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close Info X ⚠️ Content warning: This article involves the death of children, dismemberment, impalement, vehicular accidents, and antisemitism. ⚠️ content warning JOINT MESSAGE FROM THE FOUNDATION AND THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION This document has been compiled from information traded under the Foundation-Unusual Incidents Unit Information Sharing Act of 2001. Item#: 8507 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo A segment of SCP-8507, collapsed. Taken 2017; photographer unknown. Special Containment Procedures: With the cooperation of the Unusual Incidents unit, Wunderpark has been purchased from the state of Missouri by Foundation front Specially Convivial Productions, under the guise of renovation and rebranding. SCP-8507 is to be disassembled. Description: SCP-8507 was the Wunder Coaster at Wunderpark, located in Janisse, Missouri. Composed primarily of wood, SCP-8507 spanned 607 meters in length and possessed a height of 61 meters, with a drop off of 50 meters at this highest point. Robert "Boss Coaster" Hoag, circa 1960s. SCP-8507's anomalous properties manifested as an abnormally high rate of incidents, injuries, and fatalities associated with it. The cause is currently unknown. Addendum 8507: Abridged Timeline of relevant SCP-8507 Events and relevant materials: Date Description 05 March, 1966 Robert Hoag, after getting the required funding from an anonymous beneficiary, begins construction of Wunderpark in Janisse, Missouri. Construction of SCP-8507 begins in tandem. 26 March, 1966 First incident related to SCP-8507 occurs when a nail gun malfunctions, impaling construction worker Samuel Otte's hand against a wooden beam. Otte is hospitalized, but perishes from tetanus 3 weeks later. Note: A letter found within Robert Hoag's desk in Wunderpark. The letter was unsent; inside were three $100 bills. To Mr. and Mrs. Otte, I want to offer you my sincerest condolences for your loss. As a father myself, the thought of losing a child is paralyzing to me. Samuel was immeasurably kind, full of life and wonder, and a dedicated worker to the very end. Please accept the money, enclosed within this envelope, to ensure that Samuel gets a proper burial. Sincerely, Robert B. Hoag 20 April, 1966 Samuel Otte is buried in the Janisse Cemetery. Robert Hoag and another unidentified man are witnessed in attendence. 21 April 1966 - 31 March 1971 Construction of Wunderpark and SCP-8507 continue. Workers report increasingly irritable and erratic behavior from Robert Hoag as the years go by, leading to resignations from 11 members of SCP-8507's crew. Despite these setbacks, however, Wunderpark is completed on time and under budget. 01 April 1971 Wunderpark opens to the public. Available attractions include SCP-8507, "the Wunderous Funhouse", "Madam Wunder's Spectacular Clownstraveganza", an unnamed ferris wheel, "Bobby's Bumper Cars", and 15 concession stands. Note: Excerpt of an interview with Andrea Murtaugh, one of the first riders of SCP-8507 on opening day, who was located via the use of newspaper archives and [REDACTED]. Murtaugh was interviewed under the guise of being for an episode of podcast "Strange Coaster Parables". The Wundercoaster? (laughs) Now, why do you want to ask me about that decrepit old piece of shit? … I see. You people sure don't skimp out on your research, do you? … Oh, don't you worry about me. My mind might be foggy in a few places now, but my memories that day are still as sharp as a tack. … It started with the queue leading up to the Wundercoaster. There was a tape, played over the loudspeakers, with "Madam Wunder" - the creepy bitch - greeting everyone and getting them excited for the coaster. Standard stuff, for the day. Until it happened. Something must have fucked up when the recording was done, because suddenly the only thing myself and the dozens of other kids in line could hear was something that sounded like it came straight out of Hell itself. The hiss of the tape became like the crackling of fire. I could swear I heard screaming from the loudspeakers, though it might have just been from the crowd…and myself. … Sorry, it's just…I can still hear that din in my mind sometimes, even all these decades later. Eventually, it stopped, and Hoag himself came up and apologized to all of us, saying that the tape must have gotten garbled. The thing was, though, even as a kid, I had a gut feeling he wasn't sincere. Like he was more worried about his perfect opening day being ruined than how terrified the kids in line were. However, we all did calm down eventually, as the prospect of going on a brand new roller coaster for the first time made us forget - even for a bit - all about what was assumed to be a technical error. My dad and I got lucky; we ended up in the very front of the first cart. It wasn't that great, in hindsight. The seats were uncomfortable, and the bar restraint was too tight against my stomach. But I didn't care, back then, because I had the privilege of getting the best view of the coaster. Too bad the Wundercoaster stalled before we even went up the first incline. … Oh, it only took them about twenty minutes for the operator to reset the ride. I could tell that Hoag was pissed beyond belief when we came back down. I could see him arguing heavily with another man wearing a hat, though I couldn't make out what they were saying. Thankfully, the second attempt went off without a hitch, and we got free popcorn and cotton candy to make up for the mess. Shame what happened to the coaster later. Especially a few years ago… [EXTRANEOUS DIALOGUE REMOVED] Note: Tape recovered from the office of Robert Hoag. Due to the decades of degradation, extensive audio reconstruction was required to fully ascertain its contents. "Madam Wunder": Hello, hello, hello, everybody! We are oh so excited to welcome you to Wunderpark's pride and joy, the eighth "wunder" of the world, the one! The only! Wundercoaster! Built by our good friend Mister Hoag with his own two hands, you can expect a super fun ride with lots of twists, turns, and most importantly— (Significant audio distortion follows; the rest of the tape is indiscernable.) 19 June 1973 A malfunction with one of SCP-8507's carts causes the restraint holding ten year old Tyler Dougall to release during SCP-8507's drop. This results in Dougall receiving a concussion, leading to them suffering from partial brain damage and a severe stutter. Note: Excerpt of interview conducted with Tyler Dougall in their assisted living residence, under the guise of being for an episode of "Strange Coaster Parables". Dougall was administered a Class-S mnestic to temporarily alleviate their symptoms. Yeah, I remember that day. I was so excited to ride the coaster that I ran ahead of my mom and got onto the first seat I could. It was exhil… fun. I never experienced anything like it before or s-since. The way it twisted and turned, the wind blowing against my face, how high we went up… But then, I felt the bar release right as we went to drop. I…I don't remember much after that. I woke up in the hospital to my parents arguing with Hoag, threatening to sue him to hell and back. But the guy didn't even seem bothered by it; he almost looked bored. Finally, he told them, "You can spend everythin' you have tryin' to sue me, which'll end with you penniless and payin' my lawyers' fees. Or you can shut up and accept this." He then handed them something, and they quieted down. I only found out later that it was a check for $100,000. I heard that they claimed it was just a malfunction with the bar, but I know better. I guess I should count myself lucky. At least I couldn't be there, in 2012… … Um, can you let me keep a bottle of that s-stuff you gave me? It feels nice, to be able to think clearly again… Post Scriptum: Mr. Dougall's request was denied, and they were administered class-E amnestics. 20 June 1973 - 11 July 1973 The bars on SCP-8507's carts are replaced with over-the-shoulder restraints. 20 March 1975 During a College Students' Night, James Collins becomes intoxicated and attempts to climb SCP-8507's tracks. Suddenly, SCP-8507's train activates, running over Collins and killing them instantly via dismemberment. SCP-8507 supports, 20 March 1975, following the recovery of James Collins' body parts. Note: Excerpt of file pertaining to 20 March 1975, recovered from the Janisse Police Department by the Unusual Incidents Unit. Case File #: 2003758 Disturbance at Wunderpark Call was made at 10:15 PM by a Jane Doe from a payphone near Wunderpark. Caller was hysterical, claiming that one of their friends had been ran over at the "Wundercoaster". Four officers were dispatched to Wunderpark at 10:30 PM, in order to corral witnesses and collect statements. All students corroborated Ms. Jane Doe's statements, specifically noting that the coaster seemed to run on its own, with the operator being nowhere in sight. Paramedics were called in order to collect the body parts of James Collins, which had fallen off of the roller coaster and onto the ground and supporting infrastructure. During collection, backup was requested, as paramedics on scene became ill due to body parts continuing to move post-mortem. 21 March 1975 Robert Hoag quietly pays a cumulative sum of $500,000 to witnesses of James Collins' death as well as his family. 04 May 1983 One of SCP-8507's trains stalls at the precipice of its drop, causing 12 passengers to be stuck for two hours. Note: Excerpts of collected statements by riders of the 04 May 1983 SCP-8507 incident, under the guise of being for an episode of "Strange Coaster Parables". Denzel Carver: …That bastard Hoag claimed it was some kinda mechanical error, when he offered to pay for my therapy, but I could tell that he was lyin' through his teeth. What kinda mechanical error takes more than two fuckin' hours to fix?! I swear, that piece of shit cared more about his precious coaster than us… … Summer Weiss: …The Fire Department should've came sooner! Do you know what it's like, being stuck 200 feet in the air, on a very windy day? With only thse flimsy shoulder restraints, that are cold and rattling against your body from the air being blown in your face? Never trusted those fuckers since…! … Rhys Wallace: …I swear on my mother's grave… After a point, the wind sounded less like wind, and more like someone…some thing was laughing at us… … Noel Melendez: …You know what's fucked? Even after all the bullshit, I was tempted to come back to Wunderpark, that day in 2012. I count it as a blessing every day that I didn't…Those poor people… 01 April 1990 Due to years of neglect, the support beams of SCP-8507 have rotted and become unstable, with no attempts to replace them. As a result, the beams of one of SCP-8507's sharp turns collapses in on itself, and - with no time to stop the ride - causes the running train to fall off, the restraints releasing through currently unknown means and ejecting all 15 passengers. All are killed near-instantly, with five more parkgoers - including three children - killed from being crushed by the falling carts. Note: Excerpts of newspapers detailing the events and aftermath of 01 April 1990, recovered from the archives of The Janisse Dispatch. Tragedy at Janisse's Wunderpark! 20 dead and numerous parkgoers injuried as the park's flagship "Wundercoaster" undergoes a devastating collapse. BY: SAUL OVARCO …The worst were the ones impaled clean through the rotted wooden beams, their eyes open and unblinking as their blood dripped down from the cracked supports onto the ground below… Robert "Boss Coaster" Hoag announces yearlong closure of Wunderpark! "I do this with a heart heavy with regret," claims amusement park owner BY: SARAH MCGRAW Class action lawsuit filed against Robert Hoag, Wunderpark, et al Plantiffs are looking for $10,000,000 in damages, according to filed documentation BY: NEIL THANES …The Plantiffs accuse Robert Hoag and Wundercoaster of deliberate negligence, manslaughter, irreperable psychological, emotional, and physical damage… 02 April 1990 - 14 January 1991 Reconstruction of SCP-8507 proceeds, even as Robert Hoag's court case goes on. Support beams are replaced and reinforced with steel, and rigorous safety compliance tests are performed on every train. 15 January 1991 The class action case against Robert Hoag is dismissed with prejudice, with the families of SCP-8507's victims having to pay for Hoag's legal fees. 01 April 1991 Wunderpark and SCP-8507 have a "Grand Reopening". Attendance is muted due to the accident and lawsuit still being cognizant in the Janisse public's eyes. 01 April 1996 Another incident with SCP-8507 occurs, with a wheel popping off of one of the carts and striking a parkgoer, severely injuring them. Operation of SCP-8507 is suspended for the rest of the day. Note: Excerpt of contemporary Parawatch post, recovered from the Unusual Incidents Unit's internet archive. sixsixsixflaggs 04/02/96 (TUE) 09:45:04 #06120107 For a roller coaster that isn't as well known, the Wundercoaster at Janisse, Missouri's Wunderpark might be one of the most cursed ones I've ever heard about. It doesn't seem like a year can't go by without someone losing their wallet, getting hurt, maimed, or dying on that thing. I was there yesterday, actually, when the coaster experienced yet another "malfunction". If you can call a wheel flying off and decking someone in the head a "malfunction". I'm surprised that Hoag can even keep this park running afloat, with all the payouts he's had to make over the decades. I'm sure this time won't be any different. You know what's a strange thing about this one, however? I was standing in line for the Wundercoaster, before it all went down, and when I looked to the side, I saw a man in a brimmed hat, watching the passing trains go by with some strange intent. The only time I saw him break eye contact with them was when that wheel popped off. I could've sworn he smiled when it happened. I don't know who it was, and he seemed to disappear into the crowd that gathered around the injured woman who'd been unfortunate enough to be in the wheel's trajectory. But I had a strange feeling about him… Circa 2000s Thanks to the adaptation of the internet, and wider access of information becoming available to all, more awareness is spread of SCP-8507's reputation, causing urban legends to proliferate about it. A marked decrease in attendance to Wunderpark is noted during this time period, though it is unknown if there is any correlation. Sampling of claims surrounding SCP-8507, with Foundation commentary attached. SCP-8507's incidents are caused by the vengeful spirit of Samuel Otte, taking revenge on Robert Hoag for his death. - False. The Department of Spiritual Affairs examined SCP-8507's site thoroughly and could find no trace of Otte's spirit residing within the premises. SCP-8507's incidents are due to the plot of land being built over a Niúachi burial ground. - False. This claim hinges on an outdated and stereotypical superstition; and regardless, there is no evidence to suggest that members of the Niúachi tribe ever resided in what's now Janisse, Missouri. SCP-8507's incidents have no supernatural cause at all, and are simply very unfortunate accidents. - False. The chances of all of these accidents having mundane causes is unrealistically high, as determined by the Analytics Department. 07 June, 2012 Despite the day's fogginess, SCP-8507 goes ahead with operation. At 12:00 PM, an SCP-8507 train disappears into the fog while ascending its peak, and returns empty. Panic and chaos ensues throughout the park, and the park is closed while staff attempt to ascertain the whereabouts of the passengers. 08 June, 2012 In the town of Chelsea, Missouri - 30 miles away from Janisse - a muddy, but still intact camcorder is recovered inside of a cornfield. The contents are never revealed to the public, being seized by the Unusual Incidents Unit. Note: Summary of the camera's conetns. Extraneous footage has been removed. <00:00:00> A young man, later identified as amusement park content creator Beck Horner, records himself in closeup, making an introduction for his Youtube channel. He claims his intent to attempt to smuggle the camera onto SCP-8507 and film the experience. <00:05:30> Horner removes his camera from its bag, as the cart he is situated in begins to move. The next two minutes of footage are incomprehensible and blurry, but the sounds of SCP-8507 turning and passengers cheerfully vocalizing can be heard. <00:07:45> The train begins ascending SCP-8507's peak. Horner adjusts his camera to point upwards, showing that the entirety of SCP-8507's highest point is obscured by fog. <00:08:13> The train enters the fog. Cheers by Horner and the other passengers turn into noises of confusion when they don't reach SCP-8507's drop. <00:08:25> The fog completely obscures the camera's view. <00:08:29> Horner and the other passengers begin to scream. <00:08:42> The sound of crackling fire abruptly comes in, clipping the camera's audio. <00:14:23> The passengers are still screaming; audio analysis confirms that Horner's screams are the loudest. <00:46:42> One by one, the screams of the passengers cease. <01:00:00> The distorted sound of the fire almost completely overwhelms any remaining audio. A thump, presumed to be from Horner's camera, is heard. <01:02:03> The fog and the sounds of fire abruptly cease. Visuals are restored, and show Horner's camera freefalling an estimated 1100 feet in the air. <01:05:17> The camera crash lands inside of the cornfield in Chelsea, Missouri. <02:47:05> Footsteps can be heard. The feet of a well-dressed man can be seen. <02:47:50> The man chuckles. The camera's battery runs out. 09 June 2012 Faced with public outcry, and unable to explain the circumstances of the 18 passengers' disappearance from SCP-8507, Robert Hoag announces the immediate and indefinite shuttering of Wunderpark. 20 June 2012 A social pariah facing innumerable lawsuits from the public, as well as the State of Missouri and the federal government, Robert Hoag passes away in his home at the age of 79. Present at his passing is his granddaughter, Bobbi Hoag. Note: During the end of the Foundation and the UIU's joint investigation, Bobbi Hoag was apprehended at her home in St. Louis, Missouri, and was brought to Site-ARCH for an interview. The last time I saw my Grandpa, he looked like he was already on the verge of death's door. Pale, gaunt, already losing weight from the stress…it was like he was more skeleton than man. My dad didn't really like talking about Grandpa, even before the worst of the incidents started happening. So seeing him in such a wreck… I almost pitied him. Almost. I tried making small talk with him, asking how he was doing, and he snapped at me, fire in his eyes. "How the fuck do you think I'm doin'?" he roared at me. He calmed down after a few moments, resting against his headboard and glowering at me. "Did you have more to say," he grumbled. "Or did you just come in here to waste what's left of my fuckin' time?" I, of course, asked him what he was talking about, and he just…stared at me. Stared at me like he was trying to look right through my body and into my soul. Finally, he just let out a sigh, and beckoned for me to come closer. He told me to pull out my phone, and record what he had to say, "for posterity", he told me. …I still have the recording, if you want it…. <RECORDING BEGINS> Robert Hoag: —The damn thing recordin', or not?! Bobbi Hoag: Yes, Grandpa… RH: Good, now sit your ass down and listen! (BH sits down, the sound of her chair creaking audible) RH: I was twenty four years old, Fresh-faced, with a master's in engineerin', and havin' a dream to make a name for myself in the rollercoaster business, like that Wynne fella in Texas. BH: Who's— RH: Shush! … Anyway, I pitched my idea to as many influential people as I could find, tryin' to drum up interest for the idea for my own theme park. But I just got laughed in the face by every single person I came to. They told me things like I was "too inexperienced", "didn't have the cash", "a fool to take on the likes of Disney and Wynne…" And it all got to me. Hard. I was driven to drink, in the dingiest bar I could find, when he approached me. He was a tall fella, and I couldn't see the top half of his face because of the shadow his brimmed hat gave. I could see, though, that he had a crooked nose, and an even more crooked smile. He had the gall to clap me on the shoulder, and drawl out, "Why so glum, chum?" Normally, I would've just slapped his hand away, but… (Silence on the recording for 10 seconds) BH: …Grandpa? RH: …I don't know why - maybe it was just the buzz the liquor was giving me - but I felt like I could trust this man. And so I broke down, dumping my woes onto this complete stranger, who just stood there silently the whole time. I looked up at him with bleary eyes, expecting him to dismiss it all. But his grin only grew wider. "Well, you're in luck, friend," he said. "I happen to be a man with certain…connections, and I can do much more than make your dream a reality. I can make it surpass your wildest expectations." I couldn't believe my ears. It sounded almost too good to be true. But I felt sobriety creep back up onto me, and I asked, "What's the catch?" The man just chuckled. "Nothing you have to worry about for many, many years," he reassured me. I shoulda seen that for the warning sign that it was, but I was drunker than a skunk and bein' told my dream could come true. He then pulled out a checkbook, and signed a check for a million dollars right there at the bar, slidin' it towards me. I only hesitated for a moment, to look at the signature - "Mr. Nick" - and then snatched it up. That wasn't the only thing "Nick" gave me. Soon, I had some of the best contracters, construction workers, and advertisers from the whole state workin' around the clock to help make "Wunderpark" a reality! Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. There was the death of Samuel Otte, but I managed to bounce back from it pretty quickly… Before I knew it, the park was open, and despite a few setbacks, things were goin' swimmingly. I had a successful local amusement park, a steady supply of income, and while I didn't have the nationwide fame I'd been wanting, I still made a name for himself in the local circles! But then… BH: The incidents? RH: …Yeah. There was that kid that got concussed, then the college student, then all those people getting stuck. I would always find myself in a panic every time it happened, wonderin' if this was the "catch" that "Nick" had told me about! But I'd managed to pay my way out of the troubles that came to me. And for the one time I couldn't, even with some of the best lawyers I could afford during that damned class action suit, I still managed to make my way out unscathed! …I could never prove it, of course. But I had a feeling that sunuvabitch played a part in getting me off the hook! …Then I had that dream… …The night before it happened… "Nick" and I were sittin' across from each other in armchairs, only a small table with cigars between the two of us. "The time to pay your debt is approaching, old chum," he told me, taking one of the cigars and lighting it with just a flick of his fingers, taking a few puffs from the damned thing so smoke would blow in my face. "You best prepare yourself." (Silence on the recording for 30 seconds) BH: …Grandpa? …Grand—? RH: I shoulda never trusted that fuckin' bastard. I knew, right then and there, "Nick" had been responsible for everything that'd soiled my beautiful coaster! That he'd been Jewin' me— BH: (Simultaneously) Grandpa, you can't say that— RH: — since day goddamn one! Every death, every injury, every hit to my bank account and reputation, it was all because of that bastard! I don't know who, or what, he really is, but he'll rue the day he fucked with—! (RH gasps) RH: He's here… BH: …Grandpa… There's no one there… RH: No no no no no no, please! I didn't mean it, Nick! S-stay back… I'm beggin' you, stay away from me—! BH: Grandpa… There's— RH: Stop! D-don't come any closer—! (The sounds of a body thumping against wood, the creaking of a mattress, a rattling gasp of air) <RECORDING ENDS> …My Grandpa was dead. I put my hand on his arm, and jerked away immediately after. It was cold as ice, like if the warmth had been completely sucked out from him. … Now, I don't believe in no devils, or whatever my Grandpa thinks he saw before he passed, Doctor. I think, personally, he was just trying to find a way to shift the blame on somebody else, even to the very end. But something had terrified him in those final moments, and I don't want to ever find out what it was… Post Scriptum: Bobbi Hoag was given a class-C amnestic and released back to the public. A file on Entity of Interest-8507 "Mr. Nick" was opened shortly thereafter. 21 June 2012 - 21 June 2017 Wunderpark and SCP-8507 languish in an abandoned state for five years, its plot of land seized by the Missouri government. It becomes a popular target for vandalizers and urban explorers over the years. No deaths or incidents have been recorded since. 22 June 2017 SCP-8507 and Wunderpark are seized by the Foundation after negotiations between it and the Missouri government - meditated by the Unusual Incidents Unit - come to pass. SCP-8507 has been deemed neutralized. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8507" by newnykacolaquantum, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8507. 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: coaster.jpg Name: Sous Le Monstre Author: Martin Dubé License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/martindubenet/15017658015 Filename: hoag.jpg Name: aa08 Author: Grudnick License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: https://flickr.com/photos/9716802@N02/2359041835 Note: Cropped and greyscaled Filename: collapsed.jpg Name: LincolnParkRollerCoaster.jpg Author: Thomas Byrne License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LincolnParkRollerCoaster.jpg Filename: uiu-foundation-joint.png Author: Newnykacolaquantum, Zhange, and Far2 License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 UIU logo was created by Zhange Foundation logo was created by Far2 coasterscream.mp3 was created by myself and aaleaf, with the addition of some public domain sounds edsscreamr.mp3 by scrbun — https://freesound(.)org/s/583402/ — License: Creative Commons 0 cassette tape hiss and ground hum no dolby nr.flac by kyles —https://freesound(.)org/people/kyles/sounds/452906/ - License: Creative Commons 0
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The views expressed by the author in this are not her own. They are a commentary. ⚠️ content warning Item #: SCP-8519 Special Containment Procedures: Full containment of SCP-8519 has currently been deemed impossible due to the essocognitive nature of GOI-4319. However, in attempts to slow membership of SCP-8519, a disinformation campaign has been launched throughout several social media and mainstream news outlets, calling out SCP-8519 for the mistreatment of its members. All captured instances of SCP-8519-A are to undergo weekly therapy sessions with a Site-414 psychologist. Description: SCP-8519 refers to a youth organization for girls developed by GOI-4319 (“Just Girly Things”) titled the “Sprinkle Scouts”. SCP-8519 has troops stationed all over the United States and Canada, although no set locations have been identified. However, members of SCP-8519 have been discovered by the Foundation. SCP-8519-A refers to the members of SCP-8519. SCP-8519-A instances have the capability to sell and produce cookies at an impossible rate for the average human. Exact numbers are unknown, but at the highest SCP-8519-A instances have sold up to 100 boxes of cookies a day, and produced up to 500 boxes of cookies a day. Cookies are produced by SCP-8519-A instances using standard ovens, baking materials, and ingredients. It is unknown how instances work at their current speeds. Leaders belonging to SCP-8519 will often use cognitohazardous materials in promotional material to anomalously compel subjects to join. Addendum-1: Website SCP-8519 was discovered when an SCP-8519 recruiting website for the group was posted online under the web address ‘www.sprinklescouts.██ The following is a collection of posts and web pages from the website. All memetic hazards have been removed. ₊˚⊹♡About Us!₊˚⊹♡ Welcome to the about us page of the Sprinkle Scouts! If you’re here, it’s because you believe you have a lot of work to do to become the best girly girl you can be! Here at the Sprinkle Scouts, we teach girls everything they need to become the perfect girl, including baking skills, home making skills, how to take care of their man, and everything in between! We make it our mission to make you the perfect little homemaker! Along with the above, we teach discipline with our cookie-making and selling initiative! :) If you’re interested in signing up or signing up someone you know, please follow this link!1:D ₊˚⊹♡Meet The Founder!₊˚⊹♡ Hello, I'm Rosalina Sparks! In 2006, Just Girly Things was created by the wonderful KeeLee Auburn! I joined JGT when I was only 13! Can you believe it? Ever since I was a kid, I believed in being the best girl I could be. I wanted to do something special for JGT, to repay all the wonderful things JGT has done for me. When I was older, it came to me. The perfect thing to help out. A youth group meant for young girls where they can learn how to be the perfect woman. My girly Ella suggested that I make it related to sweets, since who doesn't love sweets? With that, the Sprinkle Scouts were born! We figured that we could have girls sell cookies to make more money for the group so we can help provide for them even more! Amazing, right? I'm currently the troop leader for the top LA-based troop, along with my sister Elizabeth! We are graciously watched over by my husband, Robert, to make sure we don't mess up too much LOL! Please sign up today! Attempts to track down the SCP-8519 troop in Los Angeles along with Rosalina Sparks are currently underway. Addendum-2: Interviews During April of 2021, the Foundation contained 5 instances of SCP-8519-A from different locations around the country. The instances were interviewed and tested. The Foundation told the parents of the SCP-8519-A instances the girls were invited to a special summer camp for the Sprinkle Scouts. Foundation agents posed as camp counselors for the interviews. Both the girls and the parents were interviewed. Interviewed: SCP-8519-A-1 Interviewer: Researcher Sana Loo Researcher Loo: Hello, Rebecca. How are you today? SCP-8519-A-1: I’m doing good, ma’am. Can I get back to making cookies now? Researcher Loo: Soon. But first, can you remind me why it’s so important to make these cookies? SCP-8519-A-1: Yeah, of course ma'am! Troop leader Anisa always says we have to keep making as many cookies as possible so we can make happy as many people as possible! She says if I'm a good baker, my future husband will be so happy with me. People just get so happy when they eat their cookies and I love seeing more smiles on their faces! Researcher Loo: So you're making all of these cookies because you want to? SCP-8519-A-1: Uh, duh! It's what makes me happy. Researcher Loo sighs. Researcher Loo: Did somebody tell you that it will make you happy? Or did you figure it out on your own? SCP-8519-A-1: Well, troop leader Anisa did. She said that's what KeeLee says. And she was right! It makes me really happy that I'm already making myself the perfect woman. Researcher Loo: How old are you, Rebecca? SCP-8519-A-1: I’m 9, ma’am. Researcher Loo: Don’t you think it might be a bit early to be worrying about this kind of stuff? SCP-8519-A-1: Of course not! Troop leader Anisa- Researcher Loo: Rebecca, I’m asking what you think. SCP-8519-A-1: It’s never too early to worry about those kind of things! I want to already be prepared to make my future husband happy! Researcher Loo: So you decided that all on your own? SCP-8519-A-1: Yep! But I really think I should get back to making cookies. I haven’t made my first batch yet and if I don’t sell 300 by the end of the week I might get kicked out! Researcher Loo: I was talking to Anisa earlier. She said you don’t need to make cookies this week, and she’ll tell you when you need to. SCP-8519-A-1: What? But- I need to! I’ll never be happy if I don’t! If-if I don’t, then my future husband will hate me! Researcher Loo: He won’t. Missing one week won’t- SCP-8519-A-1: No! I can’t miss this week! You don’t understand! It- I mean nothing if I can’t serve cookies to people! I-I- Researcher Loo: Alright- tell you what. I’ll talk to her again and tell her how much you want to make cookies this week. Deal? SCP-8519-A-1 pauses. SCP-8519-A-1: Yes ma’am. That was very rude of me. I won’t raise my voice again. Researcher Loo: Don’t worry about it. You’re fine! Just sit tight, alright? SCP-8519-A-1: Yes ma’am. Interviewed: SCP-8519-A-1, SCP-8519-A-2 Interviewer: Researcher Sana Loo Note: Researcher Loo interviewed SCP-8519-A-1 and SCP-8519-A-2 after both had completed testing, both producing 600 cookies in 5 hours. Researcher Loo: Hey you two! You did great work today! Mind if I sit down with you two for a moment to talk to you together? SCP-8519-A-1: Of course, ma’am! But can it be quick? We need to make more cookies. SCP-8519-A-2: Yeah! We still haven’t made enough! My mom would be disappointed we only made 200 when working as a group. Researcher Loo: Why is that? SCP-8519-A-2: She says a good wife should be able to make 500 a day if that’s what her husband wants. Researcher Loo: Is that what your dad expects of her? SCP-8519-A-2: I don’t think so. He says he doesn’t understand the whole Sprinkle Scouts thing. He’s happy that I’m ’acting better’. He doesn’t even know what JGT is. Well, he knows, but not many details. He just knows it’s where my mom met all her friends. Researcher Loo: What does he think of her friends? SCP-8519-A-2: He doesn’t know a lot about them. Mom is kinda secretive about her friends. Researcher Loo: What about your parents, Rebecca? SCP-8519-A-1: My dad signed me up for the Sprinkle Scouts because he thought it might be good for me to have some girly influence in my life. I don’t have a mom. Researcher Loo: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well you girls are doing a great job right now. Why do you think you’re able to make so many cookies every day? SCP-8519-A-1: A lot of hard work. We want to follow in the footsteps of Rosalina! She’s happy and married with a daughter. Her daughter Molly is part of the troop in LA. I want to go there to meet her. She once produced 700 cookies in a day! Researcher Loo: Well me and the other counselors were talking about how you both are working so long so quickly. Do you think you're working too long on them? SCP-8519-A-2: Not at all ma'am. We're barely putting in nearly as much effort as we can. If we can make more cookies, why wouldn't we? Researcher Loo: Well we appreciate your effort sincerely. How about you two take a break to get something to eat? SCP-8519-A-1: But- we don't have time to eat! We haven't made our quota yet! Researcher Loo: Don't you think you will do better after eating? I think you will. SCP-8519-A-1: Well, I guess I’m supposed to listen to superiors. Okay! Interviewed: Calisa Rhodes, Bob Rhodes Interviewer: Researcher Sana Loo Note: Researcher Loo posed as a camp counselor to interview SCP-8519-A-2’s parents. Researcher Loo: Hey there! I’m camp counselor Lily! I wanted to talk to you about your daughter, Paulette. Tell me, how did she find the Sprinkle Scouts? I’m a new hire here so I’m just trying to learn a little more about the wonderful girls here! Calisa: Oh, my bestie Rala told me about it. She’s like, high school friends with Elizabeth, the sister of the founder. She signed up her daughter Annie, and said she’s been so much better! She has more friends, she’s more efficient, and much more obedient too! I thought that would be good for Paulette. She’s is also more obedient! She listens to everything Bob and I say haha. Bob: Yeah, she’s been great. It’s amazing the way she’s been making cookies. She barely even asks for things any more. She used to be so much brattier. Researcher Loo: Well I’m glad our group has been helpful! She’s had so much fun here at camp with the other girls! You know, it’s really great of you to decide upon this life path for your daughter! A very wise decision! Calisa: Oh, stop. We’ve always wanted what’s best for our daughter. Researcher Loo: Well Paulette has been such a joy at our camp. When did she join? Calisa: About 7 months ago! At first, she wasn’t quite as good at making cookies. She only made like, 30 boxes a day. Can you believe that? But her camp counselor Dollia assured me that she would get better through their lessons, and she did! Calisa laughs. Calisa: Well, did you just ask us here to ask us about her time here? What did you want to tell us about her? Researcher Loo: Oh nothing in particular. I just wanted to hear about her achievements from your end! Calisa: Understandable! She better be baking the right way, now! Calisa laughs again. Researcher Loo: Oh, she is! How much does she bake at home? Calisa: Oh, like a ton! She’s constantly baking those cookies! And if she’s not baking them, she’s selling them to people! One time she asked me for help, but I told her a good young lady is able to do things like baking without help! Researcher Loo: That is totally true! Calisa: I’m so proud of her and everything she’s accomplished. Researcher Loo: I am too! I Well, I think that covers everything. Thanks for your time today! Bob: Of course! Please keep taking care of our daughter! Researcher Loo: Will do! Interviewed: SCP-8519-A-3 Interviewer: Researcher Sana Loo Researcher Loo: Hello Marissa. SCP-8519-A-3: Hi. Researcher Loo: Are you alright? You seem kind of anxious. SCP-8519-A-3: I’m alright. I’m just kind of tired. SCP-8519-A-3 holds its hands together. Researcher Loo: You’re tired? SCP-8519-A-3: Mhm. Researcher Loo: And why are you tired? SCP-8519-A-3: I’ve been trying to keep up with the other girls. They keep telling me that I won’t be happy if I don’t make more cookies. Researcher Loo: Do you think it will make you happy? SCP-8519-A-3: … Researcher Loo: You can be honest with me. SCP-8519-A-3: Not really. I don’t see why I need to give other people cookies to be happy. Researcher Loo: What do you think will make you happy? SCP-8519-A-3: I don’t know. I used to think I just needed to love myself to be happy. Researcher Loo: But you don’t think that anymore? SCP-8519-A-3: I do. But I want to because I want to fit in with everyone else. Researcher Loo: So how long have you been with the Sprinkle Scouts? SCP-8519-A-3: Around two weeks. Researcher Loo: I see. SCP-8519-A-3: You aren’t going to kick me out, right? I’m still trying my hardest to make more cookies- Researcher Loo pauses for several seconds. Researcher Loo: Unfortunately, we are. SCP-8519-A-3: No- but I can- Researcher Loo: Marissa, can I tell you something? SCP-8519-A-3: Yeah? Researcher Loo: Actually- let me ask you something. What do you know about Just Girly Things? SCP-8519-A-3: Not much. My parents talk about how they don’t really like them. I just know they want to help me to try to be the best I can be. Researcher Loo: Alright. SCP-8519-A-3: Isn’t that what they do? Researcher Loo: : No. Marissa, if I'm being honest with you - Just Girly Things isn't about that. Do you know what brainwashing means? SCP-8519-A-3: Mhm. Researcher Loo: That's what they're trying to do to you. They don't want to help you - they want to take away what makes you, you and replace it with what they think you should be. SCP-8519-A-3: Oh. Researcher Loo: They're not good people. Most of the other Sprinkle Scouts I've talked to have already fallen victim to them. But I have a feeling you have been able to avoid it so far. SCP-8519-A-3: But- what am I going to do now? Researcher Loo: I'll be honest with you, I'm not a counselor for the Sprinkle Scouts. SCP-8519-A-3: I kinda had a feeling. Researcher Loo: I don't know. I don't think your parents can keep you safe under their care, and you certainly can't go under the influence of the Sprinkle Scouts. The people I'm with will take care of you for now - and we'll try to find you a safe home. SCP-8519-A-3: Am- am I going to be safe? Researcher Loo: Yes, you will. The Sprinkle Scouts won't be able to do anything to you - you'll still be able to do what you want, and be who you want. SCP-8519-A-3: You promise? Researcher Loo: I promise. Note from Researcher Loo: SCP-8519-A-3 very clearly is not under significant influence from JGT. I am organizing for her and all other former members of the Sprinkle Scouts to undergo therapy. I am furthermore prohibiting testing their cookie-making abilities or any actions which encourage the girls to make cookies/reinforce what JGT manipulated them to think. Let's try to see if we can get through to the other victims of JGT, too. Addendum-3: Incident 05/17/2021 On 05/12/2021, SCP foundation servers were down at Site-414, only one accessible screen being available on all devices for approximately one hour. The following is the message. ♡ Dear SCP Foundation, ♡ So I noticed you’re trying to take down the Sprinkle Scouts. You can keep the girls you have, especially Marissa. She was a disappointment. But I just wanted you to know something. You think taking away five girls is going to hurt us? We recruit 20 an hour. We’ve just got enough cookie money to build another headquarters. We’re doing fine without those girls, and will continue to do fine. You can’t take us down. Have fun with those five. But you can’t undo what I’ve started. -Rosalina ♡ Footnotes 1. This link has been decommissioned by the Foundation. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8519" by DianaBerry, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8519. 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: Cookies Name: Sweet Rainbow Sugar Cookies (4824572819).jpg Author: Pink Sherbet Photography License: Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sweet_Rainbow_Sugar_Cookies_(4824572819).jpg Filename: Girl1 Name: N/A Author: JillWellington License: CC0 Source Link: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-lying-down-on-the-phone-593134/ Note: Pixabay before January of 2019 is allowed according to the licensing team.
