362 has originated from journal entries, forums posts, psychiatric evaluations and letters. These documents are rare, as most SCP-6362-A instances are terminated during SCP-6362 events before recording anything useful about the anomaly.
Addendum 6362.1: 1998-11-14
The following police report was filed by Officer Larry Marks of the Los Angeles Police Department:
On 11/14/1998 at approximately 2230 hours, I responded to a reported shooting at Council Street and North Benton Way.
Upon arriving at the house, the occupant (Jacob Harris) stepped outside and ran towards me, screaming for help. His head was bleeding and his left eye was swollen. Harris claimed that he had just been attacked by several strangers. He claimed that he shot two, before being disarmed by them and running outside. I summoned an ambulance to the scene.
Upon brief investigation, I found no bodies or evidence of forced entry. I did find Harris's pistol on the floor near the front entrance, which I claimed as evidence. The ambulance arrived, and paramedics placed Harris inside.
There is nothing further to report.
After questioning, Harris was placed in the care of a psychiatric hospital. He expired 6 months later, within a locked bathroom. Cause of death was listed as a crushed trachea, in addition to several other minor wounds. No evidence or suspects were found.
Addendum 6362.2: 2001-02-11
The following is a handwritten letter, written by 32-year-old Daniel Wallace. It is addressed to his family home. No return address is listed.
Show Transcribed Document Show Original Document
Lisa,
I'm sorry for leaving. But I couldn't handle it anymore. I'm not crazy, not like you think I am.
It's real. Maybe not to you, or the kids, but it is to me. People keep breaking in and hurting me. I know it sounds crazy. You look at me like I'm crazy. Ben is scared of me. My own kid is scared of me.
But I didn't break my arm, or tear the bathroom door off its hinges, or give myself a concussion. It's been them.
These people just show up. I don't know how they get in. It's like they just appear out of nowhere. They just come out of nowhere. Always when I'm alone.
This place isn't possible to find. And if they do, god forbid, I'm going to kill them. There's a gun in every room. I carry one with me, all the time. I won't let it happen again. This cabin isn't possible to find. When I see a stranger, any stranger, I'll know what's happening. I'll kill them.
I've got enough food to last for years. Mirrors on every wall. Two locks and a deadbolt on every door. They're never going to sneak up on me.
Please don't try to visit me. I love you all. I'm going to drive into town to drop this letter off, and after that, I'm not leaving this cabin again. I can't.
I love you,
— Daniel.
Two days after the letter was written, Wallace died when his vehicle swerved off the road and collided with a concrete barrier. Official cause of death was head trauma. However, he was found with back, arm and neck injuries that were inconsistent with a car accident. The letter was found in the passenger seat.
Deemed by law enforcement to be accidental.
Addendum 6362.3: 2017-04-15
The following is a handwritten letter, addressed to the Pentagon building. The author is unknown.
Show Transcribed Document Show Original Document
I killed them all. One broke a window and slid inside. Like a cat. The other two kicked my front door off its hinges. I killed all three. God made man, sure, but Samuel Colt made them equal.
I want you to know that the last one took a long time to die. Shot him right in the gut. He just bled and stared at me. There wasn't anything behind those eyes. Nothing human. He didn't tell me anything. Whatever training they get, it's good. But mine is better.
And when he died, they all just poofed out of existence, just like the last few times. No bodies, no blood.
Can't wait for you to try again. Fuckers.
— K
Attempts to trace the sender have failed. Investigation showed that neither the Pentagon, nor any branch of the US Government, is connected to SCP-6362.
Addendum 6362.4: 2018-03-29
The following is the only recoverable entry from a journal belonging to Robert Paisley:
Show Transcribed Document Show Original Document
My neighbor he's been outside for too long it doesn't take that long to mow a lawn
It doesn't take that long to mow a lawn he just keeps stopping and looking paranoid, or pratending [sic] to clear grass from the blades
He's just trying to look towards my house
He's casing it
He's getting ready to break in I know it
The last few times, it's been him, I know it's been him, hes [sic] pulling the strings, telling them when I'm alone and when my wife is away
They just break in and beat me, they don't say anything
This has happened five times and nobody fucking believes me, but last time was different
They were beating me, and he interrupted it
He just walked into my house, said he heard something, but thats [sic] BULLSHIT , the second he came in they went away
He MADE them go away, it was his fucked up way of telling me who's in control
Im [sic] [indecipherable]
The journal was recovered following its submission as evidence in the case of Markus Anderson's murder. Anderson lived across the street from Paisley, and was found stabbed to death in his home. Paisley has yet to be found.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6362 " by Habitual_Snubnose, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6362 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Crime_scene.JPG
Author: Mattes
License: Public domain
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crime_scene.JPG
Filenames: doc2.png, doc3.png, doc4.png
Author: Habitual_Snubnose
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6362 | 104 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "co-authored", "hostile", "humanoid", "keter", "observational", "scp", "uncontained"] | 2022-05-27T05:02:00 | 8,660 | 1,411 | null | null | Foundation webcrawler I/O-BRKR is to monitor search engines, forums and psychiatric records for any information potentially relating to SCP-6362. If investigation of a flagged post suggests a genuine SCP-6362-A instance, they are to be recovered immediately.
Recovered SCP-6362-A instances must be under constant surveillance. Their containment cells are to be fully covered by cameras. When not in their containment cell, an SCP-6362-A instance must be accompanied by at least one person at all times.
These containment procedures are untested and speculative, as a living SCP-6362-A instance has never been recovered. | SCP-6362-A designates anyone affected by SCP-6362. The criteria for becoming an SCP-6362-A instance, if any exist, are unknown.
During an SCP-6362 event, 3 to 7 adult humans, designated SCP-6362-B, will appear near SCP-6362-A. SCP-6362-B instances have been recorded to appear behind or within any object that can reasonably conceal them, i.e. within locked rooms, on balconies, under countertops, within cupboards or behind shower curtains. SCP-6362-B instances may also appear directly behind SCP-6362-A, though this is rare.
SCP-6362-B instances are typically male and are always fully clothed. Their ethnicity, physical build and overall appearance vary. They have never been recorded to vocalize, emote or attempt to communicate in any way.
After appearing, all instances of SCP-6362-B will converge on SCP-6362-A and physically assault them.
For an SCP-6362 event to occur, an SCP-6362-A instance must be conscious and unseen by any other human. SCP-6362 events occur in intervals lasting anywhere from 1 year to 2 weeks. No method of consistently triggering an SCP-6362 event is currently known.
An SCP-6362 event will end immediately if any of the following conditions are met:
SCP-6362-A loses consciousness.
SCP-6362-A dies.
Another human observes an instance of SCP-6362-B.
All instances of SCP-6362-B are terminated.
When an SCP-6362 event ends, any remaining SCP-6362-B instances disappear, leaving no physical trace of their existence. No blood, clothing or hair belonging to an instance of SCP-6362-B has ever been recovered. However, any injuries sustained by SCP-6362-A, or damage done to the environment, will remain.
All information on SCP-6362 has originated from journal entries, forums posts, psychiatric evaluations and letters. These documents are rare, as most SCP-6362-A instances are terminated during SCP-6362 events before recording anything useful about the anomaly. | 4 | ## Addendum 6362.1: 1998-11-14
The following police report was filed by Officer Larry Marks of the Los Angeles Police Department:
On 11/14/1998 at approximately 2230 hours, I responded to a reported shooting at Council Street and North Benton Way.
Upon arriving at the house, the occupant (Jacob Harris) stepped outside and ran towards me, screaming for help. His head was bleeding and his left eye was swollen. Harris claimed that he had just been attacked by several strangers. He claimed that he shot two, before being disarmed by them and running outside. I summoned an ambulance to the scene.
Upon brief investigation, I found no bodies or evidence of forced entry. I did find Harris's pistol on the floor near the front entrance, which I claimed as evidence. The ambulance arrived, and paramedics placed Harris inside.
There is nothing further to report.
After questioning, Harris was placed in the care of a psychiatric hospital. He expired 6 months later, within a locked bathroom. Cause of death was listed as a crushed trachea, in addition to several other minor wounds. No evidence or suspects were found.
---
## Addendum 6362.2: 2001-02-11
The following is a handwritten letter, written by 32-year-old Daniel Wallace. It is addressed to his family home. No return address is listed.
Show Transcribed Document Show Original Document
Lisa,
I'm sorry for leaving. But I couldn't handle it anymore. I'm not crazy, not like you think I am.
It's real. Maybe not to you, or the kids, but it is to me. People keep breaking in and hurting me. I know it sounds crazy. You look at me like I'm crazy. Ben is scared of me. My own kid is scared of me.
But I didn't break my arm, or tear the bathroom door off its hinges, or give myself a concussion. It's been them.
These people just show up. I don't know how they get in. It's like they just appear out of nowhere. They just come out of nowhere. Always when I'm alone.
This place isn't possible to find. And if they do, god forbid, I'm going to kill them. There's a gun in every room. I carry one with me, all the time. I won't let it happen again. This cabin isn't possible to find. When I see a stranger, any stranger, I'll know what's happening. I'll kill them.
I've got enough food to last for years. Mirrors on every wall. Two locks and a deadbolt on every door. They're never going to sneak up on me.
Please don't try to visit me. I love you all. I'm going to drive into town to drop this letter off, and after that, I'm not leaving this cabin again. I can't.
I love you,
— Daniel.
Two days after the letter was written, Wallace died when his vehicle swerved off the road and collided with a concrete barrier. Official cause of death was head trauma. However, he was found with back, arm and neck injuries that were inconsistent with a car accident. The letter was found in the passenger seat.
Deemed by law enforcement to be accidental.
---
## Addendum 6362.3: 2017-04-15
The following is a handwritten letter, addressed to the Pentagon building. The author is unknown.
Show Transcribed Document Show Original Document
I killed them all. One broke a window and slid inside. Like a cat. The other two kicked my front door off its hinges. I killed all three. God made man, sure, but Samuel Colt made them equal.
I want you to know that the last one took a long time to die. Shot him right in the gut. He just bled and stared at me. There wasn't anything behind those eyes. Nothing human. He didn't tell me anything. Whatever training they get, it's good. But mine is better.
And when he died, they all just poofed out of existence, just like the last few times. No bodies, no blood.
Can't wait for you to try again. Fuckers.
— K
Attempts to trace the sender have failed. Investigation showed that neither the Pentagon, nor any branch of the US Government, is connected to SCP-6362.
---
## Addendum 6362.4: 2018-03-29
The following is the only recoverable entry from a journal belonging to Robert Paisley:
Show Transcribed Document Show Original Document
My neighbor he's been outside for too long it doesn't take that long to mow a lawn
It doesn't take that long to mow a lawn he just keeps stopping and looking paranoid, or pratending [sic] to clear grass from the blades
He's just trying to look towards my house
He's casing it
He's getting ready to break in I know it
The last few times, it's been him, I know it's been him, hes [sic] pulling the strings, telling them when I'm alone and when my wife is away
They just break in and beat me, they don't say anything
This has happened five times and nobody fucking believes me, but last time was different
They were beating me, and he interrupted it
He just walked into my house, said he heard something, but thats [sic] BULLSHIT , the second he came in they went away
He MADE them go away, it was his fucked up way of telling me who's in control
Im [sic] [indecipherable]
The journal was recovered following its submission as evidence in the case of Markus Anderson's murder. Anderson lived across the street from Paisley, and was found stabbed to death in his home. Paisley has yet to be found.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-6362 " by Habitual_Snubnose, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6362 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Crime_scene.JPG
Author: Mattes
License: Public domain
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crime_scene.JPG
Filenames: doc2.png, doc3.png, doc4.png
Author: Habitual_Snubnose
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6362 | |
who-made-you | Who Made You? - SCP Foundation | tale | Who are you really, Charles Gears?
Thumbnail
A reimagining/character study of Dr. Gears.
▸ More by this Author ◂
{$comments2}
F.A.Q.
{$doesthisfixthebug}
Who Made You?
Charles Orson Gears is 21 years old, the day he joins the American Secure Containment Initiative . The year is 1875.
Charles' tie is pressed, his suit unwrinkled, his already-thinning hair neatly combed. To look at him, one might think he hasn't been sitting in an interrogation room for the past six hours. One would be wrong.
A man enters the room. He isn't wearing a name tag—none of his interrogators have, though this one is new. The nameless man smiles thinly as he sits.
"You're Charles Gears, is that right?"
"That is correct."
"Hell of a name. And you're the assistant to Mr. Rothwell, the lawyer assigned to Dr. Claddeus' estate?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful. Now, I'd like you to tell me about what happened last afternoon."
"Have you not been informed?" Charles' tone is placid, nearly serene. "I have described this to two of your colleagues already. In the latter case, I believe his subordinate was writing a transcription—"
"I've read it. And I'm not afraid to say it seems a little… fantastical."
"I do not lie, officer."
The nameless man smiles again, leaning forward as if sharing a private joke. Charles notes that three of his teeth are rotten.
"Everybody lies, kid."
Dr. Gears is 143 years old the day he meets Troy Lament. The year is 1997.
Lament is young then and looks younger, all gawky limbs and nervous tics that haven't yet been smoothed out by hard-won experience. He is yet to grow into the overwhelming responsibility he will one day be made to bear. They are alike in this way, their deceptive youthfulness. Lament looms apologetically over Charles' desk, proffering a hand to shake, then retracting it when Gears makes no motion to stand.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Doctor…" Lament trails off, suddenly uncertain if he's just been hazed. He yanks at his right cuff—his uniform is one size too small. Charles make a mental note to have him fitted for a new one. An ill-prepared assistant reflects poorly on their superior, after all.
"Dr. Gears," he supplies.
"Dr. Gears," Lament echoes. "Right. That's quite a memorable name you have, if you don't mind my saying. Is there a story there?"
" Geier is a common German surname. My grandfather, like many immigrants, changed his name upon arriving to America. He was a clockmaker. I am told he had something of a sense of humor."
There is a brief silence before Lament realizes that Dr. Gears' tale has ended with as little fanfare as it began.
"That's… quite a story."
"It is."
You can learn a lot about someone by the questions they ask. You can learn even more by the questions they don't. These are questions that Dr. Gears has not been asked:
Did you know what you'd find in Dr. Claddeus' estate?
Geier may be a common surname, but was it your grandfather's surname?
Who are you really, Charles Gears?
Dr. Gears never lies. That does not mean he always tells the truth.
Charles Gears is 10 years old, the day his father first shows him the inside of the family clock. The year is 1864.
The exterior of the clock is rather unimpressive; plain, roughly cut wood, uncarved and unadorned. It looks more like a lopsided box with a clock face slapped on it than a proper grandfather clock. But the interior …
There is no pendulum inside this clock, no series of weights with which to measure the passing of days. There are, from the base of the clock to the very top, hundreds upon hundreds of intermeshed gears. They twist about in perfect geometric harmony, gold flashing upon gold, silver upon silver. Countless cogs move about its length in a perfect synchronized dance, intermingled, hands twined. The clock is reason and beauty and harmony all in one. The clock is the sky and the stars, and Charles, still so young, can no longer imagine a world without it.
"Remember this moment," his father says. "Capture it in your mind, the feeling of it. The glory. This is the wholeness of our Unbroken God. The world, as it could be. As it should be." His father's hands are firm on his shoulders. The clock is beautiful. "Remember this. Remember who made you. "
"Don't worry, father," he says. "I will not forget."
More From This Author
More From This Author
MontagueETC's Works
SCPs
SCP-8204 •
SCP-8200 •
SCP-8066 •
SCP-7408 •
SCP-9923 •
SCP-7701 •
E. T. Cetera's Proposal •
SCP-⌘ •
SCP-1498 •
SCP-7354 •
SCP-6751 •
SCP-1908 •
SCP-8408 •
SCP-7376 •
SCP-6454 •
Tales/GoI Formats
A Betamax Suicide Note •
Omnigenesis and the Law of Blades •
Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? •
Six Codas •
DR. KONDRAKI CUT UP WHILE THINKING •
Without Refuge •
Other
MontagueETC's SCiPTEMBER 2022 Art •
etcetera, etcetera •
Art Exchange 2023 | SCP-6759 •
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Who Made You? " by MontagueETC, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/who-made-you . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: Who-Made-You-Thumbnail.png, Cog.png, & Cogbreak.png
Author: MontagueETC
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Derivative of:
Name: Cog font awesome.svg
Author: Dave Gandy
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | 41 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "agent-lament", "asci", "broken-god", "doctor-gears", "tale"] | 2023-06-13T02:32:00 | 5,411 | 927 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-1606 | SCP-1606 | scp | Item #: SCP-1606
Object Class: Euclid-exsequi
Special Containment Procedures: The property on which SCP-1606 was built is owned by the Foundation under the pseudonym Duane Schmidt. Two agents are to reside in SCP-1606 to provide basic security and to discourage unauthorized persons from entering the building, given the cover identities Duane and Elizabeth Schmidt. Personnel may not enter SCP-1606-2 under any circumstances. Persons entering SCP-1606-2 may be left there indefinitely.
Description: SCP-1606 is a white, two-story wooden house built in 1897 in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. SCP-1606 is in a state of moderate disrepair, with two windows broken, the majority of stationary surfaces covered in approximately 0.8mm of dust, and multiple holes in the walls. The building has remained in this condition since the Foundation's recovery of the item in 1977; no degradation whatsoever has been noted in SCP-1606 despite a lack of actions taken to counteract this. Further, no attempts at repairing or cleaning SCP-1606 have been effective, with any changes made becoming undone almost immediately after completion of the task.
SCP-1606-1 is an entity that takes the form of a middle-aged Caucasian female identified as Marissa Schmidt, a lifetime resident and native of Chippewa Falls born in 1923. SCP-1606-1 possesses the memories and personality of Marissa Schmidt as of June 1, 1977 1 ; however, it is restricted to SCP-1606. Any attempts to remove SCP-1606-1 from the premises have resulted in its disappearance and manifestation inside SCP-1606, with no memory past June 1, 1977. SCP-1606-1 has never expressed the desire to leave SCP-1606, nor has it been able to provide a satisfactory explanation for the anomalous properties of SCP-1606. SCP-1606-1 does not appear to require sustenance or sleep, and poses no threat to personnel.
The top floor of SCP-1606, designated SCP-1606-2, consists of a bathroom and bedroom, connected by a hallway to a staircase that leads to the ground floor. Persons entering SCP-1606-2 suffer irreversible, ongoing short-term memory losses that render the voluntary exit of SCP-1606-2 impossible. Subjects affected in this manner will frequently become lost when moving within or between rooms; any attempts by the subject to form a plan of action fail when the subject forgets any resolution they may have made to do so. Subjects are also unable to follow instructions or communicate effectively with each other or with other persons. Removal of subjects from SCP-1606-2 is impossible without the use of automated or remotely-operated systems. Retrieved subjects lack the ability to form new memories and exhibit extensive long- and short-term memory loss.
Despite lacking the mental faculties to eat or drink should food and/or beverages be provided to them, subjects exposed to SCP-1606-2 live approximately three months before dying. This is assumed to be an anomalous effect of SCP-1606. Should a subject expire in SCP-1606-2, their corpse will disappear. On occasions in which SCP-1606-2 is vacant, previous subjects who have died there will appear at random intervals, exhibiting behavior typical of SCP-1606-2 victims.
Addendum 1606-1: Three photos and one nine-second video fragment taken inside SCP-1606-2 have shown the presence of an elderly man; no such person has been confirmed to exist in SCP-1606-2. SCP-1606-1 has identified this individual as Donald Schmidt, her father. Unremarkable public records of Donald Schmidt exist; however, no additional records have been created since April 1958. SCP-1606-1 claims that Donald Schmidt suffers from Alzheimer's disease, and will insist that he resides in the upper bedroom of SCP-1606 despite evidence to the contrary.
Footnotes
1 . Marissa Schmidt entered SCP-1606-2 on this date; SCP-1606 was contained two months later, with Marissa Schmidt expiring one month after that.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-1606 " by Communism will win, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1606 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 156 | ["_licensebox", "building", "euclid", "humanoid", "memory-affecting", "scp", "self-repairing"] | 2012-07-13T20:22:00 | 4,222 | 652 | SCP-1606 | Euclid | The property on which SCP-1606 was built is owned by the Foundation under the pseudonym Duane Schmidt. Two agents are to reside in SCP-1606 to provide basic security and to discourage unauthorized persons from entering the building, given the cover identities Duane and Elizabeth Schmidt. Personnel may not enter SCP-1606-2 under any circumstances. Persons entering SCP-1606-2 may be left there indefinitely. | SCP-1606 is a white, two-story wooden house built in 1897 in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. SCP-1606 is in a state of moderate disrepair, with two windows broken, the majority of stationary surfaces covered in approximately 0.8mm of dust, and multiple holes in the walls. The building has remained in this condition since the Foundation's recovery of the item in 1977; no degradation whatsoever has been noted in SCP-1606 despite a lack of actions taken to counteract this. Further, no attempts at repairing or cleaning SCP-1606 have been effective, with any changes made becoming undone almost immediately after completion of the task.
SCP-1606-1 is an entity that takes the form of a middle-aged Caucasian female identified as Marissa Schmidt, a lifetime resident and native of Chippewa Falls born in 1923. SCP-1606-1 possesses the memories and personality of Marissa Schmidt as of June 1, 1977 1 ; however, it is restricted to SCP-1606. Any attempts to remove SCP-1606-1 from the premises have resulted in its disappearance and manifestation inside SCP-1606, with no memory past June 1, 1977. SCP-1606-1 has never expressed the desire to leave SCP-1606, nor has it been able to provide a satisfactory explanation for the anomalous properties of SCP-1606. SCP-1606-1 does not appear to require sustenance or sleep, and poses no threat to personnel.
The top floor of SCP-1606, designated SCP-1606-2, consists of a bathroom and bedroom, connected by a hallway to a staircase that leads to the ground floor. Persons entering SCP-1606-2 suffer irreversible, ongoing short-term memory losses that render the voluntary exit of SCP-1606-2 impossible. Subjects affected in this manner will frequently become lost when moving within or between rooms; any attempts by the subject to form a plan of action fail when the subject forgets any resolution they may have made to do so. Subjects are also unable to follow instructions or communicate effectively with each other or with other persons. Removal of subjects from SCP-1606-2 is impossible without the use of automated or remotely-operated systems. Retrieved subjects lack the ability to form new memories and exhibit extensive long- and short-term memory loss.
Despite lacking the mental faculties to eat or drink should food and/or beverages be provided to them, subjects exposed to SCP-1606-2 live approximately three months before dying. This is assumed to be an anomalous effect of SCP-1606. Should a subject expire in SCP-1606-2, their corpse will disappear. On occasions in which SCP-1606-2 is vacant, previous subjects who have died there will appear at random intervals, exhibiting behavior typical of SCP-1606-2 victims. | 0 | ||
SCP-4500 | SCP-4500 | scp | Persons of the Dialogue
The Narrator
The Reader
The scene is laid in the Containment Protocol Archives; and the whole dialogue is narrated by the Narrator to the Reader.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4500 " by MathBrush, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4500 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 739 | ["4000", "_licensebox", "concept", "euclid", "historical", "meta", "scp"] | 2018-07-02T20:21:00 | 495 | 84 | null | null | null | null | 1 | ## logue
The Narrator
The Reader
The scene is laid in the Containment Protocol Archives; and the whole dialogue is narrated by the Narrator to the Reader.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-4500 " by MathBrush, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-4500 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
SCP-3197 | SCP-3197 | scp | Item #: SCP-3197
Object Class: Safe
The photograph of Mr. Greenspan decorating the stand of SCP-3197.
Special Containment Procedures: The components of SCP-3197 are to be kept disassembled in a standard containment locker. Testing may be initiated by any employee with a Level 2 clearance. Non-Foundation personnel who came in contact with SCP-3197 before containment are to be administered amnestics.
Description: SCP-3197 is a mahogany stand adorned with three wax candles, a cerulean bowl, two BIC pens, and a framed photograph of Alan Greenspan, the 13th Chairman of the United States Federal Reserve. A “List of Acceptable Offerings” is inscribed into the base of the stand.
Several conditions must be met for the anomalous properties of the object to manifest:
All candles must be lit and the bowl filled approximately halfway with rose water.
The BIC pens must be placed equidistant on opposite sides of the picture.
A supplicant must approach the stand and kneel, placing a piece of paper with a four-letter symbol into the bowl along with an offering.