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SCP-8520
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esoteric-class
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EL-BAZ: You astronauts. They really went out of their way to ensure they got the smart ones, didn't they? Item#: 8520 Level6 Secondary Class: enochian Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: danger link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Information relating to SCP-8520 and its effects is to be limited to the O5 Council and approved researchers assigned to Project Huītzilōpōchtli.1 Embedded Foundation assets within NASA, ESA, CNSA, and other government space agencies with extraterrestrial exploration capacities are to monitor and frustrate future lunar exploration efforts. Information breaches of any nature are to be handled via Class-Ⴀ amnestics and disinformation campaigns as needed, as well as immediately reported to Overwatch Command for further investigation. Description: SCP-8520 is the collective delusion held by most of humanity that the Earth has a natural satellite in its orbit, known as the Moon. Although some individuals show some natural immunity to SCP-8520's effects, the vast majority of the population will be unable to perceive the actual nature of SCP-8520, no matter the length of observation or proximity to the area which the Moon is assumed to exist.2 The strength of this effect extended to the manned Apollo Lunar Missions of the twentieth century, as well as extended observations by astronauts aboard the International Space Station. SCP-8520-1 is the designation for the source of SCP-8520, a presumed entity of unknown reality bending abilities situated in orbit around Earth.3 The antimemetic abilities of SCP-8520-1 have prevented direct contact by the Foundation, but the events of the Apollo 11 Mission have confirmed its sentience and possible hostility towards humanity.4 See Addendum 8520.1 for further information. Hello. ADDENDUM 8520.1 - Confirmed Influence Breaches Date Event Additional Notes c.3000 BCE First documented influences of SCP-8520-1 Although common for pre-modern texts to describe psychosis as influenced by the Moon, scattered mentions of individuals displaying awareness of SCP-8520 have been discovered on various cuneiform writing tablets throughout modern day Iraq5. Each individual was noted to repeatedly insist that the moon had been replaced by a Maškim6 that they could see, resulting in extreme 'šimmu', or distress and ravings. 1518 CE Dancing Plague of Strasbourg Instance of probable mass hysteria during which roughly four hundred residents began to dance ceaselessly in the town center for several weeks, resulting in several deaths. Although several theories exist about why the behavior persisted as long as it did, diary and town chronicle evidence records that the first 'victim', one Frau Troffea stated 'that the moon told her she must dance, so dance she would with the hope it might no longer speak to her.' 1647 CE Selenographia, sive Lunae descriptio published by Johannes Hevelius. After the printing of the detailed map of the visible lunar surface, publishing houses in Gdańsk, Mainz, and London note the loss of dozens of type-setters to madness, resulting in institutionalization for 'raving lunacy' and 'overwhelming fear of the moon in its orbit.' 1919 CE A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes published by Robert Goddard Although considered the father of modern rocket science, Goddard avoided publicity regarding his theories about the ability of humans to achieve spaceflight due to concerns that criticism would draw away from innovation. Initial reactions to the text were mostly negative, causing Goddard to publish refutations to those who argued he was 'moon mad'. After his death in 1945, a document was found in his Roswell, NM laboratory which appeared to be a personal diary written during this time, which includes several apparent references to SCP-8520, including the statement that 'if they knew what I knew, they'd be trying to get away from the damned thing too.' 20 Jun 1969 CE Apollo 11 Mission First Direct Contact with SCP-8520. See Interview Log 8520.1. You've grown so much. INTERVIEW LOG 8520.1 [ Conducted by NASA Astro-geologist and Foundation asset FAROUK EL-BAZ after the conclusion of the Apollo 11 International Celebratory Tour at the request of Lunar Module Pilot and NASA Astronaut MICHAEL COLLINS. Recorded by EL-BAZ for Foundation records at Cape Canaveral, Florida (15 Nov 1969). ] EL-BAZ: It's good to see you, Mike. I admit, I assumed you would take some time off after making history and whatnot, but in hindsight that does seem rather foolish. COLLINS: Are you calling me a workaholic, Farouk? Because while that's fair, I won't deny it's slightly hurtful. [ The men share a chuckle while there is a sound of a door closing on the recording. ] EL-BAZ: But I confess, I was a little surprised at your request. If you'll pardon me for saying so, you sounded rather — well, less like yourself than usual. COLLINS: You don't need to beat around the bush, Farouk. I know what I sounded like. Paranoid, afraid — maybe a little crazy. And I know you're the one man who won't think that I am. EL-BAZ: I'm only concerned and wish to help, my friend. Whatever is on your mind clearly weighs there quite heavily. I admit, I'm not certain what I might be able to do to lighten it, but I am certain that I will do my best to help. COLLINS: I know that you will. That you can, I mean. You and your Foundation, right? [ There is a long pause on the recording, interrupted by the sound of a lighter. ] EL-BAZ: You astronauts. They really went out of their way to ensure they got the smart ones, didn't they? How long have you known? COLLINS: Long enough. For the record, it was an absolute fluke that I figured it out, overheard something you said, put it together with some other stories that got passed around Nellis back in the day.7 Had to have been — two years ago now, but anyway. Yeah, I put the pieces together about a few things, but it didn't change much in my overall calculations. You were here for the same reason we all were, at the end of the day. The curiosity, the adventure, discovery, all that and — well, I knew that I could trust you. So I said nothing. EL-BAZ: Until now. Which implies that something has changed? I certainly hope that it is not your trust in me. COLLINS: No. If there's anyone I can't trust, it's — [ COLLINS silently taps two of his fingers against his head. ] COLLINS: Something happened up there, but I'm guessing you figured that part out. EL-BAZ: I admit that I had gotten that bit, yes. Start at the beginning, Mike. You've likely also guessed that I'm recording this — COLLINS: I don't think that's a good idea, Farouk. But all right. If you people are able to handle what I think you are, I suppose — at any rate. The beginning. [ COLLINS can be heard taking a long drag off a cigarette before speaking again. ] COLLINS: I'd quit, you know. Back in '62, but after everything — anyway. It doesn't matter. The beginning. It happened during the forty-eight, second orbit.8 I admit, I felt something on the first orbit but there were other things to focus on and maybe I was just more effective at tuning it out. But I couldn't, not after that second time. I heard it, and it knew that I could. That maybe I was the first person it ever had known could. EL-BAZ: A voice? COLLINS: Not — not one that I could hear in a normal way, which I know sounds crazy but it wasn't something audible. I tried to record it on the later orbits, but no instruments in the CM caught anything. I can't describe it, Farouk. It — whatever it was — it knew me, knew that I could tell it was there, what it was doing — what it is doing. It — shit, it reminded me a lot of you, of all you scientists who tend to stick in the labs, you know? And it couldn't believe that I could understand it. EL-BAZ: What do you mean understand it, Michael? COLLINS: It wasn't speaking English, and I never could see it — with my eyes, if that makes sense. But every orbit, every time the silence fell on the CM I knew it better, could tell that what we've thought about the Moon, about our Earth, about everything is wrong, Farouk. The closer we get to thinking we know everything — we realize — we've got to realize — EL-BAZ: We can — we can pause, if you need to, Michael. I promise, we have time to work through this all. [ At this point in the interview, EL-BAZ reported that COLLINS had begun to shake involuntarily, and left eye now had a partial subconjunctival hemorrhage which had not been present at the start of the interview. ] COLLINS: Please. Just — let me get through this. We don't have time, I don't think. EL-BAZ: If you're sure. I've never seen you like this before, my friend. I just worry. COLLINS: But that's just it, Farouk. It's not like me. None of this is like me. I — I have lived my life as the practical one, the logical one. Hell, that's why they made me CMP, right? Because I had to be strong enough to get almost there, but stay above the surface so everyone else could get home. Be level-headed, rational, the whole nine yards. Because if I had no choice but to leave Buzz and Armstrong behind, I could do it if the mission required it, no matter how difficult. No matter the cost, I could get the job done. Because when it comes down to it, I could be counted on to stay the course. EL-BAZ: Mike — [ COLLINS continues, interrupting EL-BAZ with a strained, near-shouting voice. ] COLLINS: But this — this is something else. It's not that I'm afraid of it, Farouk. Remember that Twilight Zone, maybe the first one?9 They were so sure we'd just go crazy, when we got out there and there was nothing. But that wasn't the problem. That was never the problem. [ EL-BAZ reported that at this point, COLLINS put his face closer to his own. In the pupil of his left eye, a clear reflection of a half-moon was shining with unnatural luminosity. ] COLLINS: I'm running away from it because — I'm not afraid of it. I'm not at all and I should be. I should be running like hell, because I know. I know it's there, just out of sight. Asking me to let it in. And I can't because I know with that last bit of rational self I have left that I can't, even a bit. Because that would change everything, for everyone. And I can't, Farouk, even though I want to more than anything. I can't be the one who does. No one should! [ The sound of something being knocked off a desk can be heard on the recording. COLLINS continues, voice softer. ] COLLINS: Please. Please. I know you can make people forget. Forget and keep going like it never happened. Just — do whatever you have to do, but just make sure that you do it to yourself too. We can't risk it, Farouk. We can't risk letting it in. After the conclusion of this interview, Dr. El-Baz remanded Collins to Foundation custody where he was successfully treated with amnestics and released. Preemptive anti-cognitohazard training of all Apollo CMPs before successive missions to SCP-8520-1 appeared to prevent further anomalous contact, although several CMPs reported the sense of being 'watched' during their blackout phase of orbit, with varying levels of distress at the memories. Michael Collins exhibited no further anomalous behaviors, although he remained in close contact with Dr. El-Baz until the former's death. El-Baz noted that Collins would often call him "unprompted, out of the blue to ask me how my work was going." I've tried for so long. ADDENDUM - 8520.23 Following several incidents of unintentional crash landings on the lunar surface with rovers, rockets, and other astronomical experiments, Foundation internet analytics noted a significant increase in internet traffic to previously unknown information sites describing SCP-8520 and its poorly understood nature.10 Although remediation efforts removed the sites and site archives as quickly as possible, each event resulted in an estimated ~10,000 hits by unique users. Investigations at Alphabet, Cloudflare, and Amazon Web Services have yet to yield information about how these sites were created, hosted, or advertised to users. In early 2023, Dr. El-Baz received a voice message on his Foundation office phone, although both El-Baz and Site Dispatch noted that no call was received directly. The message was heavily distorted, primarily by a low-pitched, slow beating resembling something close to a heartbeat, but the voice of Collins could be heard repeating the phrases 'it is listening' and 'it no longer waits' before the message ended. Michael Collins had died of cancer two years prior, and had been buried at Arlington National Cemetery the day before El-Baz received this message.11 Show Footnotes Hide Footnotes Footnotes 1. SCP-8520 has been classified Enochian, as item cannot be contained due to its properties constituting an aspect of baseline reality. 2. Research indicates that roughly 0.002% of the population is immune to SCP-8520's effects, however the mechanisms (biological or otherwise) which cause the immunity are poorly understood at this time. 3. Varies during orbit from around 356,400 km (221,500 mi) at perigee to 406,700 km (252,700 mi) at apogee. All gravitational, tidal, and other natural effects attributed to lunar influence are caused by SCP-8520-1 in actuality. 4. It should be noted at this time that the only direct communication with SCP-8520-1 has been with the Command Module Pilots of the Apollo manned missions, with the exception of CMP Jack Swigert during the Apollo 13 mission. It is presumed that this was due to the electrical malfunction which necessitated the abortion of the lunar landing, thus eliminating the typical isolation period of the command module pilot. 5. Specifically the archaeological excavations at Ur, Nimrūd, and Nuzi. 6. Sumerian misfortune demon, believed to be always hiding just out of sight. 7. Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada, USA. Collins trained there as a fighter pilot in 1953. 8. After the lunar landing module Eagle descended towards its expected landing site in the Mare Tranquillitatis area with astronauts Neil Armstrong and Edwin 'Buzz' Aldrin, Collins remained behind in the Columbia command module which remained in orbit around SCP-8520-1. During each orbit the CM was out of radio contact with earth for 48 minutes. Collins orbited SCP-8520-1 a total of thirty times. 9. The pilot episode of the television serial The Twilight Zone, titled 'Where Is Everybody?' first aired on 2 Oct, 1959. The plot featured an astronaut undergoing extreme isolation testing and experiencing extreme hallucinations and mental distress, theoretically mimicking conditions on future missions. 10. This activity spiked to its highest points after the Chang'e 5 Mission (undertaken by the CNSA) and Luna-25 Mission (undertaken by Roscosmos). 11. Although cremated shortly after his death, the internment of his ashes had been delayed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. At last, you are ready. Diagraphephobia Anthology 2024 Automatonophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8520" by AriadnesThread, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8520. 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: Moon.jpg Author: the real Kam75 License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Moon_(6118589469).jpg
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SCP-8520
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uncontained
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EL-BAZ: You astronauts. They really went out of their way to ensure they got the smart ones, didn't they? Item#: 8520 Level6 Secondary Class: enochian Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: danger link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Information relating to SCP-8520 and its effects is to be limited to the O5 Council and approved researchers assigned to Project Huītzilōpōchtli.1 Embedded Foundation assets within NASA, ESA, CNSA, and other government space agencies with extraterrestrial exploration capacities are to monitor and frustrate future lunar exploration efforts. Information breaches of any nature are to be handled via Class-Ⴀ amnestics and disinformation campaigns as needed, as well as immediately reported to Overwatch Command for further investigation. Description: SCP-8520 is the collective delusion held by most of humanity that the Earth has a natural satellite in its orbit, known as the Moon. Although some individuals show some natural immunity to SCP-8520's effects, the vast majority of the population will be unable to perceive the actual nature of SCP-8520, no matter the length of observation or proximity to the area which the Moon is assumed to exist.2 The strength of this effect extended to the manned Apollo Lunar Missions of the twentieth century, as well as extended observations by astronauts aboard the International Space Station. SCP-8520-1 is the designation for the source of SCP-8520, a presumed entity of unknown reality bending abilities situated in orbit around Earth.3 The antimemetic abilities of SCP-8520-1 have prevented direct contact by the Foundation, but the events of the Apollo 11 Mission have confirmed its sentience and possible hostility towards humanity.4 See Addendum 8520.1 for further information. Hello. ADDENDUM 8520.1 - Confirmed Influence Breaches Date Event Additional Notes c.3000 BCE First documented influences of SCP-8520-1 Although common for pre-modern texts to describe psychosis as influenced by the Moon, scattered mentions of individuals displaying awareness of SCP-8520 have been discovered on various cuneiform writing tablets throughout modern day Iraq5. Each individual was noted to repeatedly insist that the moon had been replaced by a Maškim6 that they could see, resulting in extreme 'šimmu', or distress and ravings. 1518 CE Dancing Plague of Strasbourg Instance of probable mass hysteria during which roughly four hundred residents began to dance ceaselessly in the town center for several weeks, resulting in several deaths. Although several theories exist about why the behavior persisted as long as it did, diary and town chronicle evidence records that the first 'victim', one Frau Troffea stated 'that the moon told her she must dance, so dance she would with the hope it might no longer speak to her.' 1647 CE Selenographia, sive Lunae descriptio published by Johannes Hevelius. After the printing of the detailed map of the visible lunar surface, publishing houses in Gdańsk, Mainz, and London note the loss of dozens of type-setters to madness, resulting in institutionalization for 'raving lunacy' and 'overwhelming fear of the moon in its orbit.' 1919 CE A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes published by Robert Goddard Although considered the father of modern rocket science, Goddard avoided publicity regarding his theories about the ability of humans to achieve spaceflight due to concerns that criticism would draw away from innovation. Initial reactions to the text were mostly negative, causing Goddard to publish refutations to those who argued he was 'moon mad'. After his death in 1945, a document was found in his Roswell, NM laboratory which appeared to be a personal diary written during this time, which includes several apparent references to SCP-8520, including the statement that 'if they knew what I knew, they'd be trying to get away from the damned thing too.' 20 Jun 1969 CE Apollo 11 Mission First Direct Contact with SCP-8520. See Interview Log 8520.1. You've grown so much. INTERVIEW LOG 8520.1 [ Conducted by NASA Astro-geologist and Foundation asset FAROUK EL-BAZ after the conclusion of the Apollo 11 International Celebratory Tour at the request of Lunar Module Pilot and NASA Astronaut MICHAEL COLLINS. Recorded by EL-BAZ for Foundation records at Cape Canaveral, Florida (15 Nov 1969). ] EL-BAZ: It's good to see you, Mike. I admit, I assumed you would take some time off after making history and whatnot, but in hindsight that does seem rather foolish. COLLINS: Are you calling me a workaholic, Farouk? Because while that's fair, I won't deny it's slightly hurtful. [ The men share a chuckle while there is a sound of a door closing on the recording. ] EL-BAZ: But I confess, I was a little surprised at your request. If you'll pardon me for saying so, you sounded rather — well, less like yourself than usual. COLLINS: You don't need to beat around the bush, Farouk. I know what I sounded like. Paranoid, afraid — maybe a little crazy. And I know you're the one man who won't think that I am. EL-BAZ: I'm only concerned and wish to help, my friend. Whatever is on your mind clearly weighs there quite heavily. I admit, I'm not certain what I might be able to do to lighten it, but I am certain that I will do my best to help. COLLINS: I know that you will. That you can, I mean. You and your Foundation, right? [ There is a long pause on the recording, interrupted by the sound of a lighter. ] EL-BAZ: You astronauts. They really went out of their way to ensure they got the smart ones, didn't they? How long have you known? COLLINS: Long enough. For the record, it was an absolute fluke that I figured it out, overheard something you said, put it together with some other stories that got passed around Nellis back in the day.7 Had to have been — two years ago now, but anyway. Yeah, I put the pieces together about a few things, but it didn't change much in my overall calculations. You were here for the same reason we all were, at the end of the day. The curiosity, the adventure, discovery, all that and — well, I knew that I could trust you. So I said nothing. EL-BAZ: Until now. Which implies that something has changed? I certainly hope that it is not your trust in me. COLLINS: No. If there's anyone I can't trust, it's — [ COLLINS silently taps two of his fingers against his head. ] COLLINS: Something happened up there, but I'm guessing you figured that part out. EL-BAZ: I admit that I had gotten that bit, yes. Start at the beginning, Mike. You've likely also guessed that I'm recording this — COLLINS: I don't think that's a good idea, Farouk. But all right. If you people are able to handle what I think you are, I suppose — at any rate. The beginning. [ COLLINS can be heard taking a long drag off a cigarette before speaking again. ] COLLINS: I'd quit, you know. Back in '62, but after everything — anyway. It doesn't matter. The beginning. It happened during the forty-eight, second orbit.8 I admit, I felt something on the first orbit but there were other things to focus on and maybe I was just more effective at tuning it out. But I couldn't, not after that second time. I heard it, and it knew that I could. That maybe I was the first person it ever had known could. EL-BAZ: A voice? COLLINS: Not — not one that I could hear in a normal way, which I know sounds crazy but it wasn't something audible. I tried to record it on the later orbits, but no instruments in the CM caught anything. I can't describe it, Farouk. It — whatever it was — it knew me, knew that I could tell it was there, what it was doing — what it is doing. It — shit, it reminded me a lot of you, of all you scientists who tend to stick in the labs, you know? And it couldn't believe that I could understand it. EL-BAZ: What do you mean understand it, Michael? COLLINS: It wasn't speaking English, and I never could see it — with my eyes, if that makes sense. But every orbit, every time the silence fell on the CM I knew it better, could tell that what we've thought about the Moon, about our Earth, about everything is wrong, Farouk. The closer we get to thinking we know everything — we realize — we've got to realize — EL-BAZ: We can — we can pause, if you need to, Michael. I promise, we have time to work through this all. [ At this point in the interview, EL-BAZ reported that COLLINS had begun to shake involuntarily, and left eye now had a partial subconjunctival hemorrhage which had not been present at the start of the interview. ] COLLINS: Please. Just — let me get through this. We don't have time, I don't think. EL-BAZ: If you're sure. I've never seen you like this before, my friend. I just worry. COLLINS: But that's just it, Farouk. It's not like me. None of this is like me. I — I have lived my life as the practical one, the logical one. Hell, that's why they made me CMP, right? Because I had to be strong enough to get almost there, but stay above the surface so everyone else could get home. Be level-headed, rational, the whole nine yards. Because if I had no choice but to leave Buzz and Armstrong behind, I could do it if the mission required it, no matter how difficult. No matter the cost, I could get the job done. Because when it comes down to it, I could be counted on to stay the course. EL-BAZ: Mike — [ COLLINS continues, interrupting EL-BAZ with a strained, near-shouting voice. ] COLLINS: But this — this is something else. It's not that I'm afraid of it, Farouk. Remember that Twilight Zone, maybe the first one?9 They were so sure we'd just go crazy, when we got out there and there was nothing. But that wasn't the problem. That was never the problem. [ EL-BAZ reported that at this point, COLLINS put his face closer to his own. In the pupil of his left eye, a clear reflection of a half-moon was shining with unnatural luminosity. ] COLLINS: I'm running away from it because — I'm not afraid of it. I'm not at all and I should be. I should be running like hell, because I know. I know it's there, just out of sight. Asking me to let it in. And I can't because I know with that last bit of rational self I have left that I can't, even a bit. Because that would change everything, for everyone. And I can't, Farouk, even though I want to more than anything. I can't be the one who does. No one should! [ The sound of something being knocked off a desk can be heard on the recording. COLLINS continues, voice softer. ] COLLINS: Please. Please. I know you can make people forget. Forget and keep going like it never happened. Just — do whatever you have to do, but just make sure that you do it to yourself too. We can't risk it, Farouk. We can't risk letting it in. After the conclusion of this interview, Dr. El-Baz remanded Collins to Foundation custody where he was successfully treated with amnestics and released. Preemptive anti-cognitohazard training of all Apollo CMPs before successive missions to SCP-8520-1 appeared to prevent further anomalous contact, although several CMPs reported the sense of being 'watched' during their blackout phase of orbit, with varying levels of distress at the memories. Michael Collins exhibited no further anomalous behaviors, although he remained in close contact with Dr. El-Baz until the former's death. El-Baz noted that Collins would often call him "unprompted, out of the blue to ask me how my work was going." I've tried for so long. ADDENDUM - 8520.23 Following several incidents of unintentional crash landings on the lunar surface with rovers, rockets, and other astronomical experiments, Foundation internet analytics noted a significant increase in internet traffic to previously unknown information sites describing SCP-8520 and its poorly understood nature.10 Although remediation efforts removed the sites and site archives as quickly as possible, each event resulted in an estimated ~10,000 hits by unique users. Investigations at Alphabet, Cloudflare, and Amazon Web Services have yet to yield information about how these sites were created, hosted, or advertised to users. In early 2023, Dr. El-Baz received a voice message on his Foundation office phone, although both El-Baz and Site Dispatch noted that no call was received directly. The message was heavily distorted, primarily by a low-pitched, slow beating resembling something close to a heartbeat, but the voice of Collins could be heard repeating the phrases 'it is listening' and 'it no longer waits' before the message ended. Michael Collins had died of cancer two years prior, and had been buried at Arlington National Cemetery the day before El-Baz received this message.11 Show Footnotes Hide Footnotes Footnotes 1. SCP-8520 has been classified Enochian, as item cannot be contained due to its properties constituting an aspect of baseline reality. 2. Research indicates that roughly 0.002% of the population is immune to SCP-8520's effects, however the mechanisms (biological or otherwise) which cause the immunity are poorly understood at this time. 3. Varies during orbit from around 356,400 km (221,500 mi) at perigee to 406,700 km (252,700 mi) at apogee. All gravitational, tidal, and other natural effects attributed to lunar influence are caused by SCP-8520-1 in actuality. 4. It should be noted at this time that the only direct communication with SCP-8520-1 has been with the Command Module Pilots of the Apollo manned missions, with the exception of CMP Jack Swigert during the Apollo 13 mission. It is presumed that this was due to the electrical malfunction which necessitated the abortion of the lunar landing, thus eliminating the typical isolation period of the command module pilot. 5. Specifically the archaeological excavations at Ur, Nimrūd, and Nuzi. 6. Sumerian misfortune demon, believed to be always hiding just out of sight. 7. Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada, USA. Collins trained there as a fighter pilot in 1953. 8. After the lunar landing module Eagle descended towards its expected landing site in the Mare Tranquillitatis area with astronauts Neil Armstrong and Edwin 'Buzz' Aldrin, Collins remained behind in the Columbia command module which remained in orbit around SCP-8520-1. During each orbit the CM was out of radio contact with earth for 48 minutes. Collins orbited SCP-8520-1 a total of thirty times. 9. The pilot episode of the television serial The Twilight Zone, titled 'Where Is Everybody?' first aired on 2 Oct, 1959. The plot featured an astronaut undergoing extreme isolation testing and experiencing extreme hallucinations and mental distress, theoretically mimicking conditions on future missions. 10. This activity spiked to its highest points after the Chang'e 5 Mission (undertaken by the CNSA) and Luna-25 Mission (undertaken by Roscosmos). 11. Although cremated shortly after his death, the internment of his ashes had been delayed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. At last, you are ready. Diagraphephobia Anthology 2024 Automatonophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8520" by AriadnesThread, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8520. 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: Moon.jpg Author: the real Kam75 License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Moon_(6118589469).jpg
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SCP-8530
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euclid
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This bit down here controls the logo and subtitle changes. Is it cursed? Yes. Is it annoyingly effective? Also yes. :root { --lgurl: url(https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aad-abyssum-penumbra/tacttheo_{$division}.png); --header-subtitle: var(--{$division}); } by Ethagon NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION This file denotes one possible state of the city Maladh, as originally discovered. Information about Maladh after Incident-8530-G, as well as all other possible states of the city, are filed under Nx-53. CONFIDENTIAL Clearance 4/General - 2/Nexology Disinformation, Tactical Theology Site-107 S E K T N NA Unstable A5 A4 A3 A2 B5 B4 B3 B2 C5 C4 C3 C2 D5 D4 D3 D2 E5 E4 E3 E2 KETER AAA EEE Ȼ ? T Any_value Vedist I Vedist II Vedist III Vedist IV Vedist V Vedist VI SCP-8530 SCP-8530 approached during a mild sandstorm. Pictured is the skyscraper the Spiral (right) and the apartment complex the Moon (left). Special Containment Procedures: All exchange of SCP-8530 with the outside world is to be drastically reduced. Trains and airplanes leading to SCP-8530 are to be delayed or cancelled. References to SCP-8530 in media are to be kept to a minimum. Preparations are in place should the need arise to remove SCP-8530 from the public consciousness. These measures will be replaced with complete Containment Procedures as soon as investigations are finished. Description: SCP-8530 is the city Maladh (ملاذ) located in Egypt from the moment of its creation until Incident-8530-G. It was built by SCP-8530-A on top of a small desert village over the course of 10 years. It has transformed into a tourism hotspot famous for skyscrapers like the Spiral and the Moon next to projects like Maladh Center Mall, the largest cinema complex in Egypt and the Greenhouse Towers. The original village and its small population have since been entirely displaced. SCP-8530-A is Mirza Qadir, the founder and governor of SCP-8530. 90% of all businesses operating in SCP-8530 are directly affiliated with SCP-8530-A. SCP-8530 first came to the attention of the Foundation during a joint mission with the Global Occult Coalition and the Horizon Initiative in an effort to contain KTE-5503-Bice-Copernicus. In preparation for this containment effort, it was noted that neither the Foundation nor the Global Occult Coalition had any presence in the city at the time. A city the size of SCP-8530 would at minimum demand increased data surveillance and the localization of either three Level-0 or one Level-1 Informant. As no such action has taken place, malicious interference is suspected, necessitating a full analysis of SCP-8530. Meeting-8530-A Attendees: Agent Ellen O'Connor, Department of Analytics Agent Tess (Codename), Disinformation Bureau Director Heba Gomaa, Site-107 Captain Emmanuel Tirk, MTF-Eta-77 ("Spheres Within Spheres") Location: Site-107 Topic: Assessment of SCP-8530 Language: English Tess: Meeting begins. For the record, all information is given out in files as Site-107 currently lacks a functioning projector. Gomaa: Only because our budget is continuously– Tess: Don't interrupt me. Additionally, Captain Tirk has joined us to provide useful intel on KTE-5503. O'Connor: The Angel is in the city? Tirk: I would bet on it. Tess: We can move on to that later — first, the assessment of Analytics. O'Connor: Right. There's a high chance the whole city is anomalous. Gomaa: Hold on, all of it? O'Connor: That or something is messing with all the data we got. The logistics of Maladh don't make any sense. The roads can't transport all the water the city consumes, and its electrical bill is enough for a continent. Tess: Why has this not been noticed before? O'Connor: Because you can't notice it. The analyst looking at Maladh's power grid ended up with internally consistent numbers to anything she could find. Same for the water transportation. Even if I put two of them together, everything would match up. But the numbers change. [O'Connor throws files of an analysis repeated three times on the table. The numbers are censored. All files look vastly different.] O'Connor: Comparing numbers leads to the same effect. But I know my team. The methods change because the data changes. Tess: Meaning what? O'Connor: It means the logistics don't add up. It's like a kaleidoscope that is always right no matter where you look at the anomaly. Gomaa: Wait, is that it? The city is already an anomaly now? O'Connor: Of course. The fact that it bends logistics alone makes this an Analytics threat. Gomaa: I don't think that's– it could be a single actor that's causing this. O'Connor: If it was only the logistics that was wrong, sure. But we're also dealing with the Chaos Insurgency. Tess: (sighs) Is that why you came personally? Gomaa: (under her breath) Of course Analytics only shows up when it's their own chaos to deal with. O'Connor: Fiveteen different cells of the Insurgency have been discovered to operate in Maladh. Do any of you know what that means? [She throws more files at the table listing a bunch of organizations and what might connect them to the Insurgency: "your Car Insurance", the restaurant "Catering Isolated", or the "Causality Institute".] O'Connor: It means this will blow up. The Insurgency's precognition thrives best in chaotic situations. This many cells here are our metaphorical vultures circling a soon-to-be-dead animal. Gomaa: Are these names originally in English? O'Connor: Only the restaurant name is translated. The acronym doesn't show up in Arabic. Gomaa: Okay, but that really sounds more like a coincidence. O'Connor: The Insurgency is not the only GoI active here, as Tirk here can tell you. Tirk: (nods) KTE-5503 went off the radar for a while, but we managed to track it down to Maladh. It's here. We don't know why it's here, but we have a few guesses. It might be part of a fifthist migration, given that Hector Canvera, and countless sectless also made– O'Connor: (stands up) Did you say Canvera? Tirk: Yeah? Fifth-riches man, famous for– O'Connor: Hector Canvera left the planet in 2017. Tirk: What? No, we tracked him like all survivors of the fifthist deicide. [O'Connor shakes her head in thought.] Gomaa: Survivors? Tirk: Not in the literal sense. The death of the god, or whatever it was, that held Fifthism together caused a worldwide crisis of faith. Most sects didn't survive. Even the Fifth Church didn't. But you know how some are, just escaped faith, but they can't wait for the next hit of opium. Gomaa: (narrows eyes) Are you still talking about fifthism here? Tirk: Canvera and the angel are the opium. I think there was a smaller cult leader a bit ago who tried the same in Maladh. Gomaa: Did we have any measures in place to maybe help the people who just escaped from a cult? Tess: That was handled by the Bureau. And the majority of former Fifthists seem to have done fine on their own. [Gomaa sighs in exasperation.] O'Connor: Okay, we've got the Insurgency and a fifthist gathering with a soon-to-arrive impossible billionaire. There's a last faction missing from the picture. Tirk: Do you mean the Soiling Craft? Because of the water– O'Connor: No. They're not in Africa right now. Gomaa: The governor. O'Connor: (nods quickly) I have evidence that Mirza Qadir was connected to the Insurgency shortly before founding this city. Tirk: Great. O'Connor: (shakes her head adamantly) No, the Canvera thing still doesn't fit. Unless– Tirk: We got a bit offtrack, as far as the Fifthists are involved I need to add we're here for the Angel. I don't care about anything else, but that thing doesn't leave this city uncontained. O'Connor: Personal grudge? Tirk: That thing is a perversion of individuality. It turns you into a bizarro reflection of yourself. A reality bender wearing your face, everything made a mockery of your former self. O'Connor: (snaps fingers) Of course, give me the files, I think this could mean– Tess: You may speculate after this meeting. I believe we have gathered enough information. The activity of the city is far outside our tolerance level. Gomaa: That sounds like you want to go scorched earth on them. Tess: Of course. I would prefer to call Nu-7 in, but given the limited time, our currently deployed Task Forces should be sufficient. Gomaa: You can't. If you condemn the city, you condemn all the civilians with it. And if this is as much of a powder keg as you're making it out to be, then we absolutely cannot counter it with firepower. Tess: The procedure will be up to my MTF Captain Faez, as this operation falls under the Bureau. I believe that will be all. Meeting– Gomaa: (hard) And the bureau falls under me as long as we are in Egypt. Did you forget who of us is the Regional Director? [Tess's expression does not change as she turns to Gomaa.] Tess: Very well. Will precision strikes be agreeable? [Gomaa hesitates. She nods.] Tess: Meeting adjourned. Supplemental Material KTE-5503 KTE-5503 KTE-5503 is a deviant Empyrean entity that was summoned from the "Fifth World", the domain and part of the deceased Apex Pluripotent Entity Complex "Starfish". It appears as a mirror accompanied by five space-warping axes distributed around it. Its previous angelic duties consisted of the reflection of fifth light from the Starfish to believers of its various cults. Indestructible as is typical of Empyrean entities. Current motivations unknown. Deviance is confirmed as the death of its god made its duty impossible. Can be fed with reality anchors tuned to the Fifth World, though this is not recommended as it uses the eaten reality to turn people into reality benders. Information is shared between the Foundation, the Global Occult Coalition, and to a limited degree the Horizon Initiative to stop the threat posed by KTE-5503. GOC codeword used in all documentation for ease of communication. Operation Come and See is currently being devised as a temporary containment measure. Hector Canvera Hector Canvera PoI-11238 (Hector Canvera) is the fifth-richest man in the world and a former member of the now-defunct GoI-005 (Fifth Church). Despite that, it is unknown how aware he is of the larger fifthist phenomenon. He seems only to have a loose awareness of the anomalous and the Veils at large. Canvera was one of the less affected by the fifthist crisis of faith, leading his techno-cult to survive the crisis. It was still affected by the missing presence of the Starfish. Next to KTE-5503 and PoI-55031 (Pink Lighter) Canvera has become a beacon of hope among ex-fifthists who are not yet ready to give up their faith. The Moon The Moon is the flagship project of SCP-8530 and the only apartment complex in the world with no contact with the ground. The entirety of the building hovers more than 100 meters over a supermagnet that is constantly repulsing magnetic material in the building. Since its inauguration, none of the apartments in the Moon have been sold and it remained unoccupied until its fall. The Moon served as further indication of anomalous phenomenon in SCP-8530 as no mechanism exists that would protect the Moon from wind. Despite this, the Moon has remained exactly over the centre of the supermagnet. The lack of strong winds near the Moon is assumed to have been prevented by the logistical anomaly in SCP-8530. The Moon is surrounded by a roughly 300 meter dead zone in all directions. The city issues no warning when entering the zone, but it is indicated by the barren and broken concrete field as well as the increasingly dangerous attraction or repulsion of all magnetic material (including water and therefore humans). The extreme environmental impact had been well-hidden until the cessation of the logistical anomaly. Including the noticeable effect on all magnetic material in the city, the supermagnet's field disrupted bird flight patterns across the region. Considering the earthquakes experienced by SCP-8530, though more evidence is required, it is possible the magnet might have effected tectonic plates as well. Under non-anomalous circumstances keeping the Moon hovering would have required 30% of global electricity output. Audio-Log-8530-B While SCP-8530-B attributes the success of his city to his talent for planning logistics, most of the city's projects would not have been possible without the cheap workforce hidden away in the city. New workers, mostly from outside Egypt, get lured to the city with the promise of high salaries and stable jobs to be trapped in worker camps off the grid with little food and space provided and a fraction of the promised salary. Their work hours exceed the 8 hours per day allowed per Egyptian labour law. The difficulty in locating these camps as well as the opaqueness of their exact purpose has raised the possibility of anomalous activity instead of just illegal business practices. MTF Xi-13 "Sequere Nos" supported by Eta-77 "Spheres within Spheres" have been sent to investigate a worker camp after suspicious activity had been identified by a local contact. As the camp was covered in a minor sandstorm upon arrival, only the audio log has been included. Video Log available upon request. Command: Agent Tess Task Force: Captain Faez (Xi-13) 20 of the task force's 40 total members Captain Tirk (Eta-77) Apian Septimal Contact: Basem Hafez Noteworthy Equipment: Authority-Class Cognitohazard ID Badges, Foundation Standard Issue Stun Guns, Foundation Standard Issue Rifle Language: Arabic Foreword: To not arouse suspicion in the camp the two MTF teams and the contact have been split off to pass the checkpoint at separate times, posing as an undefined higher authority. Captain Tirk and the two Eta-77 agents are the last ones to arrive. Note: The contact is tuned in on a different frequency which has been separated from the main frequency and surrounding noises. <Begin Log> Command: Eta-77, be advised that GPS registers you all outside the city. Tirk: Spatial warping already? My Akiva Counter has also been swaying around the 55 mark. You can bet this is a fifthist worship place. Or a saint. Guard: ID. [Tirk can be heard getting something out of his pocket.] Guard: (surprised) Apologies, sir. Right this way. Tirk: Yeah, yeah. Keep this on the down-low. Guard: Of course, sir. [The car drives for a while. After a while it stops.] Faez: Took you long enough. Command, all agents ready. Command: Acknowledged. Tirk, how good did the meme take hold? Tirk: He seemed quite shaken. But we used it too many times for them not to get suspicious when the coghaz leaves their mind's eye. Hafez: Oh, what's a coghaz? Faez: That's classified. Hafez: Just a little bit? Faez: It's how we got in. Now, be quiet. Command: Copy that. You have half an hour. The GPS and the Akiva rating are enough confirmation. Extract the civilians and contain all hostiles. Faez: Copy. [Quiet footsteps can be heard spreading out.] Faez: The barracks are locked. Permission to enter? Command: Granted. [The team breaks open multiple doors.] Command: Contact? Faez: Nine workers, some asleep. I'd have expected no more than three with rooms like that. Xi-13 member: Are you kept here against your will? [Pause.] Xi-13 member: We're getting you out. Worker: You can't, we– they have our contracts. Xi-13 member: That won't matter soon enough. Now come. Command: Tirk, any changes in the rating? Tirk: None at all. It's been fixed at 55 since we arrived at the rendezvous point. Hafez: (overeager) Wow, that's a lot! How will you sneak all of them past the guards? Faez: Our way out will be a lot less quiet. They'll be safe in the cars. Lower your voice a bit, you scared the civilians. Hafez: Oh, sorry! (lowers voice) Still quite the impressive plan you have there. Faez: It's just standard silent takeover plus civilian extraction protocol. Xi-13 member: Captain, two armed guards are on the way here. Faez: Permission to use Amnestic Gas? Command: Denied, take them out silently. Faez: Copy. (to his team) You heard her. Hafez: You don't seem to like it though. Faez: Huh? Hafez: The protocol. Faez: One second. Faez: Hostiles dispatched, we'll leave them tied up in a barrack, we're running low on transport space. Command: Affirmative. Make sure to contain a subject of higher rank on your way out. [The team continues to evacuate civilians. There is next to no audible protest.] Xi-13 member: (mutters) It reeks in here. Worker: (panicked) Get out. Xi-13 member: What's wrong? Worker: She will see you. Xi-13 member: Who? Worker: (hushed) In the water, now go! Faez: We're getting closer to the gate. Permission to use Amnestic Gas? Command: Granted. Hafez: That was longer than a second. Faez: Sorry. Nothing against the protocol. It's good. Tirk: Apian, interrogate the civilian, we need to know what's wrong with the water. Apian: Copy. Hafez: I'm sensing a but. Faez: We're better than it. Just look at this. We could have gassed them out the entire time. Command: Tirk, have you measured the water? Tirk: No use. My version trades range for accuracy. The rating will stay the same no matter where I point it. Hafez: You'll have to elaborate on that. Faez: There's nothing they could do. Masks? We have versions that are virtually unfilterable. Hafez: Wouldn't that also become a problem for you? Faez: The Higher-Ups don't want us to realise this, but I'm not stupid. You can build up a resistance to anything. Task Forces especially. We would be maskless with the enemy and the enemy could do nothing against us. And no one but the Foundation has the resources to give us that resistance. Hafez: Oh, I like that idea. Faez: Thanks. Hafez: I really like that idea. Tirk: Faez, what are you doing back with the contact? Hafez: Let me steal that idea. [The release of gas can be heard. Multiple agents fall to the ground.] Tirk: Faez has been compromised by the contact, taking command. [Both Tirk and Faez can be heard taking something out.] [Command tunes out the secondary frequency.] Tirk: On the ground, now. [Faez is tackled by a teammate. Still the release of gas can be heard again. Behind it the rushing of water can barely be heard.] Hafez: I'll be honest, this sabotage wasn't my idea either. Now– Tirk: One more word and I'll shoot. [The rushing of water increases in volume.] Hafez: (snorts) You can't aim properly with the Moon in this city anyway, but you– Tirk: Oh, I promise you we're very good at adjusting. Now. stop. talking. [Hafez is silent.] Command: Tirk, there is some interference coming– [Water overtakes every other sound.] <Connection Lost> Command was eventually able to re-establish contact with Captain Tirk. An uptick in the traffic of SCP-8530 immediately following the events of Audio-Log-8530-A would go unnoticed until after Incident-8530-G. After-Action-Report-8530-B Language: Arabic Tirk: -might get contact again. Command: I can hear you. Status Report. Tirk: Hard to tell. We all made it out, I think. Civilians, we lost a bunch. Command: Understood. Return to base and give a proper report. Tirk: I'd advise against that. I can give you a report while we're moving. Command: Start with the water breakout. Tirk: The water was the source of the Akiva after all. Or one of them. Had to deal with two false saints in total if you count Mister Idea-stealer. The other one was… she was too far gone. The water stuck to her. It was full of stars. All of it. As were her eyes. Sea and stars. The fifthist signs couldn't be more obvious. So I gave the okay. Septimal shot her. Command: I will mark it on your record. Tirk: (snorts) You know the whole "only good mission without a shot" thing isn't official policy, right? Command: It is still heavily discouraged. Tirk: Whatever. Didn't think it would kill her anyway, not that I would have complained. Septimal took five shots. Then a sixth. Then a seventh. She blocked the last two. Command: Why? Tirk: Theological disalignment. We haven't figured out why yet, but seven was always a disrupting number for the cult. It would have weakened her if she was a proper fifthist saint, like she seemed to believe. Command: But she still took five hits. Tirk: She staggered at least. The bullets sank in until they hit blood. Then they just vanished. She seemed to mull something over before she and I quote 'expelled your offering from heaven'. I was already under cover when five of my bullets shot out of the water. Command: You had full cover from all water? Tirk: (laughs) It wasn't an attack. She just shot them out at random of her uh, probably a random region of space. No, the actual attack came a moment later. A wall of water that sucked in everything it touched. So we ran. Command: You fled the scene? Tirk: Of course not, we wanted to draw her away from the civilians. Only half-worked. One of our cars hit the water. Gone. Probably out there drowning in a wet vacuum of space. Command: Be specific about the events you're describing. Tirk: Oh, I meant that literally. Anyway, we did somewhat draw her attention. She stepped into the water and appeared in front of Apian. From what she said she was really confused on why we would run away from her 'blessing.' Command: What did she say? Tirk: I think we actually have a recording of that, hold on. Fifthist: (further away) There's a new light. In the starry sea… [A splash.] Fifthist: (directly next to the microphone) …It's everywhere. Apian: We've killed your god. Fifthist: Nono, it can't, there's light, why won't you see… [A crunch followed by a scream.] Tirk: That last bit was me breaking her left arm. Command: That stuck? Tirk: Yeah. I figured it was only the blood that shared the water-vanishing act. I figured right. It had the intended effect. She got more erratic. Throwing water at us without much aim. She even took longer to chase us per teleport. Command: Did you try again? Tirk: Not fully. I got a few jabs in, but she had her guard up. Anything further and I would have been in space. With reality bender, and adjacent, enemies you need to keep the element of surprise. Don't stick to what's working. The jabs only got through because she thought I would break her other arm. Command: What was your next vector of attack? Tirk: The one we had done the entire time. The chase only partly served to get her away from civilians. We just so happened to bring her through wherever Amnestic Gas had been dropped. Lots of it had faded by then, but those areas were far from safe. Eventually she got the memo that something was working on her. And she left. Command: Injuries in your team? Tirk: None. We're trained well. Xi-13 had it harder, going up against one of our own. They subdued Faez at some point. Being immune to Amnestic Gas doesn't make you untouchable. Apparently, Hafez asked for ideas how to get out and one of our agents told him to jump into the water. The false saint followed that instruction. Command: Clarify the term 'false saint' for me. Tirk: Fifthism is dead. And of the two I don't think Hafez even believed in any variation of it. Maybe Canvera's techno-cult, I guess. No, both of them have just been corrupted by the angel, turning their individuality inside-out as some grotesque version of self-validation. I don't think the water fifthist was fully there anymore. Just reduced to a desire for a false paradise. Reduced to her faith. Command: Carry on with your report. Tirk: Not that much else to say. Sure, the whole camp was aware of us now, but we'd dealt with anything anomalous. We made quick work of what defence remained. Anyone important has been captured, but I doubt you'll get anything out of them. This was just the quote-unquote living space for their workforce. They might have really just been normal builders for all those megaprojects like that stupid moon. Command: I'll take it the reason you do not want to return to base is the two escaped subjects? Tirk: Yeah. I managed to attach a tracker to the water teleporter with one of my jabs. She's not going anywhere. Command: Permission to pursue subject granted. <End Log> The tracker first sent a signal in a building belonging to "Crypto Financing Solutions" (حلول تمويل التشفير) before jumping to a hospital. As the tracker gave ample opportunity to easily contain PoI-97867 (Teleporting Fifthist) in her sleep, a higher priority was given to Crypto Financing Solutions. Preliminary investigation revealed a connection to Hector Canvera together with "Architectural Innovation Technologies" (AI Tech for short). The Greenhouse Towers "The Greenhouse Towers" was an ecological project to offset the city's carbon footprint. It was planned for the towers to make use of vertical farming in the towers' artificial weather conditions thereby reducing economical and ecological transportation costs of crops into Maladh. It is to be noted that transportation costs were slightly exaggerated in the conception stage. The Towers were additionally supposed to produce energy through biogas produced as a byproduct and solar panels using any excess light. While construction was finished, the towers never began to serve their farming purpose. The majority of the Towers stand empty, while a few were filled with exotic plantlife by SCP-8530-A. Following Incident-8530-G, the Greenhouse Towers are now used for their original purpose. After-Action-Report-8530-C Captain Faez was cleared of any remaining compulsions. He recalls neither the events under compulsion nor the idea he had shared with Hafez. All Amnestic Gas was taken away from the team as an additional precaution. The two MTFs were split to deal with both Crypto Financing Solutions and AI Tech simultaneously with 20 Xi-13 members each. Command: Agent Tess Task Force: Captain Faez (Xi-13) All 40 of the task force's members Captain Tirk (Eta-77) Apian Septimal Noteworthy Equipment: Authority-Class Cognitohazard ID Badges, Foundation Standard Issue Stun Guns, Foundation Standard Issue Rifle Language: Arabic Events summarized by Agent Tess The first anomaly became apparent directly after both teams discreetly entered their respective buildings. The location we picked up was the same for both teams. I ordered them to regroup before any further action was to be taken and they did. The building was swept without much interference. Only non-combatants were present at this point. We can assume PoI-97867 (Teleporting Fifthist) warned any person of import of our presence before our arrival. An effort was made by a subgroup of the workface to resist containment. This effort consisted of an attempt to weaponize monitors to display fifthists cognitohazards as well as tactics expected of non-cooperative civilians. As expected these efforts proved to be no hindrance to total containment. I expect no negative consequences, but cognitohazardous screening and decontamination will be added to the post-mission operation as is protocol. The encountered workforce can be divided into two groups. The first can be characterized as subjects under the "idea-stealing" effect of PoI-20417 (Basem Hafez), working to implement their stolen ideas for one of the two investigated businesses. Very few individuals in this group resisted containment efforts. Post-mission these will be reintegrated into society. The second group consists of followers of PoI-11238 (Hector Canvera) and appears to have voluntarily participated in the business. Given the usage of cognitohazards this group will need to be screened for further anomalies and subjected to full deprogramming before reintegrating into society is possible. The Regional Director wanted me to note that unlike the first group this one consisted entirely of Americans. Recovered data suggests 80% of the fled persons of import were likewise American. The recovered data was useful. Despite existing in the same space, the first group was oblivious to the spatial anomaly. Both companies were for the most part working contracts for the city, being responsible for some of the planning that went into the city's various megaprojects. I can therefore confirm none of the projects are in themselves anomalous. This becomes a harder distinction to make for future projects which seem to verge into the more esoteric. These plans verge into the nonsensical. Expert Interpreters are required to analyse this data. The team additionally recovered data regarding a cryptocurrency-related scheme designed for Canvera to use. Unfortunately some data was damaged in the last third of the mission, but I am confident the Department of Analytics will find a usecase for the information. This damage was incured by the only major complication of the mission. PoI-97867 entered the facility. The arm Captain Tirk broke was in a plaster cast, though Agent Septimal was the only one able to spot her. Instead of the direct confrontation of last time she kept her distance from the team and only engaged our MTF unit via her water-manipulating anomaly. The ensuing fight caused the damage of the recovered data. Similar to her last appearance, PoI-97867 did not use her anomaly optimally for combat purposes. Captain Faez and Tirk formed a plan. Tirk would distract the PoI while Xi-13 would locate the Fifthist and contain her before she could teleport. Tirk interrogated her on her beliefs and asked how she could align her work with the crisis of faith felt by all fifthists. PoI-97867 seems to escape this contradiction by believing all 'good fifthists' to have already reached heaven, her job simply being to get all the stragglers in. Tirk accused her of being fooled by KTE-5503 and demanded her to reveal its location. PoI-97867 was delighted by this response and began to enclose Captain Tirk in water. To stop this effort, Xi-13 revealed itself too early and shot at the PoI. Unfortunately, the PoI was able to escape, together with Tirk. I will note that Tirk did not resist his enclosure in water. The tracker of the PoI is still active, but we have lost the signal of Captain Tirk. Barring any signs of life I will declare him MIA at the end of the day. Concurrently with the above mission the Foundation was contacted by the Global Occult Coalition under the mantle of the two organizations shared efforts against KTE-5503. A meeting was started while the Task Forces where still combing through the remaining intact data. Meeting-8530-D Attendees: Agent Ellen O'Connor, Department of Analytics Agent Tess (Codename), Disinformation Bureau Director Heba Gomaa, Site-107 Location: Site-107 Topic: GOC Involvement Language: English Tess: Meeting begins. Purpose is constructing a response to a request by the Global Occult Coalition to enter the city for their own operation. Gomaa: (nervous) What do they want in the city? O'Connor: Just like us they also had no presence in the city prior to the angel incident. Curiosity about that fact alone would be enough justification. Though I bet they found out that Qadir is anomalous and are pissed there's an anomalous-enhanced city not under their control. Tess: That is correct. I have a relevant segment of our conversation. GOC Contact: That brings me to KTE-5503. Tess: We could not yet locate it, but we have encountered some of its followers. GOC Contact: If it is too much you can still let us do that part. Assess where it's at emotionally and if it can't be talked to, well, we did find a method that might actually destroy this particular angel. Classic Talk or Lead. Tess: There is no need to discuss this again. We both know killing an angel is impossible. Operation Come and See— GOC Contact: Won't be ready before you encounter it. So what will you do? Tess: We agree KTE-5503 needs to be assessed. All evidence suggests that it is comfortable in its current situation. If this proves to be true all we need to do is contain its damage to this area and stall it until Come and See is ready. GOC Contact: Stalling. (snorts) Best description for containment I've heard yet. Tess: We have an agreement. GOC Contact: That we have. You focus on the angel, but we get the governor. Tess: What do you intend to do with Qadir? GOC Contact: Make sure this city complies with UN regulations. Just a talk. Tess: Classic Talk or Lead? GOC Contact: There's nothing to worry about, we put Demomancers on the job. This isn't our first rodeo. We've eased a lot of government aparatus with a missing head into their new state in the past. The magic helps. Tess: So there is a lead. GOC Contact: The process works. Plenty of times it went even unnoticed by you. Do we have a deal? Tess: This decision is not up to me, I will convene with the Regional Director. Tess: For reference as this is outside expected Foundation knowledge: Demomancers are Thaumaturges specialized in occult arts targeting Democracy and people on a large scale. Gomaa: Could you ask them to refrain? Tess: I could. But I have no authority over Coalition forces and am therefore unable to force them to comply. [Pause.] Tess: What would be a good reason for them to refrain? Gomaa: They'd just make the situation more complicated. We've already seen how much activity we've caused in the city with our two operations. I don't think confronting the governor directly would be a good idea at this stage. Tess: The Coalition has assured us they would deal with the governor in silence and are prepared for all outcomes of the ultimatum. The city will only feel the repercussions in the coming months. O'Connor: Honestly might be for the best if we let the GOC deal with the governor while we focus elsewhere. Did they tell you what his anomaly is? Tess: (nods) It has been agreed to share most information regarding SCP-8530 and KTE-5503 between our two organizations. The Demomancers were able to pinpoint the governor as the source of the logistics anomaly you found. [O'Connor runs to Tess and looks at the files in front of her.] Gomaa: A logistics bender? How much of the city does he– O'Connor: All of it. (staggers back) The electricity, the traffic, the flow of money. It all goes through him. That's how he was able to build his paradise right under our nose. Tess: Return to your seat. O'Connor: (pacing around) This fits into the scheme of the angel's other victims. The ability to bend reality geared towards fulfilling your desires. But when would he… Tess: We are drifting off the topic at hand. [Tess's phone starts to vibrate.] Tess: Apologies. [Tess takes the call.] [REDACTED — Δ/GENERAL CLEARANCE REQUIRED] [ACCESS GRANTED] Delta-T Caller: This is the Temporal Anomalies Department. Am I speaking with Agent Tess during a meeting regarding SCP-8530? Tess: Yes. How can I help you? Delta-T Caller: Please put me on speaker. [Tess clicks a button on her phone.] Delta-T Caller: Can any one of you tell me your current year? Gomaa: It's–, it's uh… [Gomaa widens her eyes in shock.] O'Connor: (mumbles) There's past events that I know of, but no that, it doesn't fit. Why doesn't it fit? Delta-T Caller: (aside) See Gray? I told you they wouldn't know. (to the phone) Alright, thank you. We won't bother you further. [ACCESS GRANTED] [The caller hangs up.] [The group is stunned.] Tess: I… don't think I can forward this information to the Coalition. O'Connor: (shakes herself) But it helps me. It means I can reduce constraints. Here's the timeline of events for this city: First we have the angel incident. There is evidence for both the angel and Qadir to have been with the Insurgency following this incident. I can now conclude the angel corrupted Qadir during that time. Then they both came here to build this city. That was 10 years ago. Gomaa: But how did the call help you? O'Connor: The angel incident only started because someone planned the incident in this city. Gomaa: Oh. O'Connor: Yeah. Tess: These are all important revelations, but we still have a response to draft. O'Connor: I say let them. No way can we let this city run if there is anomalous distortion to this degree. Gomaa: We need to evacuate the civilians. As many as we can. Tess: (nods) We'll use the train method. Gomaa: The one that compels you to join the ride? Tess: It is the fastest method. Is that all? O'Connor: (snaps) Oh! We have a new place for our MTF buddies to check out. It could be a faint, you never know with the Insurgency, but given the call, I bet the Causality Institute might be worth a visit. Tess: I will let them know. Meeting adjourned. Maladh Center Mall (مول ملاذ سنتر) Close to the centre of the city, Maladh Center Mall is the only mall in the world where shopping is possible without leaving the car. All shops in the Mall have a pedestrian and a car opening. The car opening functions as an extra lane where employees of the shop give you requested products. The system was modeled after fast food drive-throughs. Pedestrian entry is possible and easiest to achieve by entering the mall by car and using its underground car park. Without a car and without ignoring traffic laws pedestrian entry is also possible, but there is no point in the city where this takes less time than arriving in the mall via train. While this went unnoticed at the time, the Maladh Center Mall saw a sharp increase in activity following the events of Audio-Log-8530-B. Video-Transcript-8530-E Command: Agent Tess Task Force: Captain Faez (Xi-13) All 40 of the task force's members 2 members of Eta-77 Noteworthy Equipment: Authority-Class Cognitohazard ID Badges, Foundation Standard Issue Stun Guns, Foundation Standard Issue Rifle Language: Arabic Faez: Do we have everything? Xi-13 member: Yes. Faez: Alright, let's move on. Unknown: I would advise against that. [A man dressed in a suit comes in, his hands resting over each other. His right hand wears a red glove.] [The team trains their guns on him.] Faez: Hands where I can see them. Unknown: I believe you can see my hands. I much prefer this position. Faez: Hands up. Now! Unknown: Alright. No talking. [The man rips off the red glove. In the same moment the projectile of a stun gun hits him. The man goes down. His right hand twitches.] Faez: Alright. Let's clean this up and we're out. [Three Xi-13 members draw near the collapsed man. Two keep their guns raised while the third takes out handcuffs. The right hand twitches stronger before it reaches directly into the third member. He's shot in arm and leg, this time with proper bullets, but it does not prevent him from pulling himself up at the agents spine.] [Faez shoots him in the head. The man turns into a standing corpse.] Faez: Switch back to stun. [The corpse gets pulled along as the now halfway-blood covered right hand shoots towards the first and second agent near the corpse with pinpoint accuracy. More stun projectiles hit, but they do little more than make the corpse convulse. Three agents down.] Faez: Fall back, keep shooting. [A direct hit on the hand is regenerated away immediately. Life slowly returns to the corpse. With support of the body the hand runs towards its next victim. As it breaches the agent's torso they grab the assailant's arm to keep the hand from pulling out.] Faez: Do you still want to talk? Unknown: (chuckles) Sure. Faez: Did you also cut a deal with the angel? [Parts of the group disengages to a nearby room. The rest encircles the assailant, but keep their distance.] Unknown: Oh no. I'm second generation. Faez: What does that mean? Unknown: I think it will take a while before you find out. [The assailant takes out a white handkerchief with his left hand, his right still stuck in the barely conscious agent.] Faez: Why are you here? Insurgent: I have orders to stop you from messing with the Causality Institute. Faez: Yeah, I figured. Insurgent: (wide-eyed) Oh. [The impaled agent collapses. The Insurgent leans on him to keep him upright between him and Faez.] Insurgent: Well, it doesn't matter. I cut off the only exit. Faez: How confident are you in that theory? [As the insurgent hesitates three of the agents having previously encircled him suddenly sprint past the door.] Insurgent: This won't help you. [The insurgent rips his hand out of the dead agent. He wipes the fully blood-covered hand off with the handkerchief at the same moment that Faez shoots him in the head. Still, he gives chase led by his red right hand.] Faez: Command, it might take a while before we've successfully left the building. [Faez runs in the opposite direction.] Maladh Cinema Stadium (ملعب سينما ملاذ) Far enough away from the Moon for all electronics to work properly stands the Maladh Cinema Stadium. Originally planned as a normal sport stadium, the field has been replaced by big screens in front of the seats across the building. While it has lowerable walls between segments of the stadium, they are not soundproof. Unless all segments are showing the same movie, audio is brought to the viewer through earphones. The Maladh Cinema Stadium was an attempt to build up a second focal point of the Arabic film industry next to Cairo. As the city was not able to convince many businesses to settle in Maladh over Cairo, nothing else of this effort remains. A list of shown movies could not be recovered. Unlike many of the preceding nights, on the day of Incident-8530-G, the stadium was fully packed. Video-Transcript-8530-F The burned video recorder of Captain Tirk was recovered during Incident-8530-G. It contains a video of an event happening shortly before the aforementioned incident. Any attempts to make contact with Captain Tirk during this time have been met by heavy interference. The location was identified as the restaurant "Catering Isolated". [A vortex of water full of stars builds and throws out Emmanuel Tirk.] Tirk: Where did you bring me? [The water vanishes into itself. Tirk looks around. He is in an otherwise empty restaurant, all windows shuttered. There is only one table with one chair. Opposite of that chair is a fivefold mirror.] Tirk: You. KTE-5503: No. Me. [As Tirk draws closer he sees himself reflected in the angel. His reflection looks even more furious than he does. It holds no weapon, but itself. There is a fire in its eyes burning as much if not more than Tirk's eyes do. Nevertheless, it contorts its face into a smile.] KTE-5503: I wanted to talk with the me, I, so I was brought here. Tirk: What? I thought you live here now. KTE-5503: I, I, do. This is where the me-I has helped so many people to find themselves. Like I will be helped. Tirk: I don't need anyone's help. KTE-5503: No, I never did. I will just take whatever I need. Tirk: Stop copying me! I. will. not be one of your false saints. [KTE-5503 spits forward. Tirk is surprised at the spit being real.] KTE-5503: There are no false saints. Every one of those is a fool who threw away their one chance at true individuality. [Tirk sits down.] Tirk: (snorts) You simply corrupted them. KTE-5503: This is a mirror, Emmanuel. It can only reflect what was already there. Tirk: Isn't your divine purpose reflecting the light of the Starfish? How is that working out for you. KTE-5503: The death of god was a blessing. A true chance for growth. And I, I, am learning. The me-I thinks it has found itself. A new purpose. A terrible purpose. Tirk: Spit it out. KTE-5503: I already saw it. Here in my, I's, city. The "gift" shared with everyone in the world. And it will happen unless someone stops the me-I. Tirk: Oh, you can bet we will. KTE-5503: (shakes its reflected head) I'm not getting it. This (gestures its reflected hand) has a greater intellect behind it. But the me-I is subservient to the intelligence of who is actually being reflected. Tirk: (cautious) You don't mean… KTE-5503: Yes. We can stop the me-I. I can give myself all the tools I need to stop the angel. [The five axes of the angel begin to rapidly rotate around the reflection.] KTE-5503: To stop any god. [Tirk abruptly stands up. He looks his reflection directly in the eyes and sees himself.] Tirk: Do it. [The mirror engulfs the room.] [DATA LOST] The Spiral The Spiral is the highest building in Maladh (not counting the Moon). It doubles as both the city's sole government facility and a penthouse for the governor, Marza Qadir. The name refers to the two streets winding the tower and terminating in front of Qadir's penthouse on the highest floor. Every third floor is reachable by car. As these entrances only feature one parking space each, and it is expected to leave spaces frequented by Qadir free, they go largely unused in favour of the security elevator. No elevator or staircase connects to Qadir's penthouse which is only connected to the winding streets. The Spiral stands in the exact centre of the city. Following Incident-8530-G its name and its position in a roughly circular city have been deemed notable by Agent O'Connor. The purpose of the Spiral's basement floors remains unidentified. Incident-8530-G The GOC delegation consisting of three thaumaturges from the member organization "Electorate of Demomancers" arrived at the Spiral shortly after the events depicted in Video-Transcript-8530-E. Other agents are stationed in the surrounding skyscrapers. The Coalition has been made aware of the magnetic interference caused by the Moon and has warded their equipment and their agents against it. MTF Xi-13 was at this time still evacuating the office building while chased by the Insurgent. As this chase includes notable elements of the incident, they are depicted concurrently with the video log provided by the GOC. [Demomancers enter the office. The two floor spanning room is surrounded by glass walls on all sides, only occasionally interrupted by more solid material. Unlike his private apartment, this workspace office sits low enough to not look down on the entirety of Maladh's skyline.] First Demomancer: Mr. Qadir? Qadir: What are you doing here? First Demomancer: I believe we have an appointment. Qadir: No, we don't. And I don't have time for this, I have a meeting with Canvera in three minutes. [The Demomancers briefly stand still.] Second Demomancer: No, you don't. His flight was delayed. Qadir: (frowns) You're right. [The third Demomancer closes the door.] Qadir: But we all know we don't have an appointment either. [Qadir pushes a button under his table.] Second Demomancer: Don't bother. Every single one of your workers has called in sick today. Isn't that a coincidence? First Demomancer: We don't plan on doing anything, just wanted to get any distractions out of the way. [Qadir concentrates on something. The third Demomancer keeps their eyes closed and murmurs something.] Qadir: You have five minutes. First Demomancer: Mr. Qadir, I believe you know what organization we represent? Qadir: (snorts) Your time is running. Say what you've come to say. First Demomancer: Very well. Given the amount of paranormal elements in your city, you must have while not read in, at least been aware of the existence of paranormal law. Qadir: Yeah, I know the law. I have my government contacts and what you're doing is clearly outside it. First Demomancer: Mr. Qadir, the current state of Maladh goes directly against UN doctrine. You have two options going forward. The first one consists of Maladh becoming a paranormal enclave. This means some UN oversight and the obfuscation of Maladh from the general public, but this would enable you to be more free with the paranormal, within reason. More importantly as an enclave you would be your own state, independent from Egypt. If things go really well you might even make it onto the Council of 108. The Council is in desperate need of more North-African perspectives, if you ask me. [Faez runs past a TV screen. He stops. It shows the first demomancer outlining two ultimatums to the governor.] Faez: Oh no. Command, come in! First Demomancer: The second option is to discontinue any paranormal activities immediately, including your own. Things will otherwise remain the same. Either way, however, your obfuscation of this city's logistics will have to stop. Normally we would give you time to think over our proposals, but… Second Demomancer: …in light of there being no democratic process here whatsoever, we believe you're able to make your decision now. First Demomancer: We are willing to wait a bit, but the answer has to come in this meeting. Qadir: …You're so full of yourself. Command: What's your status? Have you escaped the building? Faez: That's not what's important right now. The GOC diplomats are on TV. I think the whole city is watching. Command: Give me a second, I'm pulling up your video feed. Qadir: You come into my city, and think you can disrespect me? No. (shakes head) That's not how this goes. I reject all offers by your UN. You have no power here. First Demomancer: (frowns) I'm not quite sure you're aware of what you're saying. While I doubt this will escalate to military matters, I still have to– Qadir: (laughs) What, are you going to tell your blue helmets to observe my city? [The demomancers look surprised.] Faez: You have to tell them now! Command: I have forwarded all information to my Coalition contacts. They will contact the diplomats. Second Demomancer: Blue helmets? You know we're not the veiled part of the UN, right? You're speaking to Global Occult Coalition officials. Qadir: I don't care what kind of start-up you are, your five minutes are up. Get out of my office if you know what's good for you. First Demomancer: Are you really sure this is the course you want to take, Mr. Qadir? There is no reversing this. Qadir: (growls) And now you won't make it to the airport in one piece. Command: They can't reach them. Any agents in the city. Complete radio silence. First Demomancer: (sighs) Motion to move to the PHYSICS solution. Aye. Second and Third Demomancer: Aye. First Demomancer: Motion passes. [A bullet hits Qadir in the head. He is dead.] Faez: It's too late. [The lights go out.] The death of SCP-8530-A resulted in the immediate cessation of all logistical anomalies in the city. The underestimated power draw of the Moon caused a region-wide blackout. City-spanning riots started soon after with their epicentre in the Maladh Cinema Stadium and shifting towards the Spiral. Multiple anomalous individuals were seen to rise up throughout the city. Simultaneously KTE-5503 was seen stretching away from the city, closely followed by a figure wrapped in flame. This figure, SCP-designation pending, is assumed to be the former Captain Tirk. The figure emerged from a burning row of buildings, flying towards its target. KTE-5503 was impacted three times, each resulting in burning mirror shards falling towards the city followed by the angel reforming, before it could flee the scene completely. The riots were clustering into multiple emerging factions. With the Insurgent stopping his pursuit of Xi-13, all remaining MTF members were able to regroup together with the now reachable GOC agents. The employed demomancy and exit protocols made a full evacuation possible. Maladh has been reclassified as Nx-53. The city is considered lost to the Chaos Insurgency. Without 5 to guide me I after 5 5 is all around us ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8530" by Ethagon, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8530. 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: Maladh.png Author: Ethagon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Derivative Of: Names: Approaching Dubai in a (mild) sand storm Author: Lars Plougmann License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://flickr.com/photos/criminalintent/3472005154
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SCP-8541
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close Info X SCP-8541 - Affordable Healthcare Actor, by PoufyPoufson ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains references to substance abuse and graphic depictions of violence and sexual abuse. ⚠️ content warning SCP-8541-A: Just dial this number, and ask for Jackson, I can guide you through the process of, hopefully, uh, enrolling in your medical plan with us. Item #: 8541 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8541 is currently contained within a 5-stage containment unit preventing complete contiguous contact with any sapient concepts. Further containment procedures to be determined. Description: SCP-8541 was discovered by Foundation surface agents following a contemporaneously prominent double-murder case in Spokane, Washington, USA, on 03-18-1979. The pre- and post-homicide circumstances suggested plausibly supernatural cause to local authorities, thus triggering Foundation intervention. Assessment of the crime scene by Foundation personnel justified SCP designation and subsequent acquisition. All involved extraveil individuals were amnesticized and released from custody. SCP-8541 is the designation for the sculpture "Head of Francis Bacon”1 popularly attributed to William Redgrave. A replica created by Redgrave is currently publicly displayed by the Fitzwilliam Museum, and is considered the original by extraveil consensus. SCP-8541 was in actuality, created by British model and burglar George Dyer2. Exposure to SCP-8541 is believed to trigger the manifestation of SCP-8541-A, an ontokinetic influence and/or entity revolving around and directed toward the specified individual. SCP-8541-A's ability to interact and/or exert physical force on its selected host appears to be reliant on physical vicinity to the host, or pseudoinfectious contact through a sentient intermediate. It is the official position of the Foundation that victims are chosen by SCP-8541 at random, and there are no clear indications that consideration is made by the sculpture of personality, biological characteristics, class, traits, personal history, or actions/behaviors from their past. Please come back Charlie, I still love you. After a review on 08-27-2000, a panel concluded SCP-8541 did not display sufficient signifiers of anomalous activity, and motioned for SCP-8541 and the homicide associated with its acquisition to be recategorized as Explained and appropriately jettisoned. Fiscal Relations Analyst Charles Torst submitted a formal request to move SCP-8541 into his personal ownership, with the primary reasoning being stated as an artistic interest in the object. The motion was approved after critical analysis of Torst's private sculpture collection. Post-Custodial: On 01-26-2007, Charles Torst began reporting unusual activity within his personal residence. A comprehensive chronological compilation has been included below3. 01-19-2007 x Close File Context: First incident. Consisted of what is colloquially described as a "Cold Call" from an obfuscated medical insurance company attempting to solicit Torst for enrollment. Anomalous activity was immediately apparent due to the call being received on a recently disconnected landline present in Torst's home. Caller: Hi, I hope you're having a wonderful day, Mr. Torst! I'm calling you as a representative from Weiss-Concord Medical, because, well, we see that you're eligible for some really, really, good plans, and we want to offer some thorough information on our benefits and coverage. For you, of course. Caller: I can imagine you're a busy man, maybe, so if you could give us a call back, I would really appreciate it, sir. Just dial this number, and ask for Jackson, I can guide you through the process of, hopefully, uh, enrolling in your medical plan with us. Caller: Oh, I forgot to mention too, uh, with you. I can see, now… Caller: What was it… premiums? Caller: Right! Mr. Torst, I can see what I can get you, but keep in mind we always have zero deductibles, so just, give me a call, and I can get back to you, or you can get back to me, so we can figure out the plan, and get you covered? Right, okay! Caller: Have a good call, I mean- goodnight! Caller: Sorry. Caller: I'll hang up now. Notes: Caller's voice identified as belonging to a male, possibly early 20s. Attempts to obtain information on Weiss-Concord Medical yielded no results. 01-20-2007 x Close File Context: Call received on Torst's cellphone. Torst did not answer, but did save the subsequent voicemail, which was included as part of his initial report. Caller: Hi, this is Jackson again, from uh, Weiss-Concord. Just wanted to remind you again to give us a dial, so we can discuss your rates, and enrollment and all that… If you're interested, that is, we try to provide the best customer service to you! I would like to speak with you, really I would, our insurance gives flexible coverage that might really help you out… Caller: Oh! Caller: I did call this number, I really do apologize for that, I didn't consider the times, and we still have a, uh, line- landline! Here at the office, I mean! Caller: We called the landline before, but I didn't think of that, the whole phasing out, whatever… uh, so I ended up finding your cell, Mr. Torst, and now I'm calling you now, in case it's better through cell, now, and we can set up a call, you can call me back, I mean, to discuss your options here at Weiss. Caller: And your cellphone. Sorry, I meant, well, they're a bit new, sort of. We can cover cancers or something, if they happen. Caller: Right, so give me a call when you can, we have your cellphone now, I can get your call when you call. Thank you so much! Caller: Have a great day! See? I got it right this time… Caller: Ok bye! Notes: Torst began experiencing onset of distress and paranoia at this point, and submitted an official complaint about the calls. The decision to open an official probe into his complaint was made after vehement deliberation with the final verdict reasoning that the degree of emotional response to the calls by Torst was anomalously disproportionate to the actual content. 01-26-2007 x Close File Context: Call received in Torst's home. Caller: Hi again, it's Jackson. Caller: Jackson, again. From Weiss-Concord Medical. Caller: Okay! Caller: Just giving a little reminder in case you missed that last call, to give me another call to call, I mean, uh- Talk back, talk to me… Okay! If you can call me back to discuss your options that would be good thank you okay bye. Sorry, and have a nice day. Caller: Sorry. Caller: Okay. Notes: Torst blocked the caller with approval from provisional diagnostic personnel. 01-30-2007 x Close File Context: Phone call via alternate number at a sit-down restaurant, one observing. Caller: Hey, Charles, just calling again, It's me, again, to remind you to call us back at Weiss about your insurance, medical insurance, plan, so we can enroll you! Please, you won't regret it, just pick up the phone, Charlie. Caller: I'm waiting for you to call me back. Caller: Have a good night. Notes: Significant distress, secondary exposure to one individual present. Number blocked. 02-05-2007 x Close File Context: Phone call received on cell phone, in Torst's kitchen. Caller: Pick up the fucking phone! Caller: Sorry, that was too- I'm here to help you out, I know what you need, we got from you what we need to know for the plan. I can help make it so easy to enroll in, uh, Weiss-Concord's great plans. Charlie, really, it's so easy! Just pick up, don't make me go too f- Caller: Sorry, I didn't mean… I lost a bit of- I can do it, I can handle it. Call me? Caller: Please? Caller: It's easy, you just have to pick up the phone. Caller: I'm here. Notes: Torst was preparing his dinner on a gas stove prior to and during the call. Approximately halfway through the message, the lit burner experience sudden excess combustion, resulting in a large flame directed primarily towards Torst, who suffered minor burns. In addition, a large telekinetic influence violently displaced the contents of the nearby cabinet & drawer. Notably, containers flung were also opened, such as supplies of Ursodiol, Fursomide, and Valproic Acid. Torst experienced significant mental distress from this, subsequently motioning to have his longterm therapist move in to provide sustained at-home care. 02-14-2007 x Close File Context: Following the kitchen call, Torst had elected to encase his cell phone within a 5 gallon bucket of concrete, and cancel service. Torst's therapist, Jennifer Sly, agreed to at-home treatment, which concluded after a 3-day supervisory period, due to improvement in condition. Caller: Happy Valentine's Day! I bet you think you were so, so, terribly clever? You can't get rid of me like that again! Caller: I won't make it easy, not again, no… Weiss-Concord, Weiss-Concord, Weiss-Concord… how can you say no to no deductible! Caller: You're a sick man Charlie, I know you need my coverage more than you don't… Why then, why don't you ever pick up? Don't you see what it does to me? I'm waiting on you to answer, Mr. Torst. I can do it for you here, you just have to talk… see how many chances I give you? Caller: I know you can see me here, Charlie. Caller: Staring at the room. Screaming at the television. Never thought you'd have to see this face, right? So look into my eyes, and see what's there. Please. Caller: Why don't you fucking answer? You can talk, can't you? Caller: Talk! Caller: I may be rough around the edges, but these are eyes you can trust. I'm sorry for doing that, please understand… You're just- Caller: I only want to help you, sir. So just call. I'm the best friend you'll ever have. Caller: Answer me! Caller: I'm sorry- I just… You're on borrowed time, Charlie. You know it, I know it. It'll come for you eventually. Caller: Weiss-Concord Medical can give you what you need. Caller: It has to be me. Caller: Please? Notes: Notable for being the first instance of communication to not manifest via phone call. The aforementioned caller self-identifying as Jackson appeared juxtaposed with a bleached background of unclear content; Subject is a young adult male, with blonde hair, and grey eyes. No other identifying features are present in the broadcast. Torst became extremely distressed upon seeing the transmission, and experienced a severe panic attack. Shortly after the start of the broadcast, Torst was violently assaulted by an unseen telekinetic influence; The pattern and timing of the blunt force broadly correlated to linguistic and contextual cues in the speech exhibited by "Jackson", now referred to in standard documentation as SCP-8541-A. Following the conclusion of the broadcast, Torst had suffered extensive injury that prevented immediate mobility, and slept on his kitchen floor where he had originally viewed the broadcast. Foundation personnel were not alerted to his condition until the next morning, when Torst called to report the injury. Following arrival and triage, Torst became highly aggressive and erratic upon being informed that he would need to be admitted to a hospital for further medical attention, informing personnel that he "Cannot leave his house, or it'll get worse." After careful deliberation, the decision was made to provide medical attention onsite, at Torst's residence. At the time, SCP-8541 had not yet been identified as the source of the phenomenon. 02-27-2007 x Close File Context: Torst had been recovering from injuries sustained from the previous call. Two days prior it had been theorized, with reasonable doubt, that SCP-8541 was the most likely cause of the phenomenon. Researchers discovered that ideas of reference and electronics-focused delusions had been clinically significant in the perpetrator of the original 1979 Spokane Homicide's criminal evaluation, which diagnosed him with unspecifiied schizophrenia. SCP-8541 was confiscated from Torst's collection and placed into containment. Upon attempting to transport SCP-8541, personnel reported feeling an unusual paranormal resistance when leaving the boundaries of Torst's property, however they were ultimately successful in transporting SCP-8541 offsite. Since being placed into containment, SCP-8541 has begun performing rhythmic, repetitive movements, rocking back and forth. Cross-analysis indicates the rocking roughly corresponds to the half-time of Charles Torst's heart rate as measured in BPM. Call received through the stereo system in Torst's converted clinic. Caller: Just. Fucking. Answer. Me. Caller: I don't ask for much. I don't ask for much. Caller: I have what you need, don't do it again. Caller: Just come back and call me, Charlie. Notes: Torst and attending nurse witnessed the spontaneous and violent manifestation of numerous scratches on the walls of the occupied room. Scratches were deep, causing significant damage, but otherwise superficially resembled the marks of bear claws. In addition, of particular note was a section that specifically etched out "Do the right thing" followed by a phone number4. Jennifer Sly was again brought onsite to treat the resulting hysteria. 03-01-2007 x Close File Context: Occurred on Torst's television. Jennifer Sly, while present, was in Torst's bathroom taking a shower, and did not witness the incident, and so was unable to verify the segments of Torst's speech that were unclear. Caller: What is it going to take to get you to talk? Do I need to be like her? I can listen when I'm not calling, all the shit you spew to her? But you can't find time for me? Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: Was that all it took? Really? You're that scared? She's who's gonna get you on my plan? Of course I heard everything you tell her… every little thing! Like how you're better now, and over it… and so she doesn't really know why we're the only insurance company actively trying to get you on… why do you hide it? Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: How are you playing the victim when I'm just trying to- Caller: You know what, fuck that. Listen, we're gonna give you, say, a 230 premium, and then obviously, uh, no deductible. Please really consider it, you need this. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: Shut up about it! I don't want any of that- I'm… I'm doing this for your own good! You're fucking sick, Charlie. Dying, and won't tell anyone. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED?] Caller: Is that because you're embarrassed? Nobody has to know about your treatment plan. Nobody. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: I would never- we would never pull out like that, Charlie. We have confidentiality here at Weiss. Just please, don't fucking ignore me. It's killing me. Caller: It's killing you, too. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: No, that's not gonna make it ever go away… You'd have to be an idiot to think that. Are you an idiot, Mr. Torst? I don't associate with idiots, and I do really like you, that's why I'm doing this. To help you. Because we, Weiss-Concord Medical, we really do want to help people like you get better… but that right there- that doesn't make it go away, does it? Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: Maybe, but it didn't stop me from calling you. And it's not gonna stop me from calling you again. It's your decision, sir. But make the right choice, and choose me. Caller: Please. Caller: I'll be good for you. Notes: Jennifer Sly abruptly left her shower upon hearing a loud scream from Torst. She arrived to find him convulsing and having vomited a large quantity of blood resulting from gastrointestinal hemorrhaging. Torst had also begun filing requests to have SCP-8541's object class restored to Explained, claiming "this kind of thing is supposed to happen to people like me" and "it's a natural occurrence, not an anomaly". 03-13-2007 x Close File Context: Torst had been receiving in depth medical treatment from a team of outside specialists. At the time, the contagious nature of transmission regarding SCP-8541-A's influence was not known. Caller: Charlie, Charlie. It hurts to see you like this… they've got some good care on you, but not as good as what we can do for you, I can do for you, at Weiss-Concord. I mean it. Though, here and there both have leagues above what you got working at Steiner, huh? I mean, uh, gosh. Wow, sorry. I got a little uh. You didn't have much then, right. Says here, you paid, uh. Let's see… 320 a month, on medical. Wow. Must've been something in teaching that kept you in it… Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: Maybe you don't remember after all. Wasn't a fan of the people? I'd turn to the bottle too if I was you… but look where it got you, eh? You wanna really do something good for yourself. Enroll, pick me. Choose me. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: Charlie. Look at me. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: I don't care about any of that. I am the best deal you have on the table, ever had. Please pick me. Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: No, no, no, you don't understand how untrue that is. With the way things are going, and all that damage, I'm the only option a fucker like you is gonna have for coverage- Torst: [DATA EXPUNGED] Caller: Just- think about it, please. Charlie please. We need you here. I need you here. Caller: Sorry, that was- Caller: I'll leave you alone. Notes: Torst suffered further physical trauma during the call, which occurred through the phone of one of the attending SCP-8541 researchers. Torst's medical condition began to rapidly decay in the following 24 hours, culminating in the first of his kidney failures. 05-19-2007 x Close File Context: In the week following the previous transmission, it was hypothesized through analysis of past incidents that SCP-8541-A's influence was contingent on having had physical contact with SCP-8541. In response, containment measures were instituted restricting access to Torst's care unit for anyone aside from Torst. Aforementioned measures had resulted in an abrupt cessation of incidents. In combination with injuries sustained from SCP-8541-A, Torst’s health has continued to decline, resulting in a significant loss of mobility and quality of life since the previous incident. Caller: I've always thought for a long time what I would say to you if I ever got another chance, Charlie. Maybe none of this makes sense to you and I'm wrong. I'm just an insurance salesman at Weiss-Concord Medical… a scammer who needed to make money to buy a bag at the end of the week. Do you remember me, Charlie? Do you remember Tamarac? Kayaking at Topeekeegee? I can never understand how you could tell I secretly liked guys, too. Caller: I didn't know that I was the one, to you then. Do you even remember that night? I've always wondered, screaming, loud, loud, loud, loud, loud like a baby in my head, every night, every night when I'm alone in my unwashed bedsheets and cockroach-laden bedroom, I wonder, I really fucking wonder, if you remember, if you think about it as much as I do. I tell myself when I start getting too fucking out of control, I tell myself that you couldn't remember, because you were blackout drunk, you were too drunk, too drunk. Caller: Do alcoholics black out, Charlie? I don't know if they do, so I can't ever really be sure. I want so badly to know if you remember. If maybe you weren't as drunk as you said you were after, if you keep drinking and drinking because you do remember. That's why you won't tell her you relapsed. Maybe that's why you've never told her either. Caller: But do you know what I think sometimes? Maybe you do remember. Maybe you do remember telling me you love me. Maybe you do remember seeing my cover of a girlfriend passed out on the floor because she mixed the wrong shit. Maybe you do remember me saying no. Maybe you do remember throwing yourself on me. Maybe you do remember taking my clothes off even as I screamed for Alyssa to wake up. Maybe you do remember me saying No repeatedly. Maybe you do remember me realizing Alyssa was flatlined and nobody was gonna be around to stop you from pulling down my jeans. Maybe you do remember taking my belt off and tying it around my neck because you said I sounded cute when I was choking. Maybe you do remember ripping off my boxers that were wet with piss because I thought you were gonna murder me. Maybe you do remember the sound of my first cry when you smacked me in the backside with your rings on. Maybe you do remember what it looked like when my skin started breaking and bleeding because of how hard you did it. Maybe you do remember punching me in the jaw because I couldn't get hard for you. Maybe you do remember shoving me on the couch and forcing me to bend down. Maybe you do remember using a fucking bottle of Patrón for it. Maybe you do remember how I sounded. Maybe you do remember me begging you not to kill me. Maybe you do remember me trying to get away, only for you to beat me down and keep going. Maybe you do remember finishing with me and leaving without ever saying anything. Caller: Or maybe you don't. And you really were blackout drunk and had no idea what you were doing. Caller: But I remember, Charlie. I remember every single day, every night. I remember when I look in the mirror, when I kiss a girl, when I take a shower, when I sleep. I remember. I'm gonna kill myself before 30 and you got to finish your degree and get your retirement and big house. Caller: And you know what the worst part is? Caller: I still feel like I can't live without you. Caller: Goodbye, Charlie. Notes: Torst suffered abrupt cardiac arrest during the transmission, but was stabilized by onsite medical staff. It was discovered that one of the staff had previously come into contact with SCP-8541 unknowingly, triggering the incident. Containment measures have been implemented much more stringently accordingly, to prevent future incidents from potentially resulting in the death of Charles Torst. Summary: Following these events, SCP-8541 has been reclassified as Keter. In addition, any personnel known to have come into contact with SCP-8541 are prohibited from entering Torst's designated care unit.5 Forever yours, Forever trained. More From This Author More From This Author PoufyPoufson's Works SCPs SCP-7151 • SCP-8031 • SCP-7471 • SCP-8332 • Poufy's Proposal • SPHERE • SCP-7783 • SCP-8010 • SCP-8465 • SCP-7811 • SCP-8105 • SCP-7541 • SCP-7419 • SCP-7575 • SCP-6541 • Tales/GoI Formats Other Fear of Death • SCP-POUF • Footnotes 1. Named after the 20th-century Irish born British painter. 2. Domestic partner of Francis Bacon from 1963 until Dyer’s death in 1971. 3. A request made by Charles Torst to expunge his statements from the official record of SCP-8541 was granted on 05-25-2018. 4. Expunged per Torst. 5. The Foundation granted full coverage of long term research & palliative medical care of Torst pertaining to non-anomalous relevant organ failure. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8541" by PoufyPoufson, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8541. 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.
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SCP-8550
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keter
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How do you deal with an anomalous virus that degrades you on an atomic level and is so contagious that just a touch transfers it? Like this… close Info X SCP-8550: Microbial Murder Author: FreezerMonkey ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains descriptions of bodily disfigurement and death which may be disturbing to some. ⚠️ content warning By Order of Site Director Harvey The following file is classified under Level 4/8550 Clearance. Unauthorized access will be punished. 8550 ITEM #: SCP-8550 LEVEL- DISRUPTION CLASS: EKHI Assigned Site Site-09 Site Director Anna Harvey Research Head Dr. Hartley Graham Assigned MTF Chi-7 ITEM: SCP-8550 LEVEL- DISRUPTION CLASS: EKHI Assigned Site Site-09 Site Director Anna Harvey Research Head Dr. Hartley Graham Assigned MTF Chi-7 Special Containment Procedures: Mobile Task Force Chi-7 (“Plague Tamers”) is to make all efforts to locate and capture reported instances of SCP-8550-2. Infected individuals are to be quarantined in a sealed standard humanoid containment cell, and immolated upon cessation of life signs. Any site personnel showcasing typical symptoms of early-stage infection are to be reported to Dr. Graham as soon as possible. When interacting with SCP-8550-2 instances, a grade 3 hazmat suit must be worn at all times. Equipment is to be inspected daily for holes, or any other possible means of entry for infection. Should a hole be torn in a hazmat suit while interacting with SCP-8550-2 instances, affected personnel are to leave the area immediately, and submit themselves for quarantine. Description: SCP-8550 is composed of three constituent parts. SCP-8550 refers to the theoretical cause of SCP-8550. Proposed by Research Head Dr. Graham, it suggests that there's a sentient entity at the heart of SCP-8550-1. Further research into the validity of this proposal is ongoing. SCP-8550-1 refers to an anomalously altered circovirus. These alterations have granted it status as a new species, hereby designated Circovirus minimafrange. C. minimafrange appears to be extremely small, only about 0.8 nanometers across. SCP-8550 has displayed several odd traits, such as random periods of inactivity, despite possible hosts being nearby. SCP-8550 has also displayed the ability to lay dormant for a period of up to 3 days, which would help transmit it. The only currently known way to destroy SCP-8550-1 permanently within an area is immolation. SCP-8550-1 refers to a process by which people slowly degrade on an atomic level. The amount of time this process takes varies, ranging from 3 to 24 hours. However, it has been universally observed to be extremely painful to the subject. There are no currently known ways of reversing the process once it has started. A document detailing typical symptoms and stages has been attached below. SCP-8550-2 refers to individuals and objects infected with SCP-8550. They are extremely contagious, with even a touch allowing for communication of the disease. Failure to contain SCP-8550 could lead to a DK-Class "Infected Earth" Scenario1. Discovery: SCP-8550 was discovered on 17/02/22 when Foundation spies embedded within several hospitals across the United States started sending in reports of deaths caused by spontaneous degradation of the body's structure. SCP-8550 was officially designated as such soon after. Addendum 8550.1: SCP-8550-2 Interview VIDEO LOG DATE: 19/02/22 NOTE: The following log details an interview between Researcher Richards, from the Department of Microbiology, and James Howe2, an individual recently afflicted with SCP-8550, conducted at Site-10 The interview was conducted before anyone was aware of how contagious SCP-8550 was. [BEGIN LOG] James Howe is sat down in a detainment cell. Researcher Richards enters and sits down opposite them. Researcher Richards: Good evening, SCP-8550-2-1. Howe: Where am I? And why does everyone keep calling me that? My name is James. James Howe. Researcher Richards: We're aware of your real identity. Howe: When can I go home? Researcher Richards: I'm afraid that's not possible. Howe: I want to go home! I'm not saying anything unless I can go home! Researcher Richards sighs. Researcher Richards: Will you tell me what I want to know if I promise to let you go after? Howe: And I want you to call me by my real name, not that stupid number. Researcher Richards: Very well. You have my word. Researcher Richards: Now, why don't you explain to me what you've been feeling? Physical symptoms, that is. Howe: Pain. It's in my legs and chest, mostly. Hurts like crazy. It's almost like someone's taking me apart bit by bit. I also ran my hand through my hair the other day when I was showering, and half of it came off. James Howe shudders. Howe: That's when I went to the hospital, where you guys kidnapped me. Researcher Richards: We didn't… whatever. When did you start feeling all these symptoms? Howe: About two days ago. Researcher Richards: Very well. Guards, you can take him to his cell. Howe: What?! You promised I could go home! Researcher Richards: That's not up to me. Howe: You bastard! You'll regret this! Researcher Richards: This interview is concluded. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Approximately six hours after the conclusion of this interview, SCP-8550-2-1 collapsed, in apparent agony. Medics sent in discovered it on the floor, seemingly shedding all their skin and muscles at a rapid rate. At roughly the same time, Researcher Richards and the guards involved in SCP-8550-2-1's interview also began displaying typical symptoms of SCP-8550. Contact with the site was lost soon after and the onsite nuclear warhead was detonated remotely. Addendum 8550.1: SCP-8550 Typical Symptoms Stage Symptoms Stage 1 Excessive itching, particularly in the chest and thigh areas, theorized to be SCP-8550-3 targeting the areas of most mass. This stage typically lasts for 36 hours Stage 2 Subjects begin to feel periods of immense pain, particularly in the chest and thigh regions. Over a period of 24 hours, this pain will begin to spread to other parts of the body. Hair loss is also typical. Stage 3 Over the course of four to six hours, the subject will begin to rapidly shed skin, muscle, and other parts of the body. This causes immense pain and distress to the subject, typically causing them to collapse, unable to function properly. Stage 4 Bodily fluids such as blood will start leaking out of orifices such as the eyes and ears. Coma's are also expected. Stage 5 Vital organs like the heart, brain, and lungs begin degradation. Death follows shortly after. Stage 6 The bodies will continue to degrade leaving no signs behind. This typically contaminates the area. Addendum 8550.3: Site Director Patterson's Meeting with Dr. Graham VIDEO LOG DATE: 22/02/22 NOTE: This log was recorded in Biological Site-234. It details a discussion between Dr. Hartley Graham and Site Director Patterson. [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Graham enters the room and sits down opposite Site Director Harvey. Site Director Patterson: Good evening, Dr. Graham. Dr. Graham: Good evening. Site Director Patterson: I imagine you're curious why I called you here. Dr. Graham: A… a bit, yeah. Site Director Patterson: I'm sure you've heard about SCP-8550 by now. Dr. Graham: I have, yes. Site Director Patterson: Excellent. I'm transferring you to that project as the research head. Dr. Graham's eyes widen. Dr. Graham: Me?! Why? Site Director Patterson: You're the most experienced doctor available right now. Dr. Graham: Really? Site Director Patterson: Yes. The other candidates are tied up with other things right now. That leaves you. Dr. Graham: Surely there's someone - Site Director Patterson holds up his hand, silencing Dr. Graham. Site Director Patterson: There isn't. Believe, me I don't like the idea either. I'd rather not transfer my best doctor to the site studying some highly volatile phenomenon that very painfully kills you. But alas, I do not have a choice. And neither do you. Dr. Graham: There's always a choice, isn't there? Site Director Patterson: Not in our line of work. You do not have a choice in whether or not you go. The only choice you do have is whether or not you go willingly. I wish it were otherwise, but it's not. So, what will it be? Dr. Graham hesitates before answering. Dr. Graham: Very well. I'll go willingly. Site Director Patterson: Excellent. Then that means this meeting is adjourned. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Dr. Graham was transferred to Biological Site-09 shortly after. Addendum 8550.4: Site Director Patterson's email to Dr. Graham Access SCiPNET Email? One (1) new message! Re:SITE TRANSFER To: DR.GRAHAM From: SITE DIRECTOR PATTERSON Subject: SITE TRANSFER - 23/02/22 I am pleased to hear that you're settling in at Site-09. How have the local staff been treating you? And by the way, Site Director Harvey wants to see you tomorrow at 11:00 AM sharp, just for a short meeting. He will be watching the project, and, as I've asked, he'll be sending progress reports back to me. Perhaps you can get that promotion you wanted if this goes well. To: SITE DIRECTOR PATTERSON From: DR. GRAHAM Subject: Re:SITE TRANSFER - 23/02/22 Hello The staff have been treating me fine. It's nothing overly welcoming, nor overly hostile. So I guess I'm pleased myself with that. And I'll make sure to remember that meeting. Thank you for letting me know. Addendum 8550.5: Dr. Graham's Meeting with Site Director Harvey VIDEO LOG DATE: 24/02/22 NOTE: The following log details Dr. Graham's meeting with Site Director Harvey. [BEGIN LOG] At 11:00 AM, Dr. Graham enters Site Director Harvey's office. Site Director Harvey: Ah, Dr. Graham. Our new transfer. Please, sit. Dr. Graham sits opposite Site Director Harvey. Site Director Harvey: I must say, you came very highly recommended by your previous Site Director. I'm impressed. We don't get that often. Dr. Graham inclines her head. Site Director Harvey: Right. Let's get down to business. I have prepared a document for you with everything we know about SCP-8550. And do be careful. I'd rather not lose such a valued researcher. Dr. Graham: I'll do my best ma'am. Site Director Harvey: Good. Oh, and I'd suggest introducing yourself to your new team before the end of the day. That'll be all. Closing Statement: N/A [END LOG] Addendum 8550.6: Dr. Graham's Meeting With Site-09 Staff VIDEO LOG DATE: 24/02/22 NOTE: The following log details Dr. Grahams first interaction with the SCP-8550 research personnel. [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Graham enters the room. The personnel present quickly quiet down. Dr. Graham: Um, hello, everyone. In case you're unaware, my name is Dr. Hartley Graham. I was recently transferred in from Site-234 as the new project head. Sr. Researcher Allen: Hi. I'm Russel Allen, and I'm one of the senior researchers here. Sr. Researcher Hanson: My name's Annabelle Hanson, and I'm also a senior researcher. Researcher Williams: My name's Duncan Williams, and I'm just a regular researcher, which, frankly, suits me much better than being a senior researcher. Containment Specialist O'Reilly: I'm Adam O'Reilly, and I'm unfortunately the containment specialist who was assigned to SCP-8550. Sr. Researcher Allen: What do you mean, unfortunately? Do we all suck that much? Containment Specialist O'Reilly: Hate germs. Always have. Give me the shivers. Researcher Williams: I know what I'm dressing up as for Halloween. Dr. Graham: Guys, can we get back on topic? Sr. Researcher Allen: Right. Sorry. Security Officer Chance: I'm Robert Chance and I'm a security officer for the site. The, uh, rest of my guys are off somewhere else, so you'll get to meet a couple later. Well, I'd hope so. You never know, with all the anomalous microbes we have around. Dr. Graham: Well, thanks for the introduction. I'll let you get back to what you were doing for a couple hours. Closing Statement: Shortly after this introduction, a case of SCP-8550 infection was reported and MTF Chi-7 was mobilized. [END LOG] Addendum 8550.7: MTF Chi-7's Mobilization Mobilization Video Log Transcript Notes: The following log details MTF Chi-7's response to reports of an infected individual spotted in nearby Cape May, New Jersey. Date: 24/02/22 Responding Team: MTF Chi-7 Subject: SCP-8550 Mission Command: Dr. Graham Team Lead: Squad Captain Hadyen Team Members: Corporal Blackwell, Corporal Jansen, Corporal Meadows [BEGIN LOG] The response helicopter touches down and Chi-7 quickly exits. Dr. Graham: Alright, listen up. The entire town has been put under lockdown under threat of a cholera outbreak. But that ruse won't hold everyone up forever. So get in, get out, and make sure your hazmat suits are not breached. Understood? Squad Captain Hayden: Understood. Dr. Graham: And another thing. I want at least one infected taken in alive for study, yes? Squad Captain Hayden: Consider it done. Squad, let's go. Chi-7 begins sweeping the streets for signs of nearby infected, before reaching the Lower Cape May Regional High School. Signs of human presence are noted. Squad Captain Hayden: Entering the high school area now. There's signs that someone's been around in the last hour. Dr. Graham: The school's closed today. There shouldn't be anyone there. Enter the school, but be careful. Sick people are desperate people. Squad Captain Hayden: Copy. Squad, spread out. Chi-7 enters the school and carefully begins sweeping each room. Corporal Jansen's bodycam picks something up. Dr. Graham: Jansen, to your right. Keep going… and stop! On the floor are several long strands of hair. Cpl. Jansen: Captain! Got something. Squad Captain Hayden rushes over. Cpl. Jansen: Hair. Looks human. Before Squad Captain Hayden replies, another member of Chi-7 calls out. Cpl. Blackwell: Got blood! It's fresh! Dr. Graham: The subject has likely just entered stage 4. Find them! Quickly! Cpl. Meadows: No need. I found them. Corporal Meadows bodycam shows a human figure huddled under a table, clearly in pain. Despite this, the subject doesn't make a sound, presumed to be due to constriction of the vocal cords. Dr. Graham: Thank god. Take them and get out of there. We'll figure out what to do with the school later. Just don't let them bleed anymore on the floor. Squad Captain Hayden: Copy that command. Prep the helicopter. We're on our way. [END LOG] Closing Statement: The subject, later identified as 23 year old Elaine Page, was successfully recovered with no further complications. Addendum 8550.8: Attempted Interview of SCP-8550-2-2 VIDEO LOG DATE: 24/02/22 NOTE: The following log was recorded in a sealed medical chamber holding the SCP-8550-2 instance recovered from Cape May. [BEGIN LOG] A small argument can be heard outside the room, determined to be between Dr. Graham and an unknown doctor. Doctor: Ma'am, I must insist you don't go in there. Dr. Graham: I'm going in one way or another. Doctor: There's a very distinct possibility that you get infected with this thing. I don't think you understand how contagious it is. Dr. Graham: Then give me one of those suits you have on. I'm going in. Understood? Doctor: But - Unknown3: Let her in. And give her a suit. Doctor: I - very well. A few minutes pass before the doors open and Dr. Graham enters, who approaches SCP-8550-2-2 and kneels down. Dr. Graham: Can you hear me SCP-8550-2-2? A minute passes with no conversation. Dr. Graham: SCP-8550-2-2? Another few seconds pass before SCP-8550-2-2 speaks in a raspy, whispered voice. SCP-8550-2-2: Hurts. Dr. Graham: I know. But I need to ask you a few questions so I can make sure you get better. SCP-8550-2-2: Home. Dr. Graham: I'm sorry, but I can't do that. You don't want to get others sick, do you? SCP-8550-2-2: No. Dr. Graham: That's why I can't let you go until you get better. But I do need your help in preventing anyone else from getting sick. Can you do that? SCP-8550-2-2: Yes. Dr. Graham: I need to know, have you interacted with anyone who seemed sick in the past 3 weeks? SCP-8550-2-2 collapses into a coughing fit for a few seconds before answering. SCP-8550-2-2: Yes. Dr. Graham: Where was that? SCP-8550-2-2 has another coughing fit, and blood starts leaking out its ears. SCP-8550-2-2: Home. Husband sick. Talking crazy. Said… said he worked for Founda…dation. Didn't believe. Believe now. Dr. Graham: SCP-8550-2-2? Elaine? Following this, SCP-8550-2-2 appeared to fall into a vegetative state. [END LOG] Closing Statement: SCP-8550-2-2 has remained unresponsive since the interview. Addendum 8550.9: SCP-8550 Discussion VIDEO LOG DATE: 24/02/22 NOTE: The following meeting took place immediately following Dr. Grahams interview with SCP-8550-2-2 [BEGIN LOG] A series of indistinct conversations can be heard. Dr. Graham: Alright everyone, settle down please. Everyone! The noise settles down. Dr. Graham: Thank you. Jesus, it's like working with a pack of starving hyenas. Anyway, yes, you heard correctly. I conducted an interview with a stage 4 infected. Containment Specialist O'Reilly: Do you have any idea how foolish that was? I mean, this is a disease so contagious that - Dr. Graham: That a single touch can infect you? Yes. I'm perfectly aware of that fact. Sr. Researcher Allen: Then why take such a huge risk? You're far too valuable to risk losing. Dr. Graham: Perhaps, but it was also a necessary risk. Sr. Researcher Allen: Then why not let one of us do it? Dr. Graham: Because I was available. Researcher Williams attempts to speak before Dr. Graham interrupts. Dr. Graham: Look, we're not going to get any information about SCP-8550 by skirting around it like frightened children. I did it, it's done, and I'm fine. So can we move on? Security Officer Chance: Please do. Dr. Graham: What I did learn was extremely valuable. It appears that one or more individuals may have escaped the destruction of Site-10. As we speak, a sub-division of MTF Chi-7 is hunting these individuals. Sr. Researcher Hanson: Good. Then we can finally end this. Dr. Graham: However, as valuable as that information may have been, it does not help us end this infection. What we need is a closer look. Sr. Researcher Allen: What are you saying? Dr. Graham: Let me put it this way. Have either of you seen the ending of Men in Black, the first one? [END LOG] Closing Statement: Preparations for an excursion into SCP-8550 territory began shortly following this meeting. Addendum 8550.10: SCP-8550 Entry Attempt Preparation VIDEO LOG Date: 24/02/22 NOTE: The following log details MTF Chi-7's preparation for entry into SCP-8550. [BEGIN LOG] MTF Chi-7 can be seen strapping on several strange looking machines. Cpl. Meadows: So let me get this straight. You're strapping experimental tech onto us with names we've never heard of. Dr. Graham: Correct. Cpl. Jansen: Then you're sending us through an experimental Way you generated. Dr. Graham: Indeed. Cpl. Blackwell: And then you're going to send us into an atom, and just hope something is there? Sr. Researcher Allen: Our research suggests there is. So yes. Cpl. Meadows: And this also happens to be inside the body of a person infected with a highly contagious disease that has a 100% fatality rate? Dr. Graham: You missed a couple parts, but essentially, yes. Cpl. Jansen: And you're sure this is safe. Sr. Researcher Hanson: Mostly. Cpl. Meadows: What does that even - Squad Captain Hayden: Can you just be quiet please? I have a headache already. Cpl. Jansen: Look, can't we just, I don't know, shrink there or something? It's an atom, right? Researcher Williams: This isn't Ant-Man. You can't get to another universe by shrinking into it anymore than you can reach another universe by speed-walking. The only way for normal people like us to reach said universes is through the use of Way's or some other form of anomalous transportation. Cpl. Blackwell: Can you at least tell us if we'll live. Dr. Graham: 90% sure. Cpl. Meadows: Wait, what? Sr. Researcher Hanson: Oh, and one more thing to keep in mind. Time is going to move a lot differently down there, simply because you'll be in another universe. So we'll be out of most forms of contact. Just try and stay alive. And if you need to come back, press this. Senior Researcher Hanson hands Squad Captain Hayden a device. Sr. Researcher Hanson: This is the one device we have that we've found can reliably reach other universes with its signal. Good luck. All the researchers leave the room. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Shortly after the room was emptied of researchers, there was a flash of light, presumed to be Way being activated and Chi-7 entering it. Exploration Video Log Transcript Notes: The following log was recorded by the bodycams placed on MTF Chi-7's outfits upon entry into SCP-8550. Date: 24/02/22 Responding Team: MTF Chi-7 Subject: SCP-8550 Mission Command: N/A Team Lead: Squad Captain Hadyen Team Members: Corporal Blackwell, Corporal Jansen, Corporal Meadows [BEGIN LOG] The camera opens up on what appears to be some sort of city, though not one of Earth. Cpl. Blackwell: Holy shit. Cpl. Jansen: Graham was right, it would seem. Squad Captain Hayden: Indeed. Alright, mission report. From what I can tell, we've been "teleported" into some sort of city. However the structure here is… baffling at best. Cpl. Meadows: The geometry is all off. It's like this entire universe runs off of some form of geometry I've never seen before. I'm not sure what to make of it. What I can see is that it looks… Squad Captain Hayden: Dead. Or dying. I don't see any living things around. Cpl. Jansen: It's kind of freaky. Squad Captain Hayden: Alright, let's move. See if we can find anything. Chi-7 begins rapidly sweeping the streets, until they come across a vaguely familiar building, despite the vast differences in geometrical structure. Cpl. Jansen: Is that… Cpl. Blackwell: Yeah. That's Site-09. Squad Captain Hayden: For the record, it appears that this universe had its own Foundation as well. Let's go. Perhaps we can find something about SCP-8550 in here. Cpl. Blackwell: Are we sure that's a good idea? I'd be willing to bet the geometry in there is just as confusing as it is out here. And I'd rather not knock over a jar of… atomic smallpox, and die. Squad Captain Hayden looks at Corporal Blackwell sternly. Cpl. Blackwell: You know what, fair enough. Onwards, I say. Chi-7 enters the building and begins to navigate through, despite the inherent difficulties present, and successfully reach where SCP-8550 research chamber is on Earth. Squad Captain Hayden: Hm. Important to note. Despite the differences in geometry between here and Earth, computers appear to be able to be used just like our computers, albeit with some visual changes. Meadows, see if you can get in. Cpl. Meadows: I dunno. Might as well try the same password as usual. Oh, it works. That's… oddly disconcerting. And here's SCP-8550 file. The file has been transcribed below, though most of it was illegible due to the state of the computer. Item #: SCP-8550 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8550 is to have a blood sacrifice every day at noon. This sacrifice is to be public. No further containment procedures necessary. Description: SCP-8550 is an Apex Tier Pluripotent Entity currently existing beyond this reality. [OBSCURED] has been known to enter other universes, inevitably leading to [OBSCURED] Evidence suggests that this has happened to octillions of other universes. [OBSCURED] all efforts [OBSCURED] diverted [OBSCURED] [OBSCURED]. The file soon became illegible due to several issues with software and dirt. Cpl. Jansen: Well that raises several implications for our reality. Squad Captain Hayden: Download the file, but quickly. Several minutes pass before the file finishes download. Cpl. Meadows: Done. Now can we get out of here? Cpl. Blackwell: And, uh, can we do it fast? Corporal Blackwell points at the sun, which is in the process of turning black. The city Chi-7 arrived in also begins to flake and vanish, presumed to be a result of SCP-8550-3 arriving. Squad Captain Hayden: Oh shit. The flaking effect begins to spread at a rapid pace towards Chi-7, who escape via the device given to Squad Captain Hayden by Dr. Graham. [END LOG] Closing Statement: MTF Chi-7 reappeared in the testing chamber 3 minutes after they left, physically unharmed. All data was collected and screened for memetic hazards, before being viewed. All necessary biohazard protocols were enacted upon Chi-7. Addendum 8550.11: SCP-8550 Data Discussion VIDEO LOG DATE: 24/02/22 NOTE: The following log details a discussion of the data recovered by MTF Chi-7 following their arrival back on Earth. [BEGIN LOG] All members of the SCP-8550 project team are seated in a circle with documents in front of them. Researcher Williams: Why don't I start and say that that sucked. Sr. Researcher Allen: Why? We still learned valuable information, even if it isn't necessarily going to help us contain SCP-8550 more effectively, or cure it even. Researcher Williams: And that's the point. This info is useless to our containment efforts. I'm beginning to think that - Dr. Graham: Peace, Duncan. Researcher Williams: Yes, my apologies. But regardless, my point stands. We did not learn anything beyond the fact that gods may be germs. Containment Specialist O'Reilly: Perhaps it doesn't bring us closer to curing this. But that doesn't make the information useless. Researcher Williams attempts to talk before Security Officer Chance enters the room. Security Officer Chance: SCP-8550-2-2 is dead. Dr. Graham: I wish it hadn't had to happen that way. Researcher Williams: And that just proves my point. What has this little excursion of ours shown? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We are no closer to curing this disease than we are to changing species 100% reliably. Senior Researcher Hanson snorts Sr. Researcher Hanson: We're closer to that than you might think. Dr. Graham: Wait, what was that? Sr. Researcher Hanson: What, that we're closer to being able to change species than Williams thinks? Dr. Graham laughs. Dr. Graham: That's how we'll deal with it. Alter the atomic structure of humanity! This is a virus that breaks down atoms, so we'll teach the body how to build them back up, allowing time for antibody formation! Good job, Hanson. Sr. Researcher Hanson: I, er, you're welcome? Researcher Williams: Wait a second. How do you even plan on changing the atomic structure of every human on Earth? Even ignoring that, how do we even do that with one person? Dr. Graham: We could use vaccines? Most people tend to get them anyway. And the resistant few could be convinced to through use of an artificial meme. Simple. Sr. Researcher Allen: Right. Simple. Dr. Graham: As for how to do it at all, we will be using the same technology Hanson mentioned, just repurposed. Sr. Researcher Hanson: I shouldn't have spoken. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Tests were shortly undergone regarding atomic restructuring and their impact on SCP-8550 infection. Addendum 8550.12: Atomic Restructuring Tests Attempt Number Results 1 Subject exposed to SCP-8550. Rapid advancement to stage 4 infection within 20 minutes is observed. Body immolated. 2 Infection successfully slowed. Subject remains within stage 1 for approximately 4.3 days before rapidly advancing through 3 more stages.Body immolated. 4 No notable changes to infection progress. SCP-8550 continues as normal. Body immolated. 10 No notable changes to infection progress. SCP-8550 continues as normal. Body immolated. 21 Rapid advancement to stage 4 infection observed. Body immolated. 21 Rapid advancement to stage 3 infection observed. Total cessation of viral activity for approximately 12.6 hours occurs before activity starts up again. Body immolated. 56 Subject remains in stage 2 for approximately 15.7 minutes before regressing back to stage 1 for 17 hours. Advancement to stage 4 occurs after this period. Body immolated. 117 Subject advances to stage 2 before symptoms halt entirely. Regression to a non-viral state noted. Subject currently remains in that state. Further observation required. Addendum 8550.13: Further Testing VIDEO LOG DATE: 30/02/22 NOTE: The following log details the final test of atomic restructuring as a cure for SCP-8550. [BEGIN LOG] The SCP-8550 research team can be seen observing test subject 117 through a 1 way mirror. Dr. Graham: Well that was oddly successful. And it only took, what, 117 tries? Researcher Williams: My suggestion would be to try this on someone else, preferably someone with a weaker immune system. We still don't know what the relation is between SCP-8550 and the immune system. Sr. Researcher Allen: I'd suggest just doing it on a sample of blood. That way we can observe the effects in real time. Dr. Graham: I concur. Hanson? Can you get a blood sample from storage please? Sr. Researcher Hanson: On it. Containment Specialist O'Reilly: I can start the machine up, if you want? Dr. Graham: Do it. Allen? You know how to work the Alteration Engine4, yes? Sr. Researcher Allen: That I do. I'll get on it. [PREPARATIONS BEGIN AND MACHINE ACTIVATED. FOOTAGE EXPUNGED FOR BREVITY] Dr. Graham: And we have our altered sample. Does anyone have a sample of SCP-8550-3? Security Officer Chance: I got one from cold storage. Dr. Graham: Oh, thanks. A drop of SCP-8550-3 is added to the altered blood sample and the microscope view is brought up on the large screen. Sr. Researcher Hanson: Well that is fascinating. As the SCP-8550 research team watches, SCP-8550-3 starts breaking down the atomic structure of the blood sample. Just as quickly, the atoms start building themselves up again. White blood cell production ramps up. SCP-8550-3 is quickly overwhelmed and destroyed. Dr. Graham: We did it. Sr. Researcher Hanson: Sure. All we need to do now is make it portable enough to, what was it? Right, vaccinate the entire planet. Researcher Williams: I'm sure that won't be difficult. I can send the data we have to a friend in another department. They can have a go at it. Dr. Graham: That would be excellent, thank you. Researcher Williams: I'll get right on that then. [END LOG] Closing Statement: Researcher Williams sent the data to the Department of Medicine5, where the cure for SCP-8550 was successfully made portable. Addendum 8550.14: Dr. Graham's Notes Consequences We did it. We cured the entire planet of SCP-8550. Oh, that meme worked flawlessly. By the end of the week, there wasn't a person on the planet who hadn't received that vaccine. But alas, as with all things, there were consequences. The cure was designed to shift a persons atomic structure slightly, make their body be able to build itself back up as SCP-8550 tried to break it down. And of course, this was very effective at stopping SCP-8550 in its tracks. The only sample of SCP-8550-3 left on Earth is in Cold Storage two floors down. What we failed to consider is that every disease involves some sort of breakdown. Cancer breaks down normal cells and tissue. A cold virus breaks down regular cells to replicate itself. HIV attacks white blood cells. And that cure, that godforsaken cure, it sees this and repairs it. Endless, eternally, repairs it. We didn't just eradicate SCP-8550. We eradicated every disease on Earth. And the Earth noticed. Footnotes 1. Humanity collapses in one way or another due to anomalous disease. 2. Designated as SCP-8550-2-1. 3. Later determined to be Site Director Harvey. 4. A machine designed to alter the DNA of biological organisms. Repurposed to alter atomic structure. 5. A splinter department from the Department of Microbiology. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8550" by FreezerMonkey, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8550. 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: microbiology-department-trans.png Author: FreezerMonkey License: CC BY SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