The supplicant must perform a short recitation:
Our Holy Greenspan
Hallowed be Thy Name
Give us this day our daily profits
And write off our losses
Lead us not into overleverage
But deliver us from margin calls
For yours is the market and the profit and the glory
Forever and ever
Amen
If all the required conditions are all met, the offering placed within the bowl will vanish 1 . If the four-letter symbol corresponds to a stock listed on the New York Stock Exchange, the stock will experience a return matching the relevant entry in the list inscribed into the base of the stand. Stocks listed on other exchanges are unaffected.
The anomalous properties continue to manifest themselves if minor alterations are made to the ritual, for instance if BIC pens are replaced with graphite pencils, or if artificial candles are substituted for wax. However, all anomalous properties cease if the picture of Alan Greenspan is replaced with a photograph of Ben Bernanke or other Federal Reserve chairs such as Janet Yellen or Paul Volcker.
Appendix A: "List of Acceptable Offerings" inscribed into the base of SCP-3197
A memento from the supplicant's childhood: 1%
The supplicant’s full head of hair: 2%
The supplicant’s wedding ring: 5%
An urn with the ashes of the supplicant’s parent: 7%
The supplicant’s thumb (right hand): 10%
Appendix B: Interview with Jack Rossi, former equity trader with Dean Peabody LLP
The following interview was conducted on 4/6/2008 shortly after discovery and containment of SCP-3197. Mr. Rossi initially refused to cooperate with Foundation researchers, whom he believed to be working for an unspecified government agency. After covert administration of EXP-URXW-23 2 , and after assurances from the researchers that they meant him no harm, Mr. Rossi consented to be interviewed.
Researcher ██████: Do you remember when you put the altar together?
Mr. Rossi : Christ, who knows? Early ‘97, maybe. The S&P was about to break a thousand, I know that much. Also, wasn’t me that put it together.
Researcher ██████: Who was it, then?
Mr. Rossi : All I did was put the photo on it.
Researcher ██████: But you were the one who brought the stand to the Peabody headquarters?
Mr. Rossi : Saw it out by the curb somewhere in midtown. 56th street, maybe. Fucking Hindus or Buddhists or whatchamacallthem, they were throwing it out. Took it on a whim and set it up in the break room with the big photo. We all had a nice laugh over it.
Researcher ██████: Who do you mean by "we"?
Mr. Rossi : All of us on the trading floor. Dick, Lester, Phil, the overeager juniors fresh out of school who fetched us drinks. The big boss saw it and laughed so hard he almost barfed his lunch. Next day someone put the bowl in there. The pens were Phil’s idea. Some loser over at Goldman told him the chairman was fond of BICs.
Yeah, it was fucking fantastic. Anytime a client would come in, we’d take them round the back and show them “our new religion,” as we called it. Everyone thought it was a goddamn riot.
Researcher ██████: And the list?
Mr. Rossi : Just appeared one day. Don’t know who carved it in. Nobody would admit to it. Wasn’t very funny, if you ask me. A bit like taking the joke too far.
The first time someone used it was during one of the corrections…
Researcher ██████: I'm sorry, what is a correction in this context?
Mr. Rossi: Let's just say it was mid-98. A fucking massacre on the trading floor. I remember I got off easy, my portfolio was down 7-8%. Most had losses in the 20-30% range. Bonuses were evaporating left right and center. I'm telling you, I could smell divorce in the air.
Researcher ██████: Pardon?
Mr. Rossi : Most of the guys had trophy wives. You know, blondes, big tits, a few decades younger than them. Hell, some had trophy mistresses. You think their women would stick by them once they were out on the curb?
Researcher ██████: I see.
Mr. Rossi: So anyway, when the bell rings and the bloodbath is finally over, Lester brings us to the break room and does a big show. He kneels in front of the little altar, writes one of his big stocks on a piece of paper, recites a mangled version of the Lord's prayer and throws his wedding band in there. We’re all smiling, because for God’s sakes we need some comic relief, you know? The whole time, I’m thinking of what I’d do if I lose my job. My wife — everything’s solid there, knock on wood. But we’d have to move to fucking Jersey.
Researcher ██████: Was that when you first noticed the anomalous effect?
Mr. Rossi : His wedding band disappeared. Poor sod looked for it for hours. He was still looking when I went home that day, muttering about how his wife was gonna give him a serious ass-kicking. Next day, though, we're all getting fucked up the ass again but Lester’s stock pops 5%. Lucky motherfucker ended the day only a little bit in the red.
So, after the stocks close we’re all smirking together, ha-ha, the thing works, doesn’t it? All hail the holy Greenspan! Phil pops home and brings back some chess trophy he won when he was still in diapers. Next day, another fucking massacre, we're talking 10-15% losses across the board, except Phil's shitty dog of a stock is up 1%.
Researcher ██████: And then you began using the altar regularly?
Mr. Rossi : Not really. For a while we went on on making wisecracks. Ha-ha, on your way to the altar Dick? Your stocks must be crunching! But the results were undeniable. Every time someone made an offering, the return would be there the next day like clockwork.
And then…then I guess the jokes stopped being funny. Gradually, we just stopped talking about it, even though we were using the thing as often as we could. Hair takes time to grow after you shave it off, you know. A month later, we moved it to a private room. Custom made lock, only a few of us had the key, didn't even let the janitor in there. If anyone asked, we said we threw the thing away.
Researcher ██████: The returns coming from the offerings don’t seem to be very large.
Mr. Rossi : Yeah, dummy, you don’t invest in the stock directly. You wait until all the momentum traders think a stock is gonna crumble, then you start trading futures. On a good day, you can find a tanking stock along with some poor schmuck who'll bet you against a 10% rise at 50:1 odds, if not more.
Researcher ██████ : I think I have all I need. Someone else will be in to see you shortly. Out of curiosity, do you have any regrets about the whole thing?
Mr. Rossi : The fuck would I?
Researcher ██████ : Digging up your parents, for example.
Mr. Rossi : Oh yeah, I'm sure they really mind. I bet they were having a grand ole time in that cemetery.
Researcher ██████ : What about your hand?
Mr. Rossi : Listen, if I have trouble opening a door, I’ll get my butler to do it for me.
Footnotes
1 . Attempts to determine the physics underlying this effect, as well as the ultimate destination of the offerings, have met with failure.
2 . Designed by the Neurology Division, this pharmaceutical cocktail induces feelings of trust and openness without any associated cognitive impairment. | 220 | ["_cc", "artifact", "event-featured", "exchange", "ritual", "safe", "scp"] | 2018-02-07T17:31:00 | 8,197 | 1,442 | SCP-3197 | Safe | The components of SCP-3197 are to be kept disassembled in a standard containment locker. Testing may be initiated by any employee with a Level 2 clearance. Non-Foundation personnel who came in contact with SCP-3197 before containment are to be administered amnestics. | SCP-3197 is a mahogany stand adorned with three wax candles, a cerulean bowl, two BIC pens, and a framed photograph of Alan Greenspan, the 13th Chairman of the United States Federal Reserve. A “List of Acceptable Offerings” is inscribed into the base of the stand.
Several conditions must be met for the anomalous properties of the object to manifest:
All candles must be lit and the bowl filled approximately halfway with rose water.
The BIC pens must be placed equidistant on opposite sides of the picture.
A supplicant must approach the stand and kneel, placing a piece of paper with a four-letter symbol into the bowl along with an offering.
The supplicant must perform a short recitation:
Our Holy Greenspan
Hallowed be Thy Name
Give us this day our daily profits
And write off our losses
Lead us not into overleverage
But deliver us from margin calls
For yours is the market and the profit and the glory
Forever and ever
Amen
If all the required conditions are all met, the offering placed within the bowl will vanish 1 . If the four-letter symbol corresponds to a stock listed on the New York Stock Exchange, the stock will experience a return matching the relevant entry in the list inscribed into the base of the stand. Stocks listed on other exchanges are unaffected.
The anomalous properties continue to manifest themselves if minor alterations are made to the ritual, for instance if BIC pens are replaced with graphite pencils, or if artificial candles are substituted for wax. However, all anomalous properties cease if the picture of Alan Greenspan is replaced with a photograph of Ben Bernanke or other Federal Reserve chairs such as Janet Yellen or Paul Volcker.
Appendix A: "List of Acceptable Offerings" inscribed into the base of SCP-3197
A memento from the supplicant's childhood: 1%
The supplicant’s full head of hair: 2%
The supplicant’s wedding ring: 5%
An urn with the ashes of the supplicant’s parent: 7%
The supplicant’s thumb (right hand): 10%
Appendix B: Interview with Jack Rossi, former equity trader with Dean Peabody LLP
The following interview was conducted on 4/6/2008 shortly after discovery and containment of SCP-3197. Mr. Rossi initially refused to cooperate with Foundation researchers, whom he believed to be working for an unspecified government agency. After covert administration of EXP-URXW-23 2 , and after assurances from the researchers that they meant him no harm, Mr. Rossi consented to be interviewed.
Researcher ██████: Do you remember when you put the altar together?
Mr. Rossi : Christ, who knows? Early ‘97, maybe. The S&P was about to break a thousand, I know that much. Also, wasn’t me that put it together.
Researcher ██████: Who was it, then?
Mr. Rossi : All I did was put the photo on it.
Researcher ██████: But you were the one who brought the stand to the Peabody headquarters?
Mr. Rossi : Saw it out by the curb somewhere in midtown. 56th street, maybe. Fucking Hindus or Buddhists or whatchamacallthem, they were throwing it out. Took it on a whim and set it up in the break room with the big photo. We all had a nice laugh over it.
Researcher ██████: Who do you mean by "we"?
Mr. Rossi : All of us on the trading floor. Dick, Lester, Phil, the overeager juniors fresh out of school who fetched us drinks. The big boss saw it and laughed so hard he almost barfed his lunch. Next day someone put the bowl in there. The pens were Phil’s idea. Some loser over at Goldman told him the chairman was fond of BICs.
Yeah, it was fucking fantastic. Anytime a client would come in, we’d take them round the back and show them “our new religion,” as we called it. Everyone thought it was a goddamn riot.
Researcher ██████: And the list?
Mr. Rossi : Just appeared one day. Don’t know who carved it in. Nobody would admit to it. Wasn’t very funny, if you ask me. A bit like taking the joke too far.
The first time someone used it was during one of the corrections…
Researcher ██████: I'm sorry, what is a correction in this context?
Mr. Rossi: Let's just say it was mid-98. A fucking massacre on the trading floor. I remember I got off easy, my portfolio was down 7-8%. Most had losses in the 20-30% range. Bonuses were evaporating left right and center. I'm telling you, I could smell divorce in the air.
Researcher ██████: Pardon?
Mr. Rossi : Most of the guys had trophy wives. You know, blondes, big tits, a few decades younger than them. Hell, some had trophy mistresses. You think their women would stick by them once they were out on the curb?
Researcher ██████: I see.
Mr. Rossi: So anyway, when the bell rings and the bloodbath is finally over, Lester brings us to the break room and does a big show. He kneels in front of the little altar, writes one of his big stocks on a piece of paper, recites a mangled version of the Lord's prayer and throws his wedding band in there. We’re all smiling, because for God’s sakes we need some comic relief, you know? The whole time, I’m thinking of what I’d do if I lose my job. My wife — everything’s solid there, knock on wood. But we’d have to move to fucking Jersey.
Researcher ██████: Was that when you first noticed the anomalous effect?
Mr. Rossi : His wedding band disappeared. Poor sod looked for it for hours. He was still looking when I went home that day, muttering about how his wife was gonna give him a serious ass-kicking. Next day, though, we're all getting fucked up the ass again but Lester’s stock pops 5%. Lucky motherfucker ended the day only a little bit in the red.
So, after the stocks close we’re all smirking together, ha-ha, the thing works, doesn’t it? All hail the holy Greenspan! Phil pops home and brings back some chess trophy he won when he was still in diapers. Next day, another fucking massacre, we're talking 10-15% losses across the board, except Phil's shitty dog of a stock is up 1%.
Researcher ██████: And then you began using the altar regularly?
Mr. Rossi : Not really. For a while we went on on making wisecracks. Ha-ha, on your way to the altar Dick? Your stocks must be crunching! But the results were undeniable. Every time someone made an offering, the return would be there the next day like clockwork.
And then…then I guess the jokes stopped being funny. Gradually, we just stopped talking about it, even though we were using the thing as often as we could. Hair takes time to grow after you shave it off, you know. A month later, we moved it to a private room. Custom made lock, only a few of us had the key, didn't even let the janitor in there. If anyone asked, we said we threw the thing away.
Researcher ██████: The returns coming from the offerings don’t seem to be very large.
Mr. Rossi : Yeah, dummy, you don’t invest in the stock directly. You wait until all the momentum traders think a stock is gonna crumble, then you start trading futures. On a good day, you can find a tanking stock along with some poor schmuck who'll bet you against a 10% rise at 50:1 odds, if not more.
Researcher ██████ : I think I have all I need. Someone else will be in to see you shortly. Out of curiosity, do you have any regrets about the whole thing?
Mr. Rossi : The fuck would I?
Researcher ██████ : Digging up your parents, for example.
Mr. Rossi : Oh yeah, I'm sure they really mind. I bet they were having a grand ole time in that cemetery.
Researcher ██████ : What about your hand?
Mr. Rossi : Listen, if I have trouble opening a door, I’ll get my butler to do it for me.
Footnotes
1 . Attempts to determine the physics underlying this effect, as well as the ultimate destination of the offerings, have met with failure.
2 . Designed by the Neurology Division, this pharmaceutical cocktail induces feelings of trust and openness without any associated cognitive impairment. | 1 | ## Testing may be initiated by any employee with a Level 2 clearance. Non-Foundation personnel who came in contact with SCP-3197 before containment are to be administered amnestics.
Description: SCP-3197 is a mahogany stand adorned with three wax candles, a cerulean bowl, two BIC pens, and a framed photograph of Alan Greenspan, the 13th Chairman of the United States Federal Reserve. A “List of Acceptable Offerings” is inscribed into the base of the stand.
Several conditions must be met for the anomalous properties of the object to manifest:
All candles must be lit and the bowl filled approximately halfway with rose water.
The BIC pens must be placed equidistant on opposite sides of the picture.
A supplicant must approach the stand and kneel, placing a piece of paper with a four-letter symbol into the bowl along with an offering.
The supplicant must perform a short recitation:
Our Holy Greenspan
Hallowed be Thy Name
Give us this day our daily profits
And write off our losses
Lead us not into overleverage
But deliver us from margin calls
For yours is the market and the profit and the glory
Forever and ever
Amen
If all the required conditions are all met, the offering placed within the bowl will vanish 1 . If the four-letter symbol corresponds to a stock listed on the New York Stock Exchange, the stock will experience a return matching the relevant entry in the list inscribed into the base of the stand. Stocks listed on other exchanges are unaffected.
The anomalous properties continue to manifest themselves if minor alterations are made to the ritual, for instance if BIC pens are replaced with graphite pencils, or if artificial candles are substituted for wax. However, all anomalous properties cease if the picture of Alan Greenspan is replaced with a photograph of Ben Bernanke or other Federal Reserve chairs such as Janet Yellen or Paul Volcker.
Appendix A: "List of Acceptable Offerings" inscribed into the base of SCP-3197
A memento from the supplicant's childhood: 1%
The supplicant’s full head of hair: 2%
The supplicant’s wedding ring: 5%
An urn with the ashes of the supplicant’s parent: 7%
The supplicant’s thumb (right hand): 10%
Appendix B: Interview with Jack Rossi, former equity trader with Dean Peabody LLP
The following interview was conducted on 4/6/2008 shortly after discovery and containment of SCP-3197. Mr. Rossi initially refused to cooperate with Foundation researchers, whom he believed to be working for an unspecified government agency. After covert administration of EXP-URXW-23 2 , and after assurances from the researchers that they meant him no harm, Mr. Rossi consented to be interviewed.
Researcher ██████: Do you remember when you put the altar together?
Mr. Rossi : Christ, who knows? Early ‘97, maybe. The S&P was about to break a thousand, I know that much. Also, wasn’t me that put it together.
Researcher ██████: Who was it, then?
Mr. Rossi : All I did was put the photo on it.
Researcher ██████: But you were the one who brought the stand to the Peabody headquarters?
Mr. Rossi : Saw it out by the curb somewhere in midtown. 56th street, maybe. Fucking Hindus or Buddhists or whatchamacallthem, they were throwing it out. Took it on a whim and set it up in the break room with the big photo. We all had a nice laugh over it.
Researcher ██████: Who do you mean by "we"?
Mr. Rossi : All of us on the trading floor. Dick, Lester, Phil, the overeager juniors fresh out of school who fetched us drinks. The big boss saw it and laughed so hard he almost barfed his lunch. Next day someone put the bowl in there. The pens were Phil’s idea. Some loser over at Goldman told him the chairman was fond of BICs.
Yeah, it was fucking fantastic. Anytime a client would come in, we’d take them round the back and show them “our new religion,” as we called it. Everyone thought it was a goddamn riot.
Researcher ██████: And the list?
Mr. Rossi : Just appeared one day. Don’t know who carved it in. Nobody would admit to it. Wasn’t very funny, if you ask me. A bit like taking the joke too far.
The first time someone used it was during one of the corrections…
Researcher ██████: I'm sorry, what is a correction in this context?
Mr. Rossi: Let's just say it was mid-98. A fucking massacre on the trading floor. I remember I got off easy, my portfolio was down 7-8%. Most had losses in the 20-30% range. Bonuses were evaporating left right and center. I'm telling you, I could smell divorce in the air.
Researcher ██████: Pardon?
Mr. Rossi : Most of the guys had trophy wives. You know, blondes, big tits, a few decades younger than them. Hell, some had trophy mistresses. You think their women would stick by them once they were out on the curb?
Researcher ██████: I see.
Mr. Rossi: So anyway, when the bell rings and the bloodbath is finally over, Lester brings us to the break room and does a big show. He kneels in front of the little altar, writes one of his big stocks on a piece of paper, recites a mangled version of the Lord's prayer and throws his wedding band in there. We’re all smiling, because for God’s sakes we need some comic relief, you know? The whole time, I’m thinking of what I’d do if I lose my job. My wife — everything’s solid there, knock on wood. But we’d have to move to fucking Jersey.
Researcher ██████: Was that when you first noticed the anomalous effect?
Mr. Rossi : His wedding band disappeared. Poor sod looked for it for hours. He was still looking when I went home that day, muttering about how his wife was gonna give him a serious ass-kicking. Next day, though, we're all getting fucked up the ass again but Lester’s stock pops 5%. Lucky motherfucker ended the day only a little bit in the red.
So, after the stocks close we’re all smirking together, ha-ha, the thing works, doesn’t it? All hail the holy Greenspan! Phil pops home and brings back some chess trophy he won when he was still in diapers. Next day, another fucking massacre, we're talking 10-15% losses across the board, except Phil's shitty dog of a stock is up 1%.
Researcher ██████: And then you began using the altar regularly?
Mr. Rossi : Not really. For a while we went on on making wisecracks. Ha-ha, on your way to the altar Dick? Your stocks must be crunching! But the results were undeniable. Every time someone made an offering, the return would be there the next day like clockwork.
And then…then I guess the jokes stopped being funny. Gradually, we just stopped talking about it, even though we were using the thing as often as we could. Hair takes time to grow after you shave it off, you know. A month later, we moved it to a private room. Custom made lock, only a few of us had the key, didn't even let the janitor in there. If anyone asked, we said we threw the thing away.
Researcher ██████: The returns coming from the offerings don’t seem to be very large.
Mr. Rossi : Yeah, dummy, you don’t invest in the stock directly. You wait until all the momentum traders think a stock is gonna crumble, then you start trading futures. On a good day, you can find a tanking stock along with some poor schmuck who'll bet you against a 10% rise at 50:1 odds, if not more.
Researcher ██████ : I think I have all I need. Someone else will be in to see you shortly. Out of curiosity, do you have any regrets about the whole thing?
Mr. Rossi : The fuck would I?
Researcher ██████ : Digging up your parents, for example.
Mr. Rossi : Oh yeah, I'm sure they really mind. I bet they were having a grand ole time in that cemetery.
Researcher ██████ : What about your hand?
Mr. Rossi : Listen, if I have trouble opening a door, I’ll get my butler to do it for me.
Footnotes
1 . Attempts to determine the physics underlying this effect, as well as the ultimate destination of the offerings, have met with failure.
2 . Designed by the Neurology Division, this pharmaceutical cocktail induces feelings of trust and openness without any associated cognitive impairment. | |
echoes-of-shattered-erikesh | Echoes of Shattered Erikesh - SCP Foundation | goi-format | Jasiu06 & Ralliston
Co-written by Jasiu06 and Ralliston
Jasiu06's Authorpage
Ralliston's Authorpage
Verifying Horizon Initiative credentials…
Accessing Universal Texts…
Querying "Shattered Erikesh"…
8 texts found:
The Words of Ur-An-Uum, §39;
The Parable of Father Winter;
The Testimony of Little Sister Adara;
The Visions of Reader Enyah;
…
Displaying documents…
Adam and Eve (1920), Franz von Stuck.
Words of Ur-An-Uum, §39
Fall down to the ground and listen. Hear, how the earth heralds armageddon.
Can you not hear it? The dukes and the Prophet certainly cannot. They are too high in their towers to listen. Too busy stacking gold and whispering secrets to see the heathen rising in the East. To recognize his bride for the Enemy and burn the disease before it reaches the roots.
Hear, what tales the cold ground tells you of who's buried beneath it: of all those the Star and her new spouse have cut and mutilated. Of his three sons and their shunned mother, all six but tools in the claws of the Queen.
Fall down and kiss the soil. Kiss it, thankful it has not yet been soaked in spilled blood.
The Blade shall not come to save you, this time . They shall not rise again to meet the gods of the Old Empire as they had so long ago; they will not cut down the Tyrant and her new pawn. They have already been laid to rest. But none of you have yet been given this privilege. You are still indebted to the earth, to the soil from which you've come.
So take up your arms and scream at your dukes; scream at those too gangrenous and blind and foolish to recognize Adam and his whore Eve for the harbingers of frenzy. Scream, and if they do not hear, strike his wicked sons and hairless forces with all of your own might.
Strike, while it still isn't too late. Strike, lest you wish to break the earth's heart, and return to it without having lived out the life it had planned for you.
Parable of Father Winter, Won Fairly by Lord Blackwood
A secret, you say? A tale about Erikesh, the old thing?
Hmm. Yes, there is a whisper I could share. One I've heard many moons ago.
The debt will not pay itself, after all.
You have to realize one thing right away, my fair chap: Erikesh was a trap; a state that could not work, not ever. It was no land, no country, no nation — not really. It wasn't built upon any real foundations, had no proper history or legacy. It was a desperate attempt at sense, constructed expeditiously by a man that was more warrior than architect. A man that listened more to his new bride and her lies than to reason.
It was built on lust for blind vengeance — a quest that soon turned against its own makers.
It's easy to say, all those lifetimes later, that he was a fool; that he had fallen right into her hands as but a puppet for her machinations. But who can blame him? She was beautiful like the stars, and she promised him power. Power far beyond anything a simple warmonger like him could ever imagine. Power enough to break the shackles of his humiliated peoples — power enough to depose of the gods he had so hated! — and take the fight to the homes of their despised betters.
All he had to do to become king was lean in for a kiss. To drink the poison directly from her lips.
No man that would stand in his place could resist the look in her eyes.
They couldn't have children together. She was but light, but brilliance bereft of flesh — even if he wished to father three more with another, Adam had no loins to drown in, this time. The only thing they had given birth to, together, was the might with which he awoke after the night they first lay together.
He certainly did not regret it then — if he ever did, of course, which in itself is dubious. He had no doubt in his mind when he took arms against what little numen remained after the fall of Mab's Old Empire, against the slumbering sanctity of the Nightwalkers. Against that which held the world together, back when the skies weren't this empty.
He had no doubt still when he spread his reach across the continent, widening his borders without anything but spilled blood to back them up; when he named himself lord on a hill of slain godheads and butchered cities.
The only thing he could see, then, were the lands he still had to take away from his Nightwalker brethren. He was certainly too blind to notice the closing maw around him, back then. He was even too blind to see its sharp teeth when they inevitably snapped around him, swallowing him whole.
Testimony of Little Sister Anaq, Surrendered Before the Serpent
It's all true, what they say. I have seen it with my very own eyes.
I saw as the last Evergreen fell, the foul flame visible from beyond the horizon. I saw as he and his sons dragged the last of Phomet's scholars from their courts and slit their throats on the pavement, their blood naught but nourishment for the ashen roots below. I saw as they all crawled like maggots, begging for mercy, only to be returned to the earth they so loved.
It is true what you've heard: that when he carried their deflated corpses onto the altars of his emergent capital, the flowers all bloomed; in every meadow, on every hill, in every forest. They all bloomed, their petals stained by ichor and their sky drowned in smoke.
They had little choice. They had to somehow mourn their fallen brothers.
I saw as he climbed the stairs to his palace and crowned himself God-King of Man, a brilliant diadem of starlight decorating his temples.
They were so proud of him, all three of his sons. I saw it, even far from across the cheering, fervid crowd. The warrior, the scholar, and the sage — they stood there as he took his mantle and raised his sword high into the heavens above; as if, in all of his vanity, he proclaimed them his, too.
No. She wasn't there with him, that day. Of that I am certain. I would recognize that spark anywhere. My little serpents tell me she has spent the moon down in the temple, silenty praying for her husband — or for what remains of him, after he's broken their marriage. After he's taken another into his bed.
I didn't see her, either, but I did not need to. It's her. I'd bet my life on it. My knowledge. My heart.
I do not know if she's there in body — or indeed if she has a form at all — but she is alive, it seems. Yes, the Queen has sprouted roots in Adam's heart; it is only a matter of time before they strangle him, too.
Visions of Reader Enyah, to Grand Crone Methur Umir, Dreamt Once More
He lay face down in the river, when we first found him. His hands were stained with the same crimson that drowned him.
We knew it was him that we had been looking for the second we touched him. We knew it was him who we had seen in our restless dreams when we saw the writhing runes writ in his flesh.
He was dead, of course, his body long but a dried-up husk; but he wasn't gone; not yet, not really. He still lingered on: some fragmented part of him, at least.
The part that had reached out to us. The part that still felt guilt.
His dreams whispered of abandoned home, the one he called Erikesh; of star-lit lies and moon-lit promises of a better tomorrow, built upon millenia of bloodied suffering and temptation. They whispered of promised valor, of a father — a fool, though one not yet realized — blinded by a dull, shining future.
They spoke of the man himself, of his position within the unsteady Erikesh. Of the endless tomes he'd written in languages long since forgotten; of the forbidden research he'd conducted; of the gangrenous symptoms he'd healed, without burning the rotten root of them all. Of his great brothers — older and younger — both shining beacons of courage and loyalty. Of the book-bound wisdom of the younger; of the steel-sharp blade and the adulation of the older. Of the burning jealousy he'd felt towards them both: first in whispers, then in fury.
And then, inevitably, in bloody murder.
Of course, we can hardly blame him, even for treason as great, as damnable as fratricide — for in the sad end, his actions were barely his own. The Starlight shone too bright in the minds of his and his father to merit anything but chaos, when push came to shove.
These are of course only fragments, imbued with little meaning but emotions; but they are still that which kept him alive. That which kept him restless, in desperate need for closure. As little more than a ghost.
Without a proper read, that is all we could see — but it is my personal opinion he isn't worth further effort. Now that he has been silenced, his connection to oneiroi severed, he is of no concern or use. He shall not disturb us again.
He's not worth much in skin or flesh — those have bloated and rotten far too much for the karcists to see them as useful — and the knowledge he retained is of no value even to us. His dreams are not of gold; they are but dust on the oneiroi, more annoyment than any hidden wisdom. Besides: the decadent Matriarchs of Daevon have little coin to offer nowadays, even if that weren't the case. It is my recommendation that we bring him to the Mekhanite in shining Atlantis; perhaps Mistress Legate shall take an interest in his runes. Maybe she will find a way to mend another one of the shattered, and forge him into good use in the heart of her stellar workshop.
Still, for all my cynicism, one question does linger, even if it is of little weight, all those years later: where are his kin? There have been legends of a warrior akin to his older, having fought through the Scarlet and fallen beneath Deavon , but what of the others? What of the mother, what of the father?
What of his younger?
Gospel of Pranith, Fifth Grand Pentar
There is a movement in the heavens. The stars are no longer aligned, no longer in harmony. Through the smoke fallen in the West and through the flames lit under the funeral pyres, I can see it, clear as the night: the beat of their echo has changed.
It is no longer worthy of sacrifice.
Why have they stopped? Why do they no longer whisper of transcendence, but remain blind to the rhythm of our hearts? What have we missed?
I can tell you, if you know how to keep a secret.
I can tell you, if you're willing to risk losing your head.
The stars of yesterday have been eclipsed by a power far brighter, far more treacherous than their own: by the Starlight, the Queen, the bitch your king has taken as his advisor. The bitch whose lies have beset his mind with visions of stagnation; the bitch whose lies have frozen his heart and cut out his soul on an altar built not for apotheosis, but for her own vanity. Her own trinkets, her own artifacts, all gathered in the vaults beneath their palace; her own glimmer of silver and gold, all stolen from a ruined world and brought together under the nose of a blind fool.
All but distractions from that which matters most: that the great change is upon us. The stars have seen it first, their true radiance departing from a dying world built upon faulty foundations; departing from a crumbling reality, its base tucked away for the shameless pride of its rulers, left alone to glimmer in darkness with their stolen valor; glimmer with the magic they have robbed the world of.
We are not any better: for just like moths to a fire, we too flew right into their fraud brilliance.
Visions of the Fall, Transcribed via Biased Seance by Olivié Gwyneth
The end is nigh. She can feel it in the cold evening breeze, the wind blowing through her Adam's long hair. His mind and soul once again shimmer with her ethereal presence. At the edge of their shared cohesion, she can sense it: the scent of burning change is unmistakable for anything else.
It smells of smoke, rising again from beyond the horizon; this time, however, it is his own that are aflame. There is nothing to be done, no salvation to bring to their last stand. When the inevitable fire reaches for the capital, come cold morning, there will be nothing she can do. She knows that she has already lost.
All of her effort, unto ashes and blood.
She has always been many things, but never a fool. She knew this was inevitable. Still: she had hoped to shift the scales even further in her favor, this time around. She has worked him well, she thought. Even if he was little but a brute, he had been a good tool. At times a puppet too loosely strung, perhaps, but he carried out her revenge, and came close to bringing her her starry crown again. Closer than any of the tools that came before him.
Closer, certainly, than she has dared to hope.
Somewhere deep between shadows, between life and death, in her frozen, unbeating heart, she knows this has always been a desperate attempt, little more than a gambit played in a last ditch effort to seize this millenium. If she had some few centuries more, if the previous bitch of his was out of his picture and two of his sons hadn't fallen out of her weakened hands; maybe then…
Well. It is no matter. What is done is done, and there is no chance to mend the broken world before it caves in on her plaything, his Erikesh.
It is a curious thing, really. That the world, bereft of its plurality in the arcane, will slowly start to crumble — this is new. It is fascinating. It makes sense, of course, but still: that magic will lay before the old reaper once all that it inhabited has been stashed away in the center of the capital for her revival is… certainly unexpected.
But it is of little concern. When her puppet will be gone from the mortal plane and the last shred of his pathetic empire will shrivel and drown, all will be returned. In time, the wild currents will run once more; perhaps with strength enough to break her ethereal dam, and let her back in, this time around.
For now, though, the game isn't yet over: not until tomorrow morning.
More than time enough to put those hands of his to good use, and spill some more blood.
Prophecies of Lilith the Steadfast, Angevin 24:5
She had loved him as a man. She had loved him as a king. But she could not love him as a god. Could not love him as a monster.
She could not love him as somebody else.
She had often heard — though never directly, never officially — that she had been too good. To weak for her own sake. Her little birds have told her, as she lay down in the temple, praying for his cleansing, that this was all her fault. That, in all of her loyallty, all of her forgiveness, it was she who had created the monster that now lay rotting in the heart of a decadent nation.
That it was not the other who had led him astray, but her. His Lilith.
There were moments — moments quite desperate but quite few, in the grand scheme of things, but nevertheless extant — in which she almost believed them. Moments of weakness under the moon-lit altar and the idols that stood upon it, always silent in their judgment.
She knew this was not the truth, of course; that, though she had perhaps been too merciful, she had done naught to hasten his downfall. That it was not her sins, however few, that had brought him down — and that to believe anything but was irrational.
But then again, the enamoured heart rarely is rational.
Either way, whatever the truth, it was too late for change. Too late for atonement. Now, all that she could do is deliver one final mercy upon him — one final act of love.
She knew she would be cursed for all of time for her intent. She knew very well that there was no coming back from that path, when the final judgment would come and all would be revealed.
But none of that is of any worth against the warmth of another. Against the rhythms of their hearts aligning for one final time.
In the end, though the heart in the center of Erikesh was still beating when her dagger reached it, it had long since stopped being his.
The Last Will of Seth, Archivist, Taken From the Erikesh Codex
To my oldest, I leave all that I have ever gathered. All those I have ever cared for. Each and every single beautiful part of creation that we have experienced and cataloged together. All that I ask of you is to love them as you would have loved me. Save them from that which is coming. Through the incoming waves, bring them towards a brighter future, each and every one of them.
Don't build it for them; build it with them.
To my younger , I leave all that I have ever written. All that I have ever deemed significant enough to remember. Each and every single tome committed to our shared legacy that we have bound and stored away together. All that I ask of you is to protect that heritage with our own honor. Save it from that which is coming. Never let us fall back behind the fire of our shared campfire in a time when darkness shrouds the world.
Don't be an archivist; be a teacher.
To you both, I leave an oath. A responsibility, for you both to take: do not be like us. Do not be like me, or my father, or my brothers, or our mother. Whatever may yet come — however tonight will end, when the spire of Erikesh inevitably falls upon all that which still remains — never forget why you are where you are. Never drop the memory of your kin, however vile; never drop the memory of our shared sins. Never make us forget, lest you wish become that which brought us our downfall.
Don't be leaders; be people.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Echoes of Shattered Erikesh " by Jasiu06 and Ralliston, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/echoes-of-shattered-erikesh . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: sun.jpg
Author: SunnyClockwork
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Filename: Adam_and_Steve.png
Name: Adam und Eva
Author: Franz von Stuck
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Filename: HI.png
Author: SunnyClockwork / HarryBlank
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
Additional Notes: Edited by Jasiu06 | 26 | ["_cc", "_horizon-initiative", "_licensebox", "able", "blackwood", "cain", "children-of-the-night", "co-authored", "fifthist", "from-120s-archives", "goi-format", "homo-sapiens-sidhe", "horizon-initiative", "olivie-gwyneth", "oneiroi", "period-piece", "queen-mab", "religious-fiction", "serpents-hand"] | 2024-12-29T18:47:00 | 17,970 | 3,301 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-1587 | SCP-1587 | scp | Item #: SCP-1587
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1587 is to be stored within a padded crate of suitable size. Requests for access to SCP-1587 must be made in writing to site command.
Only one subject at a time is to participate in experimentation with SCP-1587. No personnel are to come within 3 meters of SCP-1587, or of its last position at time of activation, while experiments are in progress. A suitable mattress, pillow, and blanket are to be installed upon SCP-1587 prior to testing; these are to be incinerated upon completion of testing.
All personnel who have undergone testing with SCP-1587 must undergo complete decontamination before leaving the experiment area.
Description: SCP-1587 is a steel bed frame (1.93 meters in length, 3.4 meters in width and 1 meter in height), to whose bottom has been welded a metal box covered with several dozen unidentified glyphs in solder and gouache/acrylic paint, and containing an assemblage of circuit boards, gears, coins, doll parts, and a transparent computer mouse filled with human hair; this box, and/or its contents, is presumed to be the source of SCP-1587's anomalous properties.
When a live human subject enters REM sleep upon a mattress supported by SCP-1587, SCP-1587 will transport the subject and itself into an anomalous location (hereby referred to as SCP-1587-1), which appears to be based on the subject's dream. GPS devices taken into SCP-1587-1 have been unable to receive signal; however, audio, video, and other recording devices retain their functionality.
Upon arrival in SCP-1587-1, SCP-1587 will produce a 20-second audio tone (520 Hz, 90 dB), awakening the subject. The subject will then be able to leave SCP-1587, and travel within SCP-1587-1 for up to 6 hours. Subjects report being fully aware of their circumstances, having full control of their actions, and being able to physically interact with their surroundings. At the end of the 6-hour period, the subject will instantaneously (t < 0.1 s) be transported to SCP-1587, which will then demanifest from SCP-1587-1 and remanifest within normal reality; this will also occur if the subject experiences an injury which would otherwise be fatal. All such injuries are healed upon the transition to normal reality; non-fatal injuries, however, are not. Objects from within SCP-1587-1 will accompany SCP-1587 as it returns to normal reality if they are carried by the subject, or are otherwise close enough to SCP-1587; the exact proximity required has yet to be determined, as has the question of whether other parameters are involved.
Acquisition log: SCP-1587 was discovered subsequent to the murder of Professor [REDACTED] (of [REDACTED] University), who is presumed to have created it. He had been shot in the back of the head, while seemingly alone in his bedroom. The gun responsible (a Walther P38) was found at the scene, held in a hand attached to a severed human arm; the arm was wearing a brown shirtsleeve and a swastika armband. No traumatic arm amputations were on record in local hospitals within the previous 14 months; as well, the hand's fingerprints were identical to those of Professor [REDACTED], as was its DNA. The case then came to the attention of the Foundation as the result of a routine keyword search.
Investigation of Professor [REDACTED]'s home revealed that he kept a diary (henceforth Document 1587-M3); Document 1587-M4 (below) contains entries deemed relevant.
+ Document 1587-M4
- Document 1587-M4: Relevant entries from Document 1587-M3
Entry 833: Success!!!!! Prepped lucid dream about candy — woke up in world with taffy toffee taffy roads, gobstopper stones, soil of rainbow sprinkles! Sky was orange like jelly beans. Rain was dilute lemonade.
Walked about 3 miles from LZ to reach nearest town. Houses were mashed potatoes(?), gardens full of jujubes. Overall color scheme of pink, orange, brown, and yellowish white.
Locals were cakepeople. Very friendly. Led me to rock-candy town hall. Had fascinating talk with mayor (? - village leader). They spoke perfect English (convenient!) with lovely singsong accent. Was honored guest at feast - chocolate fondue, eggnog with whipped cream, and cotton candy ice cream for dessert; lovely ritual with cakepeople sticking birthday(?) candles in their heads, lighting them, and then singing to me.
After feast, had just over 3 hours left; decided to explore further. They gave me a car(?) made from giant cupcake. Drove through tunnel of giant donuts to local metropolis (overall color scheme, pastel blue / bright yellow). Buildings were solid sugar crystals (cf rock candy in village hall?); significantly more advanced tech than in village. Traffic lights = color-changing lollipops! Locals were multiethnic: gingerbread people and golems constructs made of licorice allsorts. Society seemed functional — schools, university, libraries, museums. Also found military base (?) - tried to go in, was politely denied access. Had amusing but ultimately fruitless (ha!) argument on nature of reality with sentries (marshmallow guns?), was taken into "custardy" (sic - that's actually how they pronounced it!!!). Was being taken to be processed(?) for interrogation(?) when remaining time elapsed. Felt tingling sensation, broke off piece of table (nougat with gumdrops!) for souvenir. Materialized back on bed in LZ, returned to bedroom. Still have piece of table!!!!!!!!! Note: if going back, ignore military base — overall waste of time; would have learned much more from libraries or museums.
Incredibly tired. Need real sleep. Taking blankets to living room.
Entry 838 Partial success? Prepped lucid dream about cute fluffy animals — woke up in apparent rainforest. Trees looked normal, but were not all rainforest-appropriate — was able to identify Brachychiton acerifolius , Cerbera manghas , Acer saccharum , Ginkgo biloba , Citrus reticulata . Canopy blocked view of sun - was unable to approximate my location. Color scheme: green, brown.
Animals were intelligent, and spoke English — odd mix of fluent and crude. Majority of animals not indigenous to rainforests - incl. dogs, cats, bunny rabbits (albino!), pigs, raccoons, 1 kangaroo + joey. Rainforest indigene species incl. sloths, frogs, lizards, monkeys, parrots, opossums, 1 toucan (macaw?).
Met with assembly of animals about 2 miles from LZ. Was asked to help defeat a bear that (who?) had terrorized them for years.
[REDACTED FOR BREVITY; FULL VERSION AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST]
Looked like grizzly bear, but bigger, with spider(oid) mouthparts. I hesitated; it lunged at me, broke (?) my back. Was (felt?) paralyzed from waist down, but could still move arms; stabbed bear in ribcage with poisoned daggers, killing it instantly. Still couldn't move legs, so asked animal companions to bring me back to my bed. They put necklace on me, filled my pockets with fresh carrots, then loaded me into palanquin(?) and carried me. Sang victory songs about me vs bear. Halfway to LZ, time elapsed; materialized back on bed, returned to bedroom. Back injuries seem totally healed. Still have carrots and necklace — necklace looks like rubies? [Note: find out how to get necklace authenticated! Invent plausible origin story for authenticator!] Still tired, though.
Entry 840: My god, they're real. Not all rubies , but still real gems. Jeweler offered to buy for probably half market value - 3/4 year's salary!!! Seriously considering it. Also consider: dream about jewels? No - would flood market, draw attention. Gold, etc, likewise.
Entry 851: Damnation damnation damnation DAMNATION. How am I supposed to enjoy a sex dream when everyone is me???
Entry 858 : I have officially had enough of this nonsense. I cannot even get proper sleep any more. I am taking the box off the frame. Screw you, dreamland. Screw you, lucid dreaming.
Entry 859: Woke up in the middle of reinstalling the box. This could be a problem.
Entry 860: Threw box out. Woke up while reinstalling box. Tore garbage bag open in sleep, left trash all over lawn. Definite problem.
Entry 861 : Burned box. Goodbye, box. You've done enough damage for one lifetime.
Entry 865 : Apparently I've been building a new box in my sleep. Serious problem. Vernon had better not dare say 'I told you so'.
Entry 866 : Screw you, Vernon. Burned new box. Burned construction notes. Sold the tools [note - Mother may be upset about my disposal of her Xmas gift; prepare excuse just in case!].
Entry 870 : Feeling much better now that I'm getting proper sleep. I think I'm up to doing some socializing again. Documentary film festival on campus tonight — will attend. Haven't used my faculty pass at all this year. Should be interesting.
Eyewitnesses on campus stated that Professor [REDACTED] attended three documentaries about Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, the evening of his death. | 161 | ["artifact", "extradimensional", "mechanical", "rewrite", "safe", "scp", "sleep"] | 2013-12-31T10:02:00 | 8,863 | 1,419 | SCP-1587 | Safe | SCP-1587 is to be stored within a padded crate of suitable size. Requests for access to SCP-1587 must be made in writing to site command.
Only one subject at a time is to participate in experimentation with SCP-1587. No personnel are to come within 3 meters of SCP-1587, or of its last position at time of activation, while experiments are in progress. A suitable mattress, pillow, and blanket are to be installed upon SCP-1587 prior to testing; these are to be incinerated upon completion of testing.
All personnel who have undergone testing with SCP-1587 must undergo complete decontamination before leaving the experiment area. | SCP-1587 is a steel bed frame (1.93 meters in length, 3.4 meters in width and 1 meter in height), to whose bottom has been welded a metal box covered with several dozen unidentified glyphs in solder and gouache/acrylic paint, and containing an assemblage of circuit boards, gears, coins, doll parts, and a transparent computer mouse filled with human hair; this box, and/or its contents, is presumed to be the source of SCP-1587's anomalous properties.
When a live human subject enters REM sleep upon a mattress supported by SCP-1587, SCP-1587 will transport the subject and itself into an anomalous location (hereby referred to as SCP-1587-1), which appears to be based on the subject's dream. GPS devices taken into SCP-1587-1 have been unable to receive signal; however, audio, video, and other recording devices retain their functionality.
Upon arrival in SCP-1587-1, SCP-1587 will produce a 20-second audio tone (520 Hz, 90 dB), awakening the subject. The subject will then be able to leave SCP-1587, and travel within SCP-1587-1 for up to 6 hours. Subjects report being fully aware of their circumstances, having full control of their actions, and being able to physically interact with their surroundings. At the end of the 6-hour period, the subject will instantaneously (t < 0.1 s) be transported to SCP-1587, which will then demanifest from SCP-1587-1 and remanifest within normal reality; this will also occur if the subject experiences an injury which would otherwise be fatal. All such injuries are healed upon the transition to normal reality; non-fatal injuries, however, are not. Objects from within SCP-1587-1 will accompany SCP-1587 as it returns to normal reality if they are carried by the subject, or are otherwise close enough to SCP-1587; the exact proximity required has yet to be determined, as has the question of whether other parameters are involved.
Acquisition log: SCP-1587 was discovered subsequent to the murder of Professor [REDACTED] (of [REDACTED] University), who is presumed to have created it. He had been shot in the back of the head, while seemingly alone in his bedroom. The gun responsible (a Walther P38) was found at the scene, held in a hand attached to a severed human arm; the arm was wearing a brown shirtsleeve and a swastika armband. No traumatic arm amputations were on record in local hospitals within the previous 14 months; as well, the hand's fingerprints were identical to those of Professor [REDACTED], as was its DNA. The case then came to the attention of the Foundation as the result of a routine keyword search.
Investigation of Professor [REDACTED]'s home revealed that he kept a diary (henceforth Document 1587-M3); Document 1587-M4 (below) contains entries deemed relevant.
+ Document 1587-M4
- Document 1587-M4: Relevant entries from Document 1587-M3
Entry 833: Success!!!!! Prepped lucid dream about candy — woke up in world with taffy toffee taffy roads, gobstopper stones, soil of rainbow sprinkles! Sky was orange like jelly beans. Rain was dilute lemonade.
Walked about 3 miles from LZ to reach nearest town. Houses were mashed potatoes(?), gardens full of jujubes. Overall color scheme of pink, orange, brown, and yellowish white.
Locals were cakepeople. Very friendly. Led me to rock-candy town hall. Had fascinating talk with mayor (? - village leader). They spoke perfect English (convenient!) with lovely singsong accent. Was honored guest at feast - chocolate fondue, eggnog with whipped cream, and cotton candy ice cream for dessert; lovely ritual with cakepeople sticking birthday(?) candles in their heads, lighting them, and then singing to me.
After feast, had just over 3 hours left; decided to explore further. They gave me a car(?) made from giant cupcake. Drove through tunnel of giant donuts to local metropolis (overall color scheme, pastel blue / bright yellow). Buildings were solid sugar crystals (cf rock candy in village hall?); significantly more advanced tech than in village. Traffic lights = color-changing lollipops! Locals were multiethnic: gingerbread people and golems constructs made of licorice allsorts. Society seemed functional — schools, university, libraries, museums. Also found military base (?) - tried to go in, was politely denied access. Had amusing but ultimately fruitless (ha!) argument on nature of reality with sentries (marshmallow guns?), was taken into "custardy" (sic - that's actually how they pronounced it!!!). Was being taken to be processed(?) for interrogation(?) when remaining time elapsed. Felt tingling sensation, broke off piece of table (nougat with gumdrops!) for souvenir. Materialized back on bed in LZ, returned to bedroom. Still have piece of table!!!!!!!!! Note: if going back, ignore military base — overall waste of time; would have learned much more from libraries or museums.
Incredibly tired. Need real sleep. Taking blankets to living room.
Entry 838 Partial success? Prepped lucid dream about cute fluffy animals — woke up in apparent rainforest. Trees looked normal, but were not all rainforest-appropriate — was able to identify Brachychiton acerifolius , Cerbera manghas , Acer saccharum , Ginkgo biloba , Citrus reticulata . Canopy blocked view of sun - was unable to approximate my location. Color scheme: green, brown.
Animals were intelligent, and spoke English — odd mix of fluent and crude. Majority of animals not indigenous to rainforests - incl. dogs, cats, bunny rabbits (albino!), pigs, raccoons, 1 kangaroo + joey. Rainforest indigene species incl. sloths, frogs, lizards, monkeys, parrots, opossums, 1 toucan (macaw?).
Met with assembly of animals about 2 miles from LZ. Was asked to help defeat a bear that (who?) had terrorized them for years.
[REDACTED FOR BREVITY; FULL VERSION AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST]
Looked like grizzly bear, but bigger, with spider(oid) mouthparts. I hesitated; it lunged at me, broke (?) my back. Was (felt?) paralyzed from waist down, but could still move arms; stabbed bear in ribcage with poisoned daggers, killing it instantly. Still couldn't move legs, so asked animal companions to bring me back to my bed. They put necklace on me, filled my pockets with fresh carrots, then loaded me into palanquin(?) and carried me. Sang victory songs about me vs bear. Halfway to LZ, time elapsed; materialized back on bed, returned to bedroom. Back injuries seem totally healed. Still have carrots and necklace — necklace looks like rubies? [Note: find out how to get necklace authenticated! Invent plausible origin story for authenticator!] Still tired, though.