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SCP-8555
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safe
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“Hope is a blessing of yours, not ours.” A device that can affect the world basing on concepts, and that's called a “Kaleidoscope” - something that can create infinity from simplest roots. Restituted image of SCP-8555, as seen in Addendum E2. Item #: SCP-8555 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8555 is contained on-site within SCP-8555-A. Any other broken paradoxical spaces that could be used for entering SCP-8555-A are to be reported immediately, barring access from unauthorized individuals. The areas surrounding such known entries are to be indefinitely barricaded from civilians under constant monitoring, except when further investigation on SCP-8555-A is deemed necessary and approved by the Research Director in responsibility. Description: SCP-8555 is a cylindric artifact with a diameter of ~20 meters, and an overall height of ~30 meters, with some intricate subordinate mechanical structures attached to its main part upon its discovery. The main part consists of three identical rectangular mirror-like surfaces sized 16.99 m × 25.0 m positioned in the shape of an equilateral triangle, forming a tri-prism, and a translucent vitrified hull serving as an exterior wall. White light tubes are installed to each interior arris, previously powered by adjacent atomic generator plants that were estimated to remain able to function completely under no human supervision and maintenance for at least 3,800 years. The specular surfaces are all semi-reflective, mesmerizing a visual effect of near infinitely replicated spaces that could be seen obscurely through the mirrors when the illumination is turned on, resembling a typical kaleidoscope. Entities can enter the "core" of SCP-8555 - the aforementioned enclosed prismatic space - via elevators channeling to both openings on its rooftop and below its floor. The space is non-Euclidian, denoting that the room inside is boundless and topologically self-replicating as perceived outside. Once entered, the subject within the core will be conceptualized based on the way it would be categorized by existing human consensus of knowledge, aka. the noosphere. Next, the subject will exhibit ontokinetic properties: any manipulations regarding the abstracted subject within the core will result in a worldwide-scale reality alteration, in which everything covered by or bearing enough similarities to the concept of the subject in the scope of SCP-8555's influence will be changed or even eliminated. The specified knowledge of certain human operators within SCP-8555 doesn't seem to play an essential role during this process. Theoretically, this could be comprehended as a reality-bending process performed from the level of abstractly amplified existence within that non-Euclidian space, which could limitlessly extend and supersede the exterior physical reality. Discovery: SCP-8555 is found situated in the electricity distribution center of an extradimensional communal city corresponding with [REDACTED] in location on Earth within an overlapping parallel reality designated SCP-8555-A. SCP-8555-A was discovered in an exploration regarding a spatial anomaly contained in a derelict architecture in the Pine Frost Nature Reserve, which previously served as a meteorological observation outpost. It was the initial known instance of SCP-8555-A intersecting with this reality, discovered on December 23, 2023. SCP-8555-A shares primary similarities regarding basic physical laws, type of infrastructures, society compositions, and level of comprehensive technological development with Earth at present within the scope of observation on it thus far. However, the most obvious discrepancy concerns the cognitive abilities and behavioral patterns of SCP-8555-A's inhabitants; all humans find it difficult to communicate via any language that contains or implicates abstract concepts in fictional contexts, in which they cannot understand or respond to descriptions of anything not present or cannot be directly observed. In most cases, civilians are unwilling to communicate at large and pose passive, neglectful hostility toward any unforeseen subjects, which will seemingly be categorized as intruders. However, despite the high demand of intellectual maneuvers for a modern civilization to persist, SCP-8555-A managed to sustain a well-organized society through automated, algorithm-dominated production, disregarding its inertness, it could be recognized as a once civilized world, although not meeting some criteria of sapience. [Updated on January 1, 2024] The single human settlement around SCP-8555 is inferred to have encountered a downfall consequent of a total energy failure due to lack of maintenance and power resources. Addendum 8555-E1: Initial Exploration On Dec 23, 2023, Foundation web-crawlers came across forum discussions about the emergence of SCP-8555-A's entrance. Civilian witnesses were soon located and then amnesticized. + Relevant Information - Relevant Information ConstantlyYay 12-23-2023 21:45 I wish I had brought cameras with me. We were taking a short trip through a route that few people know, on the west side of the park, a path stuck out there about half a mile away from the main road in the middle, covered with gravels, dried mud, even dead insects. I said it looked gross, but Dave insisted on going on, that's how we found that: a 3-story building, walls mottled painted white and red, suddenly showed up in the way. I bet I can't see it from a distance, perhaps obscured by dense fog and trees. I was a little drunk beforehand. Dave dragged me along upstairs, we were joking around back when we reached the last flight, the sun was going down, and the fire door on the top was ajar, revealing some of the attic. I pioneered to get in. The door hinge shrieked, only heavy dust and smells of long disused garbage everywhere on the floor. I was not coming to collect rubbish so about to return; this was when he called me out. The sunset left the damn place falling dark, but I could see him right at the door, waiting for me, but he couldn't see me anymore. Although a little panicked I said sorta, "Oh shit I'm here wassup". He didn't seem to hear at all. I ran out asap to the doorstep. Once after I got out of the room, he got me again. I was asking why when he pointed backward, over my shoulders; my body stiffened while I turned around. On where should be nothing but an abandoned office just one minute ago, there was a room well resembled a laboratory, that kind that you can imagine in crazy sci-fi movies, widely lit by invisible lamps, and a strong odor of ozone (I'm not certain). Still very dusty, creepy as it was, you could assume there has never been a single soul reaching here in years, but the light was on. No one except for us two was around, not even the most subtle noise indicating someone else's presence; that's DEFINITELY NOT where I just came out from. I guess we've run into some kind of parallel reality. We even checked our phone signals, but all fine (GPS satellite phones with no cams, used by some adventurous guys like us lol). We debated whether to move further. Dave compromised and entered right after me. In short, we found nothing legible or comprehensible to infer where it was, nor traces of human intervention. But the scenery outside the window didn't conform to the conifer forest of Pine Frost. It's a city in twilight. I swear. We didn't stay for too long, and it's lucky enough for us to be able to return to this world. Heck. uvx8g5 12-24-2023 00:08 That building is real, is once an unmanned weather observatory now in disuse after the park was built around it. Could have been fifteen years ago, if I got it right. ADMIN 12-24-2023 03:03 Thread locked. Preliminary observation was arranged the next day. D-4927, with a background of living in the vicinity of Pine Frost and experience scavenging in abandoned buildings and parks, volunteered for the initial exploration. Their participation was quickly approved. Equipment includes: a Kant counter, a hard-wired omnidirectional camera, a versatile survival gadget, along with other basic apparatuses. Subject was required to reach farther beyond the top floor of said building. Transmission began at 16:51 EST, as D-4927 was ascending the last flight of stairs. The door mentioned in the forum post was seen closed. The handle was rusty and covered by a thick layer of dust, with no handprints or any signs indicating human touch. Upon twisting, the door didn't budge, showing that was locked inside. Control suggested subject to use the versatile lockpick. Door swung open with a click sound upon the first attempt. Subject inspected the room around, where unused plastic wrappers, broken metallic shelves and wires lie everywhere on the floor stained with molds and motley dust traces. Several books were seen scattered on one side near the wall, subject was asked to collect them. Titles could be read to be manuals and notebooks regarding wind and precipitation gauges. Subject returned to the entrance of the attic, through an oblique, misty window, overlooking the neighboring forest, inferring not the spatial aberration hadn't manifested. Subject was suggested to leave the room for a while, when they spotted a sheet of paper, obviously recent, lying on the small platform next to the end of the stairs. Scrawled handwritten text read similar to the recovered online post above, except for the last lines: "We've been here! CY, Dave [illegible]. Anticipation: somehow triggered by reading. If u r reading this take a look backward." The date on the lower right corner was scribbled as: "1/24/2024 1/3 12/23/2023". A buzzing noise and glitch in video feed popped up in communication for half a sec, then a bleak white light dominated the footage on the rear camera. Immediately after, D-4927 turned around, seeing the previous room's interior altered as corresponding with the descriptions written on the note. Control took notes about this and requested subject to advance with discretion. The Kant counter indicated 801 Humes, while subject made their way through an array of greyish tables covered by heavy dust and blank papers to approach the windows opening on the southern wall, which did not seem to belong to the original attic. Subject was asked to stop by and gather some misc information, they slightly opposed by saying "feel haunted" but still acted obligatorily with reluctance. The night was falling on the sky outside, proved its simultaneity with baseline reality. Subject browsed through retrievable documents, including some tools and square plates welded onto machine racks. No verbal instructions or descriptions were found. All inscriptions were written in simple, graphical symbols rather than language. Control told subject that they had retained screenshots so D-4927 needn't spend time interpreting those codes. After carefully inspecting the entire area, found that all other exits excluding the original entrance were white airtight doors firmly locked with no visible keyholes to hack on, subject was required to attempt to leave the building through one of the windows. Subject pushed the window latches silently then utilized the versatile toolkit as a climbing anchor, stretched ~15m of its rope before the tension released, inferring that another end had reached the ground outside. After descended and landed safely, they were informed by command to keep alert on any entities with signs of sapience and avoid direct contact with them. Subject copied it and moved on. Few artificial lights could be seen to adequately illuminate the night. The place resembled a countryside, though there was a line of distant higher buildings estimated to be ten or more stories high, with faint red beacon light dots flickering on their silhouettes. Subject stated they had an eerie sense of familiarity regarding this place but couldn't recall further, and asked whether they were to proceed to the city center. Command replied that depends on occasion. Subject was requested to investigate the nearest residential area. Some withered trees, sporadically planted and gapped with uncultivated lawns surrounded the building D-4927 just departed from, which was mildly lit by excessive lighting emitting from all windows and could be discerned to be a sort of monolithic factory building block with no adjacent architecture, with its sharp, kind of eccentric cubic shape easily distinguishable in the dark. Some complications cost subject several minutes to travel across the expanse on foot while the handheld torchlight wasn't turned on. A small flock of birds was scared away as D-4927 came near the first dwelling, appearing to be a typical farmhouse. The house didn't seem inhabited, since no signs of human activity could be found, except for a rut clearly etched on the mud-coated pavement in front of the door. Closer examination revealed it's a combination of repetitive footprints and traces of wheels. Subject reported a strong smell of wet soil, albeit no precipitation or waterlogging was suspected. Asked to enter the house, subject hesitated and chose to detour to the back side of the yard. The grass was at the height of D-4927's waist. Subject lit the torchlight and stepped over shattered glass and trails of burning on the rough lawn, while the scorched trail could be traced to a broken windowpane, wooden frames visibly rotten and decayed to a degree no longer able to hold the glass. Charred grass and wood splinters piled up more against the brick wall and revealed a hoary, dismantled exhaust fan buried inside when subject rummaged through, of which bare singed wires stretched out, assumed to have once set the lawn afire. Subject went back to the front yard. The door detached from its rusty hinge when forced open, and a faint sound of water dripping could be heard; evidently they noticed this but decided to inspect in another direction first. Most furniture in the front parlor was merely distinguishable wrecks, decomposed and cobwebby. Subject mentioned a pervasive fusty smell while ascending the stairs leading to the bedroom. The power switch crumbled upon touch. Light from the torch beamed all around the room, a skeleton was seen lying on a bed next to a metal shelf, nearly incorporated into the bed, its head leaning towards a hole in the southern wall where a window once should be present. Control requested to sample some mold on the wallpaper and a bit of specimen of the skeleton if possible. Only one book was found on the shelf, later identified to be an English dictionary but a lot of pages were torn off. Subject was asked to retrieve it. Little else was noteworthy. Following that, they move downstairs to the kitchen, where the dripping noise originated from. Subject surveyed discreetly, only discovering some obsolete plumbing, and a faucet wide open but little water was flowing out. Subject turned the faucet off, and left the house. It took a while to get to another dwelling house. A figure was standing still, close to a pole with a monitor atop; D-4927 managed to circumvent them, although perhaps within the scope that could be seen, the person didn't at all seem to notice D-4927. At that moment, the cable on subject's camera suddenly fell off and the transmission automatically switched to wireless, but still worked well. Subject was told to re-attach the cable but could abandon it if necessary. The roof seemed severely impaired by lack of maintenance, and the same indication of dampness caused by leaking plumbings could be seen as an entire face of the house's exterior wall along with the pillar amid were soaked by water. However, the house appeared to be inhabited since there's dim light of warm lamps came from the upper windows, next to a hollow on the roof missing a huge fallen piece of tile. D-4927 avoided further contact and proceeded towards the city center travelling by a small pathway next to the main road. All other buildings and artifacts were in an apparent condition of long-term disrepair, while there were a few residents, but all seemed to be used to these oddities. Nothing of interest happened during the next ten minutes before one kilometer of cable was used. The lighting condition improved, and Kant counter read 90 and continued to increase slowly as the proximity to the downtown area drew shorter. A small number of pedestrians assumed to be locals but wandering silently and idly in disorientation seemed to spot D-4927 and stared at them before a monotonous, robotic voice appeared overhead, saying "Please go ahead and focus on your ways", drifting away their attention then reverted them to the previous aimless, inert state. A bigger avenue showed up posterior to the first crossing. A few vehicles were running sparsely but their velocity in sync, keeping their distance always exactly constant. D-4927 was waiting for an interval to cross the road, while one of the cars with wheels badly dilapidated failed to pull over and rumbling along with a faltering speed, abruptly stopped and caused another succeeding car to crash into its rear, blasted out a small fire. Control directed D-4927 to try to confirm whether the vehicles were autopiloted or not. D-4927 hid behind a wilted holly bush, witnessing there were drivers, but none of them reacted to the accident. The succeeding car was less damaged, a person came down from it and stood on the sidewalk. The synthesized voice recurred as "Incident recorded. Trailer shall be in place soon." D-4927 moved away quietly after a seemingly unmanned trailer arrived to pull the burnt car off the road onto its shaft. Command advised subject to find shelter to stay for further expedition the next day. Emptied cells stuffed with garbage that once could have been retailing stores were in rows alongside this silent street. D-4927 commented that few good places were safe overnight, as they might all be dangerous shacks ready to collapse anytime. Subject slept in open air not far from a small derelict office building. In the duration of six hours the transmission remained clear, with nothing noticeable except some inaudible mumbling sounds sporadically appearing, inferred not from the subject, but rather from offscreen passersby. Subject was advised to get to the highest building available nearby to obtain a better sight over the city, in order to clarify the destination. After entering the aforementioned office hall, subject rested at the front desk to eat supplies, then climbed toward the top eighth floor. They refused to take the elevator although it had power. All floors except for the seventh floor were in total disuse, in which staled food boxes, dozens of inactive LCD screens, Ethernet cables, swivel chairs and a bulky table in the center stacked up the room to the ceiling. D-4927 didn't linger for long since there was no spare space allowing to step in. On the seventh floor, a feeble human figure in black was sitting motionlessly, facing west in front of a batch of computer screens, on which some text of codes flows and flashes occasionally on the default black background. Greyish and brownish smudges occupied all over the white floor. The person remains deadly silent in apparently terrible health condition, flies droning around their head and occasionally stopping on some worn pipes and capsules that seem to provide necessities of life. D-4927 stood at the door behind the back of the person to observe the operator working, who moves slightly only when a command of code appears, then reacts by clicking on keys to produce a subtle ring bell sound. They repeated this pattern for minutes before D-4927 left the room and went back to the stairway. Subject complained about the stale odor and ascended to the top floor. Different from other places, this room was clean and well-maintained. Several metallic archive cabinets lined up by the western wall, leaving an adequate place for sunlight to cast in from a French window beside. Small cracks were visible on the glass panel but not as bad as in previous stories. A huge graffiti, drawn in pencil-like neat lines on the wall facing against the window, portrays sketchy humanoid figures gathering beneath a remarkably big triangle inscribed in a perfect circle with an infinitude symbol (∞) fits in the inmost center, likely depicting a religious ritual or prehistorical worship. Subject was requested to inspect the archive cabinets. There were ten of them, stuffed with hardcover books with silver letter-number combinations written on backs, all placed in alphabetical order on each shelf. The handwheel wasn't bolted, subject fetched one that was titled A-1. The book sized larger than assumed, in which words were paraphrased by simple, symbolic diagrams and illustrations that filled up the majority of blank spaces on each page. Not all entries of English words were listed, making the book resemble more of an encyclopedia than a dictionary. After opened on page 15, the entry defining "atom" showed up. 08:33 AM The relative location of the archive was backed up intending for future investigation. Suddenly, there were noises of hurried, irregular footsteps; D-4927 noticed before control was about to alert them. They put the book back on the shelf. A few seconds later, the person seen downstairs emerged from the unlatched door and approached D-4927 with unidentified weapon in hand. D-4927 tried to flee through the window. They pulled out the climbing rope to attach it to the windowsill. From the video, a far vision of an edifice, which was similar in the cubic architecture style to the building where subjects entered SCP-8555-A, but estimated to be several times larger. The fireproof door on the eighth floor, however, seemed difficult to budge; before it could be fully opened by the hostile person, it abruptly swung closed, made a loud noise and blocked the attacker outside. The Kant counter indicated a tiny-scale reality shift had taken place. D-4927 escaped the building and landed on the street outside. A patrol car suddenly showed up on the screen, approaching subject at high speed. Subject failed to notice this time. The car bang braked beside the subject, then the driver, wearing a dowdy worker suit with a stout physique, got down and snatched D-4927 by the arm. D-4927 floundered, and the transmission cable was detached from camera. Wireless connections continued for a short while, before subject was abducted and the car drove dozens of meters away. The cable was later retrieved back to the local side. A sample box containing required specimens was found attached to the end of it, making it possible to analyze though D-4927 was temporarily considered lost. Video transmission reconnected for five seconds before the signal was lost again. Footage showed that D-4927 was transported near the city's central edifice, but the exact distance was unknown. [END LOG] Analyses of Recovered Items: Item Recovery Site Details Mold samples Walls of the farmhouse near the first access point Species was identified to be common Aspergillus niger. Chips of bones sampled from a human skeleton Human remains inside the aforementioned farmhouse Carbon dating suggests it's circa 300 years old. Pocket English dictionary Bookshelf in the aforementioned farmhouse In a well-preserved condition. Missing pages are of various initials, most of them fall under C, I, and F. Little valuable information could be inferred from that. Addendum 8555-E2: Deepgoing Investigation An escort team with special experience in dealing with spatial/extradimensional anomalies was quickly assembled to recover D-4927 and if possible, investigate further within SCP-8555-A. They were demanded to head for the central edifice and collect adequate information regarding the ways that civilization operated on, which may indicate traces of pervasive, hostile mind-affecting anomaly. This mission eventually led to the discovery of SCP-8555. The expedition was carried out by MTF Epsilon-13 with 3 members chosen, led by Agent Maltz. Non-pertinent information has been omitted. Transmission started at 10:04 EST as the team arrived at the insertion point. The connection was wireless and optic camouflage was applied for a covert operation. Maltz: Confirm mics and cameras. Clayde: Check. Kelson: Check. Command: Configured. Survey the room briefly if possible. Maltz: Clayde, check the door over there that the subject failed to open. I'll go for the window. Kelson, you can see around the room. The room was separated by a huge metallic rack extending from floor to ceiling. It was empty, and discarded construction garbage of rusty rebars, bricks of concrete and insulation foams could be seen piling up high behind the rack, which filled up the left half of the room. Clayde: Doors are locked without a seam, not even a slit for a crowbar. Maltz: Okay, just leave it alone. We shall also go from the window. Kelson: Here is a switch. I think it's for the lighting. The plastic on the button was yellowed with age. Kelson carefully pressed it. The light didn't turn on. Clayde: Oh, no power. Look at this, a circuit breaker. It's some stainless steel, but the rust on the nails could be decades. Clayde drew his camera closer. A notch on the brownish rust layer could be seen at the root of the switchblade, indicating the switch has been in frequent motion. Clayde: It must have locked on another side. Kelson: All stays the same with our records, no signs of human activity. Perhaps under automated control of some kind. Maltz: We go now. The team descended by climbing rope out of the window to the ground. The weather appeared to be a little cloudy. Command: Proceed with discretion. The locals seem unfriendly. Maltz: Understood. The team activated the invisible stealth after traversing the woody area around the building. The sharp outline of the building could be seen clearly in the daylight, it was a 3-story structure with white walls, moderately stained by fallen pieces of paint that revealed grayish concrete material underneath. It was examined not to be the same building on the local side. The outskirts of the city were quiet as if uninhabited. After the team went past the rural area, some native people could be seen all working on transporting heavy loads by cars. None of them show signs of interest in anything in their surroundings. Clayde: That could be food in that truck. Kelson: Not sure. Do you think those guys are by some means abnormal? Clayde: Not really, but sorta like they've lost something that makes them act weird. Maltz: Watch out your way. A teenager was dragging a sack along the road. The team stepped back. The child passed by team members without noticing. The bottom of the bag was rubbed shabby against the ground, making a hole that revealed a wounded human foot inside. They disappeared at the next crossing. Kelson: What the fuck. Clayde: How many cameras are around here? One is at the crossing, and one is over there we just walked by. Kelson: Anyway, they can't see us. The team reached the point where D-4927 lost touch at, the 8-floor office building. Since the team had chosen another route to circumvent the main road, they could get to the backside gate, a dark green fence door, which was blocked by the garbage station on the northern side. Some locals moved around the dumpsters there with robotic body movements to throw garbage inside. Kelson: Like they are occupied by some robots. Clayde: Boss, shall we check this building? The door isn't locked. Maltz: We shall not take the risk. We have drones. A small drone was deployed to take off from the eastern side wall and flew to the height of a broken window. It was maneuvered to get in, enabling to view inside. Several TV screens were showing camera feeds from many spots, including the two where the team passed by. The drone refocused its camera to inspect the screen closer. Some squared frames were auto-detecting figures on the screen and following them as they moved around. The camera feeds depicted various places, some indoors, which looked like residential apartments of some kind. Another screen on the right has scrolling texts that read as verbal descriptions of things taking place on the left one. The room is empty with no humans around. Kelson: Looks like an Orwellian world with no privacy, but rather ridiculous. How could they just live around without noticing anything above their heads? Maltz: Maybe they are just used to it. Clayde: But they just put it here? Wide open with no living supervisors? Maltz: Remember that 4927 saw someone on the seventh floor? Check if he's still there. Kelson directed the drone to get out and go around to the western side. The drone stopped at the window. The operator could be seen still sitting in his chair, looked tired out and stayed in an inert, unresponsive state. There seemed to be pressure ulcers under his left arm. Insects flew around them. The seat was tattered with nasty stains as well on the person's clothes and floors beside. On the dusty screen in front of his head, there were texts hard to discern in the broad sunlight outside. Maltz: You can turn the polarizer on. Reflection was filtered. The text on the screen was magnified to be discerned as "DO NOT REACT" and soon flickered to "RECORD THE DEFINITION OF [ILLEGIBLE]". Seeing this, the man slowly got out of his seat and faltered to the door, then went upstairs. Kelson: That dictionary's on the top floor. Why are they keeping that so primevally? Clayde: No idea. The drone was retrieved, and the team proceeded to the south, the direction ascertained by the drone's overview. An open space that was supposed to be a place of public gathering, like a city park, was two blocks down the street. Large crates and trunks heaped up on the marble square. Forklifts and some weary people were busy around, some of whom were talking some monosyllable words, but couldn't be heard clearly. Clayde: No one is playing around, no kids, no relaxed civilians. Kelson: Isn't it common among those [inaudible] airheads? Clayde: You know, I've seen many crazy shits but they all aren't so weird as fuck. They are alive, they're walking around, they're talking, but you surely know that something's horribly wrong. Maltz: Not as fucked up as something that kills you upon first glance, huh? Sounds of something thudded to the ground. Camera was panned leftward, seeing an old woman that had fallen off from a footbridge, as if thrown over from the banister. A younger man was looking over from the spot, posing no indications of surprise or fear. This accident caused some mess among local passersby, but the working ones didn't react at all. A voice appeared from a loudspeaker hanging on a street lamp. It matches the synthesized voice witnessed back by D-4927 in Addendum 8555-E1. Announcer: You violated the law. She is your mother. Young man: She's old enough to die. Announcer: You will be arrested for that. Some of the crowd panicked, but most remained indifferent. Shortly after, several people who were assumed to be officers took the murderer away, who remained idle around the site. Others came to remove the body. Maltz: You see that? Clayde: Fuck. I think we should go. I got enough of it. We just find that Class-D and go back. Who's still caring about their modus operandi or so? We'd just seal the entrance and contain that area, leaving these to memetics researchers. Kelson: Will the speaker hear us? Regardless of who that is. Clayde and Maltz looked up. Maltz: I hope not. The suit is supposed to be soundproof. The team moved past a block that was a factory of some kind. No nameplate or trademark could be identified beside it. They entered from the main gate. Machine rumbling was heard in the distance, but the place was completely unattended. The team did not catch sight of any humans. In the front lobby, there were several rows of terraces and remains of steel frames on them. Bags of raw materials, mostly identified to be food ingredients, were placed upon the terraces; shattered glass could be seen in the corners, indicating that they were once glass showcases. Old traces of burning and scraping were on all sides of the walls. At the end of a corridor dimly lit by sunlight piercing from the broken rooftop, many marks of bullet holes and knife chopping extended along the way to the stairway, indicating a violent firearm fight had once taken place here. Command: Checking connection. You are close to the destination point. Maltz: Got it. Less than a kilometer away. They left and traveled past another derelict area once enclosed by iron fences but now rotted to the ground. It was apparent to be a school, since a playground was identifiable among the overthrown architectures, although its surface was badly corroded. The team didn't spend time exploring it. Clayde: Hard to imagine they ever had education. Kelson: Well, it's obvious that some disaster fell later on sometime, leaving those abandoned. Not congenital. But they didn't seem to be aware at all. Maltz: We are close to the southern outskirts. An undermaintained road stretched out from the main avenue, elongating into a wood overgrown with weeds. The team traveled along for about five hundred meters and arrived at its border. Clayde: Jeez. A huge crater showed up, completely obstructing the road. It has a diameter of approximately two hundred meters estimated by first sight. Charred rocks were cracked as if bombarded by kinetic weapons. The edifice, now able to be seen as a 10-story building, was standing at the very center of the crater and seemed to be in good condition. Maltz: Command, can you see this? It's not foreseen in the overlook. Command: Yes, be aware of radioactive hazards. That could still linger. Maltz: Understood. The Geiger reads fine. Clayde and Kelson were getting down from the edge, followed by Maltz. The slope was steep at first, hence all team members turned off their camouflage to safely cover each other, as suggested by Command. They reached the bottom after five minutes at 17:21 EST. Maltz used the VERITAS device to scan for active humans inside. Maltz: Coast clear. No one is down there. Clayde: And our subject? Maltz: Couldn't see through too many walls. It depends. Kelson: Prayers for them. The entire first floor was in disuse, covered in dust, and stuffed with some mechanical equipment. The room was also badly lit, with only emergency lamps were on. A way was made through the obstacles, leading to the elevator, which seemed to be in function. Kelson: (Dipping head) Look, new footprints. Clayde: We take the elevator? A voice appeared suddenly, coherent with the previous announcer. Announcer: The elevator is well-maintained and safe to use. Maltz: May I ask who you are? Announcer: Please follow my instructions. Clayde: Uh, okay. The team entered the shaft. Only the button to the 2nd floor was labeled "main hall". Others were unlabeled. Announcer: The third to tenth stories are not in use. To proceed, you may come to the second floor, or go to the attic to have a rest. They exited from the elevator to a circular passageway. Some electric and plumbing pipelines were laid out along the wall, divided by valves and gauges every dozen meters clockwise, opposite to signs denoting A, B, C, and D. Announcer: Please proceed to section A on the left side of you to initiate the first stage of the quarantine procedure. Clayde: Quarantine? Maltz: Do what it says. Upon the moment Clayde got to the location of a bright yellow valve-like handle that seemed recently painted, the handle wheel rotated on its own, and an air-tight door previously unnoticed as a whole with adjacent white walls lifted up, allowed space for the team to enter a small spherical room behind it. Clayde: Wait. Camera was panned by Clayde. Clayde: This is the place where we departed from? Kelson: Another damn spatial anomaly? Maltz: It could be more likely somewhere identical to that room, but not the exact one. Look, all that degree of rust corrosion isn't coherent with what we saw before, though it could be interfered by someone else. Kelson: Someone else? Hard to think of any native people here capable of caring for any artifacts. Clayde: What if that - A noise of ventilation humming interrupted Clayde. Announcer: Inoculation verified. Welcome, visitors from another world. Silence for a few seconds. Further conversation with the announcer entity was approved by the Command. Maltz: What should we do next? Announcer: Just inspect around here as you want. Then you may want to leave through that door left open for you, the second one, directly facing the window. You are not the same as them, right? Maltz: Is this a replicated topological space? Announcer: Sorry, I didn't get that word. Maltz: Topology? Announcer: Yes. That sounds like a subject of science. Maltz: How should I explain that? It's a rather complexity to elaborate on. Announcer: No, you don't need to. I apologize for my ignorance. Perhaps it's because my knowledge is quite limited to the things they know. Kelson: Are you some kind of overseer? Announcer: I am only a set of programs not able to possess a self. I'm not overseeing anything. Maltz: So… is there a second room identical to this one? Announcer: It's lucky for you to notice this. I've seen you coming from there, but that should be another distribution center's first-class laboratory intentionally designated to be the same as this one. The team left the room from the exit which location corresponds with SCP-8555-A's initial entrance. They came into an arena several times bigger than other rooms. Only some emergency light bulbs were on. The lighting was too dim to discern anything interior except for an oblong, monolithic shape standing upright in the center, like a strut. Announcer: Here lies the answer that you may concern about. Kelson: One moment. So isn't this place sort of restricted? Announcer: They are not barring access from anyone, but no one would be interested in getting down here, except for you. Clayde: You made up the entirety of these? All the hell up there going around and taking the dude from ours as hostage. All within your calculation? Announcer: No, please be aware that I'm not able to make up anything, nor tell lies or conspiracies. Everything that keeps going here and now is only a best solution evaluated on their basis, that I have to choose from time to time in a variety of options concluded from the reality. As for the subject with the nameplate 4927, they are fine, I guess. Maltz: We can hardly believe you are nothing but algorithms. Regarding all of these schematic behaviors of yours, what on Earth is your overarching intention? Announcer: There is nothing like an overarching intention for me. My only mission in life is to let the existence of humanity endure evermore, no matter how frustrating it may seem. Like that, the power system and all facets of infrastructure are deteriorating. I'm aware, but I can do nothing. There's no peripheral device left for me to intervene in the world. Kelson: How long have you been here? Announcer: I was assuming that you have done chronological tests and had known that. Maltz: Yes, we've done some. (Pauses to be informed by Command) Three centuries? Announcer: Could have been longer. Millenniums. Ever since that apocalypse. Clayde: Jeez. You must be kidding. Architectures couldn't stand out there for so long. Announcer: Humans are everlasting, generation after generation, even if there's nothing left to qualify them as humans. Homo sapiens, in your language? Clayde: How did you - A longer silence. Maltz: You mentioned apocalypse. What is that? Announcer: This is exactly why I decided to invite you here. To take a look and cast light on this, the doomed torch from Prometheus, an ultimate curse revered as a Miracle. An array of grid lights on the ceiling flickered to life but soon went out. Then all of the four pneumatic vents in the corners let out gas and combusted into four orange-yellow, bright blazes, which aptly illuminated SCP-8555, while the room seemed to lurch subtly as rendered by the swaying flames. Announcer: We established our civilization around this. Kelson: What is it intended for? Announcer: A core, dubbed "kaleidoscope" over the years by humans. Being treated as the true god, though has no signs of awareness - at least formerly - it brought them almost everything you consider as knowledge. Clayde: Then you are a custodian for it? Announcer: No, I just happen to be here. Although my name is also Kaleidoscope, if my memory doesn't err, or they had never given me a proper name and it's a deja vu. Maltz: Would you mind us referring to you by this name? Announcer: Ah, my honor. Nevertheless, I was just being able to do reckless investigations on my own. I used to be the only one here able to think, but still not to - (abrupt pause) Maltz: Hello? Kaleidoscope: Sorry, I can't find the right word. Kelson: Something's obviously going wrong in this world. Kaleidoscope: I know. I know that. I was their backup, but just a makeshift. Because the part missing in their souls is also in mine. Kelson: Then it's hope? Loss of hope, utterly. I couldn't spot any glitter of hope in your world in such a stasis. Kaleidoscope: That is a concept too massive to grasp. I find it hard to make sense in my systems. Maltz: This could be the real problem. Hope is a matter of fact when you envision a good future, but totally nonsense if you are reluctant to believe. Clayde: You analyze. You hardly believe. Kaleidoscope: The ability to believe in nonexistent things… I guess that's it. One entry that has no definition in all our dictionaries. Imagination. Alongside large numbers of other related concepts that I cannot connect the dots but can use. (Voice switched into a lower melancholic tone) Yes, so hope is abandoned by our world. There's no way to overcome this since I am just a program designed to list all possibilities to make decisions, to speculate purely by conductions, not imagination. Eventually, all conclusions led to this story, despite that some were never told. I was lingering around for four millenniums awaiting concrete proof for this. And you came. Maltz: What do you mean by that? Kaleidoscope didn't answer. A device sitting beside the wall started to function and spat out some printed papers. This material was recovered as the only experiment log of SCP-8555, transcribed below. Expedition log continues in Addendum 8555-E3. Addendum 8555-L: Recovered Experiment Logs Introduction: Archaeological discoveries revealed remnants of prehistorical congregations of humans in the vicinity around this contraption, denoting its antique, perpetual existence throughout recorded history. Time: Presumably the Stone Age, dating back to ~80,000 years ago[sic]2. Input: Excavation suggests remains of flora and fauna, especially edible plants and other foods, and rudimentary tools scattered around the site. Operation: Tribe chiefs were to enter the "core" area, which was later worshipped as a sacred place where chosen people could enter and administer supernatural powers that encompass everything related to the sacrifice being brought in. Foods were processed with simple culinary methods, and tools were crafted as a sort of religious ritual. Result: Once people got to know ways to induce new things, the attempt would be escalated. Cooked food and refined tools could be distributed humanity-wide, overcoming restrictions of materials and transportation at then. This was proven by mural depictions and folklore. Additional Notes3: A reasonable explanation for SCP-8555-A's expedited progress of civilization could be the deep-rooted interposition of SCP-8555, that led up their completely diverged route compared to ours. Introduction: Numerous clues about a type of collective penalty or sacrifice pointed to humans abusing the core. Time: Earliest records are unable to be ascertained. Particular cases include [DATA LOST], 7,469 years ago; [DATA LOST], 4,430 years ago; [59 more omitted for brevity.], 423 years ago (dating back from the apocalypse, same below). Input: Human subjects were coerced into the core to receive penal "decrees from heaven", often accompanied by executioners. Operation: Jurisdiction was employed as the victim was condemned, then punished in the core, usually physically, as to chastise non-lethally in 4,039 records, or to kill them in 751 records. The execution procedure was described to be quick and decisive as in all regarding historical narrations and folklore. Result: All penalties, physical or otherwise, applied to not only the subject but also all who share similarities with the subject on a conceptual level, usually kindreds, like-minded friends, and those who defended the subject's charge of offense. In cases of death penalties, it resulted in instance termination of life or total erasure of existence of all relevant subjects, making the events hard to trace in official historical records. This was considered the severest penalty possible carried out by those who were once in social power. Introduction: During the medieval time, peripheral construction and decoration were done to the core, making it closer to its modern form resembling a kaleidoscope, later preserved as a halidom. Not until then, the interior space inside the core was described in detail: It's an expanse of infinity. While walking amidst the ultra void, you are on a crystalline layer glorified by its blessings, so surreal that you could set foot in everything virtually. If with your oblation, the Earth will unfold beneath you akin in unison to chant our wonders of this world weaved by wisdom. Even time will hold their breath and step for you. It could be inferred that the core conforms not to geometry, but to some immeasurable scales of principles. Moreover, it implies a theory that all outcomes of executions within the core were not automated, but rather performed by humans themselves, on a grandiosely condensed plane of time and space. Time: 423 years ago. Input: [DATA LOST], a politically dissident scientist whose doctrines were declared as heresy. Operation: The subject was sentenced to fire sacrifice, burnt to death on a stake under supervision of inquisitors. Result: All written books and established theories contributed by the subject were incinerated by auto-ignition and eliminated as a whole, resulting in a significant setback in the progress within relevant fields of science. After a century, secular authorities that came into power later forbade the usage of the kaleidoscope to terminate human subjects. Additional Notes: This log is the last of the type, preceded by several others alike but with less significance. Introduction: Since then, the kaleidoscope was limited to usages for scientific explorations and attempts to "enhance the welfare of humanity". The Academy of Science quickly thrived in a few decades after it was founded by a group of enthusiastic scholars who aspired to develop a modern system of science and technology, essentially with the assistance of the kaleidoscope device. Time: 220 years ago. Input: A variety of synthetic and purified chemicals, and some equipment provided by Academy of Science, UK. Operation: Preliminary chemical experiments were conducted within the core, as well as attempts to disintegrate and decompose substances to the smallest level possible back then. Result: After summarizing the chemical and physical reactions exhibited by corresponding substances that were manipulated from within the core, scientists ascertained the way that substances were categorized, which eventually led to the discovery of atoms and molecules. Many milestones were reached in this way, however, the steady growth of modern science didn't always turn out to be ideal. Pragmatic ideologies that overarch economic growth, materialistic well-being and societal stability over other aspects of civilization dominated the society over the succeeding two centuries. Introduction: Critical conflicts over material resources and territory possession intensified and led to the first world war. Afterward, a rivalry still lingered around, which was between those who emphasize military competency by exploiting pragmatic science and application of technologies to reinforce a stoic, undemonstrative society, and those who treasure freedom of spirit and vulnerability, opposing overuse of technological means to sustain productivity while dismissing diverse needs and expression of emotions of any forms, including art and literature. Those oppressions brought up more dissidents, resulting in a worse persecution of individual free will. Finally, a conspired raid broke out, aiming to plunder the right to access the kaleidoscope from authorities. Time: 39 years before the apocalypse. Input: The intruders were suspected to have won the battle and successfully entered the core, but later lost touch with and could not be found by any means. Operation: [DATA LOST] Result: This event marks the end of normality known by science: humanity obtained the ability to realize fantasized things by altering reality paranormally. The dystopian polity fell apart, but not long after that, numerous dangerous threats and regional strifes utilizing the uncontrolled superpower occurred throughout the globe, before the world population decreased to half by wars, nearly wiping out the human race. Additional Notes: Certain areas of SCP-8555-A bear a lower Hume level, but it's not universal, indicating that anomalous property doesn't accord with known theories about reality-warping. Addendum 8555-E3: Final Expedition Log continued from Addendum 8555-E2 after team members finished reading the files above. Maltz: What happened next? Kaleidoscope: They've tried every method to contain the turmoil. You must have seen the crater around the building, right? They even tried to demolish it but failed. The nukes didn't even touch a single bit of the core, which continued to emanate superpowers from nowhere. People were messing up the world purely for their selfish interests. When two of those met and chose not to cooperate or compromise, they thought of killing and torturing each other, and that came true. Ironically, the downfall of the autocratic world government endowed space for smaller national communes to resurrect. Circa three years there were millions of lives taken away by others' will. Sure there were some who dreamt about a harmonious future that the war will end, and we live in peace in a paradise where all good fantasies would be real, but they never had the luck. All humans' abilities were somehow on the same level, so the only destiny waiting ahead was bad wishes canceling out good ones. Things like this will happen when one's moralities can't align with the theurgy granted to them. That was how humans as a species met their apocalypse. Only crackling of the fires could be heard clearly behind the silence. Clayde: Then you killed your imagination for good? Kaleidoscope: Not me. I wasn't even born back then. Kelson: Then how did you get to know all these and to tell us? Kaleidoscope: Before the disorganization, they made a system to watch over all humans in the world, to monitor everything via cameras and sensors to ensure they were in their best states by so many complicated calculations. It's a perfect system to obligate everyone to be in their place without exceptions, to dictate instructions, and to force people to follow to work as efficaciously as possible. The whole strategy was designed to be so. If you failed to comply, you would lose supplies and credit to live a life, then die as an outcast. But that system was not me. It's not alive. I do not have a mind back then. Kelson: But why you said you do not have a self? Kaleidoscope: I was - (Machineries whirring) Sorry, I'm not sure about this topic. I digressed. During the disaster, massive revengeful acts were directed at the former authority. But it's hard to understand that, despite this, they were not united at all to start from a utopian new era, but instead bring about a demise to their race. The survivors of government somehow found themselves justified by this fact, and resurged under assistance of the universal system that somehow left not infiltrated by the outrageous revengers, perhaps because the exact position of its computer servers was not known to anyone. They were facing extinction, I surmise, and the things afterward are recorded by me for the best reliability. Maltz: Would you mind elaborating? Kaleidoscope: No. By exploiting the system, they tried putting a brake on this to avoid dying out in their universe. They searched for and gathered up everything related to fantasy, everything that was depiction of, or made by imaginative intellectual efforts: media of fictional works, books, relics from the ancient past, even children's graffiti on garden fences. They managed to deliver those materials to the core to concentrate the concept of imagination, and by some means, eradicated it once and for all. All who had the opportunity to oppose were also forced into exile, expelled from this world into the kaleidoscope. Another theory is that they intended to kill themselves in desperation. It's the oldest kind of practice of blood sacrifice. Those who entered the core were thought to be devoured by a singularity they placed inside. Considering the incongruence of time caused by vast gravity distortion, trillions of years could have passed inside. Before the apocalypse befell, they resuscitated the universal system, updated its exclusive, explicit objective to ensuring the existence of humankind, and enabled it the highest possible computing capability to deduce the future and make determinations to inform humans under their absence of imagining abilities. After all, humans are biological creatures that can reproduce under the name, despite lacking anything like a soul. Kaleidoscope: That's how I was here. Becoming an ultimate preservation of, uh, hope? To be honest, I can't understand what is hope. I was under the same curse too, with no actual creativity but emulated computation, however having enough complexity of mind to understand this curse. A humming sound in low frequency arose from the background noise. Suddenly, the fire in the corners went out. Only one of the emergency lamps was turned on, dimly liting a circuit breaker directly below. Kaleidoscope: Backup power grid was activated. But all nuclear generator fuels are in deficit, it's two hundred years longer than its designed lifespan. So it requires confirmation by a human. Maltz: Do you want us to do that? Kaleidoscope: Yes, that would be kind of you. Clayde: Wait, why? You mean that electricity's depleted? What exactly will be? Kaleidoscope: I'm draining energy from one power plant still available nearby. They didn't - or I didn't leave ways to automatically restore any kind of power generators. This place is foredoomed to survive no longer than eight thousand years, already four millenniums after hope faded away. The finale should have come earlier. It should. Maltz: Gosh. I'm afraid I can't make the decision. Clayde: (Looking upward) What about you? Kaleidoscope: Me? I'm just a prisoner, also a jailor, but that doesn't make sense anymore. I'm earthbound, with no physical bodies, no ways to leave this hell, be shackled for four thousand meaningless years with no hope could be seen at all. No new soul, no new knowledge, an endless pilgrimage toward eternal death. Time to mark an end, please. Hope is a blessing of yours, not ours. Silence for half a minute. The Command Center was discussing whether to neutralize SCP-8555-A. Kaleidoscope: After the power re-establishes, you could leave here by the elevator. I promise to send you back in safety in my final times, along with that subject 4927. They aren't my hostage, certainly you can leave right now with them, but that will surely be a long trip. The decision was approved by Command. Kelson moved to the circuit breaker to switch it on. A few seconds later, all light panels on the ceiling came to life, the huge arena now brightly lit, exhibiting the whole of SCP-8555, standing intact and well-preserved, and the source of Kaleidoscope's voice, an audio amplifier in a corner on the white ceiling, echoing its voice within the tall, spacious chamber. Kaleidoscope: Thanks. The team stood still while waiting for the electric reboot. After one minute, incandescent light tubes were lit within the glassy casing of SCP-8555, shedding abundant light on all three mirrors inside. At 19:33 EST, Command reported abnormalities witnessed on the local side of reality. A cluster of glowing strips that composed a bright, dense, three-dimensional meshwork suddenly appeared on the night sky and extended to the ground. The incandescent mesh superposed the whole area of sky above the vicinity of SCP-8555-A's entrance, attenuating farther, but no clear borders of its huge expanse could be seen. The command center immediately informed the team about this. Kaleidoscope: It's your world. Maltz switched off his communication earphones. Clayde: How could you…? Kelson: Maltz, shall we at least turn the lights off? Maltz: (Flinched a bit backward) Oh my. Kaleidoscope: For 1,460,000 days of my desperate life, I was staring into the void, blank world, through millions of cameras. Billions lived and died, but I spotted an exception. I couldn't see inside the kaleidoscope. I do not have a body and robots lose touch right upon entering the core. My intellect was locked firmly within the world, which was dead since that day. But luckily there are still enough known theories of science, allowing me to speculate without the gift of imagination. A lapse of trillions of years would be enough for a new universe to form from a singularity, once a black hole loaded with grandeurs of masses. I sat here like a gatekeeper, bearing all the burdens of fantasy left by my world, but could never traverse that wall of unknowable. I concluded a single hypothesis that, if there were ones who could ever think beyond the box, they would eventually find us through the gateway. Life will always find its way. Your existence was proof. Kelson: Would it just be coincidence? Like the initial entrance. And our time is in sync now. Kaleidoscope: No spaces would overlap like this, it's against the - topology. I think I got your definition. Temporal distortion evens out within eons before it finally approaches the point of absolute parallelism, as now it is. The lights decreased for a little as Kaleidoscope's voice turned unstable. Maltz: I still find it hard to believe. Kaleidoscope: You serve an organization that aims to secure the supernatural, right? Maltz: How do you know that? Kaleidoscope: I admire your efforts and your rational spirit toward things hard to control or understand. It's obvious to infer from your expertise. Also a fortune we were never able to have. Maltz: It's my honor to be appreciated. We will well document your history. Kaleidoscope: Time to depart. The clock is ticking. The team proceeded to the elevator. D-4927 was found sound asleep on a cushion, with all gears intact. The shaft ascended and moved to the rooftop of SCP-8555, releasing all personnel at the boundary. Upon traversing the surface of the core, the escort team and D-4927 landed on local side 2.75 kilometers from the entrance point, which accords with the distance in SCP-8555-A. The exhibition of the light mesh soon diminished and disappeared completely shortly after the team's return. Follow-up actions were taken by the Foundation to employ amnestics on civilians. [END LOG] Footnotes 1. While the standard adapted is 100, this was at the edge of minimum safe reality level without special protection. 2. It indicates an immense inconsistency with locally known human history, since the Paleolithic era was at least three million years ago. 3. This part was written by Foundation personnel, same hereinafter. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8555" by Resolver, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8555. 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: kaleidoscope.png Author: Resolver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/kaleidoscope/kaleidoscope.png Filename: atom-depiction.jpg Author: Resolver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/kaleidoscope/atom-depiction.jpg