Entry 840: My god, they're real. Not all rubies , but still real gems. Jeweler offered to buy for probably half market value - 3/4 year's salary!!! Seriously considering it. Also consider: dream about jewels? No - would flood market, draw attention. Gold, etc, likewise.
Entry 851: Damnation damnation damnation DAMNATION. How am I supposed to enjoy a sex dream when everyone is me???
Entry 858 : I have officially had enough of this nonsense. I cannot even get proper sleep any more. I am taking the box off the frame. Screw you, dreamland. Screw you, lucid dreaming.
Entry 859: Woke up in the middle of reinstalling the box. This could be a problem.
Entry 860: Threw box out. Woke up while reinstalling box. Tore garbage bag open in sleep, left trash all over lawn. Definite problem.
Entry 861 : Burned box. Goodbye, box. You've done enough damage for one lifetime.
Entry 865 : Apparently I've been building a new box in my sleep. Serious problem. Vernon had better not dare say 'I told you so'.
Entry 866 : Screw you, Vernon. Burned new box. Burned construction notes. Sold the tools [note - Mother may be upset about my disposal of her Xmas gift; prepare excuse just in case!].
Entry 870 : Feeling much better now that I'm getting proper sleep. I think I'm up to doing some socializing again. Documentary film festival on campus tonight — will attend. Haven't used my faculty pass at all this year. Should be interesting.
Eyewitnesses on campus stated that Professor [REDACTED] attended three documentaries about Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, the evening of his death. | 2 | ## testing.
All personnel who have undergone testing with SCP-1587 must undergo complete decontamination before leaving the experiment area.
Description: SCP-1587 is a steel bed frame (1.93 meters in length, 3.4 meters in width and 1 meter in height), to whose bottom has been welded a metal box covered with several dozen unidentified glyphs in solder and gouache/acrylic paint, and containing an assemblage of circuit boards, gears, coins, doll parts, and a transparent computer mouse filled with human hair; this box, and/or its contents, is presumed to be the source of SCP-1587's anomalous properties.
When a live human subject enters REM sleep upon a mattress supported by SCP-1587, SCP-1587 will transport the subject and itself into an anomalous location (hereby referred to as SCP-1587-1), which appears to be based on the subject's dream. GPS devices taken into SCP-1587-1 have been unable to receive signal; however, audio, video, and other recording devices retain their functionality.
Upon arrival in SCP-1587-1, SCP-1587 will produce a 20-second audio tone (520 Hz, 90 dB), awakening the subject. The subject will then be able to leave SCP-1587, and travel within SCP-1587-1 for up to 6 hours. Subjects report being fully aware of their circumstances, having full control of their actions, and being able to physically interact with their surroundings. At the end of the 6-hour period, the subject will instantaneously (t < 0.1 s) be transported to SCP-1587, which will then demanifest from SCP-1587-1 and remanifest within normal reality; this will also occur if the subject experiences an injury which would otherwise be fatal. All such injuries are healed upon the transition to normal reality; non-fatal injuries, however, are not. Objects from within SCP-1587-1 will accompany SCP-1587 as it returns to normal reality if they are carried by the subject, or are otherwise close enough to SCP-1587; the exact proximity required has yet to be determined, as has the question of whether other parameters are involved.
Acquisition
---
## Document 1587-M3
Entry 833: Success!!!!! Prepped lucid dream about candy — woke up in world with taffy toffee taffy roads, gobstopper stones, soil of rainbow sprinkles! Sky was orange like jelly beans. Rain was dilute lemonade.
Walked about 3 miles from LZ to reach nearest town. Houses were mashed potatoes(?), gardens full of jujubes. Overall color scheme of pink, orange, brown, and yellowish white.
Locals were cakepeople. Very friendly. Led me to rock-candy town hall. Had fascinating talk with mayor (? - village leader). They spoke perfect English (convenient!) with lovely singsong accent. Was honored guest at feast - chocolate fondue, eggnog with whipped cream, and cotton candy ice cream for dessert; lovely ritual with cakepeople sticking birthday(?) candles in their heads, lighting them, and then singing to me.
After feast, had just over 3 hours left; decided to explore further. They gave me a car(?) made from giant cupcake. Drove through tunnel of giant donuts to local metropolis (overall color scheme, pastel blue / bright yellow). Buildings were solid sugar crystals (cf rock candy in village hall?); significantly more advanced tech than in village. Traffic lights = color-changing lollipops! Locals were multiethnic: gingerbread people and golems constructs made of licorice allsorts. Society seemed functional — schools, university, libraries, museums. Also found military base (?) - tried to go in, was politely denied access. Had amusing but ultimately fruitless (ha!) argument on nature of reality with sentries (marshmallow guns?), was taken into "custardy" (sic - that's actually how they pronounced it!!!). Was being taken to be processed(?) for interrogation(?) when remaining time elapsed. Felt tingling sensation, broke off piece of table (nougat with gumdrops!) for souvenir. Materialized back on bed in LZ, returned to bedroom. Still have piece of table!!!!!!!!! Note: if going back, ignore military base — overall waste of time; would have learned much more from libraries or museums.
Incredibly tired. Need real sleep. Taking blankets to living room.
Entry 838 Partial success? Prepped lucid dream about cute fluffy animals — woke up in apparent rainforest. Trees looked normal, but were not all rainforest-appropriate — was able to identify Brachychiton acerifolius , Cerbera manghas , Acer saccharum , Ginkgo biloba , Citrus reticulata . Canopy blocked view of sun - was unable to approximate my location. Color scheme: green, brown.
Animals were intelligent, and spoke English — odd mix of fluent and crude. Majority of animals not indigenous to rainforests - incl. dogs, cats, bunny rabbits (albino!), pigs, raccoons, 1 kangaroo + joey. Rainforest indigene species incl. sloths, frogs, lizards, monkeys, parrots, opossums, 1 toucan (macaw?).
Met with assembly of animals about 2 miles from LZ. Was asked to help defeat a bear that (who?) had terrorized them for years.
[REDACTED FOR BREVITY; FULL VERSION AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST]
Looked like grizzly bear, but bigger, with spider(oid) mouthparts. I hesitated; it lunged at me, broke (?) my back. Was (felt?) paralyzed from waist down, but could still move arms; stabbed bear in ribcage with poisoned daggers, killing it instantly. Still couldn't move legs, so asked animal companions to bring me back to my bed. They put necklace on me, filled my pockets with fresh carrots, then loaded me into palanquin(?) and carried me. Sang victory songs about me vs bear. Halfway to LZ, time elapsed; materialized back on bed, returned to bedroom. Back injuries seem totally healed. Still have carrots and necklace — necklace looks like rubies? [Note: find out how to get necklace authenticated! Invent plausible origin story for authenticator!] Still tired, though.
Entry 840: My god, they're real. Not all rubies , but still real gems. Jeweler offered to buy for probably half market value - 3/4 year's salary!!! Seriously considering it. Also consider: dream about jewels? No - would flood market, draw attention. Gold, etc, likewise.
Entry 851: Damnation damnation damnation DAMNATION. How am I supposed to enjoy a sex dream when everyone is me???
Entry 858 : I have officially had enough of this nonsense. I cannot even get proper sleep any more. I am taking the box off the frame. Screw you, dreamland. Screw you, lucid dreaming.
Entry 859: Woke up in the middle of reinstalling the box. This could be a problem.
Entry 860: Threw box out. Woke up while reinstalling box. Tore garbage bag open in sleep, left trash all over lawn. Definite problem.
Entry 861 : Burned box. Goodbye, box. You've done enough damage for one lifetime.
Entry 865 : Apparently I've been building a new box in my sleep. Serious problem. Vernon had better not dare say 'I told you so'.
Entry 866 : Screw you, Vernon. Burned new box. Burned construction notes. Sold the tools [note - Mother may be upset about my disposal of her Xmas gift; prepare excuse just in case!].
Entry 870 : Feeling much better now that I'm getting proper sleep. I think I'm up to doing some socializing again. Documentary film festival on campus tonight — will attend. Haven't used my faculty pass at all this year. Should be interesting.
Eyewitnesses on campus stated that Professor [REDACTED] attended three documentaries about Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, the evening of his death. | |
SCP-414 | SCP-414 | scp | A gathering of SCP-414-1, taken in 1935.
Item #: SCP-414
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-414 is currently uncontained; containment efforts focus upon mitigating media attention and providing social work programs to demographics targeted by SCP-414. Individuals affected by SCP-414 iterations must be dosed with Class-B amnestics upon recovery and are to be kept under observation. Individuals reaching the final stage of SCP-414-2 are to be contacted by a Foundation social work front company; individuals under final stage SCP-414-2 are to be treated with tri-weekly talk therapy and trained animal companions where applicable.
As it is beyond the Foundation's resources to perform surveillance on every possible target of SCP-414, records from social work organizations and mental health care centers are to be trawled for SCP-414 phenomena where possible. Any media reporting of SCP-414 phenomena are to be removed and a cover story provided; a list of applicable cover stories can be found in Document 414-B.
A cure for SCP-414-2 is to be considered the highest priority after successful and complete containment. - Doctor Alice Ogawa, Principal SCP-414 Researcher
Description: SCP-414 is a phenomenon that targets asocial humans and is categorized into two derivative effects, SCP-414-1 and SCP-414-2. The asociality may range from minor introversion to complete isolation. SCP-414 primarily affects individuals under the NEET 1 demographic with no regional preferences. SCP-414 begins when a humanoid in a circular mask, referred to as SCP-414-1, appears in front of a targeted human. SCP-414-1 typically claims to be an employee for a local social work organization.
SCP-414-1 are uniformly tall humanoids wearing circular masks and clothing that covers the whole body. SCP-414-1 only appear when attempting to contact a targeted individual and disappear after successful contact has occurred. SCP-414-1 is believed to have a single collective consciousness capable of sapience, cognizance, and intelligence.
SCP-414-2 is a chronic, degenerative condition resulting from any successful interaction between a targeted subject and an instance of SCP-414-1. Successful interaction occurs when SCP-414-1 has a successful face-to-face conversation 2 or contact with a targeted subject.
A subject that has contracted SCP-414-2 undergoes 4 stages lasting between 2 and 276 days, with a 5 th stage believed to be permanent. Individuals who are under 30 years of age, or who received SCP-414-2 through physical contact, progress through stages at an accelerated rate.
Overview of Document 414-2-A - 'Symptom Progression Description of SCP-414-2'
Close Overview of Document 414-2-A
Stage One: Subject feels increasingly lonely. Coping mechanisms not involving face-to-face interaction to distract from loneliness causes an increase of feeling. Subject experiences a loss of pleasure when participating in solitary activities. Stage One advances when the subject interacts with another human to alleviate loneliness.
Stage Two: Subject experiences a total loss of pleasure when participating in activities not involving in-person interactions with others. Subject begins to have difficulty in recalling events in their life that contributed significantly to their sense of self but is cognizant of and can recall having such events. Stage Two advances when the subject interacts with other humans at least once every 7 days.
Stage Three: Subject is incapable of feeling fulfillment unless interacting with other humans once every 5 days. They are unable to recall ever enjoying solitary activity or their life before the age of 13. Subjects remain cognizant of this inability. Their sense of self is reduced. Stage Three advances when the subject participates in social events at least once every 7 days.
Stage Four: Subject is incapable of feeling fulfillment without interacting with other humans once every 45 hours. They are unable to recall having significant relationships lasting more than 2 years and are cognizant of this inability. Any sense of self is reduced to name, gender, age, and current emotional state. Subject usually becomes highly productive to feel fulfillment, participating in a range of social activities such as volunteering and hosting gatherings. The circumstances to advance Stage Four are currently unknown.
Stage Five: This is currently considered the final stage. Subject develops hallucinations and sensations of being physically hollow or empty when not currently participating in social activities, causing them to become upset when not in proximity to another person for any length of time over fifteen minutes. They are unable to recall having significant relationships and are cognizant of this inability. At least ███ individuals have been confirmed to have reached Stage Five.
For a list of confirmed SCP-414-2 cases and extensive description, please refer to Document 414-2-A. Notable cases of SCP-414-2 are 414-2-Macgyver-Jacob, the current oldest case, and 414-Kyong- Myung, with the shortest recorded interval between diagnosis and suicide of 48 hours.
There is no cure or treatment available beyond coping mechanisms. SCP-414-2 has a fatality rate of 46.78% over 5 years and 67.84% over 10 years. Individuals over the age of 40 have significantly higher fatality rates of 87.23% over 5 years and 93.85% over 10 years. All fatalities are a result of suicide.
09/12/2014 Incident 414-A: At 06:02 Doctor Eliza Chuang, then-Principal SCP-414 Research Scientist, was contacted by three SCP-414-1. Dr. Chuang had a successful conversation, transcribed below. Dr. Chuang was succeeded by their primary assistant, Doctor Alice Ogawa, immediately after Incident 414-A.
Despite constant social interaction and animal companionship, Dr. Chuang committed suicide on 09/03/2015, 965 days after advancing to Stage 5 SCP-414-2.
Transcript of Incident 414-A
Click to Hide Transcript
[BEGIN LOG]
[06:02] 3 SCP-414-1 humanoids appear at Dr. Chuang's office door. Dr. Chuang can be seen walking to their office. Dr. Chuang stops upon seeing the group of SCP-414-1.
[6:03] The group of SCP-414-1 move towards Dr. Chuang at a speed of approximately 1 meter per second. One SCP-414-1 humanoid grasps Dr. Chuang by the wrist as they attempt to leave. Dr. Chuang begins to struggle and shout for assistance.
[6:04] Security arrives. Dr. Chuang can be seen waving their free arm and shouting "Do not approach! Do not talk! Stand there, please!" Security draws weapons and aims at the group of SCP-414-1 but do not fire. Dr. Chuang turns back to the group of SCP-414-1.
[6:06] Dr. Chuang, calmly: "If you wouldn't mind, could you answer a few questions? Why are you doing this? How do you benefit by doing this to people?"
[6:08] SCP-414-1, in unison: "They work, so little, they are held up when they need to be the foundation, the young so much so. I will help every one of you."
[6:10] Dr. Chuang: "Even when they kill themselves? Even when they forget who they are? How does that help- what is your reasoning?"
[6:12] SCP-414-1, in unison: "It is a last usefulness to society, to die and leave resources for others, others make use of them. Forget yourself for your society. You cannot be egotistical when the ego is carved out. Selfishness, I will cure it, by excising the tumor. I cure society and make the lost find purpose. I help."
[6:14] Dr. Chuang, agitatedly: "But society needs that! They need individuals! Selfishness can drive and motivate success!"
[6:15] SCP-414-1, recoiling collectively: "You are sicker than I thought. You may be kind among your human populace, but I have surely known kinder men. I thought, you, who worked for the good of all, would be my ally. But it's alright. I will take care of you. You will feel better when I'm done with you."
[6:16] Dr. Chuang: "Why did you come to me? Who are you? Where are you from and how do you work?" Dr. Chuang can be seen attempting to free themself from the grip on their arm.
[6:15] SCP-414-1, in unison: "You want to stop us. But you are trying to stop helping. You are secure, contain, protect. I am society, community, progress- a shepherd for humans. You are a sick lost lamb, not for much longer."
[6:17] Dr. Chuang attempts to speak, but an SCP-414-1 instance puts a gloved finger to their lips. The instance pets Dr. Chuang's head and presses its mask against the side of their head, accompanied by a kissing sound.
[6:18] The group of SCP-414-1 produces a flash of light and the camera feed cuts for 0.3 seconds. When the feed is returned, all SCP-414-1 instances are missing. Dr. Chuang kneels on the floor, head in hands.
[END LOG]
Transcript of Interview 414-56
Click to Hide Transcript
Interviewed: Doctor Eliza Chuang
Interviewer: Doctor Alice Ogawa
Foreword: This interview occurs 35 days after Dr. Chuang is confirmed to have entered Stage 5 SCP-414-2.
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Ogawa: Good morning. Dr. Chuang. How are you feeling?
Dr. Chuang: (excitedly) Good morning! Your face is so… ah, it matters little! You are here, it is good to see you!
Dr. Ogawa: Could you explain what you were about to say regarding my face?
Dr. Chuang: (calming down) Ah, just. It was so… I once knew… a face. I once cared for… someone. An assistant, I had an assistant. But I don't remember them.
Dr. Ogawa: I see. How do you feel when you remember that you used to remember?
Dr. Chuang: It is an unpleasant emotion, definitely. I remember that I used to know and feel so much. I once had a past, but it's gone now. I used to… have a project. But that's gone, now. It's all gone. But enough about me. What's important to you? Tell me more about yourself.
Dr. Ogawa: My research is important to me. It was the life work of my mentor and now it's become mine. It's what connects me to them.
Dr. Chuang: It's good, you have something to believe in. That's necessary- someone always has to believe in something, with all their being, that's how humanity makes progress. Individuals pursuing what they believe in. Where's your mentor now?
Dr. Ogawa: (quietly) No longer with me, as I understand it.
Dr. Chuang: How unfortunate… I'm so sorry. Can I help you? Maybe be your assistant? Or keep you company in the laboratories. As I understand, they can get very quiet and lonely.
Dr. Ogawa: (begins to get up) Thank you for the offer but I think we're done now.
Dr. Chuang: Wait! Please, wait just a moment. Could you at least tell me your name?
Dr. Ogawa: (leaving, quietly) Alice. Just Alice.
Dr. Chuang: I'm glad to have known you, Alice. I'm sure, this research is stressful for you. I'm sure you've made your mentor proud and, I think, that's what an assistant would want, is to succeed their mentor?
Dr. Ogawa: (whispering) Not as much as I want them back… (louder) Thank you for your kind words. Good bye.
Dr. Chuang: Goodbye! (smiling widely, waving) Keep your head high. It'll get better. Have faith.
[END LOG]
Closing Statement: Dr. Ogawa no longer performs routine interviews with Dr. Chuang. Routine interviews will be conducted by Dr. K███ M██.
Footnotes
1 . Not in Education, Employment, or Training
2 . a successful conversation is defined by at least one spoken phrase and one spoken reply
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-414 " by SoullessSingularity, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-414 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: SierraLeone016.jpg
Name: File:SierraLeone016.jpg
Author: Sjoerd Hofstra
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SierraLeone016.jpg | 400 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "auditory", "cognitohazard", "hive-mind", "humanoid", "keter", "kindness", "mind-affecting", "sapient", "scp", "uncontained"] | 2016-01-27T05:23:00 | 11,775 | 1,889 | SCP-414 | Keter | SCP-414 is currently uncontained; containment efforts focus upon mitigating media attention and providing social work programs to demographics targeted by SCP-414. Individuals affected by SCP-414 iterations must be dosed with Class-B amnestics upon recovery and are to be kept under observation. Individuals reaching the final stage of SCP-414-2 are to be contacted by a Foundation social work front company; individuals under final stage SCP-414-2 are to be treated with tri-weekly talk therapy and trained animal companions where applicable.
As it is beyond the Foundation's resources to perform surveillance on every possible target of SCP-414, records from social work organizations and mental health care centers are to be trawled for SCP-414 phenomena where possible. Any media reporting of SCP-414 phenomena are to be removed and a cover story provided; a list of applicable cover stories can be found in Document 414-B.
A cure for SCP-414-2 is to be considered the highest priority after successful and complete containment. - Doctor Alice Ogawa, Principal SCP-414 Researcher | SCP-414 is a phenomenon that targets asocial humans and is categorized into two derivative effects, SCP-414-1 and SCP-414-2. The asociality may range from minor introversion to complete isolation. SCP-414 primarily affects individuals under the NEET 1 demographic with no regional preferences. SCP-414 begins when a humanoid in a circular mask, referred to as SCP-414-1, appears in front of a targeted human. SCP-414-1 typically claims to be an employee for a local social work organization.
SCP-414-1 are uniformly tall humanoids wearing circular masks and clothing that covers the whole body. SCP-414-1 only appear when attempting to contact a targeted individual and disappear after successful contact has occurred. SCP-414-1 is believed to have a single collective consciousness capable of sapience, cognizance, and intelligence.
SCP-414-2 is a chronic, degenerative condition resulting from any successful interaction between a targeted subject and an instance of SCP-414-1. Successful interaction occurs when SCP-414-1 has a successful face-to-face conversation 2 or contact with a targeted subject.
A subject that has contracted SCP-414-2 undergoes 4 stages lasting between 2 and 276 days, with a 5 th stage believed to be permanent. Individuals who are under 30 years of age, or who received SCP-414-2 through physical contact, progress through stages at an accelerated rate.
Overview of Document 414-2-A - 'Symptom Progression Description of SCP-414-2'
Close Overview of Document 414-2-A
Stage One: Subject feels increasingly lonely. Coping mechanisms not involving face-to-face interaction to distract from loneliness causes an increase of feeling. Subject experiences a loss of pleasure when participating in solitary activities. Stage One advances when the subject interacts with another human to alleviate loneliness.
Stage Two: Subject experiences a total loss of pleasure when participating in activities not involving in-person interactions with others. Subject begins to have difficulty in recalling events in their life that contributed significantly to their sense of self but is cognizant of and can recall having such events. Stage Two advances when the subject interacts with other humans at least once every 7 days.
Stage Three: Subject is incapable of feeling fulfillment unless interacting with other humans once every 5 days. They are unable to recall ever enjoying solitary activity or their life before the age of 13. Subjects remain cognizant of this inability. Their sense of self is reduced. Stage Three advances when the subject participates in social events at least once every 7 days.
Stage Four: Subject is incapable of feeling fulfillment without interacting with other humans once every 45 hours. They are unable to recall having significant relationships lasting more than 2 years and are cognizant of this inability. Any sense of self is reduced to name, gender, age, and current emotional state. Subject usually becomes highly productive to feel fulfillment, participating in a range of social activities such as volunteering and hosting gatherings. The circumstances to advance Stage Four are currently unknown.
Stage Five: This is currently considered the final stage. Subject develops hallucinations and sensations of being physically hollow or empty when not currently participating in social activities, causing them to become upset when not in proximity to another person for any length of time over fifteen minutes. They are unable to recall having significant relationships and are cognizant of this inability. At least ███ individuals have been confirmed to have reached Stage Five.
For a list of confirmed SCP-414-2 cases and extensive description, please refer to Document 414-2-A. Notable cases of SCP-414-2 are 414-2-Macgyver-Jacob, the current oldest case, and 414-Kyong- Myung, with the shortest recorded interval between diagnosis and suicide of 48 hours.
There is no cure or treatment available beyond coping mechanisms. SCP-414-2 has a fatality rate of 46.78% over 5 years and 67.84% over 10 years. Individuals over the age of 40 have significantly higher fatality rates of 87.23% over 5 years and 93.85% over 10 years. All fatalities are a result of suicide.
09/12/2014 Incident 414-A: At 06:02 Doctor Eliza Chuang, then-Principal SCP-414 Research Scientist, was contacted by three SCP-414-1. Dr. Chuang had a successful conversation, transcribed below. Dr. Chuang was succeeded by their primary assistant, Doctor Alice Ogawa, immediately after Incident 414-A.
Despite constant social interaction and animal companionship, Dr. Chuang committed suicide on 09/03/2015, 965 days after advancing to Stage 5 SCP-414-2.
Transcript of Incident 414-A
Click to Hide Transcript
[BEGIN LOG]
[06:02] 3 SCP-414-1 humanoids appear at Dr. Chuang's office door. Dr. Chuang can be seen walking to their office. Dr. Chuang stops upon seeing the group of SCP-414-1.
[6:03] The group of SCP-414-1 move towards Dr. Chuang at a speed of approximately 1 meter per second. One SCP-414-1 humanoid grasps Dr. Chuang by the wrist as they attempt to leave. Dr. Chuang begins to struggle and shout for assistance.
[6:04] Security arrives. Dr. Chuang can be seen waving their free arm and shouting "Do not approach! Do not talk! Stand there, please!" Security draws weapons and aims at the group of SCP-414-1 but do not fire. Dr. Chuang turns back to the group of SCP-414-1.
[6:06] Dr. Chuang, calmly: "If you wouldn't mind, could you answer a few questions? Why are you doing this? How do you benefit by doing this to people?"
[6:08] SCP-414-1, in unison: "They work, so little, they are held up when they need to be the foundation, the young so much so. I will help every one of you."
[6:10] Dr. Chuang: "Even when they kill themselves? Even when they forget who they are? How does that help- what is your reasoning?"
[6:12] SCP-414-1, in unison: "It is a last usefulness to society, to die and leave resources for others, others make use of them. Forget yourself for your society. You cannot be egotistical when the ego is carved out. Selfishness, I will cure it, by excising the tumor. I cure society and make the lost find purpose. I help."