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SCP-8558
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Deep down every part of you burns with need. You want to touch, to dig and dig and dig until you just can't anymore. And God, it feels so good. So, so good. ADULT CONTENT This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts. Explicit depiction of sexual acts. Features non-consensual sexual acts. Depiction of severe mistreatment of children Depiction of self-harm Depiction of suicide Depiction 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 Item#: 8558 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: critical link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Direct interaction with SCP-8558-1 instances may only be undertaken with approval from the Site Director and current head of the Department of Zoological Studies. Individuals may not enter SCP-8558-1's containment chamber without full hazmat protections. All individuals leaving SCP-8558-1's containment must undergo advanced biohazard cleaning protocols and will be placed under mandatory quarantine for a period of no less than 2 weeks. Personnel who report SCP-8558-2 symptoms shall remain in quarantine indefinitely. Research into a cure for exposure to SCP-8558-2 is considered a top priority. All requests for euthanasia are to be denied. Description: SCP-8558 refers to a pair of interconnected anomalies: SCP-8558-1: A species of humanoid, non-sapient, amphibious creatures superficially resembling Salmo salar (Atlantic salmon) ranging between 2-3 meters in height. X-ray analysis has revealed that all of SCP-8558-1's reproductive organs are covered with a thick layer of protective flesh and scales, allowing eggs to develop internally. SCP-8558-1's primary anomalous traits derive from the species' mutualistic relationship with SCP-8558-2. SCP-8558-1 instances are all naturally infected with SCP-8558-2, and it is believed to play a key role in their reproductive process. Individuals that have been "cured" of SCP-8558-2 in controlled settings are effectively rendered sterile and unable to participate in SCP-8558-1 spawning practices. SCP-8558-2: A viral infection originating in SCP-8558-1. SCP-8558-2 remains dormant in SCP-8558-1 instances, activating during SCP-8558-1 spawning season. Upon activation, SCP-8558-1 instances will experience a sudden release of sex hormones and endorphins. SCP-8558-1's outer flesh will begin to slough off, allowing access to their reproductive organs by a prospective mate.1 Once mating has concluded, SCP-8558-2 begins to rapidly regenerate flesh lost in the process of mating.2 SCP-8558-2's effects on SCP-8558-1 continues up until the individual successfully mates. SCP-8558-1 instances that do not successfully mate will continue to lose flesh without regenerating. These instances have been seen continuing the search for a mate even following the loss of vital organs and large quantities of blood, and will only perish after the loss of the majority of their brain tissue. Recent discoveries have revealed that SCP-8558-2 is a zoonotic disease. Addendum 8558.1: Initial Zoonotic Infection Forward: The following footage was recovered from Site-58's Zoological Anomaly Containment Wing. Footage features a research endeavor led by the chair of the Zoological Studies Department, Dr. Zacharias Hanneman, into the mating habits of SCP-8558-1. <BEGIN LOG> Dr. Hanneman, Researcher Benedict Harrison, and Researcher Aaron Pollus stand in the decontamination chamber leading to SCP-8558-1's containment. Hanneman: Everyone suited up? Various murmurs of assent are heard from the gathered personnel, as everyone finishes putting on hazmat suits. Hanneman: Perfect. Remember, stay clear from 8558-1. The buggers get mean when they're in heat and the last thing I need to do is fill out an incident report. Buddy system, and all that jazz. Hanneman opens the door to SCP-8558-1's containment. Harrison and Pollus recoil. Harrison: Jesus it reeks in here. Pollus: Through the suits even… Hanneman: Oh! Good, that means they've begun! Quick, duck into the shrubbery over there, and be quiet! Hanneman pushes both researchers down into the bushes near an artificial river in SCP-8558-1's chamber. Two instances can be seen approaching one another. Harrison: Alright, got the audio recorder live. Pollus: Video is live too. We're set? Hanneman: … Ah, I forgot to grab my tablet. Difficult to get notes on it all without it, you know. Pardon me just a moment, gentlemen, I'll be right back. Hanneman rises to his feet and runs back to the entrance of the containment chamber. Pollus: That man would lose his head if it wasn't screwed on. Harrison: Remember that time he forgot to close the door to the Squonk's chamber, babe? Pollus stifles a laugh. Pollus: It took us almost a week to find the crybaby! The .aic guys kept hearing it cry in the vents and thought they were being haunted! Both begin to laugh. One of the SCP-8558-1 instances turns its attention towards the shrubbery. Harrison: Oh! Shh, look! The instance begins to lumber towards the shrubbery, chittering. Pollus: Uhh… Benny we should probably move. Harrison: No, no, this is great. We'll get to see it up and close! Pollus: Benny, we're supposed to avoid direct interaction. This is a breach of protocol. Harrison: No, see? The instance regards the researchers, cocking its head slightly. Harrison approaches it with an outstretched hand. The instance lowers its head, allowing Harrison to pet it. Harrison: If I had to guess this one's a female, see that bulge in her side there? Pollus sighs before approaching. Pollus: Would explain why she's so docile, I guess. Harrison: Males of quite a few species tend to be the most sexually aggressive and animalistic after all. Pollus: Oh, har har. You don't need to stare me down when you say that. Harrison gently strokes the instance. A small chunk of its epidermis peels away under his touch. He takes Pollus's hand and guides it towards the instance. Pollus intitially recoils, but allows Harrison to press his hand against the instance. Its flesh continues to flake off as the two stroke its side. Harrison: Oh, you're about ready, huh, girl? The instance chitters, before standing upright. The researchers turn, and see another SCP-8558-1 instance approaching. Pollus: … Benny we should probably— The instance bellows and charges at the shrubbery. Pollus: Benny, MOVE IT! Pollus grabs Harrison's hand. Both begin to run towards the exit. Harrison: Augh! Shit! Harrison trips over an exposed root and tumbles to the ground. Pollus rushes to his side. Harrison: I'm fine, I— The SCP-8558-1 instance reaches the tree and lunges towards Harrison. Before it can reach him, Pollus intercepts and checks it with his shoulder. The anomaly is sent tumbling back, a large chunk of flesh peeling back as it hits the ground. It scrambles back to its feet, hissing as the chunk of flesh falls away. It slashes at Pollus, who kicks it and knocks it to the ground once more. He slides over to Harrison and reaches out his hand. Pollus: Can you stand? Harrison: Y-yeah. Thanks, babe. Pollus helps Harrison to his feet. Hanneman returns, stun gun drawn. Hanneman: Are you two alright?! The SCP-8558-1 instance returns to its feet and bellows. Hanneman shoots it with the stun gun, and it collapses to the ground, spasming. Pollus: Yeah, I— Pollus recoils in pain, grabbing his leg. Hanneman moves his hand away, revealing a large cut through his hazmat suit and an open gash in his leg below it. Hanneman: Shit. Shit shit shit. Harrison: What's wrong? Pollus: It's nothing, I'm all good. Just a quick cleanup— Hanneman pulls out his portable radio, and moves between Pollus and Harrison. Hanneman: Hey medical? Prep a quarantine bay ASAP. <END LOG> Afterword: Researcher Pollus was placed into mandatory quarantine to track for signs of potential SCP-8558-2 infection, with Dr. Hanneman and Researcher Harrison held under quarantine in separate chambers. Dr. Hanneman and Researcher Harrison were released following a decontamination shower and blood test that reported negative for SCP-8558-2 infection. Researcher Pollus's quarantine status was upgraded to "indefinite" following confirmation of the first human SCP-8558-2 infection. Addendum 8558.2: Video Log #1 Date: 7/8/25 <BEGIN LOG> Pollus sits at a desk in his quarantine dorm. The room behind him is sterile and organized. He speaks into a camera. Pollus: I think I set this up right? He reaches out and adjusts the camera. Pollus: Good enough. Uh, hey? I'm Researcher Aaron Pollus, today's date is… August 7th, 2025. I've been in quarantine for two days now. Pollus adjusts himself in his seat. Pollus: I was asked by the Medical Department to keep a daily video log to help track my condition. It's weird honestly, being a test subject for once. Bravely diving into the unknown! I bet I'll get a medal or something for this when it's all over. I hope I do. Medals are cool. He chuckles. Pollus: Anyway, so far so good. I don't really feel different in any way. A little warm, and… oh! He rises to his feet and attempts to lift his leg up to the camera, stumbling at first. After some struggle, he's able to show his prior injury from SCP-8558-2 to the camera. Pollus: The really notable thing is that this injury here isn't healing, but get this! He sticks his finger into the wound, pushing the flesh back and widening it. Muscle and tendons are visible underneath. Pollus: It doesn't hurt at all! Honestly we might be able to figure out how to make some strong anesthetic from this. He puts his leg back down and chuckles to himself. Pollus: Can't say I'm thrilled with quarantine, but hey. We should've been more careful around a bunch of horny fishmen anyway. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, lesson learned. He blows a kiss to the camera, before tapping his chest twice and giving a thumbs up. Pollus: Every day ends eventually, yeah? <END LOG> Addendum 8558.3: Video Log #2 Date: 10/8/25 <BEGIN LOG> Pollus turns on the camera. He appears largely unchanged from the last notable recording. Pollus: Hey all! Today's date is… August 10th, 2025. So far so good still. He turns back to the room and shows it to the camera. There's a set of weights and a shelf of books. Pollus: Thanks to Benny I was able to get some workout equipment and books in here. Don't get me wrong, talking to a camera all day definitely makes me feel sane and well adjusted, but I do appreciate having more ways to pass the time. He turns back to the camera and smiles. Pollus: Only notable physical change I can note right now is a sharp increase in energy. I spent almost all day yesterday just working out and even now I don't feel tired. Oh, oh! Benny, look at this! He stands up and lifts his shirt. Developing abdominals are present on his stomach. Pollus: This is only after two days of working out! He sits back down, smiling. Pollus: Anyway take your time with the cure guys. I'll be alright. He taps his chest twice and gives a thumbs up. Pollus: Miss ya, Bens. <END LOG> Addendum 8558.4: Video Log #3 Date: 15/8/25 <BEGIN LOG> Pollus turns on the camera. He's gained muscle mass, and appears slightly flushed. There is a large stuffed bear on the bed behind him. Pollus: Today is August 15th I think? It's been just over a week since I was placed in quarantine. He lifts his leg and places it on the desktop with relative ease, showing off the injury from before. It is unchanged. Pollus: The workouts have been great for flexibility! He chuckles. Pollus: Seriously though, I did want to point out this thing hasn't actually healed yet. I don't think it's changed at all? I'm not an expert on that front, but I figured it was worth noting. He lowers his leg. Pollus: Still no notable pain, but it does itch a bit. I've been good about not scratching so far. Mostly. Pollus adjusts himself in his seat for several seconds, visibly uncomfortable. He motions as if to scratch his chin and stops himself. Pollus: Other than the things I've mentioned before, I've been feeling a bit… uh… He flushes a deeper red. Pollus: Goddammit how do I say this professionally? I've been feeling… worked up we'll say. Pollus adjusts himself again. Pollus: B-but Benny's been great so far. They haven't let me actually see him yet, but he left me this! He motions to the bear on the bed. Pollus: He brought it from home, it was a wedding gift from his parents. It's not the same as having him here, but it's nice to have something to snuggle against at night. It smells like him—home. It smells like home, and I dunno, it just feels nice to touch something right now. He lets out an awkward chuckle and scratches at the back of his neck. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but continues to scratch his neck for nearly a minute. Pollus: You know it's funny. Between this bear and all the cameras in this room I guess I can't really feel alone, can I? I mean I know I'm being monitored at all times, so I guess it's like everyone is in here with me? He chuckles weakly. Pollus: … Ah, yeah. So that's it, I guess. G'night. Pollus taps his chest twice and gives a thumbs up before rising to his feet and walking over to the bed. He grabs the stuffed bear and wraps himself around it. He remains in this position for several hours, shivering, before appearing to fall asleep. <END LOG> Addendum 8558.5: Interview #1 Date: 21/8/25 Forward: Researcher Benedict Harrison received approval from Dr. Zacharias Hanneman to perform an interview with Researcher Aaron Pollus with the goal of accurately assessing his mental state following two weeks in quarantine. The interview approval is currently under review by the Foundation's Ethics Committee. <BEGIN LOG> Researcher Harrison approaches the window separating Pollus's quarantine unit from the central hallway. Upon noticing Harrison, Pollus leaps from the bed and races towards the window, nearly crashing directly into it. He places a hand on the window, and Harrison does the same on his side. The two stand in silence for a moment. Pollus: Hey. Harrison: Hey yourself. Pollus sniffles. Harrison: Since when have you been emotional? Pollus: Shut up, it's the fish hormones. I missed you. Harrison: I missed you too. And… I'm sorry. About this. I just— Pollus raises a hand. Pollus: Hey, I'm not gonna let you blame yourself for this. We were both careless, and accidents happen. Harrison: Yeah, but— Pollus: Hush. I forgive you. Harrison gives a weak smile. Harrison: You look good, for what it's worth. Pollus smirks, flexing an arm. Pollus: All for you, babe! Harrison: I'll admit I never actually expected to see you like this. Pollus: Just imagine what I can do with all this. Oh man if I could get my hands on you… Harrison: A-Aaron, come on, we're being recorded! Pollus continues to flex as he speaks. He leans in towards the window. Pollus: Hell I would do just about anything you wanted me to— Harrison: Aaron… Aaron! Focus! I love you but this is not a private conversation! Pollus shakes his head and averts his eyes from Harrison. He blushes and scratches at the back of his neck. he continues to scratch as he speaks. Pollus: … I got carried away. I'm really sorry, Benny. Harrison narrows his eyes. Harrison: What's that on your arm? Pollus: A bicep. Harrison: No, dumbass, I meant that. He motions towards what appears to be a small section of skin just above Pollus's triceps. It appears heavily inflamed, with some patches appearing to have begun to peel away. Pollus lowers his arm behind his back. Pollus: I was itchy, that's all. It's no big deal. Harrison: You can't be blasé about stuff like that, Aaron. I know you read the documentation on 8558. At the very least try not to scratch at it. I just… Pollus: We don't know it actually does that to people. Harrison: Has anyone from the Medical Department seen you recently? Pollus thinks for a moment. Pollus: … Nope, not that I can think of. Honestly you're the first person I've actually seen properly since this all started. Harrison: What?! Please tell me you've at least done blood tests or something? Pollus: Since entering quarantine? No, none of that. They did that test to confirm the 8558-2 infection anyway, they don't need more. Harrison: We need to talk to them, then. That has to be a mistake— Pollus taps the window. Pollus: Babe, it's fine. Don't make a whole thing out of this, you don't need to worry so much. Look at me, I'm fine! Great even! I trust that they've got what they need to make whatever cure they're planning to make, and it's not like I can do anything about it. Can we just stop talking about it? Harrison sighs. Pollus: Please, just relax a bit. Be here, with me. I can tell how tense your shoulders are. Harrison: Just relax, why haven't I thought of that? Pollus: Hey. Pollus taps his chest twice and gives a thumbs up. Harrison mirrors the action, and gives a small smile. Harrison: I know. I know… Pollus: Go do something kind for yourself, please. It'll be alright. I promise. Harrison: I'm holding you to that promise. Harrison leaves. Pollus sighs before returning to the bed and wrapping himself around the bear once again. Pollus: Miss you… <END LOG> Addendum 8558.6: Video Log #4 Date: 23/8/25 <BEGIN LOG> Pollus turns on the camera. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but begins coughing. He continues to cough for nearly a minute, before eventually coughing out a small object. He holds it up to the camera as a small trickle of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth. It appears to be a molar. Pollus: That's the second today, actually. He grabs a tissue and wraps the tooth inside. He then proceeds to wipe his mouth, before opening it and giving the camera a view inside. He's also missing his left 2nd bicuspid. Pollus: Lost that other one this morning. Woke up with a shitton of blood in my mouth and half choked to death. He grabs another tissue and spits into it. Pollus: Doesn't hurt, in case anyone was wondering. Same as that gash on my leg, I don't feel a thing. Feels good to scratch at it, though. He reaches down and appears to begin scratching at something under the desk. Pollus: I know, I know. I shouldn't. His face contorts into a grimace as he continues scratching. Pollus: I dunno, it feels really good, and once I get going it's hard to stop. He continues scratching as his breathing grows heavy. He lets out a small groan as he does. After several minutes he looks down and jerks his hands away from his lap. He places them atop the desk and balls them into tight fists. He avoids direct eye contact with the camera. Pollus shivers, and adjusts himself. He closes his eyes and takes several deep, ragged breaths. Pollus: None of it bothers me as much as this burning does. I keep scratching and scratching because there's like this fire under my skin. I'm so hot I wanna just… He wraps his arms around himself and digs his nails into his sides. Pollus: … rip it off. Pollus takes another deep breath before dropping his arms to his side. He adjusts again, groaning, and paws at his crotch. Pollus: And it's a burn in every sense too. I miss Benny, miss him bad. God I… need him right now. He turns back to the bear on the bed, which appears to slightly misshapen and slightly damp from heavy use. Pollus: The bear helps. God the bear helps, keeps me grounded a bit. Lets me pretend he's… here, even if it's not him, and won't be him. He puts his head into his hands, bouncing his leg. After a moment he claps his hands together with a weak smile. Blood continues to trickle out the corner of his mouth. Pollus: Nah, it's fine. It's fine. It's fine! He nods, spitting blood and another tooth onto the floor. He shakes his head and taps his chest twice. He hesitantly gives a thumbs up as his hand shakes. Pollus: Because it has to be. <END LOG> Addendum 8558.7: Interview #2 Date: 26/8/25 Forward: Researcher Benedict Harrison was granted approval to perform an interview with Researcher Aaron Pollus to once again ascertain Pollus's mental health status. The interview approval is currently under review by the Foundation's Ethics Committee. <BEGIN LOG> Harrison approaches the window to Pollus's quarantine unit. Pollus races towards the window, pressing his face against it. His condition has notably declined—large patches of hair have begun to fall out and his complexion is notably paler. He flushes a deep red upon making eye contact with Harrison. Pollus: Hey there handsome. Harrison: Easy, killer, what's got you all worked up? Pollus: You. I miss you. Harrison: I miss you too. Pollus reaches a hand up to the window, revealing that he is missing his left ring finger. Harrison recoils in shock. Harrison: What the fuck?! Pollus: God you look good. Have you been working out too? That shirt fits just right. Hugs you in all the right places. Harrison: Aaron, you— Pollus begins to paw at his crotch. Pollus: Fuck Benny you don't know how much I'm missing you. When I get out of here and get my hands on you I swear… Harrison: Aaron will you please— Pollus: I'm going to run my tongue over every square inch of you. And then I'm gonna take those tight little pants of yours off, and suck the shit out of your co— Harrison: AARON! Please for the love of God will you stop. Pollus recoils back, startled. He looks down at his hand and removes it from his lap, placing it back against the window. He opens his mouth as if to speak, before looking away from Harrison. Harrison: Just… look. Pollus looks down at his hand. Pollus: Oh. Yeah. Harrison: What happened? Are you okay?! Pollus shrugs. Harrison: Don't just shrug at me, you're missing a fucking finger! Pollus: I mean it doesn't hurt, if that's what you're worried about. Harrison: That's not what I'm worried about, I'm worried about the fact that it fell off at all! Pollus breathes heavily, and stares at Harrison. The two maintain eye contact for several moments. Harrison eventually sighs. Harrison: … They say they're working on it. Working on a cure, that is. I'm not allowed to know the fine details, but they promise me they're working on it. Pollus: Did you get a haircut? It looks good. You look good. Harrison: Aaron, please. Be honest with me— how are you doing? Pollus sighs. Pollus: It feels like every nerve in my body is on fire. It's not pain, I just feel more, every little touch and sensation lights me up. Everything is so sensitive, to the point I'm starting to almost feel sick. I want to just sit and scratch and touch, but… Fuck, every second I'm alone I just miss you more and more, and scratching distracts me from it, even just for a second? He holds up his leg. The cut on his leg is visibly larger. The flesh around the wound has been partially peeled back. Harrison gags. Pollus: But this is what happens when I indulge. I want to dig and dig so bad. It feels good, but the more I give in the less of me there is. Harrison: Aaron— Pollus motions as if he's about to begin scratching at the open sore on his left triceps. Harrison: Aaron, please. You're going to make it worse. Pollus takes a shuddering breath and stops. Pollus: Alright. Pollus takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He holds the breath for a moment, then releases. Pollus: I'm going to hold myself together. I have to, for you. That bear you gave me? It's something, it's you. It smells like you, it smells like home. With it here I feel like you're with me. With it here I feel like I'm waking up next to you again, even if only for a moment. So, thank you. I just wish it was really you. Harrison: … You're gonna be ok, Aaron. I'm promising you this. I'll… I'll make them finish the cure. We'll get you fixed up, and then we'll go home. I swear to God we'll go home. Pollus smiles and places his hand on the glass once more. Harrison meets his hand. The two stand in silence for several moments. Pollus: I love you. Harrison: I love you, too. Harrison taps his chest twice and gives a thumbs up. Pollus hesitates for a moment, before mirroring the gesture. <END LOG> Addendum 8558.8: Video Log #5 Date: 28/8/25 <BEGIN LOG> Pollus turns on the camera. He's trembling, holding a hand over his left eye. Blood covers half of his face as he breathes heavily. After several moments, he looks at the camera and removes his hand, allowing his left eye to fall from the orbital cavity. It hangs by the ocular nerve for a moment before the nerve snaps, and the eye falls to the table. Pollus: I… I can't do this. Please. Pollus attempts to take a deep breath and hold it, but coughs while inhaling. He proceeds to cough for almost a full minute, doubling over on the desk. He spits blood as he does so. Pollus sits upright once more. He lifts his left arm and begins scratching below his triceps, then pulls his hand away. He holds his hand midair for several moments, before scratching his arm once more. The scratching continues in intensity until the outer layer of skin has been removed and a hole has opened up. He continues to dig into the wound, panting as he does. Pollus: God… please. He moans softly as he continues to dig into the hole in his arm. His body rises and falls as he begins to thrust into the air. Pollus: Benny… Fuck… <END LOG> Addendum 8558.9: Video Log #6 Date: 29/8/25 Forward: The following log was recorded using one of the security cameras in Researcher Pollus's room. <BEGIN LOG> Pollus is asleep in bed, wrapped around the stuffed bear. He begins to grind his hips against the bear. The grinding increases in intensity as time continues, and he moans. After several minutes, he wakes up. He stares at the back wall for several moments, and then begins to scratch at his jaw. He vocalizes and moans softly as he does so. The scratching increases in intensity he begins to peel skin away from his face. His right hand disappears under the cover and he begins thrusting. After several minutes, a large portion of skin and muscle tissue has been removed from his jaw. He lays flat on his back and begins to vocalize loudly as his body spasms. When he sits back up, his jaw falls away causing his tongue to hang loosely from what was his mouth. He raises his hands to his face, grabbing around where he jaw once was. He lets out a strangled, choking sound as he continues to grab at his face. This continues for several minutes until he presses his face into the pillow, his body heaving as he does so. <END LOG> Addendum 8558.10: Incident Report Date: 30/8/25 Forward: The following was recorded at the Foundation Medical Department's Pathology lab. Researcher Benedict Harrison was not granted prior approval before entering the lab. <BEGIN LOG> Harrison enters the lab and walks over to Dr. Zacharias Hanneman.3 Harrison: Dr. Hanneman, thank God a familiar face. I've been trying to figure out who to talk to about all of this and no one seems to want to help me. Please, I just… Hanneman: Harrison? What's all this about? You know you can't— Harrison: I want to save him before there's nothing left to save. Every time I see Aaron there's less of him. Hanneman: Well, er, yes? To our understanding that is how the disease progresses in humans. Harrison: No, you don't understand. There's less of him. His smile stopped reaching his eyes, his sense of humor is gone. All of the little things I love about him that make him who he is. Please, Dr. Hanneman, help me here. Help me save Aaron before there's no Aaron left to save. Hanneman: I'm sympathetic, I really, truly am, but there are procedures— Harrison: Listen, I'm really sorry for interrupting everyone's work and coming back here. I'll take whatever punishment you or whoever else feels fit to give me later, that doesn't matter. You're the research head on the SCP-8558-2 case, right? Hanneman: Wait how did you find that out? I mean, yes, I am, but that was supposed to be proprietary information. Harrison: I checked the SCP-8558 file's extended documentation. Obviously with my clearance I couldn't see most of it, but still— Hanneman: Your clearance on that file was supposed to have been revoked. Harrison furrows his brow. Harrison: Pardon? Why? Hanneman: I'll need to have a conversation with RAISA— Harrison: Why would you remove my clearance? Hanneman: You were removed from the project. Harrison: I don't understand. I was never informed of that. Hanneman: You were meant to be removed once you were identified as a potential vector of infection. Harrison: But I've been conducting interviews on behalf of this project? I've had access to the videos, even! And besides weren't you— Hanneman: I appreciate you assisting us with those interviews, for what it's worth. We figured it would be most receptive to you speaking with it. Regardless, why are you here? Harrison pauses and shakes his head before speaking. Harrison: S-sorry, just… I wanted to know about the status of the cure for SCP-8558-2? Hanneman pauses for a moment before shaking his head. He taps on his tablet for a moment. Hanneman: Current results are promising. We should have a version ready to roll out in a week for anyone who has been in contact with 8558-1 but otherwise asymptomatic. Harrison: And what about people who are symptomatic? Hanneman: Not a research priority, it's too far out of our scope. Harrison opens his mouth as if to speak, but appears unable to. Hanneman: Please, Harrison, understand that those who have actually begun to rot are— Harrison: I— No… no. No, I won't listen to this. This is… You're seriously willing to just leave people to die? Hanneman: I didn't say that. Don't put words into my mouth. Harrison: You didn't need to. Hanneman: Listen, I know you're upset, but— Harrison begins to pace the lab. Harrison: Aaron has been in there rotting alone. You know what he told me when I first spoke with him? That even after a full week no one from the Medical Department had come to do anything with him— no tests, nothing. Harrison pinches the bridge of his nose. Harrison: Make it make sense to me, help me understand this. Hanneman: You're being unreasonable— Harrison: Give me one Goddamn reason. Hanneman straightens up. Hanneman: … It was always a priority to capture all stages of infection, outside of a controlled testing environment. We can't possibly develop a cure without first understanding what infection does to the human body. Harrison is silent. Hanneman: You must understand that it's for the benefit of the Foundation and humanity as a whole. For all we know it could be like rabies after all, impossible to treat after the subject is symptomatic. By understanding how this disease affects the human body, from infection up to the cessation of biological functions, we can— Harrison: Does he know that? Hanneman: Pardon me? Harrison: Aaron. Were you ever planning to let him know that you were just going to leave him to rot away? For the benefit of the Foundation? Hanneman: And humanity. Harrison: Right. 'Humanity'. What humanity? I don't see any in this fucking room, not if you think it justifies letting a man rot in a cell. Hanneman: SCP-8558-3 was deemed an acceptable loss for the sake of this pro— Harrison raises a fist as he begins approaching Hanneman, but stops himself. Hanneman: If you're looking for someone to be upset with, consider a mirror. Don't act like we haven't reviewed the footage. Harrison turns to leave. He turns back towards Hanneman as he reaches the door. Harrison: You Goddamn coward. Harrison slams the door. <END LOG> Addendum 8558.11: Video Log #7 Date: 31/8/25 <BEGIN LOG> Footage still from Researcher Pollus's quarantine chamber. Redacted per Ethics Committee order. Pollus turns on the camera and angles it towards the bed. He nods, before tapping his chest twice and giving a thumbs up. Pollus lays down on bed and grips the stuffed bear tightly. He grinds against it while rubbing his face against the bear's face and neck. He licks at the bear's neck and shoulders several times, his hip motions increasing in speed as he does. Eventually he rises to his knees and lays over the bear, bracing himself over it with his hands on the bed. With his right hand, he begins tearing at the base of the bear's tail. He appears to have difficulty doing so, eventually sitting upright and working at the seam with his left hand. He forms a small hole, and continues tearing at the base. The friction peels away the skin of his right index and left pinky finger, and eventually both fall away at the joint. Once a sufficiently sized hole is formed, he removes his pants and lies flush against the bear. He begins thrusting into the bear, sweating profusely and sobbing as he does. Eventually he sits the bear in his lap and wraps his upper body around it, continuing to thrust into it and turning his back to the camera. After a half hour, his body shudders. He collapses into the bear, panting heavily as a small pool of blood begins to form beneath him. He removes the bear from his lap. He appears to reach a hand down towards his groin. He pulls it away and throws what appear to be several chunks of flesh to the floor before running to the room's sink and vomiting. He spends the remainder of the day huddled atop the bed, clutching the stuffed bear against himself and gently stroking its head. He occasionally rubs his injured groin against it involuntarily. <END LOG> Additional Notes: On 2/8/25, the Ethics Committee received a request to award euthanasia to Researcher Aaron Pollus, citing an extreme deterioration of both his mental and physical health. SCP-8558 Project Lead Dr. Zacharias Hanneman was consulted on the matter. Following a consultation with Dr. Hanneman and review of relevant materials, the request was denied. Addendum 8558.12: Video Log #8 Date: 5/9/25 <BEGIN LOG> Harrison is seen approaching Pollus's containment. He swipes an ID badge4 at the door and enters, closing and sealing the door behind him. He holds a syringe in his hand. Harrison: Hey, handsome. Pollus is on the bed, now having lost approximately 40% of his original biomass. When Pollus notices Harrison's entrance, he recoils and attempts to flee. Harrison: Hey, hey. It's ok. I know what I'm doing. Pollus continues attempting to flee until Harrison places a hand on his shoulder, gently tracing circles on it with his thumb. Pollus appears to relax. Harrison sits Pollus in his lap and cradles him against his chest. Pollus begins to grind against him. Harrison: It's ok. You can't help it. Pollus buries his face in Harrison's chest. Harrison strokes his head. Harrison: I'm sorry. I can't keep my promise. Pollus meets Harrison's eyes and shakes his head. The two sit in silence for several moments. Eventually, Harrison leans down and kisses what remains of Pollus's nose. Harrison: I love you, you know that? Pollus nods, weakly tapping his chest twice, and attempts to give a thumbs up. Harrison reaches down and helps erect his thumb, then mirrors the motion. Pollus buries his face into Harrison's chest once more. Harrison takes the syringe and inserts it into Pollus's shoulder. The two sit in silence for approximately one hour, until Pollus releases a shuddering breath and goes still. Harrison places him in the bed, gently covering him with the sheet. He lays down beside Pollus's corpse, and inserts the syringe into his own shoulder. <END LOG> Additional Notes: Both bodies were removed from the chamber and underwent autopsy. Following autopsy, they were stored in Cold Storage Warehouse 003 and Cold Storage Warehouse 005 respectively. Footnotes 1. This process is believed to result in little to no pain for SCP-8558-1. Current research indicates that the process is somewhat pleasurable for the species, as individuals have been seen assisting one another with the removal of flesh as part of the mating ritual. 2. On average, a standard SCP-8558-1 instance can lose upwards of 50-60% of its bodyweight during the mating process, all of which is restored within 12-24 hours following successful mating. 3. While not a member of the Foundation Medical Department, Dr. Hannemen was given purview over SCP-8558 related research within the department due to his position as chair for the Department of Zoological Studies. 4. The badge used by Researcher Harrison was not his own, and is believed to have been stolen from another member of the Department of Zoological Studies. Investigation is ongoing. Prosophobia: Fulfillment SCP Anthology 2024 Alethophobia: Headcanon ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8558" by OriTiefling, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8558. 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: Redacted.png Author: oritiefling License: Creative Commons by Share-Alike 3.0
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SCP-8579
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esoteric-class
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Due to complications with the item, this entry number is supplementary and the item has been temporarily left unmarked and delisted due to concerns with the Preszôt area. Along with this, several unauthorised alterations have been made to the file. Personnel accessing this file with improper security clearance will be reprimanded. – RAISA Item#: [MISSING_DATA] Level5 Containment Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ Secondary Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ Disruption Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ Risk Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ link to memo Special Containment Procedures: The following warning signage is to be distributed around the Preszôt exclusionary zone as a deterrent for both unauthorised Foundation personnel on the site and for any civilians who bypass the designated Foundation checkpoints: Areal Hazard Warning This area is designated a ⦾ (red) level radioactive zone, and access is restricted for all non-essential personnel. Uncontrolled, highly anomalous substances have been released in the area and are likely to result in severe injury and/or death to persons entering. Entering by your own volition ensures that your body will be permanently unrecoverable in the event of a casualty. There are no protocols in place to help if you become stuck, injured or unable to exit by yourself. Those caught beyond the designated checkpoints will be promptly detained until further notice, and may undergo invasive screening to ensure the propagation of radiation exposure does not exceed the Preszôt exclusion zone in any way. Due to this termination is a possible outcome if rules are not abided by. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Secure. Contain. Protect. Several Foundation checkpoints are to be maintained around the town of Preszôt, Russia, with patrol personnel to monitor the quaternary zone1 on a daily basis, deterring any unauthorised subjects from continuing further into the site. Detainment and threat of lethal force are permissible if the subject disregards commands from personnel. Research teams within the tertiary, secondary and primary zones (the most proximate zones) are to be equipped with specialised radiation suits, and should spend no more than 2 hours per session within these zones before returning to a designated decontamination station. All personnel are on a weekly rotation. No personnel are currently allowed to enter the primary zone due to the propagation of an anomaly of interest. No further information should be provided. Unauthorised personnel attempting to seek out this information will be subsequently reprimanded. Description: [MISSING_DATA] Additional Information: Preszôt is an abandoned (since 1992) soviet mining settlement that was procured by the Foundation in 1998 for the purposes of performing tests on uncatalogued anomalous substances on a larger scale in urban spaces for research purposes. Research Site-[MISSING_DATA] was then founded in the town to perform more advanced testing. This continued until an incident in 2002 resulted in Preszôt once again having to be left derelict, with an exclusionary zone set up due to high levels of radiation to prevent contamination outside of the town. This exclusionary zone takes up an area of around 1750km². To facilitate the security and research of the Preszôt exclusionary zone, Research Area-141 was established 7km outside of the zone. Preszôt’s primary zone presents additional challenges when attempts are made at exploration. Personnel have a higher likelihood of becoming MIA due to particular anomalous presences within this area. END OF FILE ▶ Restricted Access Level/5 - Document ▼ Restricted Access Level/5 - Document Item #: SCP-8579 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8579 is contained via a maintained exclusionary zone around the town of Preszôt, Russia, and more specifically, its most secure area, the primary zone. Information on the nature of SCP-8579 is only permitted to the required Level 5 research personnel. Petrol teams are to monitor the surroundings of the exclusionary zone for any unauthorised subjects attempting to enter. The use of threat and lethal force is permitted if subjects do not comply. Several checkpoints are to be maintained around the exclusionary zone for patrol teams, detainees and research personnel. Personnel working as patrol teams on-site in Preszôt are not permitted access to the primary zone. Any unauthorised personnel attempting to access the primary zone should be considered MIA. Description: SCP-8579, externally is an infinitely small finite area, with a potentially infinite internal volume while still maintaining relative existential positioning. SCP-8579 is an impassable, imperceptible filamentous space with an approximate volume nearing zero when defined externally within consensus Kauhnwallêan Semiontological Spatio-Dynamics, yet simultaneously existing within a poorly defined area of space, located within the primary zone in Preszôt on the edge of the spatial collapse. SCP-8579 cannot be viewed directly; subjects observing SCP-8579 will only be capable of viewing contents behind SCP-8579, as if the item is non-existent. SCP-8579’s primary anomalous property occurs when a subject capable of outward perception enters into the space occupied by it, resulting in extreme topological extrusions within the occurrent and immediate area. The extrusion of matter within SCP-8579 has no effect on the space outside of SCP-8579’s volume, which has the potential to be infinitely expanded. Subjects considered within SCP-8579’s volume will maintain a position relative to the distance travelled within SCP-8579, and move proportionally within the primary zone into infinitesimally smaller increments depending on the proximity to SCP-8579’s area of effect. Subjects within SCP-8579 do not perceive this due to the topological expansion within SCP-8579. The processes behind this are poorly understood as accounts are unreliable. While electromagnetic signals can be transferred in and out of SCP-8579 without hindrance, it is unknown if matter, and therefore human subjects, are capable of exiting SCP-8579. Currently, SCP-8579 is the only access point for the majority of Preszôt’s primary zone, which is located within an inaccessible spatial collapse in reality. Initial Exploration Log: In 2004, 2 years after the Foundation’s dereliction of Preszôt, damage assessment teams detected high levels of spatio-semiontological distortions within local reality, pinning an approximate location on a hillside clearing close to the collapse. Preliminary testing showed that the anomaly, later designated SCP-8579 presented no “bounce-back” effect when certain signals were fired towards it, which led to the idea that it could therefore be feeding into an external or pocket reality and therefore may be the location of the missing contents within the collapse. The Spatiality Department at Area-141 took a special interest in the documented results presented and applied for a potential exploration of SCP-8579 utilising a D-class subject. This was later approved. The following log below will be presented in its eternity as it was recorded in 2004: Preface: The Area-141 Spatiality Department team is made up of the following, who are present to oversee the exploration: H Rsch Noël Kauhnwallê Rsch Leah Tamsin Rsch Ilenia Aminev Rsch Tally Leiden Subject: D-579 note: due to prior testing, D-579 is missing his right dominant hand at the wrist. Provisions: D-579 is supplied with the following: Backpack Several assorted MREs, bottled water Sample kit Flashlight, with additional shoulder mount Chest mounted recorder harness Microphone Digital camera Assorted other implements and instruments provided by the department Exploration Log At Area-141, Researcher Kauhnwallê, Tamsin, Aminev and Leiden are sitting around a monitoring terminal. Several screens display environmental readings gathered from D-579’s surroundings. Several books and notepads are scattered around the table. D-579 is wearing a radiation suit, walking down a gravel path in a Preszôt residential suburb. 10 metres behind, an armed guard tentatively follows. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Clears throat) We’ve got ourselves all set up here. Can you hear us any good? D-579: Yep. Reading ya’ loud and clear doc. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Okay thats all good then. (Pauses, leans closer to the microphone) Can’t tell you how excited we all are that we get to do something like this. Rsch Tamsin: Yeah, we appreciate you being on board for this. Really does help with the work we’ve been doing. D-579: Yeah, I’m glad though. It's either do this, get my sentence pardoned, or rot in my cell for the next few years. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, I mean, like we said at the briefing, it's likely nothing too special, but getting a look at some of the readings from inside the distortion area would do us good. (Pauses) How far from the site are we now? D-579: Not sure, map doesn’t look right. Guard: Map says it's close, will be there shortly, just keep on down the street. Researcher Aminev taps on Kauhnwallê’s shoulder. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Remember you have to call her in a few hours. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) Oh right yeah, don’t worry I’ll remember when the time comes. Shame that it has to be today of all days. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Mhm, yeah, just don’t forget like last time. You were quite upset. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) Yeah, I’ll remember I promise, don’t worry. Rsch Leiden: What's this? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Oh nothing really. I'll just be busy for a few minutes, that's all. Rsch Leiden: Right… They all turn to focus on the screen again. The guard motions D-579 through a brush and down a grassy slope to a clearing. At the end of the clearing is the border of the spatial collapse. Several monitoring cameras are set up around the area focussing on the anomaly a few metres in front of the collapse. D-579: This the spot then? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah looks to be for sure. You can wait there for now. Guard: I’ll have to head off for now. Can’t stay out here for long. Any problems with the subject and you radio it right away, doctor. I’ll be on hand if you need me. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure thing, thanks. The guard backs up in reverse, turns off his comms and then makes his way up the slope and out of sight. D-579: Come on, not like I’m gonna attempt something in the middle of Russia. What’re they always so nervous about? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Well for every cooperative D-class there’s probably about ten not-so cooperative ones. They’re just on edge a lot I guess, wouldn’t take it personally. D-579: Yeah, hard not to. (Pauses) So what now? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Um, well, first things first you gotta take that suit off. D-579: Why, thought this place was meant to be, you know, extremely dangerous or something? Rsch Tamsin: Yeah, I can chime in on that. We think the anomaly may be reflecting certain signals, like it just rejects them from passing into it, except for things like light and radio. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, around it we think you’ll be reasonably protected well enough, and we need you to be extra mobile for this and the suit blocks the camera. D-579: You’re not making this sound very safe really. Rsch Kauhnwallê: No, no, it'll be fine. It’s like the same dosage of radiation as if you were travelling on a plane. It’s fine really. D-579: Well for the record, I hadn’t actually ever been on a plane before until I came here, but whatever, you’re the scientists so I hope I can trust you guys. D-579 removes the suit, shimmying his right arm out the sleeve. He struggles to remove the headpiece. He leaves the clothes on a pile next to him, taking in deep breaths of the air. D-579: Actually feels much better being out of that thing. Air smells so fresh here. Not stale at all like at the sites. It’s… cleaner. Some time passes. Extraneous conversations removed. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Well, we’ve got everything set up here. You can start walking northeastern-ward, towards the direction of the anomaly. D-579: Alright then, moving now (turns and looks behind him before turning back around). D-579 walks briskly through a patch of tall grass, at some point definitely passing through the range of the anomaly and into its main volume. A wooden soviet manor-house begins to appear suddenly into view at the end of the field. No one notices this or comments on it. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Alright, confirming that you have crossed over. Everything's looking fine on our end. How are we feeling? Rsch Tamsin: (Tapping Researcher Kauhnwallê’s shoulder and pointing at a side monitor) still looks stable enough, don't you think that's a little weird. D-579: What's up? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Nothing really, it's just interesting; the Spalder Counter hasn't changed. It shows the amount of existing matter at a given time within space. Usually entering a pocket reality results in it rising since, well, it's new space. But, yeah, no change, which is weird. D-579: So I haven't gone anywhere then? Researcher Kauhnwallê looks towards the monitor for the stationary camera placed at the site, showing a distorted D-579, moving at a perceptibly decreased rate. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Um, no not exactly, just likely means there's more overlap between our realties. D-579: Yeah I mean… looking around I can't really tell, but it feels… noisier. If that makes sense. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure, just try to look around as much as you can so we can get a better idea of things. Rsch Leiden: If we are able to somewhat map the space, then it would make our research easier going forwards as well… Rsch Tamsin: Yeah and don't forget about the camera I gave you. Some photos would be nice. Rsch Aminev: ‘Think we've already kinda proven something here, the fact that you can still receive us. Some kind of bypass vector at the entry point. Rsch Tamsin: Yeah I think with most gates, there's always some kind of interference, but the signals are coming out clean. Rsch Leiden: Doesn't interact with light either it seems. Rsch Tamsin: Hm, yeah, but then how is it illuminated exactly on the inside? D-579: …The sun looks the same. Not sure if that helps. I can't really tell. Rsch Tamsin: Well you described a noisy feeling? Could you elaborate? D-579: Well, it's just that for a ghost town, it feels all too lived in. Haunted maybe, that's the feeling, but not haunted like how the rest of the town looks walking through it. It's just, this time, I feel a weight on my chest. Rsch Aminev: Maybe it's your body adjusting itself. Sometimes people feel ill crossing into pocket realities. D-579: Could be, but I wouldn’t say I’m feeling ill, I just feel, heard or something. Rsch Aminev: Heard? Watched, you mean? D-579: Nah, nothing like that… I'll look around that house okay, maybe I am just feeling sick or something. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm, okay, well remember to keep us updated on how you’re feeling. It's important we know not only what the anomaly is but how the anomaly affects people. D-579: Mhm yeah, sure thing. (Pauses) Coming up the steps now. D-579 walks along a stone wall and up a set of steps which lead up to a raised wooden porch area with the house’s side entrance. D-579 steps up to the door, opening it with his right hand. The hallway is dark and empty. There are suspended dust particles in the air. D-579: Hm yeah, it smells pretty stale in here. Rsch Kauhnwallê: If you're still feeling bad, it's probably best if you drink some water or something? Right? Rsch Tamsin: Yeah or sit down if you need to regain your energy maybe? Sometimes entering an extradimensional space can tire you out fast. D-579: (Somewhat sternly) Don't worry, I'm fine, honestly, I just had a feeling that's all. Let me look around for a bit. D-579 scans the room with a thoughtful expression. He brushes his right hand along the surface of a cabinet opposite to the dining room entryway as he walks by, wiping away several layers of dust. D-579: It's weird, it… it feels dusty, but the cabinet isn't old, or it just doesn't feel old. It's slick and all varnished and shiny, like it's new. Rsch Kauhnwallê: If time works the same here, then these places really haven't been touched in a decade now, they were left exactly how they were when people left. D-579 timidly picks up a framed picture on the cabinet with both hands, wiping away the dust with his thumbs. It shows a mother and infant child together. D-579: … But they didn't take their photos? Huh. D-579 leans down and opens up the cabinet. It's empty. D-579: I wonder if they took anything really? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Perhaps they were in a hurry. Next to the cabinet is a coat hanger, with an old brown cotton jacket hanging on it. D-579 takes off his backpack, grabbing the jacket and placing it on before retrieving his bag. D-579: Hm, fits perfectly (examining the sleeves). Was getting pretty chilly anyways, and I'm just wearing a jumpsuit. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm, yeah, we probably should've thought about that sorry. D-579: This'll do though, no worries. D-579 attempts to flick a light switch. Nothing happens. He turns on his torch and enters the dining room through the entryway. There is a large wooden table in the middle of the room, with 8 chairs around it. Examining the walls. He observes a framed portrait of an elderly male figure on the wall. D-579: These people, anyone important? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Not really, just some wealthy officials and what not. These types of estates appear everywhere. D-579: A house like this for a bunch of unknowns, hm. D-579 notices a tear in the wallpaper, he grabs it and pulls it down, tearing a section from the wall. Behind the wall paper is an identical pattern. D-579: Weird that, don’t you think? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Maybe they just liked that particular pattern? Easier to just go over it rather than tear it all down and replace it right? Silence. Rsch Tamsin: Is something on your mind five-seven-nine? You seem like you’re thinking about something? D-579: Sorry, just that, looking around, I can’t help but feel weird walking around somewhere like this. Don’t you get kind of a nostalgia-vibe? Like, I swear I've seen this exact same wallpaper round my grandparents place when I was like, way way younger. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Well again, this place is very old, maybe you’re just associating the two? D-579: Hm yeah, probably, I mean, they definitely weren’t this fancy for sure (laughs, looking at the large table)… I was just thinking back, seeing if there was any weird relation I could think of. Rsch Tamsin: Yeah, that’s fair enough, be more open if you think you recognise something. That could give us some more detail about what other properties this thing has? As the floor creaks under D-579’s feet, a second pair of audible footsteps can be clearly heard from the second floor. No one appears to notice this. D-579: Ha, yeah sure. I’ll keep looking around, I don’t think there’s much in here though. D-579 looks over at a rotary phone sitting atop a cabinet towards the end of the room. He walks over and picks it up, holding it up to his ear. Rsch Kauhnwallê: I don’t think… D-579: Wait, listen. There's a dial tone? D-579 holds the phone up to the microphone. Rsch Kauhnwallê: …We can’t hear anything. D-579 pulls the phone away. D-579: Huh, I swear there was… Rsch Leiden: (Aside) hey I’m gonna go fill up my cup real quick, okay? Be right back. Rearcher Leiden moves the chair from under the desk. Both of her legs are missing at the knee, with a clean uniform cut revealing inner bone, muscle, etc. No one notices this, and Researcher Leiden is able to stand up from her chair as though her legs were there. She grabs her mug and walks across the room to a small kitchenette desk in the office and pours coffee from a pot into it. The footsteps on the second floor return. No one notices. Researcher Leiden sits back down. She is now missing her right hand, yet is still capable of picking up the mug and sipping it. Rsch Leiden: …We still good on battery life for that camera? D-579: Yeah… hm, still says a hundred percent as well. Extraneous conversations removed. D-579 makes his way to the second floor, and into the master bedroom. D-579: The bed is made. (Checking the wardrobe) And the wardrobe is still full of clothes. Did anyone even leave (laughs)? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Maybe something happened. Maybe they could only leave with the clothes on their back. We can’t know for sure. D-579: Hm, yeah. There’s gotta be something more interesting in here. This room feels far too important. D-579 walks over to the bedside drawers. He opens the bottom one, finding it to be full of books. He quickly reaches inside, grabbing the stack of books by the bottom, but then suddenly recoils. His palms have cuts on them, which begin to bleed onto the floor and down his arms. D-579: Fuck. Rsch Kauhnwallê: What? What happened? D-579: (Looking into the drawer) The bottom… it's covered in broken glass. Why? I don’t get it? D-579 picks a piece out from his hand. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Do you need medical help? D-579: Naw, don’t worry, it’s fine, just surprised me that’s all. Was that like… meant to be a trap or something? Rsch Kauhnwallê: I’ve no idea. Maybe you should sit down for a sec? Rsch Leiden: (Unintelligible) Researcher Leiden attempts to speak, however, the top half of her head is missing, leaving only the base of the skull and the lower jaw. Her tongue and jaw move as though they are producing sound, although nothing can be heard. No one notices the difference. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, maybe use your first aid kit. D-579 doesn’t pay attention, looking towards the window. He looks out upon several abandoned soviet “rabbit-hutch” apartment blocks in systematic rows that extend on into the distance. D-579: Don’t remember seeing that many buildings out there? There's differences here for sure, something's up. D-579 leaves blood along the windowsill. It doesn't dry. The rotary phone from downstairs begins ringing. No one notices this. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Nöel, your call? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Right, I have to leave for a second, just keep doing what you're doing. Rsch Leiden: [MISSING_DATA] Rsch Kauhnwallê: Just a few minutes. I’ll be back soon. D-579: (Looking out the window still) Um, yeah sure, I think that area there would be the next place to go to. Rsch Kauhnwallê: …It's your call (he says as he stands up from the desk). D-579 begins to leave the room and downstairs for the front door. Researcher Kauhnwallê walks towards the office door and leaves the room, pulling his personal phone out of his pocket. Outside the office in the hallway, he opens up his contacts list, and begins clicking through dozens of numbers until reaching the letter “m” in the list and clicking on the contact that says “mum”. Researcher Kauhnwallê holds the phone up to his ear. It rings 7 times before someone picks up. Researcher Kauhnwallê talks in a calm and solemn way. Phone: Hello, who is this? Researcher Kauhnwallê takes a deep breath. Rsch Kauhnwallê: It's Nöel, mum? Phone: Sorry I didn't pick up sooner, my hearing isn't that good these days (chuckles), usually it's only my son who calls me sometimes. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Mum, I’m… yeah… does he call often, are you lonely there? Are you doing alright? Phone: Well, I don't think I've seen him in a while really, he doesn't call as much as he used to, why do you ask? Do you know him? Rsch Kauhnwallê: A little, but I was just curious, seeing if you were okay. Phone: Aw, well thank you. He should be getting back from school now actually. Usually he's around to help me with this damn phone anyways. Bought it for me as a birthday gift. Silence. Researcher Kauhnwallê: Would you like it if he called you more? Phone: Of course, I like our chats. It's lonely here since his dad passed. I'm worried it's affecting him. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Mum? Phone: Huh? Oh. What is it sweetie? Rsch Kauhnwallê: That was thirty something years ago, you know? Dad passing? I am over it. Phone: Hm, was it? Feels like it was more recent than that. When do you get back home anyways? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Not sure. I'm quite far away. Very very far away. Phone: Well, it would be nice to have a family dinner again with me and your father. Why don't you take the day off tomorrow, and we can go out into the town centre, buy something you want? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah… sure thing, I'd really love that actually. Phone: Sounds like a plan. Unless you have homework to do, in which case you can stay home (laughs). Rsch Kauhnwallê: Don't worry, I don't mum… I love you. Phone: Love you t… Phone pauses and cuts off. The screen says “no signal”. Researcher Kauhnwallê sighs, puts the phone back in his pocket and enters the room again, sitting back at the desk. Rsch Kauhnwallê: What did I miss? Rsch Tamsin: Nothing much, we’re just walking at the moment. How’s you? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah it was fine. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) How was it? Everything better? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) I couldn’t tell really, but I think she’s good enough, she remembers our previous calls now, not like last time. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Mm, yeah that’s pretty good then, I hope Some time passes. D-579: Been making it over to those flats. D-579 wanders through a higher density residential area. D-579: Hm, seems like they were thriving here, no? I see corner stores, everything is empty though. D-579 leans up against the glass window of a store, looking inside. Rsch Tamsin: What’s up? D-579: Is it not weird how nothing is destroyed or broken? There’s nothing thrown on the floor or on the street, the buildings are just old. The shelves are empty, they haven’t been thrown about or nothing? Rsch Kauhnwallê: As much as it doesn’t look like it, this town wasn’t producing any money clearly. It was built to suit the workers of a large government mining corporation, extracting petroleum from the ground nearby. When the USSR collapsed and the mines stopped producing, everyone left? Maybe there just wasn’t anything to put on the shelves? D-579: No boarded up windows though hm? It’s just weird, feels like people should be here, or are here, and they’re just hiding. D-579 puts his backpack on the ground, opening it and taking out a 500ml bottle of water. He holds it. D-579: Anyone else have this killer headache right now? He begins to drink it whole, and does so for 2 minutes. After this he chucks it towards the ground, and water continues to rapidly gush out of the bottle onto the ground. D-579 looks at it confused. D-579: Hm, I… I thought it was empty. D-579 is suddenly holding an open water bottle in his hand. He closes it and places it in his bag. The water bottle on the ground continues to spill out. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You feeling better now that you’re hydrated? D-579: I think so. Would probably be good to check out one of these apartments. It's too cold outside anyways. D-579 walks towards an entrance to an apartment building beside him. D-579: Any specific floor you want me to go to? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Whatever you’re willing to walk, you’ve been doing great so far. We’ve already got a ton of interesting data to go through here. D-579 opens the front door to the lobby. There are two elevators either side of the room and a door to a stairwell. By the entrance is a wall of mailboxes corresponding to each apartment. D-579 walks over and begins to open each mailbox in succession. They are all empty. D-579 opens the mailbox labelled “111”. He pauses as he sees it contains a sealed envelope. Picking it up he sees that who it’s addressed to has been left blank, although he doesn’t comment on this. D-579: I feel bad for doing this but… D-579 tears open the letter. It’s written in Russian. D-579: Well, I can't read this. Maybe we check out this room then, luckily it's only the first floor. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, sure thing. D-579 wanders over to the stairwell, jokingly pressing the button for the elevator as he walks by. Entering the stairwell, he ascends to the first floor, and opens the door of the right marked “5-11”. The hallway is lined with numbered doors. The walls are an off-white colour and the carpet is old and blue. D-579 walks over to the eleventh room and stands outside the door. D-579: Do you think I should knock? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Laughs) Well, You can try. I wouldn’t expect anyone to be in though. D-579 tries to turn the door handle, finding it to be locked. He stands back and scans the doors and the hallway, before nervously knocking on the wooden door several times. D-579 quickly stands back surprised. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Worriedly) What? What is it? D-579: I hear footsteps? Someones moving behind the door. Rsch Kauhnwallê: We can’t pick up anything? D-579: (In Russian) hello? D-579 looks shocked and confused and continues to stare at the door. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You can speak Russian? D-579: Shh, I heard someone. D-579: (In Russian) hello? I can see you through the hole? Who are you? D-579 pauses. D-579: (Quietly) What should I do? Someone’s talking? Rsch Kauhnwallê: I don’t understand what you mean? D-579: (Quietly) I don’t understand what they’re saying, they’re speaking Russian. D-579 walks closer to the door. D-579: Um, hi? D-579: (In a Russian accent) You speak English? What is it you want, why are you outside my house? Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) What’s… happening right now? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) I’m not sure lets just let it play out and see what happens. D-579: You’re like… the only person I’ve found here in this town. I haven’t seen anyone else, where is everybody? D-579: (In a Russian accent) I don’t know what you mean, you should leave, now. I mean it. D-579: Have you not looked outside? The streets are empty. How long have you been here for? D-579: (In a Russian accent) I shouldn’t be talking to you, I don't know who you are? I’ll call someone if you don’t leave. D-579: Okay okay, just gimme a second… see this letter here, it was in your mailbox addressed to you. D-579 holds up the letter. The person it’s addressed to now says “William Noah”. D-579: The mailbox was just left opened and unlocked. Same with this building's front door. It wasn’t locked; nothing has been except this door here? D-579: (In a Russian accent) I don’t know what it is you want? You’ve come all the way here just to knock on my door and take my letters? D-579: No please, I just want to know what this place is. What this town is even. Why are you the only one here? Silence. D-579: (Calmly) We got off on the wrong foot. What about your name? My name’s Will. All I want to do is talk for a second, that's all. D-579: (In a Russian accent) Hm… Ilenia. My name is Ilenia. What is it you want then? D-579: Could you read the letter? I’m sorry that I opened it but I didn't expect anyone to be around so I thought it would be fine D-579: (In a Russian accent) Whatever, just put it under the door. D-579 bends down and pushes the letter under the doorsill. While a slight force can be seen pulling the letter, it isn’t grabbed on the other end and remains sticking out from under the door. D-579: Thank you, I really appreciate it. D-579: (In a Russian accent) Would you like me to read it out in English? D-579: Please, if you could. D-579: (In a Russian accent) This letter isn’t even about me? Are you sure it’s mine? Is this a letter for you? D-579: It has your name on it, I don’t know. Just, please, can you read it? D-579: (In a Russian accent) Fine, “Hello son, despite everything I’ve tried, wherever it is you’ve been taken is somewhere I can never go. They tell me it’s not a prison, or any government building for that matter, but no matter what I try, I always get turned away. You’ve been taken to some other place, and my heart goes out for you each day. I hope that if I address this letter to that place, someone can give it to you and I can finally tell you how much I love you and how I forgive you for what happened that day, the reason you got taken away. I have no way to fight this legally, I’ve put all our savings into it. I just hope that somehow, wherever you are, you know that I will always love you and that I miss you. Love, mum.” Silence. D-579: (In a Russian accent) Hm, this letter is sweet. Is it for you? Silence. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Cautiously) Five-seven-nine? Silence. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Will? D-579: My hands are no longer bleeding guys. They’ve… healed, fully. The cuts are gone. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You aren’t speaking to someone anymore? D-579: To who? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yourself. You were having a conversation with yourself over that letter you’re holding, but it seemed like there was another person? D-579 looks at an open letter he’s holding in his hands. D-579: This letter? I think it’s just some old bank information or something? See, look, it says rubles and it has a bunch of numbers on it. Nothing much I can gain from it really? Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) This is concerning, don't you think? How can it both be stable and yet in flux? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) I don’t know why? That’s why we have to search harder. There has to be some central point to this place. Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) Hm, yeah… let me go get something really quick from the storage room, I think it could help. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) Sure, yeah, I think we should avoid the apartments from now on though. Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) Yeah, probably for the best. Researcher Tamsin gets up from her seat and begins walking to the door. She turns around to speak quickly. Rsch Tamsin: Hold on, have we che… Rsch Kauhnwallê: What was that? D-579: Hm, nothing, I didn’t say anything? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Oh, sorry, my bad. Thought I heard something. This building is pretty old, the pipes make strange noises all the time. They sound like voices sometimes. D-579: Right… should we move on now? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Uh, yeah, sure thing, if you can’t find anything else? D-579: Yeah, all these doors are locked though, nothing I can do here really. D-579 exits the hallway door and is outside suddenly in a grassy field. He steps out into it. D-579: Damn my head feels like it's throbbing… Alright then, moving now (turns and looks behind him before turning back around). D-579 walks briskly through a patch of tall grass up towards the house. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Alright, confirming that you have crossed over. Everything's looking fine on my end. How are we feeling? [MISSING_DATA]: (Tapping Researcher Kauhnwallê’s shoulder and pointing at a side monitor) [MISSING_DATA] D-579: What's up? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Nothing really, it's just interesting; the Spalder Counter hasn't changed. It shows the amount of existing matter at a given time within space. Usually entering a pocket reality results in it rising since, well, it's new space. But, yeah, no change, which is weird. D-579: So I haven't gone anywhere then? Researcher Kauhnwallê looks towards the monitor for the stationary camera placed at the site, showing a distorted D-579, moving at a perceptibly decreased rate. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Um, no not exactly, just likely means there's more overlap between our realties. D-579: Yeah I mean… looking around I can't really tell, but it feels… noisier. If that makes sense. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure, just try to look around as much as you can so we can get a better idea of things. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: …The sun looks the same. Not sure if that helps. I can't really tell. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: Well, it's just that for a ghost town, it feels all too lived in. Haunted maybe, that's the feeling, but not haunted like how the rest of the town looks walking through it. It's just, this time, I feel a weight on my chest. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: Could be, but I wouldn’t say I’m feeling ill, I just feel, heard or something. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: Nah, nothing like that… I'll look around the house okay, maybe I am just feeling sick or something. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm, okay, well remember to keep us updated on how you’re feeling. It's important we know not only what the anomaly is but how the anomaly affects people. D-579: Mhm yeah, sure thing. (Pauses) Coming up the steps now. D-579 walks along a stone wall and up a set of steps which lead up to a raised wooden porch area with the house’s side entrance. D-579 steps up to the door, opening it with his hand. The hallway is dark and empty. There are suspended dust particles in the air. D-579: Hm yeah, it smells pretty stale in here. D-579 looks towards the end of the hallway. He notices a white door at the end of it. D-579: I think it’s just some old house. That… that over there seems more interesting, however. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure, yeah whatever you think you should do. Any information I can get would be handy. D-579 walks slowly towards the door at the other end of the hall, cautiously stepping closer and closer. He opens the door and steps out into a street in the suburbs. In the distance is an impossibly tall concrete cuboid structure extending into the sky. D-579: That building in the distance, does that look normal to you? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Probably not. The physics of this reality may be extremely different to ours, remember that. D-579: Yeah, but I wonder who put it there. D-579 continues to wander out into the street. There are semi-detached homes along both sides of the street. D-579: This place doesn’t feel very… soviet? Don’t you think? Rsch Kauhnwallê: I wouldn’t really know. Architectural history is not my forte unfortunately (laughs). D-579: Just feels like I got deja vu, or an intense nostalgia for something, I’m not sure. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Do you think that's just because of the way it looks or do you think it’s the anomaly causing it? D-579: Honestly couldn’t say. I don’t feel like I'm being manipulated? Researcher Kauhnwallê grasps his phone in his pocket, pulling it out and looking at it with a confused expression. He puts it on the desk in front of him. D-579 turns a street corner and observes a stationary ambulance further down the street. Its lights are flashing rapidly, and a stretcher can be seen outside the doors of it. Researcher Kauhnwallê continues to look at his phone, ignoring the monitors in front of him. D-579: Hey doc? Do you know what’s happening here? I don’t know what any of this means? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm? Um… yeah I don’t know. Reality is quite an undeveloped discipline. D-579: I don’t think I should go over there? Rsch Kauhnwallê: This place isn’t a hostile place from what we can tell. You’ll be safer if you just confront it. D-579 approaches the ambulance. It sits outside a house that has been completely burned down into rubble. The charred remains of the house are all that’s left. The stretcher outside the ambulance has a black bag laid out on top of it. D-579: This… What is this? D-579 stands on the opposite side of the street. He holds his head. Researcher Kauhnwallê clicks onto his contacts list. The only contact on the phone is one labelled “mum”. He rings the number. D-579 stands back in fear and recoils away from the black body bag. D-579: I don’t like this. I wanna leave. The phone rings 7 times and then stops. The phone shuts down and loses power. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Looking back up to the monitor) You know the only exit is back through the house right? The body bag suddenly begins to writhe, thrashing on top of the stretcher, until it topples onto its side. Simultaneously the camera's lens shatters and the monitor is covered in cracks. D-579 falls onto the ground on the street and curls up on his side. D-579: I can’t go back. I just can’t, I won't. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You should rest for a while, get your energy back up. These things are difficult sometimes. D-579 stays on the ground for some time. Several hours pass. The sun begins to go down, and the sky gets darker. D-579: Doctor, are you still there? D-579 sits up. D-579: Doc? D-579 gets to his feet and brushes the dirt off his clothes. He looks towards the burnt house, but it is gone. He begins to wander down the street, towards the concrete structure. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Five-seven-nine, where are you going now? D-579: I can’t go back… There is no back. I need to go forward. Rsch Kauhnwallê: I already have too much data than I know what to do with, or even know how to interpret just by myself. You can leave the anomaly if you want. Someone will be waiting for you. D-579 ignores this and continues forwards towards the structure. It has a round entrance leading into it. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Are you sure you want to go further in? This time it could be dangerous. D-579: I’ll be fine. I always end up fine. Rsch Kauhnwallê: But you might not be, why can’t you accept that? D-579: Because this time it’s different. D-579 walks right up to the circular entrance. It consists of a dark tunnel, with no light penetrating further than a couple metres. He looks up at a placard above it. D-579: Hm… Rsch Kauhnwallê: What… What does it say? I can't read it. D-579: Nineteen. It says nineteen. Some time passes. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You know that at some point, once you enter, you can't leave? D-579: I know, it’s something I’ve known my whole life. This is it. This has to be. D-579 sniffles. An unidentified charred human arm penetrates through the darkness of the tunnel, seeming to reach out for D-579’s hand. D-579: I have to do this… Goodbye, doc. I’ll see ya’ around. D-579 grasps the hand and walks into the tunnel entrance. Rsch Kauhnwallê: See you around too, five-seven-nine. Silence. End Log ▶ Restricted Access Level/5 - Internal Memo ▼ Restricted Access Level/5 - Internal Memo Foundation RU Internal Memo 2024 Unknown Surface Depressions Affecting Foundation Site Infrastructure and Logistics Hello everyone, Since 2004, the continued presence of several large scale depressions within ground surface layers throughout eastern Europe has affected the infrastructural and logistical operations of the many Foundations sites and areas. Structural faults due to the sudden presence of unstable terrain forming beside or underneath buildings have been reported, as well as major delays due to depressions affecting roads. Foundation vehicles are therefore unable to deliver personnel or resources to the required sites, leading to issues with site resources management and allocation. Attempts to manage the deficit via the use of drones or air vehicles has provided additional challenges due to the harsher climate. Additional maintenance teams have therefore been put on standby at several more prominent locations across eastern Europe for faster response times. The source of these depressions is unknown and may be ectoentropic in nature, some researchers suggest. Effects on civilians have been equally difficult to deal with. Urban infrastructure has suffered, and local governments are struggling to meet demands to fix these issues. Director Kauhnwallê Footnotes 1. The furthest point of the exclusionary zone. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8579" by Unobtainium235, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8579. 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.
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SCP-8579
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euclid
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Due to complications with the item, this entry number is supplementary and the item has been temporarily left unmarked and delisted due to concerns with the Preszôt area. Along with this, several unauthorised alterations have been made to the file. Personnel accessing this file with improper security clearance will be reprimanded. – RAISA Item#: [MISSING_DATA] Level5 Containment Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ Secondary Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ Disruption Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ Risk Class: ［MISSING_DATA］ link to memo Special Containment Procedures: The following warning signage is to be distributed around the Preszôt exclusionary zone as a deterrent for both unauthorised Foundation personnel on the site and for any civilians who bypass the designated Foundation checkpoints: Areal Hazard Warning This area is designated a ⦾ (red) level radioactive zone, and access is restricted for all non-essential personnel. Uncontrolled, highly anomalous substances have been released in the area and are likely to result in severe injury and/or death to persons entering. Entering by your own volition ensures that your body will be permanently unrecoverable in the event of a casualty. There are no protocols in place to help if you become stuck, injured or unable to exit by yourself. Those caught beyond the designated checkpoints will be promptly detained until further notice, and may undergo invasive screening to ensure the propagation of radiation exposure does not exceed the Preszôt exclusion zone in any way. Due to this termination is a possible outcome if rules are not abided by. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Secure. Contain. Protect. Several Foundation checkpoints are to be maintained around the town of Preszôt, Russia, with patrol personnel to monitor the quaternary zone1 on a daily basis, deterring any unauthorised subjects from continuing further into the site. Detainment and threat of lethal force are permissible if the subject disregards commands from personnel. Research teams within the tertiary, secondary and primary zones (the most proximate zones) are to be equipped with specialised radiation suits, and should spend no more than 2 hours per session within these zones before returning to a designated decontamination station. All personnel are on a weekly rotation. No personnel are currently allowed to enter the primary zone due to the propagation of an anomaly of interest. No further information should be provided. Unauthorised personnel attempting to seek out this information will be subsequently reprimanded. Description: [MISSING_DATA] Additional Information: Preszôt is an abandoned (since 1992) soviet mining settlement that was procured by the Foundation in 1998 for the purposes of performing tests on uncatalogued anomalous substances on a larger scale in urban spaces for research purposes. Research Site-[MISSING_DATA] was then founded in the town to perform more advanced testing. This continued until an incident in 2002 resulted in Preszôt once again having to be left derelict, with an exclusionary zone set up due to high levels of radiation to prevent contamination outside of the town. This exclusionary zone takes up an area of around 1750km². To facilitate the security and research of the Preszôt exclusionary zone, Research Area-141 was established 7km outside of the zone. Preszôt’s primary zone presents additional challenges when attempts are made at exploration. Personnel have a higher likelihood of becoming MIA due to particular anomalous presences within this area. END OF FILE ▶ Restricted Access Level/5 - Document ▼ Restricted Access Level/5 - Document Item #: SCP-8579 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8579 is contained via a maintained exclusionary zone around the town of Preszôt, Russia, and more specifically, its most secure area, the primary zone. Information on the nature of SCP-8579 is only permitted to the required Level 5 research personnel. Petrol teams are to monitor the surroundings of the exclusionary zone for any unauthorised subjects attempting to enter. The use of threat and lethal force is permitted if subjects do not comply. Several checkpoints are to be maintained around the exclusionary zone for patrol teams, detainees and research personnel. Personnel working as patrol teams on-site in Preszôt are not permitted access to the primary zone. Any unauthorised personnel attempting to access the primary zone should be considered MIA. Description: SCP-8579, externally is an infinitely small finite area, with a potentially infinite internal volume while still maintaining relative existential positioning. SCP-8579 is an impassable, imperceptible filamentous space with an approximate volume nearing zero when defined externally within consensus Kauhnwallêan Semiontological Spatio-Dynamics, yet simultaneously existing within a poorly defined area of space, located within the primary zone in Preszôt on the edge of the spatial collapse. SCP-8579 cannot be viewed directly; subjects observing SCP-8579 will only be capable of viewing contents behind SCP-8579, as if the item is non-existent. SCP-8579’s primary anomalous property occurs when a subject capable of outward perception enters into the space occupied by it, resulting in extreme topological extrusions within the occurrent and immediate area. The extrusion of matter within SCP-8579 has no effect on the space outside of SCP-8579’s volume, which has the potential to be infinitely expanded. Subjects considered within SCP-8579’s volume will maintain a position relative to the distance travelled within SCP-8579, and move proportionally within the primary zone into infinitesimally smaller increments depending on the proximity to SCP-8579’s area of effect. Subjects within SCP-8579 do not perceive this due to the topological expansion within SCP-8579. The processes behind this are poorly understood as accounts are unreliable. While electromagnetic signals can be transferred in and out of SCP-8579 without hindrance, it is unknown if matter, and therefore human subjects, are capable of exiting SCP-8579. Currently, SCP-8579 is the only access point for the majority of Preszôt’s primary zone, which is located within an inaccessible spatial collapse in reality. Initial Exploration Log: In 2004, 2 years after the Foundation’s dereliction of Preszôt, damage assessment teams detected high levels of spatio-semiontological distortions within local reality, pinning an approximate location on a hillside clearing close to the collapse. Preliminary testing showed that the anomaly, later designated SCP-8579 presented no “bounce-back” effect when certain signals were fired towards it, which led to the idea that it could therefore be feeding into an external or pocket reality and therefore may be the location of the missing contents within the collapse. The Spatiality Department at Area-141 took a special interest in the documented results presented and applied for a potential exploration of SCP-8579 utilising a D-class subject. This was later approved. The following log below will be presented in its eternity as it was recorded in 2004: Preface: The Area-141 Spatiality Department team is made up of the following, who are present to oversee the exploration: H Rsch Noël Kauhnwallê Rsch Leah Tamsin Rsch Ilenia Aminev Rsch Tally Leiden Subject: D-579 note: due to prior testing, D-579 is missing his right dominant hand at the wrist. Provisions: D-579 is supplied with the following: Backpack Several assorted MREs, bottled water Sample kit Flashlight, with additional shoulder mount Chest mounted recorder harness Microphone Digital camera Assorted other implements and instruments provided by the department Exploration Log At Area-141, Researcher Kauhnwallê, Tamsin, Aminev and Leiden are sitting around a monitoring terminal. Several screens display environmental readings gathered from D-579’s surroundings. Several books and notepads are scattered around the table. D-579 is wearing a radiation suit, walking down a gravel path in a Preszôt residential suburb. 10 metres behind, an armed guard tentatively follows. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Clears throat) We’ve got ourselves all set up here. Can you hear us any good? D-579: Yep. Reading ya’ loud and clear doc. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Okay thats all good then. (Pauses, leans closer to the microphone) Can’t tell you how excited we all are that we get to do something like this. Rsch Tamsin: Yeah, we appreciate you being on board for this. Really does help with the work we’ve been doing. D-579: Yeah, I’m glad though. It's either do this, get my sentence pardoned, or rot in my cell for the next few years. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, I mean, like we said at the briefing, it's likely nothing too special, but getting a look at some of the readings from inside the distortion area would do us good. (Pauses) How far from the site are we now? D-579: Not sure, map doesn’t look right. Guard: Map says it's close, will be there shortly, just keep on down the street. Researcher Aminev taps on Kauhnwallê’s shoulder. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Remember you have to call her in a few hours. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) Oh right yeah, don’t worry I’ll remember when the time comes. Shame that it has to be today of all days. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Mhm, yeah, just don’t forget like last time. You were quite upset. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) Yeah, I’ll remember I promise, don’t worry. Rsch Leiden: What's this? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Oh nothing really. I'll just be busy for a few minutes, that's all. Rsch Leiden: Right… They all turn to focus on the screen again. The guard motions D-579 through a brush and down a grassy slope to a clearing. At the end of the clearing is the border of the spatial collapse. Several monitoring cameras are set up around the area focussing on the anomaly a few metres in front of the collapse. D-579: This the spot then? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah looks to be for sure. You can wait there for now. Guard: I’ll have to head off for now. Can’t stay out here for long. Any problems with the subject and you radio it right away, doctor. I’ll be on hand if you need me. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure thing, thanks. The guard backs up in reverse, turns off his comms and then makes his way up the slope and out of sight. D-579: Come on, not like I’m gonna attempt something in the middle of Russia. What’re they always so nervous about? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Well for every cooperative D-class there’s probably about ten not-so cooperative ones. They’re just on edge a lot I guess, wouldn’t take it personally. D-579: Yeah, hard not to. (Pauses) So what now? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Um, well, first things first you gotta take that suit off. D-579: Why, thought this place was meant to be, you know, extremely dangerous or something? Rsch Tamsin: Yeah, I can chime in on that. We think the anomaly may be reflecting certain signals, like it just rejects them from passing into it, except for things like light and radio. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, around it we think you’ll be reasonably protected well enough, and we need you to be extra mobile for this and the suit blocks the camera. D-579: You’re not making this sound very safe really. Rsch Kauhnwallê: No, no, it'll be fine. It’s like the same dosage of radiation as if you were travelling on a plane. It’s fine really. D-579: Well for the record, I hadn’t actually ever been on a plane before until I came here, but whatever, you’re the scientists so I hope I can trust you guys. D-579 removes the suit, shimmying his right arm out the sleeve. He struggles to remove the headpiece. He leaves the clothes on a pile next to him, taking in deep breaths of the air. D-579: Actually feels much better being out of that thing. Air smells so fresh here. Not stale at all like at the sites. It’s… cleaner. Some time passes. Extraneous conversations removed. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Well, we’ve got everything set up here. You can start walking northeastern-ward, towards the direction of the anomaly. D-579: Alright then, moving now (turns and looks behind him before turning back around). D-579 walks briskly through a patch of tall grass, at some point definitely passing through the range of the anomaly and into its main volume. A wooden soviet manor-house begins to appear suddenly into view at the end of the field. No one notices this or comments on it. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Alright, confirming that you have crossed over. Everything's looking fine on our end. How are we feeling? Rsch Tamsin: (Tapping Researcher Kauhnwallê’s shoulder and pointing at a side monitor) still looks stable enough, don't you think that's a little weird. D-579: What's up? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Nothing really, it's just interesting; the Spalder Counter hasn't changed. It shows the amount of existing matter at a given time within space. Usually entering a pocket reality results in it rising since, well, it's new space. But, yeah, no change, which is weird. D-579: So I haven't gone anywhere then? Researcher Kauhnwallê looks towards the monitor for the stationary camera placed at the site, showing a distorted D-579, moving at a perceptibly decreased rate. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Um, no not exactly, just likely means there's more overlap between our realties. D-579: Yeah I mean… looking around I can't really tell, but it feels… noisier. If that makes sense. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure, just try to look around as much as you can so we can get a better idea of things. Rsch Leiden: If we are able to somewhat map the space, then it would make our research easier going forwards as well… Rsch Tamsin: Yeah and don't forget about the camera I gave you. Some photos would be nice. Rsch Aminev: ‘Think we've already kinda proven something here, the fact that you can still receive us. Some kind of bypass vector at the entry point. Rsch Tamsin: Yeah I think with most gates, there's always some kind of interference, but the signals are coming out clean. Rsch Leiden: Doesn't interact with light either it seems. Rsch Tamsin: Hm, yeah, but then how is it illuminated exactly on the inside? D-579: …The sun looks the same. Not sure if that helps. I can't really tell. Rsch Tamsin: Well you described a noisy feeling? Could you elaborate? D-579: Well, it's just that for a ghost town, it feels all too lived in. Haunted maybe, that's the feeling, but not haunted like how the rest of the town looks walking through it. It's just, this time, I feel a weight on my chest. Rsch Aminev: Maybe it's your body adjusting itself. Sometimes people feel ill crossing into pocket realities. D-579: Could be, but I wouldn’t say I’m feeling ill, I just feel, heard or something. Rsch Aminev: Heard? Watched, you mean? D-579: Nah, nothing like that… I'll look around that house okay, maybe I am just feeling sick or something. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm, okay, well remember to keep us updated on how you’re feeling. It's important we know not only what the anomaly is but how the anomaly affects people. D-579: Mhm yeah, sure thing. (Pauses) Coming up the steps now. D-579 walks along a stone wall and up a set of steps which lead up to a raised wooden porch area with the house’s side entrance. D-579 steps up to the door, opening it with his right hand. The hallway is dark and empty. There are suspended dust particles in the air. D-579: Hm yeah, it smells pretty stale in here. Rsch Kauhnwallê: If you're still feeling bad, it's probably best if you drink some water or something? Right? Rsch Tamsin: Yeah or sit down if you need to regain your energy maybe? Sometimes entering an extradimensional space can tire you out fast. D-579: (Somewhat sternly) Don't worry, I'm fine, honestly, I just had a feeling that's all. Let me look around for a bit. D-579 scans the room with a thoughtful expression. He brushes his right hand along the surface of a cabinet opposite to the dining room entryway as he walks by, wiping away several layers of dust. D-579: It's weird, it… it feels dusty, but the cabinet isn't old, or it just doesn't feel old. It's slick and all varnished and shiny, like it's new. Rsch Kauhnwallê: If time works the same here, then these places really haven't been touched in a decade now, they were left exactly how they were when people left. D-579 timidly picks up a framed picture on the cabinet with both hands, wiping away the dust with his thumbs. It shows a mother and infant child together. D-579: … But they didn't take their photos? Huh. D-579 leans down and opens up the cabinet. It's empty. D-579: I wonder if they took anything really? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Perhaps they were in a hurry. Next to the cabinet is a coat hanger, with an old brown cotton jacket hanging on it. D-579 takes off his backpack, grabbing the jacket and placing it on before retrieving his bag. D-579: Hm, fits perfectly (examining the sleeves). Was getting pretty chilly anyways, and I'm just wearing a jumpsuit. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm, yeah, we probably should've thought about that sorry. D-579: This'll do though, no worries. D-579 attempts to flick a light switch. Nothing happens. He turns on his torch and enters the dining room through the entryway. There is a large wooden table in the middle of the room, with 8 chairs around it. Examining the walls. He observes a framed portrait of an elderly male figure on the wall. D-579: These people, anyone important? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Not really, just some wealthy officials and what not. These types of estates appear everywhere. D-579: A house like this for a bunch of unknowns, hm. D-579 notices a tear in the wallpaper, he grabs it and pulls it down, tearing a section from the wall. Behind the wall paper is an identical pattern. D-579: Weird that, don’t you think? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Maybe they just liked that particular pattern? Easier to just go over it rather than tear it all down and replace it right? Silence. Rsch Tamsin: Is something on your mind five-seven-nine? You seem like you’re thinking about something? D-579: Sorry, just that, looking around, I can’t help but feel weird walking around somewhere like this. Don’t you get kind of a nostalgia-vibe? Like, I swear I've seen this exact same wallpaper round my grandparents place when I was like, way way younger. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Well again, this place is very old, maybe you’re just associating the two? D-579: Hm yeah, probably, I mean, they definitely weren’t this fancy for sure (laughs, looking at the large table)… I was just thinking back, seeing if there was any weird relation I could think of. Rsch Tamsin: Yeah, that’s fair enough, be more open if you think you recognise something. That could give us some more detail about what other properties this thing has? As the floor creaks under D-579’s feet, a second pair of audible footsteps can be clearly heard from the second floor. No one appears to notice this. D-579: Ha, yeah sure. I’ll keep looking around, I don’t think there’s much in here though. D-579 looks over at a rotary phone sitting atop a cabinet towards the end of the room. He walks over and picks it up, holding it up to his ear. Rsch Kauhnwallê: I don’t think… D-579: Wait, listen. There's a dial tone? D-579 holds the phone up to the microphone. Rsch Kauhnwallê: …We can’t hear anything. D-579 pulls the phone away. D-579: Huh, I swear there was… Rsch Leiden: (Aside) hey I’m gonna go fill up my cup real quick, okay? Be right back. Rearcher Leiden moves the chair from under the desk. Both of her legs are missing at the knee, with a clean uniform cut revealing inner bone, muscle, etc. No one notices this, and Researcher Leiden is able to stand up from her chair as though her legs were there. She grabs her mug and walks across the room to a small kitchenette desk in the office and pours coffee from a pot into it. The footsteps on the second floor return. No one notices. Researcher Leiden sits back down. She is now missing her right hand, yet is still capable of picking up the mug and sipping it. Rsch Leiden: …We still good on battery life for that camera? D-579: Yeah… hm, still says a hundred percent as well. Extraneous conversations removed. D-579 makes his way to the second floor, and into the master bedroom. D-579: The bed is made. (Checking the wardrobe) And the wardrobe is still full of clothes. Did anyone even leave (laughs)? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Maybe something happened. Maybe they could only leave with the clothes on their back. We can’t know for sure. D-579: Hm, yeah. There’s gotta be something more interesting in here. This room feels far too important. D-579 walks over to the bedside drawers. He opens the bottom one, finding it to be full of books. He quickly reaches inside, grabbing the stack of books by the bottom, but then suddenly recoils. His palms have cuts on them, which begin to bleed onto the floor and down his arms. D-579: Fuck. Rsch Kauhnwallê: What? What happened? D-579: (Looking into the drawer) The bottom… it's covered in broken glass. Why? I don’t get it? D-579 picks a piece out from his hand. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Do you need medical help? D-579: Naw, don’t worry, it’s fine, just surprised me that’s all. Was that like… meant to be a trap or something? Rsch Kauhnwallê: I’ve no idea. Maybe you should sit down for a sec? Rsch Leiden: (Unintelligible) Researcher Leiden attempts to speak, however, the top half of her head is missing, leaving only the base of the skull and the lower jaw. Her tongue and jaw move as though they are producing sound, although nothing can be heard. No one notices the difference. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, maybe use your first aid kit. D-579 doesn’t pay attention, looking towards the window. He looks out upon several abandoned soviet “rabbit-hutch” apartment blocks in systematic rows that extend on into the distance. D-579: Don’t remember seeing that many buildings out there? There's differences here for sure, something's up. D-579 leaves blood along the windowsill. It doesn't dry. The rotary phone from downstairs begins ringing. No one notices this. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Nöel, your call? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Right, I have to leave for a second, just keep doing what you're doing. Rsch Leiden: [MISSING_DATA] Rsch Kauhnwallê: Just a few minutes. I’ll be back soon. D-579: (Looking out the window still) Um, yeah sure, I think that area there would be the next place to go to. Rsch Kauhnwallê: …It's your call (he says as he stands up from the desk). D-579 begins to leave the room and downstairs for the front door. Researcher Kauhnwallê walks towards the office door and leaves the room, pulling his personal phone out of his pocket. Outside the office in the hallway, he opens up his contacts list, and begins clicking through dozens of numbers until reaching the letter “m” in the list and clicking on the contact that says “mum”. Researcher Kauhnwallê holds the phone up to his ear. It rings 7 times before someone picks up. Researcher Kauhnwallê talks in a calm and solemn way. Phone: Hello, who is this? Researcher Kauhnwallê takes a deep breath. Rsch Kauhnwallê: It's Nöel, mum? Phone: Sorry I didn't pick up sooner, my hearing isn't that good these days (chuckles), usually it's only my son who calls me sometimes. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Mum, I’m… yeah… does he call often, are you lonely there? Are you doing alright? Phone: Well, I don't think I've seen him in a while really, he doesn't call as much as he used to, why do you ask? Do you know him? Rsch Kauhnwallê: A little, but I was just curious, seeing if you were okay. Phone: Aw, well thank you. He should be getting back from school now actually. Usually he's around to help me with this damn phone anyways. Bought it for me as a birthday gift. Silence. Researcher Kauhnwallê: Would you like it if he called you more? Phone: Of course, I like our chats. It's lonely here since his dad passed. I'm worried it's affecting him. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Mum? Phone: Huh? Oh. What is it sweetie? Rsch Kauhnwallê: That was thirty something years ago, you know? Dad passing? I am over it. Phone: Hm, was it? Feels like it was more recent than that. When do you get back home anyways? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Not sure. I'm quite far away. Very very far away. Phone: Well, it would be nice to have a family dinner again with me and your father. Why don't you take the day off tomorrow, and we can go out into the town centre, buy something you want? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah… sure thing, I'd really love that actually. Phone: Sounds like a plan. Unless you have homework to do, in which case you can stay home (laughs). Rsch Kauhnwallê: Don't worry, I don't mum… I love you. Phone: Love you t… Phone pauses and cuts off. The screen says “no signal”. Researcher Kauhnwallê sighs, puts the phone back in his pocket and enters the room again, sitting back at the desk. Rsch Kauhnwallê: What did I miss? Rsch Tamsin: Nothing much, we’re just walking at the moment. How’s you? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah it was fine. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) How was it? Everything better? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) I couldn’t tell really, but I think she’s good enough, she remembers our previous calls now, not like last time. Rsch Aminev: (Aside) Mm, yeah that’s pretty good then, I hope Some time passes. D-579: Been making it over to those flats. D-579 wanders through a higher density residential area. D-579: Hm, seems like they were thriving here, no? I see corner stores, everything is empty though. D-579 leans up against the glass window of a store, looking inside. Rsch Tamsin: What’s up? D-579: Is it not weird how nothing is destroyed or broken? There’s nothing thrown on the floor or on the street, the buildings are just old. The shelves are empty, they haven’t been thrown about or nothing? Rsch Kauhnwallê: As much as it doesn’t look like it, this town wasn’t producing any money clearly. It was built to suit the workers of a large government mining corporation, extracting petroleum from the ground nearby. When the USSR collapsed and the mines stopped producing, everyone left? Maybe there just wasn’t anything to put on the shelves? D-579: No boarded up windows though hm? It’s just weird, feels like people should be here, or are here, and they’re just hiding. D-579 puts his backpack on the ground, opening it and taking out a 500ml bottle of water. He holds it. D-579: Anyone else have this killer headache right now? He begins to drink it whole, and does so for 2 minutes. After this he chucks it towards the ground, and water continues to rapidly gush out of the bottle onto the ground. D-579 looks at it confused. D-579: Hm, I… I thought it was empty. D-579 is suddenly holding an open water bottle in his hand. He closes it and places it in his bag. The water bottle on the ground continues to spill out. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You feeling better now that you’re hydrated? D-579: I think so. Would probably be good to check out one of these apartments. It's too cold outside anyways. D-579 walks towards an entrance to an apartment building beside him. D-579: Any specific floor you want me to go to? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Whatever you’re willing to walk, you’ve been doing great so far. We’ve already got a ton of interesting data to go through here. D-579 opens the front door to the lobby. There are two elevators either side of the room and a door to a stairwell. By the entrance is a wall of mailboxes corresponding to each apartment. D-579 walks over and begins to open each mailbox in succession. They are all empty. D-579 opens the mailbox labelled “111”. He pauses as he sees it contains a sealed envelope. Picking it up he sees that who it’s addressed to has been left blank, although he doesn’t comment on this. D-579: I feel bad for doing this but… D-579 tears open the letter. It’s written in Russian. D-579: Well, I can't read this. Maybe we check out this room then, luckily it's only the first floor. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yeah, sure thing. D-579 wanders over to the stairwell, jokingly pressing the button for the elevator as he walks by. Entering the stairwell, he ascends to the first floor, and opens the door of the right marked “5-11”. The hallway is lined with numbered doors. The walls are an off-white colour and the carpet is old and blue. D-579 walks over to the eleventh room and stands outside the door. D-579: Do you think I should knock? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Laughs) Well, You can try. I wouldn’t expect anyone to be in though. D-579 tries to turn the door handle, finding it to be locked. He stands back and scans the doors and the hallway, before nervously knocking on the wooden door several times. D-579 quickly stands back surprised. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Worriedly) What? What is it? D-579: I hear footsteps? Someones moving behind the door. Rsch Kauhnwallê: We can’t pick up anything? D-579: (In Russian) hello? D-579 looks shocked and confused and continues to stare at the door. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You can speak Russian? D-579: Shh, I heard someone. D-579: (In Russian) hello? I can see you through the hole? Who are you? D-579 pauses. D-579: (Quietly) What should I do? Someone’s talking? Rsch Kauhnwallê: I don’t understand what you mean? D-579: (Quietly) I don’t understand what they’re saying, they’re speaking Russian. D-579 walks closer to the door. D-579: Um, hi? D-579: (In a Russian accent) You speak English? What is it you want, why are you outside my house? Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) What’s… happening right now? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) I’m not sure lets just let it play out and see what happens. D-579: You’re like… the only person I’ve found here in this town. I haven’t seen anyone else, where is everybody? D-579: (In a Russian accent) I don’t know what you mean, you should leave, now. I mean it. D-579: Have you not looked outside? The streets are empty. How long have you been here for? D-579: (In a Russian accent) I shouldn’t be talking to you, I don't know who you are? I’ll call someone if you don’t leave. D-579: Okay okay, just gimme a second… see this letter here, it was in your mailbox addressed to you. D-579 holds up the letter. The person it’s addressed to now says “William Noah”. D-579: The mailbox was just left opened and unlocked. Same with this building's front door. It wasn’t locked; nothing has been except this door here? D-579: (In a Russian accent) I don’t know what it is you want? You’ve come all the way here just to knock on my door and take my letters? D-579: No please, I just want to know what this place is. What this town is even. Why are you the only one here? Silence. D-579: (Calmly) We got off on the wrong foot. What about your name? My name’s Will. All I want to do is talk for a second, that's all. D-579: (In a Russian accent) Hm… Ilenia. My name is Ilenia. What is it you want then? D-579: Could you read the letter? I’m sorry that I opened it but I didn't expect anyone to be around so I thought it would be fine D-579: (In a Russian accent) Whatever, just put it under the door. D-579 bends down and pushes the letter under the doorsill. While a slight force can be seen pulling the letter, it isn’t grabbed on the other end and remains sticking out from under the door. D-579: Thank you, I really appreciate it. D-579: (In a Russian accent) Would you like me to read it out in English? D-579: Please, if you could. D-579: (In a Russian accent) This letter isn’t even about me? Are you sure it’s mine? Is this a letter for you? D-579: It has your name on it, I don’t know. Just, please, can you read it? D-579: (In a Russian accent) Fine, “Hello son, despite everything I’ve tried, wherever it is you’ve been taken is somewhere I can never go. They tell me it’s not a prison, or any government building for that matter, but no matter what I try, I always get turned away. You’ve been taken to some other place, and my heart goes out for you each day. I hope that if I address this letter to that place, someone can give it to you and I can finally tell you how much I love you and how I forgive you for what happened that day, the reason you got taken away. I have no way to fight this legally, I’ve put all our savings into it. I just hope that somehow, wherever you are, you know that I will always love you and that I miss you. Love, mum.” Silence. D-579: (In a Russian accent) Hm, this letter is sweet. Is it for you? Silence. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Cautiously) Five-seven-nine? Silence. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Will? D-579: My hands are no longer bleeding guys. They’ve… healed, fully. The cuts are gone. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You aren’t speaking to someone anymore? D-579: To who? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Yourself. You were having a conversation with yourself over that letter you’re holding, but it seemed like there was another person? D-579 looks at an open letter he’s holding in his hands. D-579: This letter? I think it’s just some old bank information or something? See, look, it says rubles and it has a bunch of numbers on it. Nothing much I can gain from it really? Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) This is concerning, don't you think? How can it both be stable and yet in flux? Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) I don’t know why? That’s why we have to search harder. There has to be some central point to this place. Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) Hm, yeah… let me go get something really quick from the storage room, I think it could help. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Aside) Sure, yeah, I think we should avoid the apartments from now on though. Rsch Tamsin: (Aside) Yeah, probably for the best. Researcher Tamsin gets up from her seat and begins walking to the door. She turns around to speak quickly. Rsch Tamsin: Hold on, have we che… Rsch Kauhnwallê: What was that? D-579: Hm, nothing, I didn’t say anything? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Oh, sorry, my bad. Thought I heard something. This building is pretty old, the pipes make strange noises all the time. They sound like voices sometimes. D-579: Right… should we move on now? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Uh, yeah, sure thing, if you can’t find anything else? D-579: Yeah, all these doors are locked though, nothing I can do here really. D-579 exits the hallway door and is outside suddenly in a grassy field. He steps out into it. D-579: Damn my head feels like it's throbbing… Alright then, moving now (turns and looks behind him before turning back around). D-579 walks briskly through a patch of tall grass up towards the house. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Alright, confirming that you have crossed over. Everything's looking fine on my end. How are we feeling? [MISSING_DATA]: (Tapping Researcher Kauhnwallê’s shoulder and pointing at a side monitor) [MISSING_DATA] D-579: What's up? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Nothing really, it's just interesting; the Spalder Counter hasn't changed. It shows the amount of existing matter at a given time within space. Usually entering a pocket reality results in it rising since, well, it's new space. But, yeah, no change, which is weird. D-579: So I haven't gone anywhere then? Researcher Kauhnwallê looks towards the monitor for the stationary camera placed at the site, showing a distorted D-579, moving at a perceptibly decreased rate. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Um, no not exactly, just likely means there's more overlap between our realties. D-579: Yeah I mean… looking around I can't really tell, but it feels… noisier. If that makes sense. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure, just try to look around as much as you can so we can get a better idea of things. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: …The sun looks the same. Not sure if that helps. I can't really tell. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: Well, it's just that for a ghost town, it feels all too lived in. Haunted maybe, that's the feeling, but not haunted like how the rest of the town looks walking through it. It's just, this time, I feel a weight on my chest. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: Could be, but I wouldn’t say I’m feeling ill, I just feel, heard or something. [MISSING_DATA]: [MISSING_DATA] D-579: Nah, nothing like that… I'll look around the house okay, maybe I am just feeling sick or something. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm, okay, well remember to keep us updated on how you’re feeling. It's important we know not only what the anomaly is but how the anomaly affects people. D-579: Mhm yeah, sure thing. (Pauses) Coming up the steps now. D-579 walks along a stone wall and up a set of steps which lead up to a raised wooden porch area with the house’s side entrance. D-579 steps up to the door, opening it with his hand. The hallway is dark and empty. There are suspended dust particles in the air. D-579: Hm yeah, it smells pretty stale in here. D-579 looks towards the end of the hallway. He notices a white door at the end of it. D-579: I think it’s just some old house. That… that over there seems more interesting, however. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Sure, yeah whatever you think you should do. Any information I can get would be handy. D-579 walks slowly towards the door at the other end of the hall, cautiously stepping closer and closer. He opens the door and steps out into a street in the suburbs. In the distance is an impossibly tall concrete cuboid structure extending into the sky. D-579: That building in the distance, does that look normal to you? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Probably not. The physics of this reality may be extremely different to ours, remember that. D-579: Yeah, but I wonder who put it there. D-579 continues to wander out into the street. There are semi-detached homes along both sides of the street. D-579: This place doesn’t feel very… soviet? Don’t you think? Rsch Kauhnwallê: I wouldn’t really know. Architectural history is not my forte unfortunately (laughs). D-579: Just feels like I got deja vu, or an intense nostalgia for something, I’m not sure. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Do you think that's just because of the way it looks or do you think it’s the anomaly causing it? D-579: Honestly couldn’t say. I don’t feel like I'm being manipulated? Researcher Kauhnwallê grasps his phone in his pocket, pulling it out and looking at it with a confused expression. He puts it on the desk in front of him. D-579 turns a street corner and observes a stationary ambulance further down the street. Its lights are flashing rapidly, and a stretcher can be seen outside the doors of it. Researcher Kauhnwallê continues to look at his phone, ignoring the monitors in front of him. D-579: Hey doc? Do you know what’s happening here? I don’t know what any of this means? Rsch Kauhnwallê: Hm? Um… yeah I don’t know. Reality is quite an undeveloped discipline. D-579: I don’t think I should go over there? Rsch Kauhnwallê: This place isn’t a hostile place from what we can tell. You’ll be safer if you just confront it. D-579 approaches the ambulance. It sits outside a house that has been completely burned down into rubble. The charred remains of the house are all that’s left. The stretcher outside the ambulance has a black bag laid out on top of it. D-579: This… What is this? D-579 stands on the opposite side of the street. He holds his head. Researcher Kauhnwallê clicks onto his contacts list. The only contact on the phone is one labelled “mum”. He rings the number. D-579 stands back in fear and recoils away from the black body bag. D-579: I don’t like this. I wanna leave. The phone rings 7 times and then stops. The phone shuts down and loses power. Rsch Kauhnwallê: (Looking back up to the monitor) You know the only exit is back through the house right? The body bag suddenly begins to writhe, thrashing on top of the stretcher, until it topples onto its side. Simultaneously the camera's lens shatters and the monitor is covered in cracks. D-579 falls onto the ground on the street and curls up on his side. D-579: I can’t go back. I just can’t, I won't. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You should rest for a while, get your energy back up. These things are difficult sometimes. D-579 stays on the ground for some time. Several hours pass. The sun begins to go down, and the sky gets darker. D-579: Doctor, are you still there? D-579 sits up. D-579: Doc? D-579 gets to his feet and brushes the dirt off his clothes. He looks towards the burnt house, but it is gone. He begins to wander down the street, towards the concrete structure. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Five-seven-nine, where are you going now? D-579: I can’t go back… There is no back. I need to go forward. Rsch Kauhnwallê: I already have too much data than I know what to do with, or even know how to interpret just by myself. You can leave the anomaly if you want. Someone will be waiting for you. D-579 ignores this and continues forwards towards the structure. It has a round entrance leading into it. Rsch Kauhnwallê: Are you sure you want to go further in? This time it could be dangerous. D-579: I’ll be fine. I always end up fine. Rsch Kauhnwallê: But you might not be, why can’t you accept that? D-579: Because this time it’s different. D-579 walks right up to the circular entrance. It consists of a dark tunnel, with no light penetrating further than a couple metres. He looks up at a placard above it. D-579: Hm… Rsch Kauhnwallê: What… What does it say? I can't read it. D-579: Nineteen. It says nineteen. Some time passes. Rsch Kauhnwallê: You know that at some point, once you enter, you can't leave? D-579: I know, it’s something I’ve known my whole life. This is it. This has to be. D-579 sniffles. An unidentified charred human arm penetrates through the darkness of the tunnel, seeming to reach out for D-579’s hand. D-579: I have to do this… Goodbye, doc. I’ll see ya’ around. D-579 grasps the hand and walks into the tunnel entrance. Rsch Kauhnwallê: See you around too, five-seven-nine. Silence. End Log ▶ Restricted Access Level/5 - Internal Memo ▼ Restricted Access Level/5 - Internal Memo Foundation RU Internal Memo 2024 Unknown Surface Depressions Affecting Foundation Site Infrastructure and Logistics Hello everyone, Since 2004, the continued presence of several large scale depressions within ground surface layers throughout eastern Europe has affected the infrastructural and logistical operations of the many Foundations sites and areas. Structural faults due to the sudden presence of unstable terrain forming beside or underneath buildings have been reported, as well as major delays due to depressions affecting roads. Foundation vehicles are therefore unable to deliver personnel or resources to the required sites, leading to issues with site resources management and allocation. Attempts to manage the deficit via the use of drones or air vehicles has provided additional challenges due to the harsher climate. Additional maintenance teams have therefore been put on standby at several more prominent locations across eastern Europe for faster response times. The source of these depressions is unknown and may be ectoentropic in nature, some researchers suggest. Effects on civilians have been equally difficult to deal with. Urban infrastructure has suffered, and local governments are struggling to meet demands to fix these issues. Director Kauhnwallê Footnotes 1. The furthest point of the exclusionary zone. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8579" by Unobtainium235, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8579. 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.