[6:14] Dr. Chuang, agitatedly: "But society needs that! They need individuals! Selfishness can drive and motivate success!"
[6:15] SCP-414-1, recoiling collectively: "You are sicker than I thought. You may be kind among your human populace, but I have surely known kinder men. I thought, you, who worked for the good of all, would be my ally. But it's alright. I will take care of you. You will feel better when I'm done with you."
[6:16] Dr. Chuang: "Why did you come to me? Who are you? Where are you from and how do you work?" Dr. Chuang can be seen attempting to free themself from the grip on their arm.
[6:15] SCP-414-1, in unison: "You want to stop us. But you are trying to stop helping. You are secure, contain, protect. I am society, community, progress- a shepherd for humans. You are a sick lost lamb, not for much longer."
[6:17] Dr. Chuang attempts to speak, but an SCP-414-1 instance puts a gloved finger to their lips. The instance pets Dr. Chuang's head and presses its mask against the side of their head, accompanied by a kissing sound.
[6:18] The group of SCP-414-1 produces a flash of light and the camera feed cuts for 0.3 seconds. When the feed is returned, all SCP-414-1 instances are missing. Dr. Chuang kneels on the floor, head in hands.
[END LOG]
Transcript of Interview 414-56
Click to Hide Transcript
Interviewed: Doctor Eliza Chuang
Interviewer: Doctor Alice Ogawa
Foreword: This interview occurs 35 days after Dr. Chuang is confirmed to have entered Stage 5 SCP-414-2.
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Ogawa: Good morning. Dr. Chuang. How are you feeling?
Dr. Chuang: (excitedly) Good morning! Your face is so… ah, it matters little! You are here, it is good to see you!
Dr. Ogawa: Could you explain what you were about to say regarding my face?
Dr. Chuang: (calming down) Ah, just. It was so… I once knew… a face. I once cared for… someone. An assistant, I had an assistant. But I don't remember them.
Dr. Ogawa: I see. How do you feel when you remember that you used to remember?
Dr. Chuang: It is an unpleasant emotion, definitely. I remember that I used to know and feel so much. I once had a past, but it's gone now. I used to… have a project. But that's gone, now. It's all gone. But enough about me. What's important to you? Tell me more about yourself.
Dr. Ogawa: My research is important to me. It was the life work of my mentor and now it's become mine. It's what connects me to them.
Dr. Chuang: It's good, you have something to believe in. That's necessary- someone always has to believe in something, with all their being, that's how humanity makes progress. Individuals pursuing what they believe in. Where's your mentor now?
Dr. Ogawa: (quietly) No longer with me, as I understand it.
Dr. Chuang: How unfortunate… I'm so sorry. Can I help you? Maybe be your assistant? Or keep you company in the laboratories. As I understand, they can get very quiet and lonely.
Dr. Ogawa: (begins to get up) Thank you for the offer but I think we're done now.
Dr. Chuang: Wait! Please, wait just a moment. Could you at least tell me your name?
Dr. Ogawa: (leaving, quietly) Alice. Just Alice.
Dr. Chuang: I'm glad to have known you, Alice. I'm sure, this research is stressful for you. I'm sure you've made your mentor proud and, I think, that's what an assistant would want, is to succeed their mentor?
Dr. Ogawa: (whispering) Not as much as I want them back… (louder) Thank you for your kind words. Good bye.
Dr. Chuang: Goodbye! (smiling widely, waving) Keep your head high. It'll get better. Have faith.
[END LOG]
Closing Statement: Dr. Ogawa no longer performs routine interviews with Dr. Chuang. Routine interviews will be conducted by Dr. K███ M██.
Footnotes
1 . Not in Education, Employment, or Training
2 . a successful conversation is defined by at least one spoken phrase and one spoken reply
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-414 " by SoullessSingularity, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-414 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: SierraLeone016.jpg
Name: File:SierraLeone016.jpg
Author: Sjoerd Hofstra
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SierraLeone016.jpg | 6 | ## Document 414-B.
A cure for SCP-414-2 is to be considered the highest priority after successful and complete containment. - Doctor Alice Ogawa, Principal SCP-414 Researcher
Description: SCP-414 is a phenomenon that targets asocial humans and is categorized into two derivative effects, SCP-414-1 and SCP-414-2. The asociality may range from minor introversion to complete isolation. SCP-414 primarily affects individuals under the NEET 1 demographic with no regional preferences. SCP-414 begins when a humanoid in a circular mask, referred to as SCP-414-1, appears in front of a targeted human. SCP-414-1 typically claims to be an employee for a local social work organization.
SCP-414-1 are uniformly tall humanoids wearing circular masks and clothing that covers the whole body. SCP-414-1 only appear when attempting to contact a targeted individual and disappear after successful contact has occurred. SCP-414-1 is believed to have a single collective consciousness capable of sapience, cognizance, and intelligence.
SCP-414-2 is a chronic, degenerative condition resulting from any successful interaction between a targeted subject and an instance of SCP-414-1. Successful interaction occurs when SCP-414-1 has a successful face-to-face conversation 2 or contact with a targeted subject.
A subject that has contracted SCP-414-2 undergoes 4 stages lasting between 2 and 276 days, with a 5 th stage believed to be permanent. Individuals who are under 30 years of age, or who received SCP-414-2 through physical contact, progress through stages at an accelerated rate.
Overview of
---
## Document 414-2-A
Stage One: Subject feels increasingly lonely. Coping mechanisms not involving face-to-face interaction to distract from loneliness causes an increase of feeling. Subject experiences a loss of pleasure when participating in solitary activities. Stage One advances when the subject interacts with another human to alleviate loneliness.
Stage Two: Subject experiences a total loss of pleasure when participating in activities not involving in-person interactions with others. Subject begins to have difficulty in recalling events in their life that contributed significantly to their sense of self but is cognizant of and can recall having such events. Stage Two advances when the subject interacts with other humans at least once every 7 days.
Stage Three: Subject is incapable of feeling fulfillment unless interacting with other humans once every 5 days. They are unable to recall ever enjoying solitary activity or their life before the age of 13. Subjects remain cognizant of this inability. Their sense of self is reduced. Stage Three advances when the subject participates in social events at least once every 7 days.
Stage Four: Subject is incapable of feeling fulfillment without interacting with other humans once every 45 hours. They are unable to recall having significant relationships lasting more than 2 years and are cognizant of this inability. Any sense of self is reduced to name, gender, age, and current emotional state. Subject usually becomes highly productive to feel fulfillment, participating in a range of social activities such as volunteering and hosting gatherings. The circumstances to advance Stage Four are currently unknown.
Stage Five: This is currently considered the final stage. Subject develops hallucinations and sensations of being physically hollow or empty when not currently participating in social activities, causing them to become upset when not in proximity to another person for any length of time over fifteen minutes. They are unable to recall having significant relationships and are cognizant of this inability. At least ███ individuals have been confirmed to have reached Stage Five.
For a list of confirmed SCP-414-2 cases and extensive description, please refer to
---
## test recorded interval between diagnosis and suicide of 48 hours.
There is no cure or treatment available beyond coping mechanisms. SCP-414-2 has a fatality rate of 46.78% over 5 years and 67.84% over 10 years. Individuals over the age of 40 have significantly higher fatality rates of 87.23% over 5 years and 93.85% over 10 years. All fatalities are a result of suicide.
09/12/2014
---
## Incident 414-A.
Despite constant social interaction and animal companionship, Dr. Chuang committed suicide on 09/03/2015, 965 days after advancing to Stage 5 SCP-414-2.
Transcript of
---
## Incident 414-A
Click to Hide Transcript
[BEGIN LOG]
[06:02] 3 SCP-414-1 humanoids appear at Dr. Chuang's office door. Dr. Chuang can be seen walking to their office. Dr. Chuang stops upon seeing the group of SCP-414-1.
[6:03] The group of SCP-414-1 move towards Dr. Chuang at a speed of approximately 1 meter per second. One SCP-414-1 humanoid grasps Dr. Chuang by the wrist as they attempt to leave. Dr. Chuang begins to struggle and shout for assistance.
[6:04] Security arrives. Dr. Chuang can be seen waving their free arm and shouting "Do not approach! Do not talk! Stand there, please!" Security draws weapons and aims at the group of SCP-414-1 but do not fire. Dr. Chuang turns back to the group of SCP-414-1.
[6:06] Dr. Chuang, calmly: "If you wouldn't mind, could you answer a few questions? Why are you doing this? How do you benefit by doing this to people?"
[6:08] SCP-414-1, in unison: "They work, so little, they are held up when they need to be the foundation, the young so much so. I will help every one of you."
[6:10] Dr. Chuang: "Even when they kill themselves? Even when they forget who they are? How does that help- what is your reasoning?"
[6:12] SCP-414-1, in unison: "It is a last usefulness to society, to die and leave resources for others, others make use of them. Forget yourself for your society. You cannot be egotistical when the ego is carved out. Selfishness, I will cure it, by excising the tumor. I cure society and make the lost find purpose. I help."
[6:14] Dr. Chuang, agitatedly: "But society needs that! They need individuals! Selfishness can drive and motivate success!"
[6:15] SCP-414-1, recoiling collectively: "You are sicker than I thought. You may be kind among your human populace, but I have surely known kinder men. I thought, you, who worked for the good of all, would be my ally. But it's alright. I will take care of you. You will feel better when I'm done with you."
[6:16] Dr. Chuang: "Why did you come to me? Who are you? Where are you from and how do you work?" Dr. Chuang can be seen attempting to free themself from the grip on their arm.
[6:15] SCP-414-1, in unison: "You want to stop us. But you are trying to stop helping. You are secure, contain, protect. I am society, community, progress- a shepherd for humans. You are a sick lost lamb, not for much longer."
[6:17] Dr. Chuang attempts to speak, but an SCP-414-1 instance puts a gloved finger to their lips. The instance pets Dr. Chuang's head and presses its mask against the side of their head, accompanied by a kissing sound.
[6:18] The group of SCP-414-1 produces a flash of light and the camera feed cuts for 0.3 seconds. When the feed is returned, all SCP-414-1 instances are missing. Dr. Chuang kneels on the floor, head in hands.
[END LOG]
Transcript of
---
## Interview 414-56
Click to Hide Transcript
Interviewed: Doctor Eliza Chuang
Interviewer: Doctor Alice Ogawa
Foreword: This interview occurs 35 days after Dr. Chuang is confirmed to have entered Stage 5 SCP-414-2.
[BEGIN LOG]
Dr. Ogawa: Good morning. Dr. Chuang. How are you feeling?
Dr. Chuang: (excitedly) Good morning! Your face is so… ah, it matters little! You are here, it is good to see you!
Dr. Ogawa: Could you explain what you were about to say regarding my face?
Dr. Chuang: (calming down) Ah, just. It was so… I once knew… a face. I once cared for… someone. An assistant, I had an assistant. But I don't remember them.
Dr. Ogawa: I see. How do you feel when you remember that you used to remember?
Dr. Chuang: It is an unpleasant emotion, definitely. I remember that I used to know and feel so much. I once had a past, but it's gone now. I used to… have a project. But that's gone, now. It's all gone. But enough about me. What's important to you? Tell me more about yourself.
Dr. Ogawa: My research is important to me. It was the life work of my mentor and now it's become mine. It's what connects me to them.
Dr. Chuang: It's good, you have something to believe in. That's necessary- someone always has to believe in something, with all their being, that's how humanity makes progress. Individuals pursuing what they believe in. Where's your mentor now?
Dr. Ogawa: (quietly) No longer with me, as I understand it.
Dr. Chuang: How unfortunate… I'm so sorry. Can I help you? Maybe be your assistant? Or keep you company in the laboratories. As I understand, they can get very quiet and lonely.
Dr. Ogawa: (begins to get up) Thank you for the offer but I think we're done now.
Dr. Chuang: Wait! Please, wait just a moment. Could you at least tell me your name?
Dr. Ogawa: (leaving, quietly) Alice. Just Alice.
Dr. Chuang: I'm glad to have known you, Alice. I'm sure, this research is stressful for you. I'm sure you've made your mentor proud and, I think, that's what an assistant would want, is to succeed their mentor?
Dr. Ogawa: (whispering) Not as much as I want them back… (louder) Thank you for your kind words. Good bye.
Dr. Chuang: Goodbye! (smiling widely, waving) Keep your head high. It'll get better. Have faith.
[END LOG]
Closing Statement: Dr. Ogawa no longer performs routine interviews with Dr. Chuang. Routine interviews will be conducted by Dr. K███ M██.
Footnotes
1 . Not in Education, Employment, or Training
2 . a successful conversation is defined by at least one spoken phrase and one spoken reply
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-414 " by SoullessSingularity, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-414 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: SierraLeone016.jpg
Name: File:SierraLeone016.jpg
Author: Sjoerd Hofstra
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:SierraLeone016.jpg | |
maya-the-magnificent | Herman Fuller Presents: Maya the Magnificent - SCP Foundation | goi-format | Maya the Magnificent
Once a
Savage
Beast
Capable
Only Of
Death And
Destruction!
Now A
Brown
Bear
Ballerina,
Civilized For
Your
Amusement!
Come see our marvelous musician! Caught in a ferocious life and death struggle somewhere in the depths of the mountains!
Now tamed, hear her sing with human voice and dance with astounding grace! Come see her live in the Menagerie of Mayhem!
ONE DAY ONLY
2 PM this Sunday at the Clackamas County Fair.
One show, One chance! Come one, come all!
The following is a page from a publication entitled To the Circus Born: Herman Fuller's Menagerie of Freaks. The identities of neither publisher nor author have been established, and scattered pages have been found inserted into Circus-themed books in libraries across the world. The person or persons behind this dissemination are unknown.
Maya the Magnificent
started when we set up shop right outside Damascus. We had performed one of our biggest shows of the year, almost everyone had a part in the Big Top Performance. Even Fuller was pleased with the turnout. After we cleaned the Big Top, we started packing up the circus. That's when I heard a noise behind the Carnival Confectionarian's tent. I went to investigate. There she was, in all her glory: Head stuck in a trash can.
One of the Freaks screamed when they saw her — frightened her away. Fuller was furious. We've never had bears come in before. I never saw him as angry as the night she came back searching for food. Fuller took it upon himself to do something in the fucked up way only Fuller can. He dragged her to his tent and didn't come out all night. Every moment of the night, we heard him crashing around in his tent doing his 'work' along with the occasional whimper from Maya. One day, he gathered the Circus together. He had an introduction to make.
Fuller presented her to us as "Maya the Magnificent". She could sing and dance like she'd done it since birth, he claimed. Whatever he did to her, calling it singing and dancing was generous. He "gifted" her with sick parodies of song and dance. With an almost manic smile on his face, he made her perform right there and then. With a crack of his whip, she started her twisted performance.
She stood up slowly and unsteadily onto her hind legs. She teetered at first and the whole circus waited with bated breath to see what Fuller's newest creation would do next. With a start, she jerked forward. Nearly falling into the audience of freaks, she took a few hesitant steps forward. Then a few steps back. Then some to the left. Over time, it became clear that it Maya's movements were supposed to be a dance. Fuller was chuckling quietly in a corner, looking at Maya with a face that almost suggested pride for the creature in front of him.
Maya started more complex steps, her face betraying that she was not quite in control of her motions. As she flailed between the horrified onlookers, it seemed the spectacle could not be more grotesque. Fuller, of course, ensured it would be and more. Slowly, as she staggered, Maya opened her mouth. Fuller's eyes widened in anticipation and he turned on a calliope. There was a click, a pop and a sound like metal grinding on metal before a voice poured from Maya's lips. It was light and cheery and singing the words to a song Fuller often played. It barely matched the motions of Maya's lips and it felt like a recording. As the song finished and Maya settled again on all fours, Fuller turned and handed the coarse rope of her leash to Sal the Menagerie Master.
Just like that, Fuller had made an act from nothing. Every day at 2, Fuller and Sal would dress her in a dingy tutu and a hat. I'll never forget that tutu; It was tattered and filthy and made Maya trip over herself. At first, she had a solo act, but the audience didn't like when she tripped or refused to perform and made Fuller enter the ring with his whip and a chair. Not willing to lose out on an act, he handed her over to the Clowns. Their act was a horror; They tossed Maya around and around making her do things like ride a tricycle or swim in pie custard. All while Maya's strange voice sang over the cackling laughter of the Clowns. The audience loved it but Maya was more miserable than ever.
The other Freaks did what they could, but she was in a sorry state. She was covered in gashes, her feet had sores and her fur was matted from the custard. Her singing broke down, kept playing the same circus song over and over. What struck me though, was her emotional pain. Behind those soft brown eyes, there was something intelligent, something broken. Something that could understand pain and who would inflict it. Something that could understand revenge. It was not the simple brown bear that had walked into our Circus; This was something much darker. We should consider ourselves lucky that many weeks later, she only left . Of course, she couldn't leave without giving us one final show; a two-part act in which she made Sal disappear before her grand finale. I saw her that night, dancing away into the dark, illuminated by the light of the burning Big Top tent.
348
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Herman Fuller Presents: Maya the Magnificent " by SecretCrow, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/maya-the-magnificent . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: StateLibQld 2 42327 Circus bear sitting in the sun, Brisbane, 1903.jpg
Author: SecretCrow , Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld. : 1866-1939)
License: Public Domain
Derivative of: Wikimedia
Additional Notes: Cropped. | 96 | ["_cc", "_herman-fuller", "_licensebox", "bittersweet", "dread&circuses", "fantasy", "goi-format", "herman-fuller"] | 2018-08-01T18:54:00 | 5,723 | 1,007 | 0 | ||||||
to-think-i-ve-spent-my-whole-life-waiting | To Think I've Spent My Whole Life Waiting - SCP Foundation | tale | The house was massive, and had a… well, it doesn't sound like a beautiful color scheme, but trust me. The dark brown and red were very artfully done. It would have made me happy if it weren't for the big face painted on the top. It felt like it was looking at me. I didn't like it at all. I climbed up the hill and out of the forest, up into the clearing around the house. The yellow pathway up to the house winded unnecessarily, but I followed it anyways because it was a charming detail. The flowers out front were bright purples and oranges and blues. Did anyone take care of them, or was it another product? The Ever-Bright Flowers or something like that. Nobody lived here, right?
I walked to the back porch, opened the chair, and pulled out the key hidden in there. This key let me get to the Tourist Trap from anywhere on earth. Pretty cool, really. More important, though, was that it opened the door and let me in. Going through the back entrance, I walked into the upper middle class looking house. It smelled like freshly baked goods. It always smelled like freshly baked goods. I wondered if it always contained freshly baked goods. I began my search for such a bounty.
I was right, there were fresh cinnamon buns in the oven. They smelled delicious. They tasted delicious. Were there more in the oven? Oh, oh there were! I had another batch of four before I realized my mistake. My stomach hurt like someone had dropped a boulder into it from a great height. I didn't feel like being in the kitchen anymore, with its pink counter tops and infinite cinnamon buns. What else was in this place?
The living room had a great curved HDTV, a semicircular yellow couch, plenty of photos of the great times had in this place — oh wow! There was Tongue as a lass. She looked so young and pretty. And I think that was Mr. Ribbit, but back then he wasn't Mr. anything. He was just Jack. Jack "Jackrabbit" Herring. He looked so average . He was neither portly, nor was he jolly. He looked a little uncomfortable, if anything. There were eight other people I had never seen before huddled around in the picture, and all of them wore these skin tight peppermint suits. A small golden plaque was hidden at the bottom of the image.
CANDY CATALYST TEAM OUTING, FEBRUARY 1983
The Candy Catalysts? Woah, one of these guys could've been my dad. I looked up and down for someone short with jet black hair. Ugh, there were two people who fit that description. Mom never showed me any pictures of Dad. Always was a little agitated about that. Stepping back, the entire wall was covered in Candy Catalyst memorabilia. There were the annual department hockey games from 1989. Candy Catalysts won that year, with the Publicity Puppies coming in close second. That was the closest the Puppies ever got to winning the hockey games — I had a few good pals in the Public Relations Department, and I know it's a sort of inside joke that they always train the hardest and lose the worst. There it was, though. The big medal. It wasn't even inside any sort of glass case — oh, aw, they filled it with peppermints. Was I allowed to take some? It probably replenished like the cinnamon buns. I stuffed my pockets with a couple dozen peppermints.
What else was there? The entryway at the front was phenomenal. It glittered with some rainbow-y gemstone and reflected you in a thousand different colors. There was a very ornate small wooden table for you to put shoes on, and under it was… wow! That was three tubs of legos! I'd have to check that out later. There were the stairs to the second level. I think that my bedroom was up there. Well, there must be about five, and I could pick whichever I wanted. Going up the stairs, I came upon a hallway with seven doors: three on either side and one at the very end. The two closest to the stairs were the boys' and girls' bathroom. There was a small landing around the top of the staircase, and circling it there was a door that led out onto the roof.
Coming out onto the roof, I looked over the landscape of dense, extradimensional forest. It was funny to think how this didn't really exist anywhere. I wondered aloud to myself how tree seeds spread into the Tourist Trap's territory, or how small animals got here, when you had to say a mantra to get in but not to get out. Maybe all the magic just applied to people. I wouldn't know, big scale things like this weren't my forte. Even on the board game, I only ever designed individual cards. The huge, sprawling hallucinatory landscapes were all the Building Bullies Team, or the Construction Department. Everybody first assumes that the Building Bullies are both mean and menial. They aren't. They have been at the forefront of some of Wondertainment's most impressive projects, including the house that I was in at the moment. They had found a way to woo the mister of the third dimension, and he would do whatever they told him to. This time, they told him to be two hours from anything, and so he obeyed.
I had gotten up to the roof in time to watch the sunset — what time zone must I have been in? — and it was astounding. The reds and oranges and pinks that faded into a long gradient of light to dark blue to black all across the sky. "The biggest stage light to grace the earth. Behold! The universe's electric, heat lamp magnificence! Feel every day is a part of a long, unending show, and you know what little kid? You're the star! " I was getting emotional. I needed to get off of the roof. Turning around, I was startled half to death by the face I forgot about. It really was looking at me, I swear. It's pupils weren't painted there before.
Inside, I leaned over the railing and stared down the stairwell, hoping that I wouldn't throw up. The cinnamon buns weren't helping. My head swam, and I suddenly got the feeling that I might tip over and fall. I sat down and leaned against the wall. My head hurt like heck. Maybe someone did live here — I needed help. I needed someone to help me. I needed to yell for someone to help me.
" Is anyone here? "
I thought I might have heard a response, someone down under the house. Somewhere deep below the floorboards — under the couch in the living room.
" Help me, please, I'm aching! "
"Do you see the sun, kid?"
I began vomiting. All over the carpet, too. I wondered if this place self cleaned. Could they do that? Oh gosh, if not this was going to be terrible to clean up.
" Get me my pills! Please, I need them, I need my pills. "
"You see that big ball of gas and fire? Look at it."
I started pulling myself towards the stairs. I needed to get to my suitcase. I needed to get to my prescription.
"It's circling you , kid."
" I'm on the stairs, please! Sir, please, I need help! "
I had to pause and hold onto the railing, watching as more and more bile came out of my mouth and started dripping down the steps.
" Please, oh dear god, please… "
"You're the star , Brian!"
" I don't want to go back! "
"Life's a show, kid."
" Please, get me my pills, I don't want to go back! Please! "
"Life's a show, and you're the star !"
I slipped on my own fluids, and tumbled down the stairs. There was a loud thump as my jaw hit the post.
My stomach burned. My jaw felt like it was trying to make me a snake. A pitter patter on the roof told me it was raining. I loved rain. The sound was calming. My neck was also bending and trying to make me serpentine. I must have banged my elbow, because it was sore as well. My whole body was conspiring against me. There was rain here? How did clouds get in here? Did this even exist on earth? My knees could be doing better. I think I soiled my pants, they felt wet. That was embarrassing. Though, it was pretty far down my leg. I want to go out and feel the rain on my skin. What else could have made my leg wet? It's lovely weather. Oh wait, barf.
Oh no, I must have eaten too many cinnamon buns. That's probably what it was. I ate myself sick, and fell down the stairs. That's definitely what it was. Nothing to worry about. Oh my, I needed to brush my teeth. And change my clothes. Actually, I needed to go take a shower. I really needed to go take a shower… but I also didn't want to move. I was pained. Moving was pain. Everything hurt. Especially my head. My head hurt a lot. Heheh, heheheh, my brain. I was Brainy Brian, and my brain hurt. Heheh, heh, heheheheh. Ow. Ow ow ow. Shower. Right.