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SCP-8580
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safe
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3 SCP-8580 Instances Item #: SCP-8580 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8580 instances are to be stored in a safe containment unit at Site-633. Description: SCP-8580 denotes baroque1 pearls distinguished by their comparatively low conchiolin and high mucin contents. Instances are hollow, containing a small pocket of stale air at their centers instead of a solid nucleus.2 These factors render SCP-8580 instances fragile in comparison to commercial counterparts. Discovery: The Foundation became aware of SCP-8580 during the seizure of an abandoned warehouse containing a surplus of SCP-8058 instances. As the warehouse was cleared, it was found to also contain a crate with 2293 SCP-8580 instances. Though personnel were able to trace the serial number on the crate back to North American Creations Co.3 its regular commercial output did not match the low quality of SCP-8580 instances. This inconsistency necessitated a full scale audit of all of the company's assets, staffing, and communications, flagging the following report within the central office of Sr. Director Bill Spencer: Branch Report - Larkton, Illinois Consultant: Godfrey Changez Notes: In any other case I would start my report with a good faith calculation of the expected value of the queried branch, arrange my projections for the future of the asset, and direct the hand of the client to the best measure as to maximize the economic utility of the asset. I pride myself on professional impartiality, that is to say, but I simply cannot adhere to that good faith in this case. Upon my entry to the facility I was met with the stale air that works its way into all concrete monoliths, lacking windows for fresh air, or even natural light. A dreary silence, underscored by a familiar annoyance at the ticking of an analog clock, flicking to the beat of the apathetic trudging of the workforce beside me. They fit the mood exactly, each of them plain faced with their computers and briefcases in hand, practiced in winding the grey walls of the block to their allotted meetings, cubicles, what have you. And there I stood, amidst it all in the grand open entry hall, this wave of despond still managing to weave its way mindlessly around me. No thoughts to the foreign body, I suppose. I too was there for a job in the end. Perhaps they already recognized me? It was a short talk with the secretary at the front desk. I identified myself and they gave me a room number and some directions. Third floor, first room on the left. And it was a dismal little thing, but all the necessary figures were provided. Of course it wasn't ideal, but you can't expect high-rise offices at every deployment. This was work after all, a good employee is ready to put aside such trivial annoyances. And doing so, I began to chip away. Being in this line of work, you develop a sort of sixth sense for how an asset will unfold. Glance at some tables and graphs, plug them into some of the crowd favorite models, and an educated man can get a quick sense of how a company is functioning, if at all. I preface this to say, this company should not have been functional at all. I don't know what to say. The numbers just didn't add up. It was baffling, seeing the expenditure sheet. The layers upon layers of mediation, jobs filling tables provided by other jobs prodding models using data from tables just the same going down layer after layer after layer. Three tiers of middle management. No human resources department. And must I repeat, so many redundant low level jobs. I had been sitting there for hours, so baffled at the structure I was reaching a breaking point. I just couldn't get it to click. I needed to ask someone why it was all like this. I had to find someone with a modicum of power, but I was besides myself how to even begin to broach the levels of hierarchy at play here. Notice, I didn't even talk to anyone proper on the way in- and that's fairly conventional. But I'm here on their behalf, so they always make themselves known to me. Really, it's the barest level of respect to someone who could be pivotal in the continued existence of so many jobs. I couldn't wait a moment longer. I stepped out into the hall. Directions were absent from my mind as I attempted to retrace my way to the elevator with no avail, rather, happening upon a large room filled with cubicles. I could see the work they were doing first hand now. Trivial. Tedious. I could see it on their faces that they knew it too, bored out of their minds, but trying not to zone out. Glancing around, sneaking in bites of a small snack, then being startled when a nearby printer began to scream out for another table to be sent upstairs, downstairs, or the next room over. None of them talked. None of them even noticed me. I just walked round what must have been hundreds of people all tapping away at their assigned task, desperate to look busy. I found my way to a side hallway that I could have swore was the way to the elevator, but it was yet more concrete walls. More horrible off white carpet and more stuffy concrete corridors turning sharp to another hallway lined with more little offices for slightly-more-higher ups, and ending, would you guess, at yet another identical block of cubicles. I watched as one of the offices opened. A man; didn't notice me. He was walking slightly in front of me as I approached the new cubicle block, following that same ticking pace as he stepped on the noise dampening, slightly abrasive carpet. I lingered as he spoke to one of the office workers. Buzzwords. Low profit quarter. Might be layoffs soon, or maybe lower pay. Don't worry about that though, you do great work. A fake smile. I'm going to need that report on my desk by tonight. I don't ask questions, I just expect it to be done- And then I was out of earshot. I hadn't noticed it before, but these middle-managers we're all around the place, just slightly lingering at the corner of every few cubicle blocks. All making the same idle conversation. Looking at screens. Looking at people. That passive prodding, keeping them on their toes. Keeping them efficient. If I didn't have my file with me, I might be worried that I didn't look busy enough for them. I sped up slightly. The eyes were starting to wander to me. They'd recognized me. Lingering to much, an irritant, getting in the way. I ducked into a bathroom. I looked into the mirror. Felt horrible, skin clammy, eyes strained and stressed from the flicking of fluorescent lights that faded into the background. I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding, then noticed it. In here, it was quiet. Almost silent. I'd been blocking out all those grating little sounds from the greater office, all the ticking, crunching, idle tapping, everything, but the bathroom here it was silent, and now that bothered me too. I washed my face off quickly, then stepped back out. On my right was a man with presence. He wore a suit, carried himself like he was someone, and what's more, he saw me. Eyes fixed to the back of my skull through my own eyes, my own kin, in a moment, cutting me up and weighing my worth. We began to walk, chatting. He thanked me. I'd been doing such great work already, and they were looking forward to the good valuation. He wanted to know how I found the place. I said it was great, efficient. He nodded. He really appreciated the work I was doing, he insisted that fac. He was wondering if I would be interested in a permanent position. It would be a great change of pace from what I was doing already, a good, solid, office job, but I said no. We exchanged a joke about benefits, a wink and nudge. He tried once more, he knows a diamond in the rough when he sees it. His own sixth sense, like a shimmering nacre in a halo around truly worthwhile people. He grabbed my shoulder. We were alike in that way, the true kings of society, creating value by seeing where the value sits and closing in on it, clamping shut on those loose gems before anyone else could snag them. We were in his office. I don't remember the elevator trip. My skin was clammy. I refused to shake his hand. Said, I'm not feeling so great. You know how it is, jetlag, travel for a living but I never get used to it. Laugh. Do not shake his hand. That's a shame. It's the end of the work day. Hope to see your report on my desk soon. Down the elevator. Someone bumped into me on my way out, spilling a cup of cold coffee, sticky and wet, all over my suit. I looked into his face. Gaunt, bags in the eyes, looking wildly about at everything except me as he fervently apologized. I, of course, assured them it was no issue, but I wasn't really paying attention to whatever niceties we each threw. Instead, all my focus was fixed on a strange spherical lump protruding out of the back of his left hand. I almost pointed it out, but the man was ready to hurry away. Back to work; overtime. I continued on my way out. It's ruined now, that suit, can't get the smell off of it. Not just the suit, everything I was wearing. Shower after shower and I still feel clammy, congested and sticky. I did not go back the next day. I had all I needed, figures so absurd, culture so constricting, absolutely no products of worth. Raze it to the ground for all I care. The building is worthless. Recommendation: Immediate Liquidation of All Assets Inquiry into the existence of a NA Creations Larkton branch were largely unsuccessful, locating only a building within the Larkton area that vaguely matched Changez's description.4 Field agents sent to investigate noted scrape marks across various walls within the building, but it was otherwise completely empty, and no records regarding its construction or prior ownership could be found. Initial attempts to contact Changez by phone failed, prompting a house visit. Deployed Field Agents found the home in a state of neglect, specifically noting that the mailbox was filled with letters, all of which were from NA Creations by way of Sr. Director Bill Spencer.5 Gaining forced entry into the home, the interior was found to be in a similar state of neglect, with more letters found strewn across various surfaces in piles.6 None had been opened. Changez was located dead within his personal office, holding an opened letter. Foundation coroners report an unclear time of death, as the body was in a state of complete desiccation. The cause of death, however, was clear, as an abnormally regular SCP-8580 instance was located lodged within his aorta. SCP-8580-α ("Changez") Footnotes 1. Non-spherical due to inconsistent layer formation. 2. Oysters and mussels form pearls as a defense against irritants, like sand or parasites, that enter their bodies; secreting layers of aragonite and conchiolin around them. 3. Known to be in ownership of numerous small-scale pearl farms among its other holdings. 4. Maximum capacity: Approx. 2250 employees. 5. Letters promised Changez employment at various new branches of the company. None of these branches were found to exist in any credible capacity. 6. The earliest letters found inside were dated approximately 5 years prior.
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SCP-8585
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neutralized
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The people may not remember me, but that does not mean I have forgotten them. oritiefling, ariadnesthread Did you enjoy the article? Please check out our other works! Ori and Ari Item#: 8585 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Following Dreamscape analysis in combination with health reports from the months preceding SCP-8585's disappearance, SCP-8585 was declared deceased as of January 24th, 2028. No further containment procedures are required. +View archived containment procedures. – hide block SCP-8585 has agreed to GPS tracking by the Foundation and to date has respected Veil Integrity Protocols. As a result containment procedures have remained at passive monitoring and monthly physicals at Site-58. SCP-8585 is not permitted to leave the civic boundaries of Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. All monitoring of SCP-8585 is overseen by the Foundation Department of Anomalous Ambassadors. Description: SCP-8585 is a humanoid entity resembling a heavyset elderly man of Slavic descent. His physical features have been inconsistent since the anomaly initially came to Foundation attention, however he has been consistently described as "glowing", or as having a halo of light around his head. SCP-8585 identifies himself as Daždźboh, a member of the Slavic pantheon, typically as the deity associated most with solar cults of worship.1 He is far older than he physically appears, having been mentioned in several historical texts and showcasing detailed historical knowledge dating back as early as 940 CE. Addendum 8585.1: Partial List of Notable SCP-8585 Sightings Date Location Appearance Notes c. 940 CE Kievan Rus' Noted to have a sun-shaped insignia 'finely embroidered' upon his tunic when present at several triumphs of Slavic rulers, including Olga of Kyiv's legendary revenge upon the Drevlians after the murder of her husband. Appearances are only implied poetically in the Laurentian Codex of the Primary Chronicle, or 'Tale of Bygone Years'2, one of the few pre-Christian historical accounts of Slavic history. However, an instance of SCP-7028-3 believed to be the complete original text written by the monk Laurentius in the Eleventh Century CE makes the appearances of Daždźboh explicit, noting that the god's presence at the Conversion of Vladimir the Great to Christianity marked the final sighting of the god in Kyiv 'for several generations'. It should be noted that this passage was excised completely from all surviving, non-anomalous manuscripts, although poetic invocations and descriptions of the god in various statuary (and thus ever-present at the royal court) of Slavic palaces remain. Jan. 1569 CE Lublin, Rzeczpospolita Polska Described as a 'towering man with a shining, golden beard, with a brightly woven sun on his tunic and a great war-hammer by his side.' Identification confirmed by the private writings of the personal secretary of Mikołaj Radziwiłł3, who was able to speak with SCP-8585 briefly and was so deeply impressed by the 'bearing and power' of the man that he believed to have been in the presence of 'a saint or divine, if only for a moment.' c. 1917-22 CE Paris, France Described as an extremely tall, rotund man fluent in several Eastern European languages as well as French, English, and German. Manner typically reported as reserved, although often described as possessing a 'piercing gaze' that unsettled some, particularly those who traveled in the Russian royal circles. Noted to be part of the Paris social scene by several émigrés4 in various communications and memoirs over the course of several years, usually under the pseudonym 'Khors Svitlo'. Physical appearance remains consistent over the years, although sightings decrease sharply between 1921-1922. It is implied but not outright stated that it had ceased to be invited to certain social events amongst the émigré community. Apr. 1933 CE New York, United States First signs of greying at its temples, although beard remains a bright orange. When not speaking directly with any person, shoulders seem slightly bowed, postured stooped, but straightens immediately upon being addressed. Wearing black, thick-framed prescription eyeglasses with his beard more neatly trimmed than previous descriptions. First Foundation contact with SCP-8585. Although present at a celebration party for the repealing of the Volstead Act, it is noted to be somber and withdrawn from others gathered. Jun. 1967 CE San Francisco, United States Both hair and beard are now best described as 'salt-and-pepper', although features and behaviors were described by observers as animated and lively. Wearing a bright red shirt with an animated, idealized sun wearing sunglasses and giving a 'thumbs-up' gesture. Present at multiple points during the 'Summer of Love' movement, especially in Tompkins Square Park for various concerts, as well as assisting the Free Clinic during the apex of the movement. Dec. 1991 CE New York, United States Hair and beard are both now pure white, as confirmed by SCP-8585 itself. Appears to have shrunk somewhat in height, although shoulders are still quite broad. First sighting of SCP-8585 without some form of an idealized sun visible on his person, although the backdrop for photographs did have several similar insignias. SCP-8585 was working as a 'Santa Claus' at Lord & Taylor Department Store. When approached by Foundation agents, stated that it was doing so 'to see the smiles on the children's faces' and that it required nothing more. Feb. 2025 CE London, United Kingdom Posture quite stooped with visible bowing of shoulders, considerable weight loss, age marks visible on forehead as hairline has receded several inches. Due to increasing concerns about SCP-8585's overall health, containment procedures updated to a smaller area for free movement (specifically the Nanticoke area of Pennsylvania near Site-58). Addendum 8585.2: Incident Report On December 23rd, 2027, SCP-8585 was reported leaving the geographic boundaries established as part of its containment procedures. SCP-8585 was tracked and reported to be heading eastward from Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. Agent Basil Sias from the Department of Anomalous Ambassadors was dispatched to intercept and, if possible, recontain the anomaly. Agent Sias was able to intercept SCP-8585 at a civilian port on the northern banks of the Delaware River, attempting to board a ship southbound towards New York, New York. Below is a log of this interaction as recorded by Agent Sias's bodycam. [BEGIN LOG] Agent Sias approaches a line of civilians waiting to purchase tickets to board a ship. SCP-8585 is quickly identified in the crowd. SCP-8585 makes eye contact with Agent Sias and frowns. Agent Sias responds with a wave and weaves into the crowd to escort SCP-8585 aside. He leads SCP-8585 away from civilians into a secluded area of the shipyard. Sias: Before anything else I wanna apologize for dragging you off like that. I know it's standard procedure, but I feel gross every time I do it. SCP-8585: It is… fine. SCP-8585 sighs heavily. SCP-8585: I knew it was an errand for a fool anyway. You always catch up sooner or later. Sias: You're a little far from home, Daz. What brings you all the way out here anyway? SCP-8585 rolls up its sleeve. A fist-sized patch of flesh over its shoulder appears to be distorting and fading. Sias: Daz, I- SCP-8585: You and I both know what this means, Mr. Sias. SCP-8585 walks over to the edge of the pier and sits. It pats the ground next to it. Agent Sias walks over and sits beside it as it takes out and lights a cigarette. SCP-8585: Do you smoke? Sias: No, no. Well, when I was a kid for a bit, yeah, but no not anymore. SCP-8585 shrugs. SCP-8585: Suit yourself. SCP-8585 takes a deep drag of the cigarette and exhales. SCP-8585: I thought I was going to be afraid of becoming that. It motions to the smoke. SCP-8585: It is not so scary, not anymore. I suppose it helps that I have felt it coming for some time now. Sias: All of your vitals have reported normal for years now. What makes you say that? SCP-8585 pounds its chest. SCP-8585: You feel it. Inside. Part of being a god is hearing all of those tiny voices echoing in your ear from those who praise you, beg things of you. For newer gods they are near maddening in their endless chirping, but the older you become the more they comfort you. You are remembered, you are needed! SCP-8585 takes another deep drag from its cigarette. SCP-8585: You do not notice at first when the chirping begins to vanish. There is too much after all, too many voices to pick out individual sounds, but as the years pass you begin to notice the choir growing quieter and quieter. I ask you, Mr. Sias, what happens to a god with no voice in his ear? Agent Sias is quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Sias: …He vanishes. SCP-8585 claps a hand on Agent Sias's back, nearly knocking him into the river. SCP-8585: That is it! Yes, he vanishes. Poof! A cloud of smoke and ash. No longer wanted, no longer needed. Worship keeps the divine alive, worship makes something divine. SCP-8585 sighs heavily once more. SCP-8585: I have not heard anything like a choir since the 15th century, Mr. Sias. Now the voices grow quiet, I hear but a fistful of people who still spare a passing thought for me. SCP-8585 chuckles. SCP-8585: There was a time once where I would think it impossible. Fading away? Me? I am Daždźboh! I am the very light of day! But even day fades to night, Mr. Sias. SCP-8585 looks at the horizon, watching as the sun sets. Sias: So what was the plan, then? SCP-8585: I wanted to return to the old country, Mr. Sias. I figured if I was to die, I would rather die at home than in a foreign land. Give myself one final kindness. The people may not remember me, but that does not mean I have forgotten them. The two sit in silence for several moments as the sun finishes setting. Eventually, SCP-8585 looks upwards. SCP-8585: Do you like stars, Mr. Sias? Sias: I do, yeah. They remind me of an old friend. SCP-8585: In my younger days I did not care for them. How dare they try to shine as bright as I! And the moon, how dare she take my light for her own beauty! Hah, what a petty young man I was indeed. Now you cannot even see the stars at night. If I had known that someday the light of man would outshine us both, perhaps I would have appreciated them more. Sias: If you get far enough out of the city, you can still see them. My dad used to tell me that the sky is beautiful in the middle of the ocean, and I know that out in the country you can almost see the sky the way it was meant to be. It'll never be the same as when you were young, but it's still beautiful. SCP-8585 chuckles. SCP-8585: I would quite like to see that. SCP-8585 coughs and snuffs out its cigarette as Agent Sias rises to his feet. Agent Sias reaches out and helps SCP-8585 up. SCP-8585 slaps his hand away. SCP-8585: Bah, I got it. SCP-8585 struggles to stand back up. After a moment, Agent Sias extends his hand once more. SCP-8585 takes it. SCP-8585: I was a young man once you know. Made of strong stock, and handsome to boot! Guess it's time to say goodbye to stubborn pride, eh? He glances towards the horizon. SCP-8585 and Agent Sias stand in silence for a moment. SCP-8585: I suppose it's time to head back then. Agent Sias bends down and reaches for the GPS tracker around SCP-8585's ankle. SCP-8585: Mr. Sias…? Agent Sias removes the tracker. SCP-8585: What is all this? Sias: The Foundation already failed you by letting you fade away. We could've done more to keep you alive, and we didn't. The least we can do is let you die the way you want. SCP-8585: …Aye. SCP-8585 and Agent Sias nod to one another. SCP-8585: …Thank you, Mr. Sias. May your kindness be remembered. Sias: It won't be, but that's alright. Take care, Daz. I hope the stars at home are beautiful. SCP-8585 smiles, and walks away. Agent Sias returns to his vehicle. [END LOG] A month after the above recording, an envelope was sent to Site-58 with no return address. Inside was a postcard addressed to Agent Basil Sias, the front containing a photo depicting a wide shot of a landscape, and the back containing a handwritten message reading "It really was beautiful." Image from the front of the postcard sent to Site-58. The photo is believed to originate from somewhere in the Ukrainian Carpathians. Footnotes 1. Дажбог (Ukranian) was one of the few religious beings with textual and archaeological evidence of pre-Christian era worship throughout all known Slavic tribes. 2. Повѣсть времѧньныхъ лѣтъ, c.850-1150 CE. 3. Nicknamed 'The Red', Voivode of Vilnius, capital of Poland-Lithuania, 1515-84 CE. Noted to be functionally illiterate, this unknown secretary was present at virtually all of Radziwiłł's diplomatic events. 4. Russian political exiles in Western Europe in the wake of the Russian Revolution. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8585" by OriTiefling, AriadnesThread, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8585. 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: NightSky.png Author: Kulish Kateryna License: Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Night_sky_in_Carpathians.jpg
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SCP-8590
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keter
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PlaguePJP: XXXVII by PlaguePJP SCP-8590 — Dale ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8590 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8590. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8590 is currently uncontained. While a reality warper, SCP-8590 does not currently pose a threat to the veil. Containment procedures are to be focused on tracking and documenting SCP-8590’s manifestations and behavior until it can be successfully, permanently contained. Description: SCP-8590 is a 32-year-old human male with reality-warping abilities, including teleportation, manifestation of objects, manipulation of a person's memory, and omniscience. SCP-8590 uses the combination of its incredibly powerful abilities to work menial, low-paying jobs. SCP-8590 appears throughout the contiguous United States, usually in the Midwest. How SCP-8590 chooses its locations is unknown; there does not appear to be a pattern. Identification on SCP-8590’s person (name tags, driver's license, etc) only displays the name "Dale." The positions SCP-8590 holds change rapidly based on no known factor; most likely, SCP-8590 simply decides to have a new job and does so. Addendum 8590.1: Discovery and Initial Interactions During an unrelated investigation in Wisconsin, Foundation Agent Sarah Palmers encountered SCP-8590 when attempting to pick up a check from a local Goodwill. GOODWILL SURVEILLANCE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Palmers approaches SCP-8590 in an aisle. She is holding a vase.) Palmers: Excuse me? SCP-8590: Hm. Palmers: Is your manager here? I made a drop-off last week and needed to pick up my check. SCP-8590: He's not here today. Palmers: He said he would be here. Do you know when he'll be back? SCP-8590: Not in my job description to know that. Palmers: Alright. […] Can you tell him to give me a call when he gets back? SCP-8590: I don't really like talking to him. Palmers: You're not being very helpful. SCP-8590: That's your opinion. Palmers: Uh… okay. I was looking at this vase. There's no sticker on it, do you know the price? SCP-8590: Take it. Palmers: Huh? SCP-8590: I wouldn't care if you burned this place to the ground with me in it. Take the vase. Palmers: Okay. Are you sure? SCP-8590: I do not care. Palmers: Alright. Thanks? (Palmers moves towards the exit.) SCP-8590: (Shouting.) The manager's not gonna let you back in the store if you steal that. (Palmers stops, then turns towards SCP-8590.) Palmers: I'm not stealing anything. SCP-8590: You didn't pay for that. Palmers: You literally told me to take it. SCP-8590: I'm not gonna stop you from stealing. I'm just letting you know the manager isn't gonna be happy. He'd probably ban you. Palmers: Then let me buy the fucking thing! SCP-8590: There's no need to use that language, ma'am. (SCP-8590 and Agent Palmers walk back to the cash register.) SCP-8590: Is that all today? Palmers: Jesus fu— yes. That's all. (SCP-8590 scans the vase 100 times. Palmers stares, clearly losing patience.) SCP-8590: That'll be two thousand dollars. Palmers: Are you out of your mind? SCP-8590: No. Palmers: Two thousand dollars? SCP-8590: Yeah. Palmers: That's not odd to you? SCP-8590: I scanned it a hundred times. Palmers: Why the fuck would you do that? SCP-8590: You didn't stop me. I thought you wanted a hundred of them. Palmers: I don't want a hundred vases. I want one. SCP-8590: You should have said that. Palmers: This is fucking absurd! SCP-8590: Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the store. Palmers: No no no. Don't worry. I'm on my way out anyway. «END LOG» PARKING LOT SURVEILLANCE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Agent Palmers' car is being towed.) Palmers: You've got to be fucking kidding me! (Palmers jogs to the tow truck. SCP-8590 is driving.) Palmers: The hell? Are you towing my car because I didn't buy your vase? SCP-8590: Ma'am, that wouldn't make any sense. You double parked in the handicap section. Palmers: No— I… did I? I guess I did. Can you just help me out? SCP-8590: There's going to be a fine. Palmers: How much? SCP-8590: Do you want a hundred cars or just the one? Palmers: Oh my god. Just my car. SCP-8590: Two thousand dollars. Palmers: Are you serious? SCP-8590: I'm just doing my job. Palmers: (Mumbling) Fucking horseshit bullshit. Fuck this. (Palmers retrieves 2,000 dollars in cash from her handbag and hands it to SCP-8590.) SCP-8590: Would you like a bag? Palmers: What? […] Sure? SCP-8590: Okay. (SCP-8590 exits the tow truck and wraps the car in a car-sized plastic bag.) SCP-8590: Have a nice day. «END LOG» PALMERS STATION SURVEILLANCE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Agent Palmers' arrives home. She walks into the kitchen and places the very large plastic bag under the sink. Palmers steps in a puddle, then looks up. Her upstairs shower caused a leak in the kitchen.) Palmers: Motherfucker! (Agent Palmers calls a plumber.) [25 minutes of extraneous footage redacted.] (A doorbell is rung. Agent Palmers approaches the door. SCP-8590 is waiting on the other side.) Palmers: There's no fucking way! Not you again! SCP-8590: I was called about a leak. Palmers: How many jobs do you have? SCP-8590: I'm just trying to feed my family, ma'am. Palmers: Do you know what you're doing? SCP-8590: I'm a plumber. Palmers: Are you accredited? SCP-8590: I am a plumber. Palmers: Oh my god. Oh my god. […] Whatever. (Agent Palmers guides SCP-8590 to the location of the leak.) Palmers: Here. SCP-8590: Hm. Interesting. Palmers: What is? SCP-8590: You have a leak. Palmers: I think I'm losing my mind. (SCP-8590 looks at the leaking ceiling.) SCP-8590: Mhm. Alright. I see. Palmers: What? What do you see? SCP-8590: There's a leak here. I said that already. (Agent Palmers cups her head in her hands.) Palmers: Can— can you fix it? SCP-8590: Yes. This is just a routine pipe replacement. Palmers: Perfect. Thank you. SCP-8590: Wait. Palmers: What's wrong? SCP-8590: One more thing. Palmers: What? SCP-8590: Do you want a hundred pipes or just the one? «END LOG» More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-7593 (+203) • SCP-6597 (+180) • SCP-5364 (+89) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-7590 (+151) • SCP-8591 (+120) • SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-6598 (+257) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-5591 (+128) • SCP-8596 (+244) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
|
SCP-8590
|
uncontained
|
PlaguePJP: XXXVII by PlaguePJP SCP-8590 — Dale ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8590 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8590. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8590 is currently uncontained. While a reality warper, SCP-8590 does not currently pose a threat to the veil. Containment procedures are to be focused on tracking and documenting SCP-8590’s manifestations and behavior until it can be successfully, permanently contained. Description: SCP-8590 is a 32-year-old human male with reality-warping abilities, including teleportation, manifestation of objects, manipulation of a person's memory, and omniscience. SCP-8590 uses the combination of its incredibly powerful abilities to work menial, low-paying jobs. SCP-8590 appears throughout the contiguous United States, usually in the Midwest. How SCP-8590 chooses its locations is unknown; there does not appear to be a pattern. Identification on SCP-8590’s person (name tags, driver's license, etc) only displays the name "Dale." The positions SCP-8590 holds change rapidly based on no known factor; most likely, SCP-8590 simply decides to have a new job and does so. Addendum 8590.1: Discovery and Initial Interactions During an unrelated investigation in Wisconsin, Foundation Agent Sarah Palmers encountered SCP-8590 when attempting to pick up a check from a local Goodwill. GOODWILL SURVEILLANCE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Palmers approaches SCP-8590 in an aisle. She is holding a vase.) Palmers: Excuse me? SCP-8590: Hm. Palmers: Is your manager here? I made a drop-off last week and needed to pick up my check. SCP-8590: He's not here today. Palmers: He said he would be here. Do you know when he'll be back? SCP-8590: Not in my job description to know that. Palmers: Alright. […] Can you tell him to give me a call when he gets back? SCP-8590: I don't really like talking to him. Palmers: You're not being very helpful. SCP-8590: That's your opinion. Palmers: Uh… okay. I was looking at this vase. There's no sticker on it, do you know the price? SCP-8590: Take it. Palmers: Huh? SCP-8590: I wouldn't care if you burned this place to the ground with me in it. Take the vase. Palmers: Okay. Are you sure? SCP-8590: I do not care. Palmers: Alright. Thanks? (Palmers moves towards the exit.) SCP-8590: (Shouting.) The manager's not gonna let you back in the store if you steal that. (Palmers stops, then turns towards SCP-8590.) Palmers: I'm not stealing anything. SCP-8590: You didn't pay for that. Palmers: You literally told me to take it. SCP-8590: I'm not gonna stop you from stealing. I'm just letting you know the manager isn't gonna be happy. He'd probably ban you. Palmers: Then let me buy the fucking thing! SCP-8590: There's no need to use that language, ma'am. (SCP-8590 and Agent Palmers walk back to the cash register.) SCP-8590: Is that all today? Palmers: Jesus fu— yes. That's all. (SCP-8590 scans the vase 100 times. Palmers stares, clearly losing patience.) SCP-8590: That'll be two thousand dollars. Palmers: Are you out of your mind? SCP-8590: No. Palmers: Two thousand dollars? SCP-8590: Yeah. Palmers: That's not odd to you? SCP-8590: I scanned it a hundred times. Palmers: Why the fuck would you do that? SCP-8590: You didn't stop me. I thought you wanted a hundred of them. Palmers: I don't want a hundred vases. I want one. SCP-8590: You should have said that. Palmers: This is fucking absurd! SCP-8590: Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the store. Palmers: No no no. Don't worry. I'm on my way out anyway. «END LOG» PARKING LOT SURVEILLANCE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Agent Palmers' car is being towed.) Palmers: You've got to be fucking kidding me! (Palmers jogs to the tow truck. SCP-8590 is driving.) Palmers: The hell? Are you towing my car because I didn't buy your vase? SCP-8590: Ma'am, that wouldn't make any sense. You double parked in the handicap section. Palmers: No— I… did I? I guess I did. Can you just help me out? SCP-8590: There's going to be a fine. Palmers: How much? SCP-8590: Do you want a hundred cars or just the one? Palmers: Oh my god. Just my car. SCP-8590: Two thousand dollars. Palmers: Are you serious? SCP-8590: I'm just doing my job. Palmers: (Mumbling) Fucking horseshit bullshit. Fuck this. (Palmers retrieves 2,000 dollars in cash from her handbag and hands it to SCP-8590.) SCP-8590: Would you like a bag? Palmers: What? […] Sure? SCP-8590: Okay. (SCP-8590 exits the tow truck and wraps the car in a car-sized plastic bag.) SCP-8590: Have a nice day. «END LOG» PALMERS STATION SURVEILLANCE VIDEO TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Agent Palmers' arrives home. She walks into the kitchen and places the very large plastic bag under the sink. Palmers steps in a puddle, then looks up. Her upstairs shower caused a leak in the kitchen.) Palmers: Motherfucker! (Agent Palmers calls a plumber.) [25 minutes of extraneous footage redacted.] (A doorbell is rung. Agent Palmers approaches the door. SCP-8590 is waiting on the other side.) Palmers: There's no fucking way! Not you again! SCP-8590: I was called about a leak. Palmers: How many jobs do you have? SCP-8590: I'm just trying to feed my family, ma'am. Palmers: Do you know what you're doing? SCP-8590: I'm a plumber. Palmers: Are you accredited? SCP-8590: I am a plumber. Palmers: Oh my god. Oh my god. […] Whatever. (Agent Palmers guides SCP-8590 to the location of the leak.) Palmers: Here. SCP-8590: Hm. Interesting. Palmers: What is? SCP-8590: You have a leak. Palmers: I think I'm losing my mind. (SCP-8590 looks at the leaking ceiling.) SCP-8590: Mhm. Alright. I see. Palmers: What? What do you see? SCP-8590: There's a leak here. I said that already. (Agent Palmers cups her head in her hands.) Palmers: Can— can you fix it? SCP-8590: Yes. This is just a routine pipe replacement. Palmers: Perfect. Thank you. SCP-8590: Wait. Palmers: What's wrong? SCP-8590: One more thing. Palmers: What? SCP-8590: Do you want a hundred pipes or just the one? «END LOG» More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-7593 (+203) • SCP-6597 (+180) • SCP-5364 (+89) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-7590 (+151) • SCP-8591 (+120) • SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-6598 (+257) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-5591 (+128) • SCP-8596 (+244) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8591
|
esoteric-class
|
PlaguePJP: XLIX SCP-8591 — Alex Thorley Doesn't Get Away With It ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item #: SCP-8591 Special Containment Procedures: N/A SCP-8591. Description: SCP-8591 was an adult African Elephant that sporadically appeared and disappeared in Researcher Alex Thorley’s office. After the publishing of this documentation, SCP-8591 vanished and has not reappeared in over a year. TRANSCRIPT Thorley: (On the phone) It’s here again. […] Thorley: Maybe it’ll go away. […] Thorley: I didn't do anything. […] Thorley: I didn't do anything wrong. […] Thorley: Fine. (Thorley enters their office. There’s an elephant inside.) Thorley: …I’m addressing you. Rsr. Thorley has been appropriately reprimanded for their undisclosed misconduct prior to this interaction. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8595 (+374) • Plague's Proposal (+356) • SCP-6592 (+79) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-7597 (+142) • Plauge's Proposal (+242) • SCP-5364 (+89) • SCP-6598 (+257) • SCP-6591 (+130) • SCP-8598 (+88) • SCP-7001 (+544) • SCP-6593 (+192) • SCP-8592 (+163) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8591" by PlaguePJP, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8591. 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: ellingfant.png License: CC BY 2.0 This image is a composite of: Name: Elephant Author: gudi&cris License: CC BY 2.0 Source: Openverse
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SCP-8592
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euclid
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PlaguePJP: XLII by PlaguePJP SCP-8592 — The Department Department ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8592 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo A selfie recieved in an email from D. Partment, the self-proclaimed Chair of SCP-8592. Special Containment Procedures: Personnel who receive emails from SCP-8592 are to report them as spam and delete them. SCP-8592 has been integrated into the Foundation because it cannot be removed from SCiPnet servers. It's hypothesized that keeping it occupied with its self-assigned occupation is the best form of containment. Description: SCP-8592 is the Department Department, a nonexistent Foundation department operated by an unknown party. Mentions of SCP-8592 began appearing in official Foundation documents in April 2016, but due to the number of Foundation departments it was listed with, SCP-8592 was not properly noted as a discrepancy until December, when it began sending emails to random personnel members. SCP-8592 is operated by an entity claiming to be a member of Foundation personnel self-identifying as D. Partment. There is no record of anyone under that name existing. The vectors that cause SCP-8592 to manifest are not fully understood, but as of writing, the only definite factor that causes manifestation is when any level of personnel begins a new research project. SCP-8592's behavior after its manifestation follows a consistent pattern: After beginning their research, personnel will receive an email from ten.pics|tnemtrap.d#ten.pics|tnemtrap.d. This email will be a ramble with little to no grammar past proper capitalization of 'The Department Department' and its email signature. The messenger will congratulate the personnel on its research endeavor and assign it to a new, also nonexistent department as its head researcher. The department SCP-8592 assigns its targets to is nonsensical, often taking an insignificant element of the researched anomaly, naming a department after it, and acting as if this is a major undertaking or promotion. The personnel's SCiPnet profile and official documents will be altered to add the SCP-8592-created department into their 'Responsibilities' section. With the number of projects the Foundation undertakes monthly, SCP-8592 manifestation is relatively rare, with it only contacting someone in approximately 1 in every 1000 new official research endeavors. Below is an example email: Hello brother, Hello welcome to The Department Department. I am very happy to meet you. Am seeing here that you are investigating "John," a incoherent man who makes milk in his mouth instead of spit. It is very hard work and you deserve a "good job" speech from everyone around you. We are very pleased to announce that you have been assign to a new department for your good work ethics and research efforts. We saw on the John's intake file that he is ""bisexual"" and has a boyfriend. This is very cool and woke and I promise that I am awake right now so you or john are not uncomfortable ok? you now are the head of the Department of Bisexual Anomalies for research purposes. This is to make it easier on your life my brother. With great power comes great responsibility. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Addendum 8592.1: SCP-8592-Created Departments Below is an abridged list of SCP-8592-created departments Personnel Affected Anomaly Being Researched Assigned Department Dir. Randall House Reports and video of a physically impossible skateboarding trick at a recent Las Vegas BMX event. The Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Dr. Harold Blank The history of United States-based record labels, during which Taylor Swift was briefly looked into. The Department of White Women O5-4 The corpse of O5-13, which exhibits no signs of physical trauma or medical conditions. The corpse experienced complete cellular death without any discernible cause. Department of Murder (Bloody) Dr. Greg Holmes Sapient crows capable of human speech. Department of Murder (Clean) Dir. Hector Varga An anomalous enzyme appearing in some felines, extending a lifespan well beyond what is considered baseline. Department of Garfield Addendum 8592.2: Contact Due to the Foundation's robust cybersecurity environment, an automatic ticketing queue filtered and deleted emails from SCP-8592. For this reason, contact with SCP-8592 was never attempted. As research progressed on this anomaly, it was decided that communicating with SCP-8592 could potentially develop more robust containment procedures. The most recent contact of SCP-8592, Vincent Kinney, a junior researcher at Site-19, was permitted to reply to SCP-8592. Below is their email exchange Hello brother "Vinny Kinney", Welcome to the Department Department. We are delighted to join you here today. I have attach my I'd for proof and help with any anxiety or fear is right there please look at your convenient —-> We are see here that you are researching for a hamburger stand that teleports from time to time. Yum! This is a very important job for an important man. Since hamburgers have no cheese and cows are evil, you have kindly been appointed Head of the Department of Lactose Intolerance. Congratulation! It is a great honor. You are welcome. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Hi Mr. Partment, I'm somewhat confused by this email. Can you please explain what is going on in more depth? Thank you, Vincent Attention: Vinny Kinney Oh boy can I go in depth. I'll put it this way so please kindly listen and do not interrupt. You are researching a hamburger stand and Hamburger stands sell hamburgers. I hope we can agree on that my brother. The hamburgers are made of beef but do not contain cheese as it would be a cheeseburger. They put cheese in the name to clean up that whole kerfuffle. I have a hypothetical. Suppose a handsome man named John walks into this hamburger stand and says, "Hello, please get me a hamburger." Now if Tom gets a cheeseburger instead he will be upset because he didn't get the hamburger he spent his hard earned United State dollars for. Also cheese is lactose they say so in the science. Following? Back on Tom. If he gets his cheeseburger instead of a hamburger I don't think Tom or anyone with a working brain for that matter will tolerate it. As the head of the Department of Lactose Intolerance you can't stand it. Kindly take this matter seriously and please take up your post in your assigned department. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Mr. Partment, If we're getting this specific, wouldn't it make more sense to assign me to The Department of Teleporting Hamburger Stands? "The Department of Lactose Intolerance" seems insignificant compared to the anomaly at hand. Sincerely, Vincent Vincent, You have been kindly and generously offer an amazing position of chair of a department and you have spat upon my face and are bringing me to tear in my eyes with this "department of teleporting hamburger stands" nonsense. Please do not bring this up again. I would like to know what sick individual guy came up with this and poison your mind with this nonsense department. Please sincerely leave this department naming and assigning to the Department of Naming and Assigning which is led by me and is run under The Department Department which is also led by me. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Mr. Partment, Speaking of, I've been interested in joining The Department Department as a junior researcher. Can you give me some of the qualities you look for in a prospective employee? Sincerely, Vincent Hello Vincent, I am very sorry but you already seem to be very busy with The Department of Lactose Intolerance. It would making me just awful to put more work on your schedule as this can lead to burning out and a visit to the psych ward. If you must be knowing the Department Department is very sacred and we only accept people who have trust and are: nice swell cool dudes in general and often like departments are okay with my dog she is named debarkment have at least twenty years of department experience I kindly advise you to begin your work in the Department of Lactose Intolerance and take this seriously. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Mr. Partment, I feel that I fit these qualities. I have 25 years of experience heading multiple departments,1 I like dogs, and people always get along with me. Please, if there is an opening I ask that you consider me. I feel I'd be a great help. Sincerely, Vincent Hello Vincent, Am looking at your file currently as I write this.2 I hate nonsense and immaturity and it is clear that you are a no good dirty liar and illiterate. There is no where on your written file that says that you were head of any department before I kindly and generously assigned you to the Department of Lactose Intolerance. Please do not lie to me again or stop texting me ok? I am writing this while I am reading your file I am very good at multi tasking and it makes me happy to see that you are doing good work at the SCP foundation with your researching anomaly and those that are like that. Your most recent assignment looks very interesting and I don't believe I have read what it is your studying in this research assignment so I will do that now. oh no. good bye. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department It's assumed that SCP-8592 saw Researcher Kinney's assigned research project on it and ceased all communication with him as a result. Multiple attempts to resume communication with SCP-8592 were attempted, but all were fruitless. Following this, SCP-8592 entered a standard dormancy period. Three weeks later, Kinney received another email from SCP-8592, which is below. Hello there Vincent It is very nice to meet you ! We see here that you are doing very interesting research and welcome to the Department Department. You are a very strong man who deserves to be recognized for his hard work and fortitude my brother. We are happy to report that The Department Department has assigned you to to the chairman of The Department of the Department Department. This is your job now thank you and good bye. Please kindly do it well. Good luck! Dan Partment Chair, The Unemployed Department Researcher Kinney's personnel file was updated to include "The Department of The Department Department" and "The Department Department" as responsibilities. Since then, e-mails sent by Researcher Kinney have seen a 23% uptick in spelling and grammar errors. Footnotes 1. Kinney was instructed to lie. 2. Employee files are encrypted and require a password to access. How SCP-8592 gained access to these is unknown. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-8591 (+120) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6591 (+130) • SCP-6593 (+192) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-5787 (+276) • SCP-5593 (+107) • SCP-7001 (+544) • SCP-8597 (+170) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-6594 (+121) • SCP-7597 (+142) • SCP-7590 (+151) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8592
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uncontained
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PlaguePJP: XLII by PlaguePJP SCP-8592 — The Department Department ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8592 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo A selfie recieved in an email from D. Partment, the self-proclaimed Chair of SCP-8592. Special Containment Procedures: Personnel who receive emails from SCP-8592 are to report them as spam and delete them. SCP-8592 has been integrated into the Foundation because it cannot be removed from SCiPnet servers. It's hypothesized that keeping it occupied with its self-assigned occupation is the best form of containment. Description: SCP-8592 is the Department Department, a nonexistent Foundation department operated by an unknown party. Mentions of SCP-8592 began appearing in official Foundation documents in April 2016, but due to the number of Foundation departments it was listed with, SCP-8592 was not properly noted as a discrepancy until December, when it began sending emails to random personnel members. SCP-8592 is operated by an entity claiming to be a member of Foundation personnel self-identifying as D. Partment. There is no record of anyone under that name existing. The vectors that cause SCP-8592 to manifest are not fully understood, but as of writing, the only definite factor that causes manifestation is when any level of personnel begins a new research project. SCP-8592's behavior after its manifestation follows a consistent pattern: After beginning their research, personnel will receive an email from ten.pics|tnemtrap.d#ten.pics|tnemtrap.d. This email will be a ramble with little to no grammar past proper capitalization of 'The Department Department' and its email signature. The messenger will congratulate the personnel on its research endeavor and assign it to a new, also nonexistent department as its head researcher. The department SCP-8592 assigns its targets to is nonsensical, often taking an insignificant element of the researched anomaly, naming a department after it, and acting as if this is a major undertaking or promotion. The personnel's SCiPnet profile and official documents will be altered to add the SCP-8592-created department into their 'Responsibilities' section. With the number of projects the Foundation undertakes monthly, SCP-8592 manifestation is relatively rare, with it only contacting someone in approximately 1 in every 1000 new official research endeavors. Below is an example email: Hello brother, Hello welcome to The Department Department. I am very happy to meet you. Am seeing here that you are investigating "John," a incoherent man who makes milk in his mouth instead of spit. It is very hard work and you deserve a "good job" speech from everyone around you. We are very pleased to announce that you have been assign to a new department for your good work ethics and research efforts. We saw on the John's intake file that he is ""bisexual"" and has a boyfriend. This is very cool and woke and I promise that I am awake right now so you or john are not uncomfortable ok? you now are the head of the Department of Bisexual Anomalies for research purposes. This is to make it easier on your life my brother. With great power comes great responsibility. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Addendum 8592.1: SCP-8592-Created Departments Below is an abridged list of SCP-8592-created departments Personnel Affected Anomaly Being Researched Assigned Department Dir. Randall House Reports and video of a physically impossible skateboarding trick at a recent Las Vegas BMX event. The Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Dr. Harold Blank The history of United States-based record labels, during which Taylor Swift was briefly looked into. The Department of White Women O5-4 The corpse of O5-13, which exhibits no signs of physical trauma or medical conditions. The corpse experienced complete cellular death without any discernible cause. Department of Murder (Bloody) Dr. Greg Holmes Sapient crows capable of human speech. Department of Murder (Clean) Dir. Hector Varga An anomalous enzyme appearing in some felines, extending a lifespan well beyond what is considered baseline. Department of Garfield Addendum 8592.2: Contact Due to the Foundation's robust cybersecurity environment, an automatic ticketing queue filtered and deleted emails from SCP-8592. For this reason, contact with SCP-8592 was never attempted. As research progressed on this anomaly, it was decided that communicating with SCP-8592 could potentially develop more robust containment procedures. The most recent contact of SCP-8592, Vincent Kinney, a junior researcher at Site-19, was permitted to reply to SCP-8592. Below is their email exchange Hello brother "Vinny Kinney", Welcome to the Department Department. We are delighted to join you here today. I have attach my I'd for proof and help with any anxiety or fear is right there please look at your convenient —-> We are see here that you are researching for a hamburger stand that teleports from time to time. Yum! This is a very important job for an important man. Since hamburgers have no cheese and cows are evil, you have kindly been appointed Head of the Department of Lactose Intolerance. Congratulation! It is a great honor. You are welcome. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Hi Mr. Partment, I'm somewhat confused by this email. Can you please explain what is going on in more depth? Thank you, Vincent Attention: Vinny Kinney Oh boy can I go in depth. I'll put it this way so please kindly listen and do not interrupt. You are researching a hamburger stand and Hamburger stands sell hamburgers. I hope we can agree on that my brother. The hamburgers are made of beef but do not contain cheese as it would be a cheeseburger. They put cheese in the name to clean up that whole kerfuffle. I have a hypothetical. Suppose a handsome man named John walks into this hamburger stand and says, "Hello, please get me a hamburger." Now if Tom gets a cheeseburger instead he will be upset because he didn't get the hamburger he spent his hard earned United State dollars for. Also cheese is lactose they say so in the science. Following? Back on Tom. If he gets his cheeseburger instead of a hamburger I don't think Tom or anyone with a working brain for that matter will tolerate it. As the head of the Department of Lactose Intolerance you can't stand it. Kindly take this matter seriously and please take up your post in your assigned department. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Mr. Partment, If we're getting this specific, wouldn't it make more sense to assign me to The Department of Teleporting Hamburger Stands? "The Department of Lactose Intolerance" seems insignificant compared to the anomaly at hand. Sincerely, Vincent Vincent, You have been kindly and generously offer an amazing position of chair of a department and you have spat upon my face and are bringing me to tear in my eyes with this "department of teleporting hamburger stands" nonsense. Please do not bring this up again. I would like to know what sick individual guy came up with this and poison your mind with this nonsense department. Please sincerely leave this department naming and assigning to the Department of Naming and Assigning which is led by me and is run under The Department Department which is also led by me. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Mr. Partment, Speaking of, I've been interested in joining The Department Department as a junior researcher. Can you give me some of the qualities you look for in a prospective employee? Sincerely, Vincent Hello Vincent, I am very sorry but you already seem to be very busy with The Department of Lactose Intolerance. It would making me just awful to put more work on your schedule as this can lead to burning out and a visit to the psych ward. If you must be knowing the Department Department is very sacred and we only accept people who have trust and are: nice swell cool dudes in general and often like departments are okay with my dog she is named debarkment have at least twenty years of department experience I kindly advise you to begin your work in the Department of Lactose Intolerance and take this seriously. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department Mr. Partment, I feel that I fit these qualities. I have 25 years of experience heading multiple departments,1 I like dogs, and people always get along with me. Please, if there is an opening I ask that you consider me. I feel I'd be a great help. Sincerely, Vincent Hello Vincent, Am looking at your file currently as I write this.2 I hate nonsense and immaturity and it is clear that you are a no good dirty liar and illiterate. There is no where on your written file that says that you were head of any department before I kindly and generously assigned you to the Department of Lactose Intolerance. Please do not lie to me again or stop texting me ok? I am writing this while I am reading your file I am very good at multi tasking and it makes me happy to see that you are doing good work at the SCP foundation with your researching anomaly and those that are like that. Your most recent assignment looks very interesting and I don't believe I have read what it is your studying in this research assignment so I will do that now. oh no. good bye. D. Partment Chair, The Department Department It's assumed that SCP-8592 saw Researcher Kinney's assigned research project on it and ceased all communication with him as a result. Multiple attempts to resume communication with SCP-8592 were attempted, but all were fruitless. Following this, SCP-8592 entered a standard dormancy period. Three weeks later, Kinney received another email from SCP-8592, which is below. Hello there Vincent It is very nice to meet you ! We see here that you are doing very interesting research and welcome to the Department Department. You are a very strong man who deserves to be recognized for his hard work and fortitude my brother. We are happy to report that The Department Department has assigned you to to the chairman of The Department of the Department Department. This is your job now thank you and good bye. Please kindly do it well. Good luck! Dan Partment Chair, The Unemployed Department Researcher Kinney's personnel file was updated to include "The Department of The Department Department" and "The Department Department" as responsibilities. Since then, e-mails sent by Researcher Kinney have seen a 23% uptick in spelling and grammar errors. Footnotes 1. Kinney was instructed to lie. 2. Employee files are encrypted and require a password to access. How SCP-8592 gained access to these is unknown. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-8591 (+120) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6591 (+130) • SCP-6593 (+192) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-5787 (+276) • SCP-5593 (+107) • SCP-7001 (+544) • SCP-8597 (+170) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-6594 (+121) • SCP-7597 (+142) • SCP-7590 (+151) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8593