It was probably good to have hot water wash over me before going out into the rain. I needed to go do something in the rain. There wasn't much to do in the house, from what I could tell. To its credit, it wasn't meant to be the attraction. It was meant to be two hours from any attraction. Big difference. How long had it been since I took a shower? It can't have been that long, I always kept a good face at work. No, I shouldn't have thought about work. That was a mistake. I should have just kept thinking about the rain. Morning routine. Back to my morning routine. I stepped out of the shower, and stared at myself in the mirror.
While I brushed and flossed my teeth, I stared at my naked mug and thought of how I could color it. The management told me I shouldn't paint my face before going out into public. "This isn't Wonder World!™, you need to blend in." Blend in? If I blended in, then how would people know it's me? How would I maintain my signature Brainy charm? Maybe they had a point though. There were people who don't like weird things, and we always sort of had a love hate relationship. However, I was not magic, my designs were. I should be fine. I mean, if I had painted my face, what would it look like? Well, if I was going in public, I'd be confronted with people. I didn't feel like interacting with people. Oh, perfect! I could have been a mime. I wasn't supposed to though…
Oh screw management. They could go sit on their high chairs and chew their big candy cigars and stop interfering with my life — I was my own man. I was going to be a mime, and that was that. It would wordlessly communicate that I didn't want to talk with people. Yeah, yeah it was perfect. Management could go shove it. Though, it was raining outside. I would take an umbrella, so my paint didn't run.
There! Ah ha, I was beautiful. Black and white, I had a frowning facade and two black tear marks running down my face. I looked absolutely wonderful. The mask felt very fitting at that moment. I was ready to face the world! I could go anywhere! Literally, literally I could do that. Where would I go? I walked out of the bathroom, flicked off the light, and — no, there was something I had forgotten. Was that really my entire morning routine? I had taken a shower, used shampoo and conditioner and wiped soap all up and down myself… I had brushed my teeth, flossed my teeth, applied deodorant. I gelled my hair in a way that I liked it, and I made myself a mime. There felt like there was something missing. Something… important…? I flicked the switch on again, and surveyed the room. The bathroom was so big, and colored this pretty white and gold. There was… the sink. Was that it?
That must have been it. I was worrying over nothing. I flicked off the light, and moved out into the hallway. Oh, hey, I hadn't noticed, but this place really was self cleaning. I had suspected as much. Where would I go to begin with? I didn't have that great of a grasp on the world. I pretty much grew up in Wonder World!™. Where would I go? Well… I supposed I should start somewhere familiar. Start small and build up. I did know one place in this world, and I should go there. Should I try out the car sitting outside? I didn't even know where it was; I hadn't been able to finish my house tour yesterday. Had a full day passed? I decided I should just walk. I wanted to be out in the rain anyways. I grabbed a big rainbow umbrella out of the entryway and walked out into the world. Heheh, look at all that mud! Wonderful. I started down the driveway, and held my arm out from below the umbrella. The rain felt good on my skin. Anyways, no more games. I closed my eyes while I walked, and held my old neighborhood in my head.
There it was, the old colorless houses and dirty grey street. My old stomping grounds. Or, maybe not stomping. My old treading grounds. It was familiar, to say the least. The sidewalks must have been fixed, they were much smoother than I remembered them. They didn't have all their signature cracks. However, the road was still pocked full of holes. I guess some things never change. I never knew my neighbors, so I guess I only had one place to go. I walked for a while, turned a corner, and saw my old white house. It really hadn't been repainted? White was such a boring color. I wondered what the living room looked like, or if the kitchen was as I left it, or maybe what my bedroom was like. I really wanted to go in. Would anyone mind? There wasn't a car in the driveway, and all the lights were off. I turned around, and thought that the streets and nearby houses looked very empty as well. Nobody would mind. Was the front window lock still broken like I remembered?
Yes, it was.
I climbed in, careful to make sure I never got my face wet in the process. The last thing I wanted was for my face paint to run. Once I plopped into the kitchen, I stretched and felt at home. It was a long time since I really felt at home. I mean, Wonder World!™ was my new home, and now Tourist Trap was my temporary home, and I didn't feel uncomfortable there — well, I didn't feel uncomfortable at the Tourist Trap. I hadn't noticed that I didn't feel at home before, but it really came back to me as I stood in my kitchen. It really was the way I left it. Untouched, almost. The countertops were just as bland as always, the oven was still an ugly pastel green, and the TV could be seen from where you stood to wash dishes. I had never seen my house from this angle; I was much smaller when I lived there.
I moved into the living room. It was covered in new pictures. Pictures of whoever lived there now. They weren't as good as my family. As my mom. Nobody could live up to my mom. She was a wonderful mother. Nobody could say otherwise. Not my dad, not the neighbors, not anyone. Not even those jerks at Wonder World!™. Nobody. She did everything right, all the way up to the end. And nobody could take that away from her. These pictures were inadequate. Mom was stunning. These people were bland. That was an unfair comparison — everyone was bland in comparison. She shone like the full moon.
I walked around to the bathroom. I almost opened the door, but I really didn't want to. Never liked the bathroom in that house. Always bothered me. I decided that it wasn't worth the nostalgia. Moving on, I looked up the stairs towards the master bedroom. Wasn't ever my bedroom. Didn't want to go up there either. Actually, I realized that I wasn't interested in any of the rooms except one. I opened the door to my old bedroom.
It had changed significantly since last I left it. It used to be blue, and now it was painted with a bright purple. There was a bunk bed where my single bed used to be — the top bunk was pink, the bottom sky blue. There wasn't my old bedside table, or any of my book collections. I suddenly felt a strong want for a Dr. Seuss book. They must have had those, this was a kid's bedroom. No kid's bedroom could survive without Dr. Seuss books. I began to search through the bookshelf next to the door, and sure enough, there one was.
Oh the Places You'll Go , by Dr. Seuss. Did they have Dr. Seuss back at the Tourist Trap? I hadn't seen any. I might just take that back with me. I sat down on the lower bed, set down my umbrella, and began to read…
" You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself,
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go. "
I sure was. I loved these books. They were my childhood. I never imagined I'd be a part of Seuss's world eventually — that came as a mighty surprise. They found me on the streets, selling some little knick-knacks I had made out of the trash in the alleyways. I was creative and bubbly and innocent: all the things they looked for. Of course, it helped that they were looking for me already.
" Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite,
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite,
or waiting around for Friday night,
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake,
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break,
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants,
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting. "
Waiting for the next big product. Waiting for the next big project. Waiting for that next promotion, that next holiday, that next hang out, that next break through. Waiting for the next night, then the next day, then the next… the next whatever comes after that. Months, years? Lifetimes? Waiting to meet that one special person, to settle down? What was I waiting for?
" I'm afraid that some times,
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win,
'cause you'll play against you. "
There was a glimmer in the closet, between the slats in the closet door. What made that? Was it — it looked wet, and shiny. It twitched and went away. Were those kids?
"Hello?"
That was definitely a rustling. I think I caught a "shh".
"Are you playing hide and seek?"
I got up off the bed, and began towards the closet at a glacial pace. They seemed afraid. What of?
"What are you afraid of?"
Opening the closet door, I took a boot to the face. I got knocked back, and caught myself on the wall. That was my jaw. Again. I resisted my jaw's urge to move sideways, and held it in my hand. There was a girl, about half my size, who was holding two little kids behind her back. She was heaving, and stared at me, still half in the closet.
"Oh, oh I'm sorry, I must seem weird. I know it's not typical for mimes to talk — but, but I'm not actually a mime, I just dressed up this way today! I am so sorry for the confusion, can we be frie -?"
Another kick to the side sent me curled up on the floor. I had the wind knocked out of me, and coughed struggling to catch my breath. The girl was closer now, and hovering over me. Those kids looked very scared. What was it? I told them I wasn't a mime, what could…?
"I wasn't going to take your Dr. Seuss book! I was just looking at it… I used to live here, you know. This was where I grew up — I slept in that bed — augh !"
She kicked me in the navel, and saliva spewed out of my mouth. I felt some bile coming up. Oh no, I had barfed enough yesterday. I couldn't barf again! I could get stomach problems! What was her issue? I wasn't stealing — oh my, is that blood? — and I wasn't a talking mime. What else could there be? I looked up at her, and saw her angry. She was getting ready to kick me again. Her phone was in her right hand, and the children's hands were in her other. They looked terrified. They were silently frightened. It couldn't have been me, it must have been — they were scared of her . She reeled her leg back, but it never hit me.
I didn't know I could hit people that hard.
She was sprawled out on the ground. I had hit her right in the temple, and it sent her into the wall and then knocked her to the floor. She wasn't moving. The kids were safe.
"Was she hurting you? Did she harm you? What did she do?"
The kids only cried, and suddenly the room was very loud. Tears streamed down their cheeks, and their mouths were agape in wet yelling.
"Shh, it's okay, she's gone! I'll… I'll uh, I'll give her a stern talking to when she wakes up, and uh…"
What was that noise? I had been ignoring the sirens in the distance, because you got used to that when living in an urban environment. But they got close, stopped, and then there was a loud bang in the other room. More of them? More of her?
I leaned down and put my arms around the children. Another couple bangs. Those were doors. Those were doors getting knocked down. I sweat, what could I do? I fondled around my pockets for the key, the key back to the house. Back to Tourist Trap. These kids were in danger — I didn't know why, but something bad was happening here. I found the key.
"We have been wanting to travel the world,
And though we can not find you on any map -"
A bang. A bang.
"You've promised some haven to us boys and girls,
We know you exist -"
Bang. Bang. BANG . A massive, muscular man blew the door open with his shoulder, and pointed a, a gun at me!
" FREEZE! "
"- you're the Tourist Trap!"
A hole opened up below the kids and I, and I heard a loud pow .
"Aaaaugh!!"
A bullet caught me in the ankle while I fell down the rabbit hole, two kids under my arms.
« We Just Make Toys | Vend-a-Friend Hub | I Don't Get It, I Functioned Before »
w/ Wondertainment Theme
w/o Wondertainment Theme
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" To Think I've Spent My Whole Life Waiting " by DarkStuff, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/to-think-i-ve-spent-my-whole-life-waiting . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Filename: VendLogo
Author: SunnyClockwork
License: CC BY-SA 3.0
Source Link: http://www.scpwiki.com/to-think-i-ve-spent-my-whole-life-waiting | 84 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "brainy-brian", "chase", "dr-wondertainment", "fantasy", "first-person", "horror", "psychological-horror", "tale", "wonderful-world"] | 2017-12-11T15:13:00 | 21,406 | 4,062 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-8091 | SCP-8091 | scp | The subject must be entirely consumed by the conflagration.
Image recovered in the course of investigation.
Item #: SCP-8091
Object Class: Keter
Special Containment Procedures: Containment of SCP-8091 is presently not feasible. Should an SCP-8091 event be detected to occur, the anomaly is to be discredited via use of Cover Story-3049-SDLO ("Mundane Forest Fire"). If necessary, Foundation agents are to be deployed to the scene in order to assist with fire suppression. Foundation webcrawler Agnes.aic is to monitor the internet for any mentions of the anomaly. Any such mentions are to be taken down before being forwarded to the SCP-8091 Research Team, currently located at Site-270.
Present study is divided into two objectives. The Department of Thermodynamics is responsible for analyzing the exact mechanics of the flames produced by SCP-8091 while the Department of Analytics is attempting to create a full list of triggers and conditions for an SCP-8091 event to occur. This project has been given Priority Level EKHI.
Description: SCP-8091 designates an anomalous phenomenon in which a fire will burn much hotter and longer than baseline thermodynamics would suggest. SCP-8091 occurs when a certain set of conditions and scenarios are met. Although the full set of prerequisites is pending review, they are believed to include the following:
The fire must be triggered by at least one human subject;
The event must consume several items of personal value to the subject;
The fire must be started with some manner of accelerant, typically kerosene;
Large amounts of firewood and other fuel must be provided; 1
The subject must be entirely consumed by the conflagration;
Once the flame has been ignited, the event will proceed. Due to the fact that all SCP-8091 events have resulted in the death of their initiator as well as mass damage to the surrounding environs, it is unclear what follows.
Addendum — Document-02/07/2009-SCP-8091
The following is an apograph of scripture found charred into the heart of the instigating subject of an SCP-8091 event that occured on 02/07/2009 in Victoria, Australia. Implications unclear.
Leave the car. Leave the road. Leave any traces of civilization behind you as you walk into the forest. You are alone, singular. A pilgrim. The autumn leaves crunch underfoot. You can hear birdsong.
You’ll be in the dark, but the heat and light will guide you. You will know where to go. Stop walking when you come into a clearing. It won’t be long now.
It starts at sunrise, when the sky is red. You’ll feel it before you see it, as the planet is warmed once more by the great eye watching over us. The heat fills you with purpose. It’s time to begin.
Arrange the sacrifices around yourself in a circle. Smear the ground with paint and charcoal. Dig a pit if you like. Bring plenty of matches and oil. As much as would make you feel ready. If you truly want to do this properly, then you’ll have brought everything of value to you. Antiques and books. Pictures of your family. Spouse and children if you have any. Everything you ever had that ever meant anything must be given to the blaze. It is the only way.
But also give unto it worthless trash. Broken dolls and newspapers that no one will ever read again. Products with missing pieces that remove whatever pretended functionality they may have had once. By doing so, remind yourself that all is kindling and nothing has value besides the Inferno. There is no difference between priceless memories and dusty trash.
That’s why you’re doing this.
You’re here because you have almost nothing left to lose. You’ve always been the type of person to throw things onto the altar. Money, people, hopes, dreams. It’s all the same. The fire was calling to you, always. Telling you to come closer and closer. There’s only one last thing to give it.
Are you frightened? You should be. The Conflagration should inspire fear as well as awe. Never forget that. Prepare for its coming.
Start by lighting a cigarette and then pushing it into your flesh. Arm, torso, head, neck. Anywhere will do. It stings and a red welt forms immediately. The pain is necessary. Bringing the fire closer into you. Push it in deep to your core. Reignite the tobacco every time it's extinguished. Then press it in even deeper.
Do it again and again until it starts to feel healthy.
This sacrifice has lived for millennia innumerable. You stand on the shoulders of giants. Kalanos. The Old Believers who endured the samosozhigateli. Fayu. The Charans. The Rajputs. Zarmanochegas. Even the Savior. Jesus did not die upon the Cross, for only fire is truly capable of divinity. Only the pain of burning can repay the sins of the world. Ixion burns so that we may live. Remember that. All of them did what you must do now. Give thanks and prepare to join them in their glory.
To burn yourself alive is to turn your body, your life, into a pile of ash. To make oneself divine. A bonfire of hopes and dreams. Every single atom of your body is set alight as you offer up yourself to the flame, to a greater purpose. You’re making an oblation to God. But then again, as you burn, as you immolate, you’re not thinking of anything like that. You’re just thinking of the heat, devoid of any comfort or joy as it kills you. You can’t even breathe as the smoke fills your lungs and there’s nowhere to run because the fire is on you. It’s everywhere.
Doesn’t that sound beautiful?
Take a deep breath. It’s the last time you’ll do it without the sacrament of smoke filling your lungs. You’re ready.
Spill the kerosene. Light the matches.
Your skin immediately comes alight in a welt of pain and blackening. The oil ignites. Your lower body goes first, covered in the heat. Your legs stagger and fall.
As you feel it move up and down, there is only one thought that goes through your mind. Only one singular reality. You’re burning, you’re burning, you’re burning, you’re burning, and it hurts so badly. There is no worse agony than you are experiencing right now.
You collapse instantly, allowing the fire its feast. The sacrifices you brought make good kindling. The last photograph of you and your mother together goes first, that precious moment hungrily consumed in a heartbeat. How valuable was it really?
Next goes the forest, the trees blackening and falling down one at a time. They add fuel in a cascading pattern that stretches further and further. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s like everything you’ve dreamed.
Wildlife are touched by the Inferno too, their screams joining you in the choir. They take communion with you, choking on the smoke thick and black. They're just as lost as you are.
At a certain temperature, your nerves themselves melt and the pain stops. Sensation is lost in the face of incomprehensible heat. There is an upper limit to the agony your body can experience. But that doesn’t happen here. You're awake for every moment of agonized bliss as the world melts. You can hear the crackling of the wood. You can understand it.
You’re so warm. You never knew how cold you were before. How impossibly frigid. The Inferno holds you in its warm embrace. It tells you truths that you thought you’d never understand. No Judaism or Buddhism or Socialism or Atheism or Capitalism or Sikhism could ever compare to this heat. No false idol ever could.
This is the only worship that is true. The oldest worship. The worship that took place in the deepest caves and the darkest pits, only illuminated by the flames of the Conflagration. The altars of Moloch. To feed all of yourself to your God is the only way to show your faith. You’re crying now, the heat denying you even that comfort as it consumes your very tears. It hurts so badly. Third degree, Kelvins, scales from 1 to 10, nothing can understand the sensations you are subject to.
But really, you know that you deserve this. You did it to yourself, didn’t you?
You should have realized there is no love here. This is not a loving and kind divinity. This is a benevolent hatred, a necessary suffering. This is the apathetic sadism of the Desolation. You should never have forgotten that.
Have you ever learned of vicarious atonement? It’s a lie. One cannot buy off God. Its appetite cannot be satisfied by mere trinkets. God used to settle for the bull, but now It wants Yitzchak. It has always wanted Yitzchak, an all-consuming hunger.
And now, it wants you. Welcome it with open arms. Realize what you are in the face of such majesty.
You are unclean filth. You are a festering pustule of petty sins and meaningless hopes and miserable desires, and the only thing that purifies is the Inferno. Cauterization is the only way. Cut out the disease and burn the infection.
You’ve done all you could. You’ve sent up the smoke and incense. Smell its radiance. That glorious symphony of oil and gasoline. You're almost finished.
The Desolation has consumed everything. There are no more trees. There is no more birdsong. There is only the sun, finally close to you. Finally understandable. You may try to scream one last time, but the smoke and crackling takes the sound away before you make it.
The Conflagration kisses you with tongues of red and orange. The colors so beautiful and vivid, you wish you could see them fully. Your eyes have melted already, running down your face like tears of joy. The skin has long peeled off your scorched bones and left you a charred skeleton, but that’s ok. You can smile now. You’ve earned it. After so long, the day has finally come. You’ve actually been redeemed.
Footnotes
1 . The vast majority of SCP-8091 events take place in a forest.
Scopophobia: The Employee of the Month
Anthology 2024
Masklophobia: A Murder Onstage
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-8091 " by Cathy Autumn, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8091 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Name: Trees burning during Creek Fire.jpg
Author: CAL FIRE, C. Tolmie
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Name: Deerfire high res.jpg
Author: John McColgan, Bureau of Land Management, Alaska Fire Service. – Alaskan Type I Incident Management Team
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | 127 | ["_cc", "_licensebox", "bleak", "fire", "forest", "horror", "keter", "phenomenon", "phobia-anthology", "religious", "ritual", "scp"] | 2024-10-03T14:18:00 | 10,400 | 1,779 | SCP-8091 | Keter | Containment of SCP-8091 is presently not feasible. Should an SCP-8091 event be detected to occur, the anomaly is to be discredited via use of Cover Story-3049-SDLO ("Mundane Forest Fire"). If necessary, Foundation agents are to be deployed to the scene in order to assist with fire suppression. Foundation webcrawler Agnes.aic is to monitor the internet for any mentions of the anomaly. Any such mentions are to be taken down before being forwarded to the SCP-8091 Research Team, currently located at Site-270.
Present study is divided into two objectives. The Department of Thermodynamics is responsible for analyzing the exact mechanics of the flames produced by SCP-8091 while the Department of Analytics is attempting to create a full list of triggers and conditions for an SCP-8091 event to occur. This project has been given Priority Level EKHI. | SCP-8091 designates an anomalous phenomenon in which a fire will burn much hotter and longer than baseline thermodynamics would suggest. SCP-8091 occurs when a certain set of conditions and scenarios are met. Although the full set of prerequisites is pending review, they are believed to include the following:
The fire must be triggered by at least one human subject;
The event must consume several items of personal value to the subject;
The fire must be started with some manner of accelerant, typically kerosene;
Large amounts of firewood and other fuel must be provided; 1
The subject must be entirely consumed by the conflagration;
Once the flame has been ignited, the event will proceed. Due to the fact that all SCP-8091 events have resulted in the death of their initiator as well as mass damage to the surrounding environs, it is unclear what follows.
Addendum — Document-02/07/2009-SCP-8091
The following is an apograph of scripture found charred into the heart of the instigating subject of an SCP-8091 event that occured on 02/07/2009 in Victoria, Australia. Implications unclear.
Leave the car. Leave the road. Leave any traces of civilization behind you as you walk into the forest. You are alone, singular. A pilgrim. The autumn leaves crunch underfoot. You can hear birdsong.
You’ll be in the dark, but the heat and light will guide you. You will know where to go. Stop walking when you come into a clearing. It won’t be long now.
It starts at sunrise, when the sky is red. You’ll feel it before you see it, as the planet is warmed once more by the great eye watching over us. The heat fills you with purpose. It’s time to begin.
Arrange the sacrifices around yourself in a circle. Smear the ground with paint and charcoal. Dig a pit if you like. Bring plenty of matches and oil. As much as would make you feel ready. If you truly want to do this properly, then you’ll have brought everything of value to you. Antiques and books. Pictures of your family. Spouse and children if you have any. Everything you ever had that ever meant anything must be given to the blaze. It is the only way.
But also give unto it worthless trash. Broken dolls and newspapers that no one will ever read again. Products with missing pieces that remove whatever pretended functionality they may have had once. By doing so, remind yourself that all is kindling and nothing has value besides the Inferno. There is no difference between priceless memories and dusty trash.
That’s why you’re doing this.
You’re here because you have almost nothing left to lose. You’ve always been the type of person to throw things onto the altar. Money, people, hopes, dreams. It’s all the same. The fire was calling to you, always. Telling you to come closer and closer. There’s only one last thing to give it.
Are you frightened? You should be. The Conflagration should inspire fear as well as awe. Never forget that. Prepare for its coming.
Start by lighting a cigarette and then pushing it into your flesh. Arm, torso, head, neck. Anywhere will do. It stings and a red welt forms immediately. The pain is necessary. Bringing the fire closer into you. Push it in deep to your core. Reignite the tobacco every time it's extinguished. Then press it in even deeper.
Do it again and again until it starts to feel healthy.
This sacrifice has lived for millennia innumerable. You stand on the shoulders of giants. Kalanos. The Old Believers who endured the samosozhigateli. Fayu. The Charans. The Rajputs. Zarmanochegas. Even the Savior. Jesus did not die upon the Cross, for only fire is truly capable of divinity. Only the pain of burning can repay the sins of the world. Ixion burns so that we may live. Remember that. All of them did what you must do now. Give thanks and prepare to join them in their glory.
To burn yourself alive is to turn your body, your life, into a pile of ash. To make oneself divine. A bonfire of hopes and dreams. Every single atom of your body is set alight as you offer up yourself to the flame, to a greater purpose. You’re making an oblation to God. But then again, as you burn, as you immolate, you’re not thinking of anything like that. You’re just thinking of the heat, devoid of any comfort or joy as it kills you. You can’t even breathe as the smoke fills your lungs and there’s nowhere to run because the fire is on you. It’s everywhere.
Doesn’t that sound beautiful?
Take a deep breath. It’s the last time you’ll do it without the sacrament of smoke filling your lungs. You’re ready.
Spill the kerosene. Light the matches.
Your skin immediately comes alight in a welt of pain and blackening. The oil ignites. Your lower body goes first, covered in the heat. Your legs stagger and fall.
As you feel it move up and down, there is only one thought that goes through your mind. Only one singular reality. You’re burning, you’re burning, you’re burning, you’re burning, and it hurts so badly. There is no worse agony than you are experiencing right now.
You collapse instantly, allowing the fire its feast. The sacrifices you brought make good kindling. The last photograph of you and your mother together goes first, that precious moment hungrily consumed in a heartbeat. How valuable was it really?
Next goes the forest, the trees blackening and falling down one at a time. They add fuel in a cascading pattern that stretches further and further. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It’s like everything you’ve dreamed.
Wildlife are touched by the Inferno too, their screams joining you in the choir. They take communion with you, choking on the smoke thick and black. They're just as lost as you are.
At a certain temperature, your nerves themselves melt and the pain stops. Sensation is lost in the face of incomprehensible heat. There is an upper limit to the agony your body can experience. But that doesn’t happen here. You're awake for every moment of agonized bliss as the world melts. You can hear the crackling of the wood. You can understand it.
You’re so warm. You never knew how cold you were before. How impossibly frigid. The Inferno holds you in its warm embrace. It tells you truths that you thought you’d never understand. No Judaism or Buddhism or Socialism or Atheism or Capitalism or Sikhism could ever compare to this heat. No false idol ever could.
This is the only worship that is true. The oldest worship. The worship that took place in the deepest caves and the darkest pits, only illuminated by the flames of the Conflagration. The altars of Moloch. To feed all of yourself to your God is the only way to show your faith. You’re crying now, the heat denying you even that comfort as it consumes your very tears. It hurts so badly. Third degree, Kelvins, scales from 1 to 10, nothing can understand the sensations you are subject to.
But really, you know that you deserve this. You did it to yourself, didn’t you?
You should have realized there is no love here. This is not a loving and kind divinity. This is a benevolent hatred, a necessary suffering. This is the apathetic sadism of the Desolation. You should never have forgotten that.
Have you ever learned of vicarious atonement? It’s a lie. One cannot buy off God. Its appetite cannot be satisfied by mere trinkets. God used to settle for the bull, but now It wants Yitzchak. It has always wanted Yitzchak, an all-consuming hunger.
And now, it wants you. Welcome it with open arms. Realize what you are in the face of such majesty.
You are unclean filth. You are a festering pustule of petty sins and meaningless hopes and miserable desires, and the only thing that purifies is the Inferno. Cauterization is the only way. Cut out the disease and burn the infection.
You’ve done all you could. You’ve sent up the smoke and incense. Smell its radiance. That glorious symphony of oil and gasoline. You're almost finished.
The Desolation has consumed everything. There are no more trees. There is no more birdsong. There is only the sun, finally close to you. Finally understandable. You may try to scream one last time, but the smoke and crackling takes the sound away before you make it.
The Conflagration kisses you with tongues of red and orange. The colors so beautiful and vivid, you wish you could see them fully. Your eyes have melted already, running down your face like tears of joy. The skin has long peeled off your scorched bones and left you a charred skeleton, but that’s ok. You can smile now. You’ve earned it. After so long, the day has finally come. You’ve actually been redeemed.
Footnotes
1 . The vast majority of SCP-8091 events take place in a forest.
Scopophobia: The Employee of the Month
Anthology 2024
Masklophobia: A Murder Onstage
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-8091 " by Cathy Autumn, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8091 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Name: Trees burning during Creek Fire.jpg
Author: CAL FIRE, C. Tolmie
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Name: Deerfire high res.jpg
Author: John McColgan, Bureau of Land Management, Alaska Fire Service. – Alaskan Type I Incident Management Team
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | 1 | ## logy 2024
Masklophobia: A Murder Onstage
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-8091 " by Cathy Autumn, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8091 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide .
Name: Trees burning during Creek Fire.jpg
Author: CAL FIRE, C. Tolmie
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
Name: Deerfire high res.jpg
Author: John McColgan, Bureau of Land Management, Alaska Fire Service. – Alaskan Type I Incident Management Team
License: Public Domain
Source Link: Wikimedia Commons | |
underneath | Underneath - SCP Foundation | tale | Cyvstvi
Underneath by Cyvstvi
More by this author
' Under the trees lays the ground, under the ground lay the bodies, under the bodies — lays naught but a shallow, hollow grave. '
Ileana strode through the graveyard, softly humming the nursery rhyme to the cold night's air. Her warm breath curled in the listless wind, dancing to-and-fro like a d̦ână eagerly seeking to trick a wayward traveler off the beaten path and into the depths of the woods. The shovel, its head inscribed in the ancient tongue of old Romania, felt heavy between her hands as she traipsed through the church's empty grounds.
Leaves crackled and roots snapped, sending reverberations through the soil - through empty graves.
Ileana knew that not all of the graves were empty, but she had come to honour the deceased all the same, whether they were aware of it or not. After all, someone had to hear their silent, groping pleas and that someone just happened to be Ileana Albescu, daughter of the "late" Vicar Albescu.
She had pleaded and protested with her father, shortly before his untimely disappearance, arguing that her brother would have been far better suited for the role of temporary gravekeeper. Alas, her brother's myriad failings: petulance, ill-experience with the dead, general ineptitude, and the fact that he had not yet reached his majority, served to dissuade her arguments out of hand. Until the neighbouring villages of Lesser Wallachia sent for a replacement, Ileana would be required to keep the dead company.
Pacing back and forth, she gazed out into the woods enclosing the church and its graveyard on all sides. Gnarled branches creaked in the wind and danced awkwardly in the night, beckoning her to join them in their folly and festivities. She ignored the trees, keeping her eyes firmly fixated on the first row of gravestones. The stones were old, the black marble edifices that once bore the names and dates of those who had long since been laid to rest beneath the earth were worn down to faint impressions.
Her fingers danced along those etchings, tracing the fine calligraphy that marked the black marbled surface. Who was buried here that could have possibly afforded such finery? , she asked to nobody in particular. It was well known that the aristocracy of Lesser Wallachia, of what little remained, were content being buried amidst the cavernous catacombs nestled beneath the mountains to the south.
Perhaps, this headstone didn't mark the grave of an aristocrat, but rather an affluent merchant or skilled tradesman. Ileana shook her head. Nobody matched that description in any funerary charters she had read. Whoever was buried here was known to nobody but themselves. Alas, the dead spoke to no-one, taking all their secrets to the grave. Or did they?
She planted the shovel into the cold, wet earth, pushing the heel of her riding boot against the flat edge of the blade, feeling it pull back against her as roots tore and soil churned.
Her father had been the most religious person she'd ever known, which was an achievement even amongst Wallachians. As a child, she had frequently gazed out from between boarded windows, watching him leave the vicarage to deliver sermons and masses at the dead of night. Whilst all other Wallachians were busying themselves with their nightly rituals - boarding their windows, reinforcing their doors, and sequestering themselves within their attics or basements by the gloom of dying candlewicks - her father walked the streets, knocking from door to door and beseeching the inhabitants to join him in prayer.
It'd been that foolhardy act of his which had resulted in his mysterious disappearance, though Ileana knew in her heart that he had departed this world. She lit a candle every night at the windowsill to guide his spirit home, despite knowing full well that both her mother and father would have scorned such foolishness.
Ileana felt a breeze like the ice of the River Olt in Autumn tracing the nape of her neck. For the briefest of moments, she imagined that she heard her father's voice on the wind, whispering, ' Candlelit vigils guide more than just spirits home, dragă.'
Shivering and pushing down on the worn maple handle of the shovel, Ileana brought up yet another clump of sodden turf, briefly observing the worms wriggling and writhing about helplessly before flinging their meagre habitation over her shoulder. The recent rainfall had brought the filthy creatures to the surface, engorged and swollen like leeches after feeding on the diseased arm of some poor vagrant. Unlike the worms of her ancestors' past, these vile things had barbed teeth for sucking and feeding on scraps of flesh as well as common pests like rats and mice.
The next strike of her shovel was met with a soft thudding sound. Ileana raised her lantern, casting long, needle-like shadows into the grave, illuminating the steep incline she found herself standing within.
Ileana had never been the greatest gravedigger and frequently left that task to her uncle and his brother. They had sung songs whilst they worked, like the nursery rhyme she had hummed earlier, only spoken in the darker tongue, filled with rude words her father daren't explain to her. She missed them all dearly.
Ileana brought her lantern close to her chest, gently thumbing open the latch covering the grate cover concealing the candle within. The light radiated out from the bright candle causing the shadows to flinch and flee, illuminating the murk of the grave. What at first she had believed to be a coffin was in fact a hinged trapdoor, now damp and heavy with rot. Holding the shovel firmly in both hands, she thrust the head of it against the trapdoor. The first hit caused it to bulge, the second to buckle, and the third caused it to break, collapsing inward.
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by a pungent, earthly scent. Decay. Ileana steadied herself, bringing her shovel back over her shoulder as she wrapped her scarf about her mouth. It would do no good for her to explore the tomb of this decadent stranger, only to contract graverot and have her face slough away from the skull.
Raising the lantern aloft, she inspected the hallways of the tomb. Torches, now worn down to nothing more than cinders and nubs, hung lazily from braziers suspended on either side of the walls. Beneath each brazier was a simple sarcophagus hewn from the same mottled black marble as the grave-marker above the surface. Ileana inspected her own candle. The wick burned dangerously low.
Plucking one of the torches from the braziers, she raised the candle to the oil-cloth wrapped tight about the aged wood, hoping that the rot hadn't seeped into the core of the wood. Thankfully, it had not and the torch soon took to the flame, exhaling black smoke which rose to the tomb's ceiling and lingered there. One careful step after another, her boots clattering against cobbled stone and a carpet of red moss, Ileana continued down the hallway, heading towards an imposing, solitary sarcophagus.
She gently brushed the lid with her fingers, parting and pushing through layers of dust. Through the thickness of her brown moleskin gloves, Ileana felt the biting chill of old metal. She traced the faint impression of foreign lettering, written in the dark tongue, and felt the tips of her fingers snag on a hairline fracture between the sarcophagus lid and the tomb. Hesitantly, she placed the shovel's blade between the crack and the lid, slowly applying pressure to the handle. With each agonising creak, Ileana glanced around, her eyes nervously flitting from shadow to light — light to shadow.
The steel plate gently gave way, the grinding echo ringing out all around Ileana. Through the slight glimmer of candlelight, Ileana could see that the sarcophagus was empty aside from a layer of discarded linen wraps creating the faintest impression of the human body that had once rested within.
Ileana could feel the hair on the nape of her neck rising. That pungent earthy scent had returned to the room, flooding in from the other end of the hallway. Cold condensation formed beneath her scarf as she listened to the soft, steady, scraping sound accompanying the foul smell of loam.
A shadow crept along the wall. It was long and emaciated, clawing and dragging its way around the corner. Drawing her breath in, Ileana pushed the lid aside. She clambered into the sarcophagus compartment, pulling the lid shut over her. Her breathing was erratic as she pressed her scarf close to her lips, preventing even the faintest of sounds from escaping. She pressed her eye against the hairline fracture, watching the corridor illuminated by the light cast from her hastily discarded torch.
It emerged into the light of the cavernous tomb, its face half illuminated by the frantic flames of the dying torch. A ghoul. Its jaw shattered, the skin clinging to it marked and bubbled by decay. Its bloodshot eye hung from a lonely socket, for the other seemed to have been hacked away, searching uncontrollably around the hallways. It was gaunt, naked ribs exposed to the stale air, with decaying flesh tanned like leather. Blindly, it groped at the walls, digging its broken fingers into the cracks between the mortar. Ileana realised with sudden horror that it searched for something.
The ghoul stepped forwards, gazing fondly at the lit torch, before bringing its rotten foot down upon the wood. Splinters flew through the air as the darkness swallowed her surroundings. Ileana could no longer see the undead through the crack, but she could smell it - rancid and earthly. She heard it turn and smelled the creature as it began blindly running its fingers over the sarcophagus' lid, feeling for the same slim fracture she had found just moments earlier. This is what it's searching for, she thought. This was its tomb.
With a roar, the ghoul flung the sarcophagus lid awry. Ileana held her breath as she felt its own putrid breath upon her face. Its breath was not cold, as she'd long imagined a ghoul's might be, but was instead a sickly, earthy warmth that swam through her nostrils. She caught her terrified reflection with the eye that hung from its ruined socket. Its eyes were full, yet not a single thought ran behind those vacant eyelids. There would be no sermons, no more prayers, no more cautionary tales of the horrors that walked the streets of night.
Ileana closed her eyes tight as she felt the ghoul's gnarled, skeletal fingers tighten around her throat, pressing down on the centre of her neck with its thumbs. It's warm , Ileana screamed to herself as blood rushed to her head, desperate to keep the breath of life flowing through her body. It shouldn't be warm.
Smoke filled the houses of Albescu. The doors were flung open, boarded windows hung from nails, but the fires still raged on. Saoirse braced her helm beneath her arm, running her fingers carelessly through the fine pale horsehair crest. Sweat still clung to the helmet's under-padding and it ran in rivers through her tangled, clipped hair. Her cloak hung heavy from her shoulders; white-dyed wool as pure as snow, thick as they came. She passionately watched the flames consume wood and mortar, straw and brick. Only smoke congregated in those homes now.
She watched the houses as they burned to cinders, tugging her scarf tight around her nose. She couldn't stand the smell and sounds of the hunt. The crackling sounds as fat burst. The splitting sounds of bone roasting. It reminded her of a live pig roasting upon a spit, helplessly aware of its cruel and unjust fate.
A tap at her shoulder turned Saoirse about. She regarded the breathless scout, his face painted in a mask of ash, soot, and smoke. The boy, scarcely a hair beneath his bottom lip, was eager and strikingly young. Saoirse wagered a knuckle or three that he was younger than ten and six. ' That isn't unusual ', she mused. ' They're all young out here in Wallachia; all of this hardens them old beyond their youth. '
"You got a report for me, lad?" Saoirse asked.
"Aye, Huntsman. One of the survivors, a scrawny little git, said she saw Ileana heading towards the graveyard before twilight broke." From her reaction, the scout could tell Saoirse didn't quite grasp what he was talking about. "Ileana? The daughter of the Vicar you met with earlier?"
Saoirse nodded grimly in response, placing one hand on the scabbard at her belt. She stepped out into the dawn, heading towards the church. As she strode away, she could hear her men conversing with one another in hushed tongues.
' Of all places the good Vicar's daughter could have disappeared to, it just happened to be a graveyard. '
' No doubt she'll be worm-food by now, or something worse off. Caius preserve the poor lass. '
It wasn't long before she found the hole. It had been dug from the outside in, not the other way around, and so thank the Lord, it wasn't a ghoul-hole. She threw her mink-lined cloak behind her back, tugging firmly at her leather gloves, feeling her sword rasping against the scabbard as she pulled it free. The silver glinted in the early daylight, cascading reflections like a shattered mirror into the grave. She felt at ease with the sword held between her hands.
She and her men had cleared many crypts like these in recent days — tombs long abandoned, their inhabitants left to rot. Broken sarcophagi lined the walls. An indication that a ghouldigger had visited in recent memory. A single ghouldigger could resurrect a horde of ghouls from a crypt like this, so long as there was a scrap of flesh left on the corpses. Usually, they'd post a single ghoul to guard their finds, often summoned days earlier from the surrounding graves, before returning another night to continue their work.
Saoirse could hear weeping from the end of the hallway. A young woman was slumped against the wall, cradling a broken shovel handle. Hurrying over, Saoirse cradled the young woman's head in her lap, her woolen cloak becoming marked and stained with the Ileana's tears as she wept aloud, ' I'm sorry Uncle, I'm so sorry. '
A ghoul's body laid to one side, brutally decapitated by the frenzied swing of a steel shovel's blade. It's left eye hung limply from a broken socket; unblinking, uncaring, unfeeling.
Tales from Lunakirk
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Underneath " by Cyvstvi, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/underneath . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 32 | ["_graveyard-shift", "_licensebox", "adventure", "fantasy", "horror", "nightmarefest", "tale"] | 2021-10-27T14:34:00 | 14,613 | 2,488 | 0 | ||||||
SCP-5920 | SCP-5920 | scp | Item #: SCP-5920
Object Class: Safe
Special Containment Procedures: All SCP-5920 units are to be contained within Suite 908A of Site-01 and managed through Project AURUM SILKWORM.
SCP-5920 test subjects shall be chosen from within MTF Alpha-1 ("Red Right Hand") according to depth of project-relevant experiences, particularly personnel management and information extraction. Participation in AURUM SILKWORM is to be codified as a requirement of MTF Alpha-1 membership.
Members of MTF Alpha-1 who have been exposed to memories with intensity quotients over 20,000 may not be assigned to Overseer Council security details. Such individuals are not to be permitted transfer to other positions within the Foundation or retirement from their posts.
Description: SCP-5920 is a specific combination of technologies that identify, extract, and duplicate an individual's memories. Additionally, SCP-5920 converts extracted memories into audiovisual media that can be experienced by other parties through normal exposure. Although replicable within the Foundation, progenitor paratech guarantees anomalous classification until public technology makes similar advancements.
SCP-5920 units consist of three components:
A central terminal controls the process and stores extracted memories for processing.
An EEG headset analyzes cerebral activity and hosts micro-needles for insertion through thinner skull sections.
A chair equipped with full-body restraints ensures subject safety during high-intensity exposure.
Facilities for large-scale biological matter disposal are frequently used post hoc , but are not considered integral.
Serial use of SCP-5920 amplifies the qualities of extracted memories via filtration through ego constructs. Second-hand experiences are often more potent due to additional layers of psychological baggage, as are third-hand experiences, fourth-hand experiences, etc. As a result, individuals' experiences, preferences, and outlooks influence the qualities of filtered memories, which vary significantly in duration, emotional slant, and intensity. Observing the audiovisual output of high-concentration memories induces a variety of effects within the human body:
Intensity Quotient Range
Bodily Effects
0 - 300
None observed. Subjects typically report calming experiences.
300 - 4,000
Fluctuations in heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity depending on each memory's emotional slant. Broad worldviews may be shifted by repeated exposure.
4,000 - 20,000
Significant fluctuations in heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity depending on memory slant. Elevated risk of cardiac arrest, internal hemorrhaging, and general organ failure.
20,000+
All test subjects not previously exposed to moderate-intensity memories have immediately expired.
Addendum 5920-A (Original Test Log Samples):
[OPEN TEST LOG]
[CLOSE TEST LOG]
Test Number: 14
Memory Donor: Janet York
Test Subject: D-71354
Psychological Evaluation Summary: D-71354 is a well-adjusted individual with few concerning proclivities. Despite spending several years in Foundation custody, she maintains a generally positive attitude, speaks frequently about hopes for the future, and is highly regarded by her peers.
Experiential Report:
"It's a fine sight. Waves, sun, everything you need. There's sand squishing between my toes. Sand falling through my fingers too. There's even sand in my swimsuit, but that's a small price to pay if there ever was one.
Now I'm laughing. That's not my voice, but I'm laughing anyway. Not my lips, but I'm smiling. It feels nice. The sun's as warm as I remember; maybe even warmer. I'm drinking too. The doctor said I shouldn't anymore, but one won't hurt. The girls say it'll do me good.
There's water between my toes now. My feet are wet, and my legs, and I'm diving under. Not sure if I know how to swim, but I'm managing fine. Reefs below, fish out front, and my friends all around. Everything's going to be fine."
Estimated Intensity Quotient (Retroactive): 25
Test Number: 15
Memory Donor: D-71354
Test Subject: D-89522
Psychological Evaluation Summary: D-89522 expresses the typical pessimistic outlook of D-Class personnel, but otherwise exhibits no concerning tendencies beyond persistent aquaphobia.
Experiential Report:
"No, wait, yeah, I know them. My friends. My friends are playing in the surf while I sit on a towel and drink. There’s nothing wrong with that. But, like, well, maybe there is something wrong. My breath catches when one of them slips in the water. It’s only ankle deep, but they might fall beneath anyway. They’re going to fall, and sink, and never come up again. I don’t want to be a wet blanket though.
One of them runs back out to talk to me. She’s dripping everywhere, but not on me. Thank god, not on me. She’s so happy though. She’s practically bubbling herself. We’re talking, and talking, and then she grabs my hand. It’s wet, but I can handle that. Wet and warm, at least. Warm and alive, for now.
She tugs me back toward the water. My heart’s racing, but I step in anyway. I try my hardest to laugh with them, even if it feels like I’m going to drown standing. That’s what it takes."
Estimated Intensity Quotient (Retroactive): 44
Test Number: 16
Memory Donor: D-89522
Test Subject: D-92001
Psychological Evaluation Summary: D-92001 exhibits antisocial behaviors and was previously convicted for a series of violent offenses.
Experiential Report:
"We’re all playing in the water. It’s a city pool, right? One of those big ones. There’re hundreds of us crammed in there. Nah, more like thousands. Heh. We’re ass to elbows, knees to faces. Just one big screaming mess of kids. I don’t even want to think of what’s in the water. Snot, and piss, and worse. Heh. Yeah, lots worse.
It’s a gross stew I keep dunking this one kid in. We’re all in the pot together, so it doesn’t matter much if one goes under for a bit. He’s struggling, but not enough. He’s whining, but it’s just wasting air. He’s blue when he comes up; I push him down again. Heh. Someone’s screaming at me. He’ll be fine though. We've all survived worse. I tell him that, but he just keeps screaming. He won't listen. He just won't fucking listen, so I keep pushing him under. He probably deserves it. Yeah. Definitely."
Estimated Intensity Quotient (Retroactive): 68
Addendum 5920-B (Project AURUM SILKWORM Initiation):
[OPEN DOCUMENT]
[CLOSE DOCUMENT]
Archived document:
To requisitioned personnel,
Under the authority of O5-3, Project AURUM SILKWORM has been established to examine practical applications of SCP-5920. Based on current analyses, refined memories hold great potential as therapeutic aids and memetic agents. Other applications are expected to arise in the course of research.
Although D-Class personnel were initially used to test involved procedures, MTF Alpha-1 personnel are henceforth to be employed due to their abundance of potent experiences, extant clearances, and relevance to long-term project goals. These goals include:
• Creating new media-based security mechanisms to replace aging memetic agents.
• Creating low-cost treatments to raise Foundation personnel's morale, efficiency, and loyalty.
• Improving the operational capacity of mobile task forces within cognitohazardous environments.
Additional details will be provided within our secure facilities.
Sincerely,
Adrianne Berryman, Project Lead
Maxwell Langford, Project Lead
Addendum 5920-C (Intermediary Test Log Samples):
[OPEN TEST LOG]
[CLOSE TEST LOG]
Test Number
Output Subject
Input Memory Tag
Output Memory Tag
Slant
Estimated Intensity Quotient
242
D-86411
ABT-512-777
ABT-512-776
Neutral
330
243
D-51558
ABT-512-776
ABS-512-774
Positive
350
244
D-28999
ABS-512-774
ABS-511-774
Positive
462
245
Pestle 1
ABS-511-774
ABS-406-733
Neutral
1,500
246
Pheasant
ABS-406-733
ABQ-405-722
Neutral
2,300
247
Candle
ABQ-405-722
ABQ-355-700
Negative
5,300
248
Cricket
ABQ-355-700
ABQ-353-698
Negative
13,800
249
Adder
ABQ-353-698
ABQ-349-665
Negative
21,000
Addendum 5920-D (Additional AURUM SILKWORM Directives):
[OPEN DOCUMENT]
[CLOSE DOCUMENT]
Archived document:
To all relevant personnel,
At the behest of O5-3, and in light of recent events, new objectives have been added to AURUM SILKWORM guidance documents:
• Assessing resistance to amnestics and memetic agents among test subjects.
• Developing procedures to inhibit these escalating resistances.
• Creating countermeasures to close resultant security gaps.
We are aware that this may prove difficult for many of you, but O5-3 has conveyed the importance of equipping the Overseer Council with tools to manage its closest ring of personnel. Swift progress is expected.
Sincerely,
Adrianne Berryman, Project Lead
Maxwell Langford, Project Lead
Addendum 5920-E (Recent Test Log Sample):
[OPEN TEST LOG]
[CLOSE TEST LOG]
Test Number
Output Subject
Input Memory Tag
Output Memory Tag
Slant
Estimated Intensity Quotient
850
Acorn
BQA-998-516
BQA-910-767
Negative
225,000
851
Opossum
BQA-910-767
BQC-710-441
Negative
250,500
852
Squid
BQF-710-441
BQF-661-300
Negative
280,700
853
Snail
BQF-661-300
BQF-513-013
Negative
300,300
Most Recent Entry :
Test Number: 854
Input Subjects: Acorn, Newt, Vole, Cradle, Opossum, Squid, Snail
Output Subject: Wren
Output Memory Tag: CZI-913-743
Output Subject Vocalizations:
"No, I don't feel anything.
Yeah, Langford, I see it. That doesn't mean I feel anything. There's a lot to take in at once, alright? Maybe people I haven't hurt yet? Or maybe people I'm going to hurt. They're screaming then dying. Screaming while dead. Something like that. I've got my knife, my pistol, and a hundred half-chewed hearts inside. My fingers slide through their eyes. My teeth are around their necks. The blood tastes like bleach, and I'm breathing it deep.
They hate me. Their children died in airstrikes, and their siblings sank into the sea. I'm on trial. I'm in prison. I'm buried ten stories deep. Someone drags me out of the ground anyway. Their hands are on my wrists, along my spine. There's a hotel room. I'm hanging upside down in the bathroom, bruised all over. Sewage drips from the shower. Something is leaking under the door, thick, black, and mewling. The bed is full of bodies; no, wait, there are only two, but I don't know which is mine. A dog is gnawing on my leg. Another is deep in my guts. It's got dad's face and mom's voice. A drill presses right against my forehead. It's spinning up, hot and loud. Breaking the skin. Pushing in. All I can hear are my breaths through her mouth.
No, nothing hurts. Don't you have biometrics? Nothing's wrong.
No, it's just like one of those magic eye things.
No, I feel fine."
Slant: Null
Estimated Intensity Quotient: 18,500,000
Footnotes
1 . During transition between test subject populations, a request was made by Alpha-1 OPCOM to use standard-issue pseudonyms in public records. Concessions were made due to unique cultural concerns within MTF Alpha-1.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5920 " by Pedantique, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5920 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 83 | ["_licensebox", "empathic", "media", "memory-affecting", "safe", "scp", "sensory"] | 2020-12-03T00:59:00 | 11,409 | 1,722 | SCP-5920 | Safe | All SCP-5920 units are to be contained within Suite 908A of Site-01 and managed through Project AURUM SILKWORM.
SCP-5920 test subjects shall be chosen from within MTF Alpha-1 ("Red Right Hand") according to depth of project-relevant experiences, particularly personnel management and information extraction. Participation in AURUM SILKWORM is to be codified as a requirement of MTF Alpha-1 membership.
Members of MTF Alpha-1 who have been exposed to memories with intensity quotients over 20,000 may not be assigned to Overseer Council security details. Such individuals are not to be permitted transfer to other positions within the Foundation or retirement from their posts. | SCP-5920 is a specific combination of technologies that identify, extract, and duplicate an individual's memories. Additionally, SCP-5920 converts extracted memories into audiovisual media that can be experienced by other parties through normal exposure. Although replicable within the Foundation, progenitor paratech guarantees anomalous classification until public technology makes similar advancements.
SCP-5920 units consist of three components:
A central terminal controls the process and stores extracted memories for processing.
An EEG headset analyzes cerebral activity and hosts micro-needles for insertion through thinner skull sections.
A chair equipped with full-body restraints ensures subject safety during high-intensity exposure.
Facilities for large-scale biological matter disposal are frequently used post hoc , but are not considered integral.
Serial use of SCP-5920 amplifies the qualities of extracted memories via filtration through ego constructs. Second-hand experiences are often more potent due to additional layers of psychological baggage, as are third-hand experiences, fourth-hand experiences, etc. As a result, individuals' experiences, preferences, and outlooks influence the qualities of filtered memories, which vary significantly in duration, emotional slant, and intensity. Observing the audiovisual output of high-concentration memories induces a variety of effects within the human body:
Intensity Quotient Range
Bodily Effects
0 - 300
None observed. Subjects typically report calming experiences.
300 - 4,000
Fluctuations in heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity depending on each memory's emotional slant. Broad worldviews may be shifted by repeated exposure.
4,000 - 20,000
Significant fluctuations in heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity depending on memory slant. Elevated risk of cardiac arrest, internal hemorrhaging, and general organ failure.
20,000+
All test subjects not previously exposed to moderate-intensity memories have immediately expired. | 5 | ## logy makes similar advancements.
SCP-5920 units consist of three components:
A central terminal controls the process and stores extracted memories for processing.
An EEG headset analyzes cerebral activity and hosts micro-needles for insertion through thinner skull sections.
A chair equipped with full-body restraints ensures subject safety during high-intensity exposure.
Facilities for large-scale biological matter disposal are frequently used post hoc , but are not considered integral.
Serial use of SCP-5920 amplifies the qualities of extracted memories via filtration through ego constructs. Second-hand experiences are often more potent due to additional layers of psychological baggage, as are third-hand experiences, fourth-hand experiences, etc. As a result, individuals' experiences, preferences, and outlooks influence the qualities of filtered memories, which vary significantly in duration, emotional slant, and intensity. Observing the audiovisual output of high-concentration memories induces a variety of effects within the human body:
Intensity Quotient Range
Bodily Effects
0 - 300
None observed. Subjects typically report calming experiences.
300 - 4,000
Fluctuations in heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity depending on each memory's emotional slant. Broad worldviews may be shifted by repeated exposure.
4,000 - 20,000
Significant fluctuations in heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity depending on memory slant. Elevated risk of cardiac arrest, internal hemorrhaging, and general organ failure.
20,000+
All test subjects not previously exposed to moderate-intensity memories have immediately expired.
---
## document
To requisitioned personnel,
Under the authority of O5-3, Project AURUM SILKWORM has been established to examine practical applications of SCP-5920. Based on current analyses, refined memories hold great potential as therapeutic aids and memetic agents. Other applications are expected to arise in the course of research.
Although D-Class personnel were initially used to test involved procedures, MTF Alpha-1 personnel are henceforth to be employed due to their abundance of potent experiences, extant clearances, and relevance to long-term project goals. These goals include:
• Creating new media-based security mechanisms to replace aging memetic agents.
• Creating low-cost treatments to raise Foundation personnel's morale, efficiency, and loyalty.
• Improving the operational capacity of mobile task forces within cognitohazardous environments.
Additional details will be provided within our secure facilities.
Sincerely,
Adrianne Berryman, Project Lead
Maxwell Langford, Project Lead
---
## Test Number
Output Subject
Input Memory Tag
Output Memory Tag
Slant
Estimated Intensity Quotient
242
D-86411
ABT-512-777
ABT-512-776
Neutral
330
243
D-51558
ABT-512-776
ABS-512-774
Positive
350
244
D-28999
ABS-512-774
ABS-511-774
Positive
462
245
Pestle 1
ABS-511-774
ABS-406-733
Neutral
1,500
246
Pheasant
ABS-406-733
ABQ-405-722
Neutral
2,300
247
Candle
ABQ-405-722
ABQ-355-700
Negative
5,300
248
Cricket
ABQ-355-700
ABQ-353-698
Negative
13,800
249
Adder
ABQ-353-698
ABQ-349-665
Negative
21,000
---
## document
To all relevant personnel,
At the behest of O5-3, and in light of recent events, new objectives have been added to AURUM SILKWORM guidance documents:
• Assessing resistance to amnestics and memetic agents among test subjects.
• Developing procedures to inhibit these escalating resistances.
• Creating countermeasures to close resultant security gaps.
We are aware that this may prove difficult for many of you, but O5-3 has conveyed the importance of equipping the Overseer Council with tools to manage its closest ring of personnel. Swift progress is expected.
Sincerely,
Adrianne Berryman, Project Lead
Maxwell Langford, Project Lead
---
## Test Number
Output Subject
Input Memory Tag
Output Memory Tag
Slant
Estimated Intensity Quotient
850
Acorn
BQA-998-516
BQA-910-767
Negative
225,000
851
Opossum
BQA-910-767
BQC-710-441
Negative
250,500
852
Squid
BQF-710-441
BQF-661-300
Negative
280,700
853
Snail
BQF-661-300
BQF-513-013
Negative
300,300
Most Recent Entry :
Test Number: 854
Input Subjects: Acorn, Newt, Vole, Cradle, Opossum, Squid, Snail
Output Subject: Wren
Output Memory Tag: CZI-913-743
Output Subject Vocalizations:
"No, I don't feel anything.
Yeah, Langford, I see it. That doesn't mean I feel anything. There's a lot to take in at once, alright? Maybe people I haven't hurt yet? Or maybe people I'm going to hurt. They're screaming then dying. Screaming while dead. Something like that. I've got my knife, my pistol, and a hundred half-chewed hearts inside. My fingers slide through their eyes. My teeth are around their necks. The blood tastes like bleach, and I'm breathing it deep.
They hate me. Their children died in airstrikes, and their siblings sank into the sea. I'm on trial. I'm in prison. I'm buried ten stories deep. Someone drags me out of the ground anyway. Their hands are on my wrists, along my spine. There's a hotel room. I'm hanging upside down in the bathroom, bruised all over. Sewage drips from the shower. Something is leaking under the door, thick, black, and mewling. The bed is full of bodies; no, wait, there are only two, but I don't know which is mine. A dog is gnawing on my leg. Another is deep in my guts. It's got dad's face and mom's voice. A drill presses right against my forehead. It's spinning up, hot and loud. Breaking the skin. Pushing in. All I can hear are my breaths through her mouth.
No, nothing hurts. Don't you have biometrics? Nothing's wrong.
No, it's just like one of those magic eye things.
No, I feel fine."
Slant: Null
Estimated Intensity Quotient: 18,500,000
Footnotes
1 . During transition between test subject populations, a request was made by Alpha-1 OPCOM to use standard-issue pseudonyms in public records. Concessions were made due to unique cultural concerns within MTF Alpha-1.
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" SCP-5920 " by Pedantique, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-5920 . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | |
kit-s-bloomin-adventure | Kit's Bloomin' Adventure - SCP Foundation | tale | ADULT CONTENT
This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers.
Sexual References: Features sexual themes or language, without the depiction of sexual acts.
Sexually Explicit: Description of sexual acts.
Sexual Assault: Features non-consensual sexual acts.
Gore: Depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts.
Child Abuse: Features severe mistreatment of children.
Self-Harm: Description of self-harm.
Suicide: Description of suicide.
Torture: Description of torture.
{$custom-content}
If you are above the age of 18+ and wish to read such content, then you may click Continue to view said content.
Continue
Back to Front Page
Kit found himself enjoying the brick wall in the alleyway as two large men with identical looks on their identical faces strolled past him. For a moment, he nuzzled his cheek against the wall, liking the way it felt so rough and sore and, if he tried enough, he would break his skin open – like a chrysalis. He would emerge from his human husk and become a beautiful butterfly, a thing that was above hanging out in dimly lit alleyways to get what they wanted.
Kit pressed his face into the wall and breathed hard before groaning out loud. He was wanting and withdrawing. He was up and down. He was sweaty, but cold. He felt like he could mug and stab someone, then break down and cry because how fucked up the world was.
This alleyway only led to more fucked-upness. He knew that. But he also knew his cure was down here. He finally pulled his face away from the wall, unbroken, just slightly scratched, and adjusted the sleeping bag under his arm. A woman walked past him, holding hands with something he couldn't see.
His hand tried to fumble for a knife slickly, subtly, but his hands were shaking and he was clumsy at the best of times. The folding knife was freed from his belt, but slid across the cement before he could correct himself and grab it.
A very tall man smoking a very small cigarette caught it under a heavily booted foot and sneered at Kit.
"You snatchin' for skop, skiet en donder?" The voice growled from a mouth trailing smoke.
"Nope, nope, no lock," Kit shook his head, not agreeing to any deal. Not that he was sure what the man was saying – the unique slang in this alleyway puzzled him, with its mix of English, London Patois, German, Afrikaans, and occasional Dutch. But never French. French was a weird language, in French, the numbers even got fucked up and -
Shit. He had chased a thought again. He needed his knife back. It would be unwise to transverse the seven kilometre alleyway unarmed. Although, unlike some, at least he actually had arms. And he had a stunker, a billy club, pressed against his ankle, but it would be an arse to get to if a scout found him. The knife, the knife would be easier.
With a heavy sigh, he searched his equally heavy head for the slang that the dark-coloured man would understand the best.
"The knife. Quote me the sun." He may have gotten that slightly wrong, but the man's thin eyes lit up. Literally. Like flashlights, focusing on Kit, who lifted his arm to protect his eyes.
"The sun…" His voice drawled over the term. "It is the stars I want." He teased the fact that Kit was obviously unused to the area, and still stumbling over their natural slang. His eyes scanned Kit and saw nothing that appealed to him in honesty. His lip curled in disgust at the fact Kit was more than a little dirty, and the brick-burn on his face did nothing for his unkempt beard.
"I could lose a piece of me to you," Kit murmured huskily, narrowing his eyes and taking a slightly wider stance. The man grimaced. He had seen far nicer at the Meat Market, and for far cheaper.
"Go piss, kitlet, you're not worth the shit on my shoe," the man growled, uninterested in what was in Kit's pants, unless it was…
"Jack me some Bloom," he ordered, his flashlight eyes now staring at Kit's sleeping bag so as not to blind him further. Kit felt his face burst into a grin. "Oh man! If only you knew, I already had a plan – I have a house on fire!" He said, proud of both his situation and his remembrance of the slang.
The man shrugged, not moved by Kit's sudden change in emotion. He finally moved his boot off the knife and picked it up in an unnaturally large hand, staring at it with slightly dimmed eyes. To him, it was barely worth keeping – blunt, and well worn, with something sticky on the handle and something rusty on the blade. But to Kit, it was clearly worth something.
"Then it's a graft," the man agreed, nodding. "Bloom for your persuasion."
Bloom was what Kit had been planning to get anyway. Bloom – Bloom was the cure. Bloom was the beautiful drug he had discovered amongst all others – Gloom, Twinkle, Enigma and Fluff all did nothing for him. But Bloom, Bloom, Bloom – oh, did she ever live up to her name. Kit could practically feel himself photosynthesising at the thought of how Bloom made him feel, and how Bloom would fix everything.
How Bloom would make him forget and help him sleep, and how he could follow a conversation, and follow his own thoughts, and, and… He'd done it again. Staring blankly at the man in front of him who was waiting for a reply, a guarantee. Kit's brain had been on another plane, thinking of flowers, and butterflies, and freedom.
Now he was back in piss-alley, and the tall man was looking rather impatient. His flashlight eyes had turned to red. A dull red, but a red none-the-less.
"It's a lock!" He agreed now, nodding sharply and spinning on his heel, hoping he wasn't running too late and that the alleyway wouldn't suddenly change its length or reveal new passages. It did that every now and again. Especially if someone was running late, or if someone innocent to its behaviour came along. The alleyway, even with its friendly bricks, liked to mess with its more human visitors.
So, Kit walked quickly, with purpose, like he had been here a hundred times before, when it was probably more like… more like less than the digits on his hands. If he stared too long at his hands, sometimes some of his fingers disappeared and it showed the exact number of times he had entered the alleyway with a desperate hunger – he wondered what would happen when he came here over ten times. Would he be granted more fingers? Could he keep them? He knew someone in the Meat Market who would be keen for spare fingers and would exchange it for Bloom or a blow.
But today, he didn't look at his hands. He balled them to fists at his sides, and tried not to mentally count his digits to assure they were all still there. His head filled with vague memories that Bloom pushed away – that guy, sitting, staring at him, questioningly, but curiously. At a bar, after an awkward introduction; at work, maybe? A strange, short time stalking him on social media, when Kit could access the internet. Then the kiss, the first kiss ever, tasting of a cocktail he was drinking but couldn't even remember the name of. Dammit.
The Bloom withdrawal may have sucked physically – Kit couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't stay warm, couldn't get cold, could fight the world and then burst into tears over a stray kitten – but mentally, it hurt more. It hurt more to remember him, in the doorway, standing there, being him. It hurt more to hear him again, in his memories.
"I'm sorry, Kit. This isn't working. You can't just… burst in here and graffiti on my walls. You can't burn experimental blue rice in the kitchen and, at the very least, not clean up after yourself. I didn't appreciate that time you set the toilet on fire. And I really didn't appreciate the time you pretended to be dead.
I can't do this, Kit. I love you, but… I don't need you."
Those words hurt a lot. The guy he thought was the love of his life, pointing out all his flaws in one deep breath. People here, this alleyway, he heard them calling him 'loskon' - someone with no emotional control, someone with their brain rattling with a thousand bad experiences and no filter on their anger or sadness or grief. That hurt, sometimes, but not as much as his partner saying, saying, saying… there was love, but there was no need. The amount of love didn't weigh up against the amount of crazy. Kit couldn't change what was him, and that sometimes hurt the most.
But, as Kit had discovered recently, the best way to get over somebody was to get into somebody else.
He found them waiting on the corner, like they had been the last several times he had ducked in. But this was the first time he had gone as far as to approach them. He put his sleeping bag down in the most dry corner he could find, but kept his backpack on, in case this turned out to be a mocker – he couldn't afford losing anything else to a conman. Or woman. Or some unidentified third gender.
He ran a hand through his hair, which didn't do much for the building grease, but made it look vaguely more tamed, and cleared his throat, forcing it into a husky purr.
"I caught speak that you wanted a boy-ya. You know what I'm jonseing for, right? Go on, quote me the sun… stars, shit, whatever."
He fucked up the last bit and lost whatever sex appeal he was trying to give. But they still turned to him regardless, head tilted, looking at the man on offer. Humans, they so rarely made it this far, and the being was rather thirsty. They were not entirely sure that this human would taste of much beyond salt and grass, but the chance to experiment with someone new was hard to turn down. Slowly, one eye pushed itself forward from the empty face, and opened wide to reveal a Magic 8 ball that simply said the word 'Yes'.
Kit was beyond pleased, but tried to keep his cool, to keep what he felt was a mysterious, alluring air, unaware that the being in front of him was just thirsty and curious enough to effectively humour the young grifter.
"Then it's a lock, knock, boss," Kit said, fist curled to gently knock himself on the head – an effective way to seal the deal when the creature you were dealing with had no hands to shake.
There were certainly no hands, but suddenly, there were a thousand tongues. Kit felt his dirty clothes pulled off by them, curling their muscles into tight, intense grips. His breath tightened in his chest, and for one lucid moment, he thought -
"This was the worst idea I've ever had."
But luckily enough for Kit, his lucid moments were fleeting, and the awareness of his naked form was just as quick. Or, what was left of his form , anyway. He felt like he was bobbing along in an ocean, a bundle of nerves; a jellyfish. The tongues were tracing him, and he could feel it shuddering throughout him, taking over the electric pangs of withdrawal. A gasp formed from a mouth that felt a million kilometres away – it could be a million kilometres away, it could be on someone else's face, it certainly didn't feel like it was on his own. His dick twitched from flaccid to curious, and his eyes stared blankly as suddenly his sight was robbed from him. Piss-alley was gone, and darkness welcomed him. A cold darkness, but the tongues, the thousands of tongues probing him and following his mismatched contours, they kept him warm.
The creature was tasting him. Testing him. Depriving him of his sight, his own static body, and leaving him naked and limp. Well, not so limp now. Kit felt a shudder drive up where his shoulders should be as a tongue licked along his spine. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. He couldn't be enjoying this. Dammit all, he refused to enjoy it! Kit bit his lip and tasted metal as his teeth became suddenly, inexplicably sharp, and the blood ran down his chin. His body was forming back. He was still a bundle of nerves, he was still on fire with sexual arousal and lust and a curiosity that disgusted him, but he was back in, or with, his body.
The tongues stopped in their licking, and Kit could suddenly see under the hood that had hidden the face before. There were orifices all over the otherwise blank face of the creature, and each seemed to have a different design – some were jagged like scars, others were perfect lines, and other more had lips of various textures and bodily variations. Kit felt like he swam forward to greet a sideways smile with his own lips, pressing close, exchanging tastes. Kit tasted like tobacco and blood and salt – the being exploring him tasted like petrichor, luck, and candyfloss.
As they tasted each other, Kit felt the world spin around them, splitting into a constant changing mass of colours - a kaleidoscope of every shade one could think of, and then some more. When their lips parted, their bodies flew through the air, slowly, smoothly – stuck together. Tongues held his legs against the formless figure, and Kit arched as something wet experimentally toyed with his lower back.
They were suddenly on a bench, a park bench, visually as far from piss-alley as they could possibly be, with the words 'tempus fugit' engraved on it. Time really did flee, in whatever realm they found themselves in – Kit felt like he had been here forever and five seconds, all at the same time.
Suddenly, he knew where he was.
He was inside the being. This was their realm. This was their brain, this was their sex drive, this was their version of sex. Whatever was beyond the hood, whatever he didn't see when distracted by all the lips, had pushed him inside this being in the most literal way possible.
"Shit," Kit exhaled, softly, staring at the park around them. Then he realised something else. This wasn't any old park. Minus the bench, this was the park where him and his first love had their first time. This thing really was testing him. Dragging him to a place he never wanted to be again, dragging him to the place where Bloom made him forget.
And then, the formless creature was bending down in front of his naked body. Their unique shape flickered, its outline changing colours from silver to red to purple. His favourite colour. How much was he inside the being – and how much was the being inside of him? Kit wanted to say no, that he had changed his mind, that even Bloom wouldn't fix this memory, but then the being took his curiously twitching dick into one of its many openings. The orifice was velvety and had a ribbed spot that his head brushed against. Other tongues worked their way into playing with his balls, with licking his thighs, with exploring what they could get to on his body.
Kit dug his hands into where the wobbling outline of the body would have had shoulders. Fuck, this was so great, but just over the bobbing head between his legs, he could see himself. He could see himself and he could see his first time. He could see them rolling on the picnic rug, knocking over the wine, staining the grass, laughing it off. He could see the exchange of nips and love bites, the marks of ownership.
Just as his first love sunk his teeth into other Kit's neck, the creature working on him suddenly bit down too – not hard, but with the pulsing sensitivity in his cock, it felt intense. It was teasing him. It was bringing his attention back to what was going on right then, even though it was the one that had brought him back to the past. Greedy bastard. It wanted it all, it seemed – attention, and inattention. Distraction, and focus. Just like with withdrawal, and tweaking out. Two sides of the same coin.
Kit was painfully aware of the sound and feel of his own pulsing heartbeat, and the sky changed its shade of blue very slightly on every beat. It was hard to concentrate on what the being was doing, when he couldn't tear his eyes away from a much better time in his life. The being withdrew from its job, and somewhere from its body came a mutter that sounded like, in tone, it could have been a curse. Then suddenly, the surroundings changed. The bench settled itself, with them in their same positions, in the middle of a room with walls that were a swirling mass of unknown shapes and random objects.
The being couldn't bare the taste of bitter things. And Kit's taste had been nothing but bitter when faced with his first time. Most humans had something like that – a bitterness, or a sadness, or a guilt, whenever they revisited their first time within its realm. But if they didn't, if they were at peace with their own self, then the taste was better than anything the being could have otherwise, and it would be satiated for days. It was worth the risk, but now the being set about getting the horrible taste out of its mouth in its blank canvas room of emotion-free colours and shapes.
Kit, meanwhile, felt like he was getting the best head he had ever had. His breathing caught and his neck jerked back. Sweat trickled down his neck. He had to focus, he had to get the words out.
"Lick my iliac crest," he found himself begging, his hands still digging into the spongy form that was the being. He wasn't even sure what the lilac crest was, but something was telling him with sharp pangs that this was what he needed. Was the being telling him what to say, and what to think, and what to need? Whatever it was, he felt like he was slowly losing a piece of himself, moment by moment, losing something every time he saw that head bob. He felt tired from the experience, even though his arousal won outright.
As one of the tongues gently worked its way along the sharp angle of Kit's hip bone, where the iliac crest lay, he felt all power to focus leave him, and all the blood leave his head. He was done, spent, quickly now. The being's throat worked quickly, achieving that final taste, the gold it had been digging for. Not so bad. Spicy. A little sour. It would work for a couple of days.
And then, they were back in the alleyway. Kit was dressed, though his fly was down, and he felt comfortable - relaxed. The being looked the same as it did before, despite the power now racing through its equivalent of veins. It had stolen what it needed from Kit, and now Kit needed his payment.
Before that could be offered, Kit took a breath. "I need a cigarette. Do you want one?"
The woman man thing moved its non-fully formed head towards him. It had many gaping orifices, but none of which could be called a mouth, and nothing inside that could be called lungs.
"Just me, then."
As Kit lit up and clumsily did his fly up, sprinkling ash on his groin, the multi-orificed being in front of him opened one of its many holes. This time, not taking, but giving. Kit's eyes lit up as at the purple, ribbed innards, and he reached inside to grab the packets laying temptingly inside.
"Thanks, boss," he murmured huskily, breathing smoke into where its face should be.
One lip on the creature's lower limb curled into a grimace of distaste as Kit turned, left the alleyway, left his sleeping bag, and fucked right off into his world of Bloom.
« And Then, Kit Slept | Hub | Kit's Brotherhood »
‡ Licensing / Citation
‡ Hide Licensing / Citation
Cite this page as:
" Kit's Bloomin' Adventure " by Zara Calico, from the SCP Wiki . Source: https://scpwiki.com/kit-s-bloomin-adventure . Licensed under CC BY-SA .
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component . To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide . | 37 | ["_adult", "_licensebox", "absurdism", "black-comedy", "bleak", "body-horror", "comedy", "creepypasta", "horror", "lgbtq", "otherworldly", "romance", "surrealism", "tale", "worldbuilding"] | 2017-07-30T17:57:00 | 19,208 | 3,486 | 0 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.