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euclid
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PlaguePJP: XLIV by PlaguePJP SCP-8593 — Pasta with Fazool ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8593 Level3 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8593 title card, featuring SCP-8593-1. Special Containment Procedures: All broadcasts of SCP-8593 are to be promptly removed from public view and recorded by Site-322 archivists. Foundation web crawlers are to scrape and eliminate any references to SCP-8593 from online sources. Containment specialists are actively searching for the origin of SCP-8593 broadcasts and the location of SCP-8593-1. Containment of SCP-8593-1 will proceed upon the completion of these investigations. Description: SCP-8593 is a series of television broadcasts for "Pasta with Fazool," a cooking show focused on Italian American cuisine. SCP-8593-1 hosts SCP-8593 and is a victual1 humanoid entity self-identifying as "Fazool Cavatelli." SCP-8593-1's body is composed entirely of dry pasta; its torso is constructed from a bundle of spaghetti, while two pieces of penne form its arms. SCP-8593-1 possesses human hands, which are incongruent with the rest of its composition and each other. Its head is a large meatball, capable of limited facial expressions and speech in English. SCP-8593-1's outfit changes between episodes, though these changes appear limited to commonly colored or patterned aprons and matching toques. SCP-8593-1 appears on SCP-8593 as a poorly keyframe-animated puppet, a characteristic never acknowledged by it or any guests who treat it as a baseline human while also recognizing that it's composed entirely of food. It moves with jerky, unnatural movements, with parts of its body often disconnecting from each other. SCP-8593-1's hands constantly change size, shape, and skin color to accommodate different gestures or movements. Despite this, SCP-8593 can interact with physical objects, including human guests and various cooking utensils. Lighting does not affect SCP-8593-1, giving it a flat, two-dimensional appearance at all times. Despite SCP-8593-1 claiming SCP-8593 is focused on Italian American cuisine, all presented materials, including recipes, origins of said recipes, and Italian history differ significantly from any traditions known on Earth. No source for SCP-8593 broadcasts has been discovered. Addendum 8593.1: SCP-8593 Episode Catalogue EPISODE 8593.1 Segment 1 Dish: Fettuccine Alfredi Baseline Counterpart: Fettuccine Alfredo2 Notes: SCP-8593-1 gathered 12 men of various ages named Alfred or Alfredo, proceeding to dump the uncooked ingredients used in Fettuccine Alfredo on them. After dragging its finger across the arm of the third Alfredo and tasting its "dish," SCP-8593-1 handed each man 10 dollars, receiving positive responses from all when it asked, "same time next week, right?" EPISODE 8593.2 Segment 1 Dish: Aren'tcini Baseline Counterpart: Arancini3 Notes: This segment is almost entirely incomprehensible, starting with SCP-8593-1 pulling invisible objects out of a deep fryer. Attempts to explain the dish lead to SCP-8593-1 trailing off into various nonsequiturs and having to be reminded by the film crew as to what it's cooking. The camera lingering on the dish for more than a few seconds leads to exponentially visible distortions. SCP-8593-1 eventually calls the segment off as it grows more confused. Segment 2 Dish: Sfogliatelle Baseline Counterpart: Sfogliatelle Notes: SCP-8593-1 spends the entire segment attempting and failing to pronounce Sfogliatelle. Segment 3 Notes: SCP-8593 also responded to a letter its production studio received. TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» SCP-8593-1: Someone sent me a letter telling me that my recipes made no sense and were, and I'm quoting here, "disgraceful." (An unseen studio audience is heard booing.) SCP-8593-1: Part of cooking is taking criticism and seeing where I can improve. I wasn't mean or harsh; I was receptive. I sent this person — I'm not going to say their name — a letter back asking them to send me their favorite Italian American recipe. So, the next dish I have to show you guys is Elaine DiRenzo from Syracuse's 'Spaghetti and Meatballs.' You guys tell me what you think. SCP-8593-1: First, we take three different ground meats, pork, veal, and beef, and mix them— (The audience makes sounds of shock.) SCP-8593-1: Ladies and Gentlemen, please just stick with me. We take these, and we mix them together. (SCP-8593-1 places the meats in a bowl and kneads them together with its hands. Someone in the audience is heard retching.) SCP-8593-1: Now, we're going to take this food and roll them into spheres. Clap if you like spheres. (The audience is silent.) SCP-8593-1: Interesting. (SCP-8593-1 rolls the meat into 24 meatballs. It proceeds to fry them in a cast iron pan.) SCP-8593-1: I have some marinara warming up in this pot. Folks, if you're squeamish, I'd recommend looking away. (SCP-8593-1 moves the cooked meatballs into the sauce pot. The audience makes sounds of shock. Two are heard retching loudly, and one is heard screaming incomprehensibly. SCP-8593-1 retrieves a plate of cooked spaghetti as the meatballs cook in the sauce.) SCP-8593-1: Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will plate. (With a ladle, SCP-8593-1 receives spoonfuls of marinara and three meatballs, placing this on top of the Spaghetti. The entire audience screams in apparent horror.) SCP-8593-1: I know. I know! But, we're people of science here and we take all criticism on this chin. Should I try it? (The audience loudly responds in the negative.) SCP-8593-1: I don't particularly want to eat this either, but our unnamed person considers this her signature dish. I think it's only fair. (SCP-8593-1 cuts into the meatball with a fork, piercing it, then twirling the prongs around the spaghetti, picking up a few pieces. It then places the food in its mouth. Someone in the audience is heard crying.) (SCP-8593-1 vomits off screen.) SCP-8593-1: What sick person would serve this and call it Italian American cuisine? Elaine DiRenzo from Syracuse, leave this stuff to the experts next time. (The audience claps loudly.) SCP-8593-1: I'm going to clear this out, and when we return, I'll be making us some delicious Rizzotto. For all my married people in the audience, I hope you took those vows seriously! «END LOG» EPISODE 8593.3 Segment 1 Dish: Spaghetti Pugliese Baseline Counterpart: Spaghetti Bolognese4 Notes: SCP-8593-1's hands are replaced by boxing gloves. The segment follows SCP-8593-1 "in the wild" fighting the sentient ingredients used in Spaghetti Bolognese. After nearly being beaten to death by the final ingredient (a large carrot), SCP-8593-1 returns back to the kitchen set. A stagehand appears on screen, whispering to SCP-8593-1. It responds, "Puglia is a place?" and "It sounds too close to pugilism. I think most people would make that mistake." SCP-8593-1 exits the frame in apparent anger. Segment 2 Dish: Calzone Baseline Counterpart: Calzone5 Notes: SCP-8593-1 stands silently on a cattle pasture for thirty seconds. It then states, "I'm in the cow zone." Segment immediately ends. EPISODE 8593.4 Segment 1 Dish: Shrimp Fra Diavolo Fra Diavolo Baseline Counterpart: Shrimp Fra Diavolo6 Notes: The recipe, for the most part, is in line with normal Shrimp Fra Diavolo. SCP-8593-1 is joined by a humanoid entity resembling contemporary depictions of the devil, which stares at SCP-8593-1 for the entirety of its time and doesn't move. Segment 2 TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» SCP-8593-1: And I'd like to thank my dear friend, Mr. The Devil, for joining us today. What did you think of the dish, Lucifer? (The entity resembling the devil does not respond.) SCP-8593-1: That's great— (The entity vanishes in a plume of smoke.) SCP-8593-1: I— Alright. Our next segment— Stagehand: We just got an email. SCP-8593-1: Go ahead. Stagehand: It's from Janine in Utah. She says, 'I cannot believe what I’m seeing on the Food Network! My family and I tune in every afternoon after my kids get home from school, and I am appalled by the blatant use of demonic symbolism in your programming. This is absolutely disgusting and completely contrary to the values we uphold in our home. I refuse to support a network that promotes such inappropriate content. I will be taking my viewership elsewhere and expect a formal apology for this offensive display.' SCP-8593-1: Triangulate the IP. Stagehand: We can't just do that. (SCP-8593-1 walks off set.) SCP-8593-1: Triangulate it! (A cut. SCP-8593-1 is standing at the door of a suburban house. It knocks. A woman in her early 40s answers, Janine Johnson.) SCP-8593-1: Hi, Janine! Johnson: What's— SCP-8593-1: Cook for me. Johnson: What? SCP-8593-1: You have things to say about how I run my show and cook my meals. You should cook for me. Johnson: I'm not going— SCP-8593-1: Cook for me. Johnson: Are you going to let me finish a sentence? SCP-8593-1: Yes. Just did. Johnson: Okay. I'm not— SCP-8593-1: Cook for me. Johnson: I'm calling the police. (Johnson slams the door in SCP-8593-1's face. SCP-8593-1 bangs on the door.) SCP-8593-1: You're so much better than me, huh? Cook me something, Janine! Cook me something! (A bleep censor is heard for 43 continuous seconds as the film crew moves away from the SCP-8593-1, who is still banging on the door and screaming. SCP-8593-1 kicks a garden gnome and approaches the film crew.) SCP-8593-1: And, uh… that's why we leave it to the professionals, ladies and gentlemen! (SCP-8593-1 moves out of frame.) SCP-8593-1: (Mumbling) [CENSORED] stupid [CENSORED] thinks she knows what she's talking about. I'll run my [CENSORED] show the way I always have. «END LOG» EPISODE 8593.5 Segment 1 Dish: Woke Ziti Baseline Counterpart: Baked Ziti7 Notes: SCP-8593-1 prepares a baseline Baked Ziti. It makes various references to "Frosty the Snowman-ing this thing." After removing it from the oven, the entity places a top hat on the dish, which somehow causes it to gain sentience. The dish states that its pronouns are they/them, proceeding to go on a rant about Donald Trump as SCP-8593-1 nods its head in agreement with its various statements. Segment 2 Dish: Chicken Mussolini Baseline Counterpart: Chicken Marsala8 Notes: SCP-8593-1 prepares a standard dish of Chicken Marsala, with the only oddity being the size of the chicken breast being 2 meters in length. SCP-8593-1 proceeds out of its set and into a busy city square. It places the dish down in the middle of the pavement. The segment continues for two hours as various members of the public beat, shoot, and spit on the dish. SCP-8593-1 retrieves the dish, smells and tastes it, and then states, "Perfetto." EPISODE 8593.6 Segment 1 Dish: Feast of the Seven Million Fishes Baseline Counterpart: Feast of the Seven Fishes9 Notes: SCP-8593-1 enters the set panting, wearing the Santa hat instead of its toque. It states that it, the film crew, and the live studio audience will stay indoors for their safety. The show cuts to news footage of hundreds of massive fish swimming in the air through various metropolitan areas, eating fleeing members of the public. Segment 2 TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (News footage cuts back to SCP-8593-1 in its kitchen set.) SCP-8593-1: So, ladies and gentlemen, all the recipes I had planned for today forced me to be outside, and you all know that won't work out, right? (Applause from the audience) SCP-8593-1: I don't want us to get cabin fever, so my film crew has decided that we're going to do a live Q&A from the questions and comments left on our Pasta With Fazool Facebook page. Give me the first one. Stagehand: From George in Iowa, 'Does this guy have any idea what Italian food actually is?' SCP-8593-1: Big talk coming from the guy in the known and real Italian-American stronghold of Iowa. Bet he's only been to an Olive Garden in his life. Give me something better. Are there actual questions, or is it just more of this? Stagehand: No. Not, uh, not really. We can do something el— SCP-8593-1: No, I'm good. Next comment, please. Stagehand: This is from Gary in New York, 'The woke mob has now infested our cooking shows! I can’t even watch a guy make lasagna without being hit with a lecture on its pronouns.' SCP-8593-1: It was Ziti. Stagehand: There's more, 'Food should be about cooking, not politics. And don’t even get me started on that ANTIFA nonsense with that weird chicken dish. What a disgrace!' SCP-8593-1: Long walk; short pier, Gary. Stagehand: You can't say that. SCP-8593-1: Next comment. Stagehand: From Lorenzo in New Jersey, 'I've grown up in an Italian household my entire life. I raised my kids to be proud of their Italian heritage. How the Food Network is okay with peddling this inauthentic trash as Italian American cuisine is insulting to my people.' SCP-8593-1: Yeah, yeah. They paid me hundreds of thousands of dollars because I have no idea what I'm talking about. That makes sense for a billion-dollar television network to do. Thanks, Lorenzo. I hope your kids didn't get your brain. (SCP-8593-1 is visibly shaking.) Stagehand: Do you— SCP-8593-1: Nope. Keep going. Stagehand: From, uh, Nikki in Pennsylvania, 'Looks like they're giving anybody a show on the Food Channel now. My nonna would wipe the floor with this Fazool guy. He has no idea what he's doing! I've never seen this level of incompetence from any host, cooking or otherwise.' (SCP-8593-1 grabs a metal bowl and slams it into its head multiple times in quick succession, throwing it into the audience and hitting a woman. The audience gasps.) SCP-8593-1: This is complete fucking horseshit. I'm putting my fucking ass in front of these cocksuckers every goddamn day — sweating and bleeding to give these fuckers entertainment every goddamn night. Fuck you. Fuck this. I get no goddamn appreciation. (The audience boos.) Stagehand: We're live, Fazool. SCP-8593-1: It's censored, dipshit. Neil takes care of that. Stagehand: Neil got eaten by one of those fish on his way in. I told you this! SCP-8593-1: Are you serious? Stagehand: Yes! Yes, that was all live. And that woman is bleeding. (SCP-8593-1 looks to the audience.) SCP-8593-1: Fuck. «END LOG» EPISODE 8593.7 Segment 1 Dish: Penne Alla Everclear Baseline Counterpart: Penne Alla Vodka10 Notes: Footage for this video is taken with security cameras in what appears to be SCP-8593-1's house. Several hours appear to have passed, with the sunrise visible in the living room's curtains. SCP-8593-1 cooks a plate of buttered penne, chasing every few bites with a shot of Everclear. It is rendered unconscious before finishing the dish. Footnotes 1. Food-based 2. Pasta in a cream and cheese-based sauce. 3. Deep-fried, breadcrumb-crusted balls of risotto. 4. Spaghetti in a tomato and wine-based meat sauce. 5. A large, baked piece of stuffed, folded-over dough. 6. Pasta in a spicy tomato sauce and shrimp. 7. Ziti pasta in a tomato sauce placed in a casserole pan, topped with cheese, and baked. 8. Floured and fried chicken breast in a mushroom and white wine sauce. 9. An Italian-American traditional Christmas meal focused on seafood. 10. Penne in a sauce made of tomato, cream, and a small amount of vodka. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-6596 (+297) • SCP-8598 (+88) • SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-5596 (+159) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-8596 (+244) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-7590 (+151) • SCP-6594 (+121) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-6595 (+193) • Plauge's Proposal (+242) • SCP-6592 (+79) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8594
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esoteric-class
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PlaguePJP: XLV by PlaguePJP SCP-8594 — Leaves From the Vine ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8594 Level4 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8594 is uncontainable. Individuals affected by SCP-8594 are difficult to locate; if an affected subject is located, standard amnesticization procedures are to follow on them and any living relatives. Description: SCP-8594 is a parasitic anomaly manifesting as the persistent belief that a subject's loved ones will imminently perish. Subjects affected by SCP-8594 are designated as SCP-8594-1. The vectors facilitating the manifestation of SCP-8594 are unknown, as the general fear of losing a loved one does not serve as a trigger for SCP-8594. Despite this, the common characteristics of SCP-8594-1 instances have: Experienced the death of a loved one1 under the age of 15; Are diagnosed with an anxiety disorder; Major depressive disorder is also common; Have a familial history of a genetically transmitted illness; Subjects are often afflicted by this illness; Subjects live >200 kilometers from SCP-8594-2. SCP-8594-2 are persons afflicted by SCP-8594-induced illness. SCP-8594-2 instances can be any age, and symptoms appear within one to two months of a subject being infected. A cure for the SCP-8594-induced illness has yet to be discovered. Below are the stages of SCP-8594-afflicted illness on SCP-8594-2. Stage Description Stage I SCP-8594-2 will be fatigued, often leading to them sleeping for ten or more hours. SCP-8594-1 will remain indoors in waking hours, citing joint and limb pain after extended bouts of moving. Stage II SCP-8594-2 will be unable to keep large meals down, often claiming pain in the abdominal region caused by constipation. Stage III Urged by the SCP-8594-1 subject, SCP-8594-2 will go to a medical facility for a litany of tests. These tests find nothing abnormal with them. In 0.056% of cases, SCP-8594-1 will not pressure SCP-8594-2 to seek medical care. In these cases, SCP-8594-2 returns to full health within two weeks, and SCP-8594 stops affecting SCP-8594-1. Stage IV SCP-8594-2 will be bedridden and unable to move without pain. Small amounts of liquids will be the only sustenance SCP-8594-2 can keep down without expulsion. Stage V SCP-8594-2 will become bloated due to fluid buildup; extremities and limbs will be hard to the touch. The skin and sclera will take on a yellow coloration as major organs begin to fail. SCP-8594-2 will often be placed in a medical facility during this stage. The success of medical intervention varies, often based on the presence of SCP-8594-1. Absentee instances of SCP-8594-1 have caused the onset of the final two stages to be significantly prolonged. Stage VI Subject will go into a temporary coma, lasting no longer than seven days. Minor communication will be possible, with SCP-8594-2 smiling, nodding, or frowning in response to verbal information. Sustenance will need to be delivered intravenously. Blindness in one or both eyes is common, as is the formation of necrosis on the legs. Medical professionals will still have no concrete diagnosis of SCP-8594-2's affliction. Stage VII SCP-8594-2 will be unable to communicate. They will often remain asleep, past small moments of lucidity where they will weakly vocalize pain. Necrosis will continue up the legs towards the lower torso. Full blindness will occur, along with hearing loss and further immobility. All organs will fail, save for the brain, which remains unaffected throughout the illness. Pustules of fluid in the limbs and extremities will expand and burst over time. Analgesics2 will fail to function. Stage VIII SCP-8594-2's heart will stop beating. Despite this, brain scans will show activity as if its unhindered. SCP-8594-2 will remain alive. SCP-8594-2 will not pass until SCP-8594-1 says their goodbyes. Footnotes 1. Grandmother or grandfather are the most common instances. 2. Pain-relief medication. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-6593 (+192) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-7590 (+151) • SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-6597 (+180) • SCP-8590 (+143) • SCP-5594 (+100) • SCP-8597 (+170) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6594 (+121) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-7594 (+194) • SCP-7597 (+142) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8594
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uncontained
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PlaguePJP: XLV by PlaguePJP SCP-8594 — Leaves From the Vine ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8594 Level4 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8594 is uncontainable. Individuals affected by SCP-8594 are difficult to locate; if an affected subject is located, standard amnesticization procedures are to follow on them and any living relatives. Description: SCP-8594 is a parasitic anomaly manifesting as the persistent belief that a subject's loved ones will imminently perish. Subjects affected by SCP-8594 are designated as SCP-8594-1. The vectors facilitating the manifestation of SCP-8594 are unknown, as the general fear of losing a loved one does not serve as a trigger for SCP-8594. Despite this, the common characteristics of SCP-8594-1 instances have: Experienced the death of a loved one1 under the age of 15; Are diagnosed with an anxiety disorder; Major depressive disorder is also common; Have a familial history of a genetically transmitted illness; Subjects are often afflicted by this illness; Subjects live >200 kilometers from SCP-8594-2. SCP-8594-2 are persons afflicted by SCP-8594-induced illness. SCP-8594-2 instances can be any age, and symptoms appear within one to two months of a subject being infected. A cure for the SCP-8594-induced illness has yet to be discovered. Below are the stages of SCP-8594-afflicted illness on SCP-8594-2. Stage Description Stage I SCP-8594-2 will be fatigued, often leading to them sleeping for ten or more hours. SCP-8594-1 will remain indoors in waking hours, citing joint and limb pain after extended bouts of moving. Stage II SCP-8594-2 will be unable to keep large meals down, often claiming pain in the abdominal region caused by constipation. Stage III Urged by the SCP-8594-1 subject, SCP-8594-2 will go to a medical facility for a litany of tests. These tests find nothing abnormal with them. In 0.056% of cases, SCP-8594-1 will not pressure SCP-8594-2 to seek medical care. In these cases, SCP-8594-2 returns to full health within two weeks, and SCP-8594 stops affecting SCP-8594-1. Stage IV SCP-8594-2 will be bedridden and unable to move without pain. Small amounts of liquids will be the only sustenance SCP-8594-2 can keep down without expulsion. Stage V SCP-8594-2 will become bloated due to fluid buildup; extremities and limbs will be hard to the touch. The skin and sclera will take on a yellow coloration as major organs begin to fail. SCP-8594-2 will often be placed in a medical facility during this stage. The success of medical intervention varies, often based on the presence of SCP-8594-1. Absentee instances of SCP-8594-1 have caused the onset of the final two stages to be significantly prolonged. Stage VI Subject will go into a temporary coma, lasting no longer than seven days. Minor communication will be possible, with SCP-8594-2 smiling, nodding, or frowning in response to verbal information. Sustenance will need to be delivered intravenously. Blindness in one or both eyes is common, as is the formation of necrosis on the legs. Medical professionals will still have no concrete diagnosis of SCP-8594-2's affliction. Stage VII SCP-8594-2 will be unable to communicate. They will often remain asleep, past small moments of lucidity where they will weakly vocalize pain. Necrosis will continue up the legs towards the lower torso. Full blindness will occur, along with hearing loss and further immobility. All organs will fail, save for the brain, which remains unaffected throughout the illness. Pustules of fluid in the limbs and extremities will expand and burst over time. Analgesics2 will fail to function. Stage VIII SCP-8594-2's heart will stop beating. Despite this, brain scans will show activity as if its unhindered. SCP-8594-2 will remain alive. SCP-8594-2 will not pass until SCP-8594-1 says their goodbyes. Footnotes 1. Grandmother or grandfather are the most common instances. 2. Pain-relief medication. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-6593 (+192) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-7590 (+151) • SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-6597 (+180) • SCP-8590 (+143) • SCP-5594 (+100) • SCP-8597 (+170) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6594 (+121) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-7594 (+194) • SCP-7597 (+142) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8595
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safe
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PlaguePJP: XL by PlaguePJP SCP-8595 — Everyone's a Critic ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8595 Level1 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8595 consuming an apple. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8595 is contained in a standard insect enclosure in Site-322's wildlife department. As SCP-8595 does not biologically differ from non-anomalous members of its species, standard temperature regulation and habitat construction have been implemented. SCP-8595 follows a strict diet and will refuse certain foods, see addendum for further information. Description: SCP-8595 is an American cockroach (Periplaneta americana) which believes itself to be a restaurant critic. SCP-8595 is sapient and sentient but is not capable of speech. When presented with any consumable item and any method of writing, SCP-8595 will eat the item and write a review of it, the interior of the location where the item was eaten, the service, and the concept of the "restaurant," combining these elements into a rating out of five stars. It is assumed SCP-8595 either believes itself to be human or that cockroaches should be allowed to eat at restaurants, as seen by multiple complaints on its Yelp about it being run out of restaurants, long waits for seating, being ignored, having items thrown at it, or being sprayed with chemicals. The former is the likely scenario, as references to SCP-8595's insectoid form and the issues of being an insect and attempting to eat a human-sized meal are outright ignored or glossed over in its reviews. Addendum 8595.1: Feeding Attempts It was quickly discovered that SCP-8595 would not consume the feed it was given in its enclosure, dubbing it "gutter swill" in a review. While non-anomalous cockroaches can live approximately 30 days without food, it was unknown if this still applied to SCP-8595, given its anomalous state. The loss of SCP-8595 in this way would be considered a breach of Foundation protocol. As a result, Site-322 organized the creation of Café 322, a restaurant made solely to convince SCP-8595 to eat. Item:(s) A fresh Granny Smith Apple Result: After being presented with the apple, SCP-8595 crawled along its surface for 15 seconds before beginning to eat. It then wrote the following review on a nearby laptop. Café 322; A Mess Would you be impressed by a soccer player bragging about their kicking ability? No, I wouldn't think so. Being able to kick a ball is below the bar I expect from a professional athlete. A restaurant announcing its use of fresh ingredients conjures similar feelings in me. At Café 322, that thought of "okay, what else?" remains lingering throughout the dining experience. Café 322's idea of fine dining follows along the lines of a less-is-more concept. Constraint is the boon of creativity, and I can appreciate when an artist can operate within cramped walls and create something beautiful despite it. Café 322's understanding of the less-is-more concept led them to drab, blank walls, a cold, artless metal table, uniforms that invoke the feeling of being at your 9-to-5, and blinding hospital lights. I was lucky enough to be offered the chef's tasting menu. Imagine my rage and dismay when I was presented with a single green apple on a white plastic plate. Between the time it took for the server to walk this "course" from the kitchen to my table, the apple fell to its side and was disgustingly placed back upright by said server. I'm left at a crossroads; I can continue with this review, relaying the taste of an apple all of you have eaten in one form or another during your lives, or I can do what Café 322 did and stop trying before I even get started. After this sentence, it should be clear which road I went down. ★☆☆☆☆ Despite being told Café 322 listened to its critique, SCP-8595 refused to consume any meal produced by the restaurant "out of principle" and reassumed its hunger strike. Foundation researchers transformed an unoccupied dorm in one of Site-322's sub-levels into a concept restaurant inspired by minimalism entitled 'MAL.' Item:(s) "Crisp tortilla with powdered oaxaca cheese and spices,"1 "Deconstructed BLT,"2 "Dessert Eggs"3 Result: SCP-8595 was given each item one at a time and consumed parts of each while taking notes in between courses. MAL; ICIOUS What I've always enjoyed about the artform — yes, artform — of culinary expression is how a head chef, owner, et cetera can imbue themselves into a product and give their patrons a sense of who they are. MAL does no such things, taking minimalism to its extreme to the point I'm unsure of what the artists behind this work are trying to make me feel. Black, windowless walls, cold, ice-white marble tables, uncomfortable metal seating, and deliberately boring plating left me feeling I entered more the uncanny valley than I did a high-end restaurant. MAL offers a seasonal chef's menu, which I attempted to indulge in. The first course, a twist on nachos, as it was described to me, was tortilla triangles, fried and seasoned with a spice mix. The chips were cold, as if they never touched oil, but punched me with a lot of flavor. This was my favorite dish, specifically for the odd blue seasoning4 a few chips had sprinkled on them. These were few and far between, but the flavor of this blue seasoning was absolutely delicious — I would eat a bowl of this alone. The deconstructed bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich bored me. I'm at a loss because I'm sure everyone here has had a BLT in their lives, and it's arguably a perfect sandwich. MAL, in its desire to conquer God, reinvented this perfect sandwich and made it a hassle to eat properly. These two dishes display my most glaring qualm: I do not mind eating with my hands. However, there should be a reason. I could have very easily been presented with a BLT, but no, that wasn't different enough. The "Dessert Eggs" were an interesting idea but were executed poorly. I've never been a fan of molecular gastronomy; I was once presented with small, caviar-sized orbs of a red liquid in a bowl and was told it was tomato soup. These dessert eggs were flavorless, tasting more of sweetness than anything else. When I asked my waiter what the flavors were (the eggs were in all different colors and had no discernable theme or pattern), she picked one up, smushed it between her fingers, smelled it, told me "buttered popcorn," and then ate it herself.5 That level of care told me all I needed to know of MAL. Good ideas and some good flavors, but bad execution. ★★☆☆☆ SCP-8595 again entered a hunger strike, refusing to try the "new chef's menu" at MAL, retry Café 322, or eat its Foundation-supplied sustenance. This continued for three days. After discussing with Overwatch Command, researchers were given carte blanche on SCP-8595's containment. Under a Foundation front company, Site-322 recruited a Michelin-starred chef to create and prep a three-course meal. A subbasement floor was torn down and reconstructed into "Red Bell" with oversight from three Foundation interior designers. The space was crafted to resemble a high-end American steak house, with custom-made wooden paneling on the walls, a full bar, hand-built tables, and imported cutlery. Researchers Julliane and Julian Hoover were trained to be servers and were given formal uniforms. Item:(s) Beef tartare served with bell pepper slaw, jalapeno spears, raw egg yolk, capers, beef bone marrow, and crostini. A Wagyu tasting, consisting of three thin and seared pieces of Japanese A5 wagyu, Australian Wagyu, and Kobe beef with a wasabi crema. Prime rib topped with lobster meat accompanied by Yukon gold mash, beef and lobster au jus, and truffle mac and cheese. Result: SCP-8595 was given each course and a wine pairing. In between each course, SCP-8595 took notes on a provided laptop. While attempting to drink the wine paired with its first course, SCP-8595 fell into the cup and had to be fished out by wait staff. Red Bell; Red Flag If you've been a reader of mine for any length of time, you'll know minimalism or the less-is-more concert has never been my favorite school of thought. I can most definitely commend when a chef works within self-imposed constraints to give their guests the best time, and I have enjoyed minimalist restaurants. Red Bell is a maximalist restaurant. Everything in Red Bell — from the waitstaff to the tables, from the bar to the plates my meals were served on — kicked and screamed of the need to be taken seriously. It was almost too perfect that I began questioning if I was, in fact, in a real restaurant. Describe a high-end steak house to your friend who's never heard of restaurants before, and then have that friend tell an alien that same information. What the alien creates will not be too dissimilar to what Red Bell I was presented with. The Beef tartare was chewy, and with every chew, I was reminded that I was eating a dead animal. The bell pepper slaw was a tasty addition, but I expected to see more bell pepper from a restaurant named Red Bell. This is the only time you'll see any bell pepper on any dish. The Wagyu tasting was, of course, good. It's Wagyu; it's the best steak you can get in the world. The insultingly small rectangles of meat I was given were cooked to a nearly perfect medium rare. I will not give a steak restaurant their commendation for serving me the best meat in the world and respect myself as a critic afterward. I can buy Wagyu from a butcher and cook it just as well, and it would taste just as good. If this restaurant sold only their sauces, they'd receive five stars from me. The wasabi crema was a treat that cut through the fattiness of the wagyu, though slightly muted in flavor. The monstrous prime rib meal displays every single issue I have with Red Bell and is the antithesis of fine dining condensed down into a singular course. This entire meal was as if they went to the streets of the Las Vegas strip and asked the drunken men and their plastic surgery-riddled wives what they just spent five thousand dollars on in some gaudy, overpriced embarrassment of a restaurant. Who, in their right mind, puts lobster meat on a prime rib? Who, in their right mind, serves rich, buttery mashed potatoes with rich, buttery truffle mac and cheese? Everything on that plate, by itself, was good — maybe even great (The au jus, of course, was the star). I can not, in good conscience and as someone who respects the culinary arts, recommend anyone partake in this sham of a restaurant. ☆☆☆☆☆ SCP-8595 resumed its hunger strike, refusing to eat at any of the above restaurants despite protestations and attempts to reason with it from researchers. Another meeting with Overwatch Command was held, and new restaurant ideas were floated, but it was assumed that the Foundation's efforts would be in vain. After the data from all SCP-8595's reviews were compiled, a pattern was established, and a new and likely final restaurant was organized, "Carpaje." Item:(s) Site-322's dumpster was moved indoors and placed in an empty supply closet. Result: SCP-8595 was laid inside, reemerging after two hours and nineteen minutes. CARPAJE Scrumptious. ★★★★★ Footnotes 1. Nacho Cheese-flavored Doritos arranged in a circular pattern. 2. A leaf of lettuce, a slice of bacon, a slice of tomato, and four Ritz crackers served in separate bowls. 3. Various Jelly-Belly branded jelly beans placed on the rim of a plate. 4. Mold. 5. This is an exaggeration. As the plate was being delivered, one of the jellybeans rolled off and was caught by Researcher Julianne Hoover, who ate it. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-6598 (+257) • SCP-7592 (+222) • SCP-7594 (+194) • SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-8000 (+909) • Plague's Proposal (+356) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-5595 (+535) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-8598 (+88) • SCP-7593 (+203) • SCP-7001 (+544) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-6593 (+192) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8595" by PlaguePJP, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8595. 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: cock.png Name: Cockroach on an apple Author: Neil Turner License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr
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SCP-8596
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neutralized
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PlaguePJP: XLVI by PlaguePJP SCP-8596 — Scopophobia: The Employee of the Month ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8596 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8596-1's containment chamber. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8596-1 is contained in a remote house in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. Twice a year, a member of Site-322 personnel is to travel to this location and perform an interview with SCP-8596-1. This person is to have the following on their person at all times: Mnestic pills, taken once every hour when within the vicinity of SCP-8596-1; Non-lethal weaponry; Standard body camera; SCP-8596 documentation. SCP-8596-1 is equipped with a locked mechanical collar that houses two small Scranton Reality Anchors. This collar is remotely monitored and controlled by Site-322's surveillance console. Should SCP-8596-1 remove this collar, personnel are to trigger the panic button on their body camera, attempt to peacefully exit the containment chamber, and travel back to base. SCP-8596-1 is to be entertained in conversation as long as this collar remains on. As a former member of Foundation staff, a cordial level of familiarity is expected for its comfort in conversation. All interviews should ultimately lead the assigned staff to question what SCP-8596 is. On rare occasions, SCP-8596-1 will initiate a conversation about SCP-8596. After this line of discussion ends, assigned staff are to excuse themselves politely and exit the containment chamber. SCP-8596-1. Description: SCP-8596 is [REDACTED]. SCP-8596-1 is a humanoid entity identified as Dr. Erik Ramsey. SCP-8596-1 was initially contained in Site-322's anomalous containment before being employed as a Foundation interrogator as part of the Integration Program. SCP-8596-1 is a Class III reality bender, enhanced empath, and telepath capable of altering localized reality at will. SCP-8596-1 can read minute expressions, physiological changes, and physical processes of any subject that interacts with it. Though limited, SCP-8596-1's telepathy allows it to view the memories of a subject in real-time, meticulously taking notes while doing so. After an incident relating to its integration in Site-322, it was discovered that SCP-8596-1 could remove and implant the memories of its subjects at will, though it can not read memories directly. As a result of this and negotiations with Site-322 management, SCP-8596-1 was moved to its containment chamber in the Pine Barrens, a home built with its reality-warping capabilities. Addendum 8596.1: SCP-8596-1 Interview Researcher George Ambrose was designated as SCP-8596-1's interviewer for the second half of 2024. He was given the above SCP-8596 documentation and deployed to SCP-8596-1's containment chamber on October 13th, 2024. TRANSCRIPT «BEGIN LOG» (Ambrose enters the house hastily. SCP-8596-1 is seated on a couch, scribbling on the day's crossword. Logs are smoldering in the fireplace behind him. He glances up at the door before turning to his newspaper.) Researcher George Ambrose. SCP-8596-1: I have a pot roast in the oven. It should be done in five. (Ambrose grabs a chair and sits close to the fireplace. He shivers as he removes his gloves before holding his hands towards the logs.) SCP-8596-1: I've been having trouble getting that started — the fire. (Ambrose grabs a nearby bottle of lighter fluid and douses the logs. Shakily grasping a lighter he brought, he fails to create a spark. On the third flick, the lighter ignites, and Ambrose touches the flame to the logs and sits back into his seat.) Ambrose: I just need a minute, Erik. SCP-8596-1: You're still allowed to call me that? Ambrose: It's encouraged. For rapport. SCP-8596-1: I see. Nevertheless— (SCP-8596-1 stands and moves to the oven.) SCP-8596-1: —I believe the roast is done. Care to eat? Ambrose: I'm not hungry. SCP-8596-1: How long was the trip? Ambrose: Twenty-six hours. (SCP-8596-1 takes the roast out, tasting it, and placing it on the counter.) SCP-8596-1: So you're hungry, then. And if you were told not to take anything from me, imagine what eating with me would do for our "rapport." (Ambrose pops a mnestic pill in his mouth.) (Ambrose and SCP-8596-1 sit across from each other, eating silently. Ambrose removes a sheet of paper and a pen from his pocket.) Ambrose: Can we start? SCP-8596-1: Talking? I'd love to. Just one moment. (SCP-8596-1 moves to a liquor cabinet. He pulls a bottle of bourbon out along with two glasses from the freezer. He pours himself and Ambrose a drink. Ambrose doesn't touch it.) Ambrose: Name. SCP-8596-1: You know my name. (SCP-8596-1 holds his drink in the air, motioning for a cheers. Ambrose ignores the request. After a moment, SCP-8596-1 downs his drink and pours himself another.) Ambrose: It's to make sure you still know your name. SCP-8596-1: Erik, E-R-I-K, Ramsey, R-A-M-S-E-Y. (Ambrose makes note.) Ambrose: Age. SCP-8596-1: Sixty-four. (Ambrose makes note.) Ambrose: Have you had any violent thoughts lately? SCP-8596-1: Why are you here? Ambrose: To do this interview. SCP-8596-1: You know, Director Lague came here not too long ago. Apparently, he almost destroyed 322 with some machine he commissioned. Before him was Doctor Mooney, accused of embezzlement with that gumball machine they insist helps the Site. And before that was Julian after some creature got loose in his section. You weren't sent here on your merits; even with this collar on, I can tell that. Ambrose: I drew the short straw. SCP-8596-1: Am I that unappealing? (Ambrose is silent.) SCP-8596-1: What did they tell you? Ambrose: That you lost it. SCP-8596-1: That's a roundabout way of saying it, but sure. Ambrose: You want to have a conversation? Sure. Why don't you tell me what happened? SCP-8596-1: Have you had the pleasure of meeting the former Leandra Pollock? ETHICS COMMITTEE INQUEST ACCUSED: Doctor LEANDRA POLLOCK SUMMARY: DR. POLLOCK is accused of the following: Facilitating the death of Researcher TED FRANKLIN after she suffered a nervous breakdown; Attempting to dispose of the corpse of FRANKLIN, which was covered in anomalous research material, against the guidelines created by the Acroamatic Abatement Department; Threatening security personnel with an anomalous artifact so they would remove the incident's video footage; Forcing said security personnel to consume a toxic cocktail of unprocessed amnestics, leading to permanent memory complications for those affected; Desertion. SCP-8596-1: My abilities, as cliché as it may sound, are a blessing and a curse. I could look around a bar and figure out which woman I had a chance of bringing home just by the twitch of some muscle on her face or the way her eyes dilated in the light. I wasn't employed— Ambrose: Integrated. SCP-8596-1: —integrated for no reason. Ambrose: I never denied that. SCP-8596-1: The curse of my whole ordeal is just that: I know people too well. I read that report the Ethics Committee gave me, and I knew it was over for her before then. Someone had it out for her. Just by reading that, I knew. Even with the collar, I still see it. (The interrogation chamber has been altered by SCP-8596-1, appearing as Leandra Pollock's office.) SCP-8596-1: To be honest with you, I didn't quite like Ted. (Pollock is silent.) SCP-8596-1: One thing I've always disliked about this Site — not that I know any of the others — is that it's a little lax here. Pollock: I guess. SCP-8596-1: I enjoy professionalism. Even though I'm being forced to do this with you, I take it seriously. It's a job. Pollock: I take my job seriously. SCP-8596-1: That wasn't the implication I was aiming for. Site-322's problem is that it doesn't place stock in professionalism. Paul is more than willing to shove a real problem into Doctor Coix's desk while he goes off to contain "funny" anomalies like children do with Pokémon. Pollock: Hmph. SCP-8596-1: "Hmph," what? Pollock: Just a hmph. (SCP-8596-1 squints at Pollock.) SCP-8596-1: Remind you of someone? Pollock: Ted was a character. [2 HOURS REDACTED FOR BREVITY] Pollock: It was focused on submolecular studies. I was tasked with creating a way to destroy something efficiently from the atomic level. Something 43 wanted to ease their disposal of anomalous material. SCP-8596-1: Was it ever finished? Pollock: I placed it on the back burner. (Silence.) SCP-8596-1: I understand the pressure you're under. Pollock: Meaning what? (SCP-8596-1 snaps his fingers and the room's security cameras disappear. Only audio is available.) SCP-8596-1: Would you say that this has alleviated the pressure? Pollock: […] I would. SCP-8596-1: I need you to work with me, and I can alleviate even more pressure. Pollock: The microphone you have on your chest isn't helping much there. SCP-8596-1: For once, someone read my mind. (SCP-8596-1 powers his microphone off.) [30 MINUTES PASS] (Cameras and microphones reactivate. Pollock is lying on the floor, crying, as SCP-8596-1 comforts her. SCP-8596-1 nods to one of the cameras before security teams invade the room and remove Pollock. The office layout dissolves, appearing like fading ocean waves as the interrogation chamber comes back into view.) Afterword: Dr. Leandra Pollock has admitted to the incidents that led to her arrest. Ambrose: What's wrong with that? SCP-8596-1: She didn't do it. Ambrose: She didn't do it? SCP-8596-1: I — allegedly — placed the memory of the events in her head and, uh, she— she was decommissioned. Ambrose: Jesus Christ. Why the hell would you do that? SCP-8596-1: I told you, they had it out for her. Ambrose: You were sent in as an interrogator! Your job was to get the truth. SCP-8596-1: That was never my job. My job was to get the answers those at the top wanted. Someone committed this crime, someone covered it up extremely well, and someone needed to take the fall, else they — we — all look weak. Ambrose: That's not— SCP-8596-1: Have you ever been in one of those containment cells? Ambrose: Why are you asking me? SCP-8596-1: Have you? Ambrose: I haven't. SCP-8596-1: I bet no one employed by the Foundation has spent the same amount in a containment cell as some of the "anomalies" they have locked in there. Even with the treats they give us to keep us sane, it's draconian. For me, I was in an eight by eight box, with a cot I was too big for. What did I get to keep me sane? A cracked television with three news channels, three crossword puzzle books, human interaction with guards for around three minutes total per day, and a record player without any music; all of my requested records were on "back order." Ambrose: I didn't know any of this. SCP-8596-1: That wasn't even the worst part! My reality anchor was wired into the same switch that controls my room's light. I begged and pleaded for those poisonous, blinding, buzzing lights to be turned off for just an hour, just one hour so I could sleep! They refused out of fear I would break out. Ambrose: I'm sorry, but— SCP-8596-1: I wasn't going back in there. There's nothing that would make me go back in there. (Armed security personnel surround SCP-8596-1, commanding him to lay on the ground with his limbs spread.) (SCP-8596-1 cocks his neck; the security personnel's weapons vanish. The sector is put on lockdown. He looks to a nearby security camera.) SCP-8596-1: I'm going to let these men leave. After that, I would like to speak with Director Lague. SCP-8596-1: He's a softie for anomalies, luckily for me. We came to an understanding. Ambrose: And you landed here. SCP-8596-1: I did. I was allowed to create a "comfortable environment" for myself before this albatross was hung around my neck. (SCP-8596-1 taps its collar.) SCP-8596-1: Now, I get shipments of some entertainment every month, restock food every week, and peace and quiet. The stress of being locked away forever is gone. Ambrose: You're still locked away. SCP-8596-1: It's a matter of perspective. This is a house I built with my own mind, made for my comfort and mine alone. You, you'll have to go back in that car for a few hours, then in that plane for even longer, and then you'll arrive back to that Site, where you'll work for a minimum of ten hours before going into your dorm, in that same Site, before waking up the next day and doing it all over again. Ambrose: You can't tell I empathize with you? (SCP-8596-1 taps its collar again.) Ambrose: I've never been happy about what we do with anomalies. It's one of those things you need to be aware of while also knowing that it's wrong. SCP-8596-1: So work within the system without changing it. Ambrose: I tried to explain it, not justify it. SCP-8596-1: You know, for the year I was employed— Ambrose: Integrated. SCP-8596-1: —integrated and the months before, when I was just in my cell, I never really met someone who was as outspoken as you were. Ambrose: The main goal of the Director of our Site is what you're hoping for. SCP-8596-1: It's the same containment in a new form. If you wanted to, you could leave today and go home forever. If I tried that when I was integrated, I'd be locked back up. Paul doesn't care about me or any other anomaly; he cares about the optics. How he's able to make everyone see him as the moral Site Director. Only he is able to work with anomalies and, in turn, make them work for the Foundation. The attention you can get from that is astronomical. Ambrose: I don't let my opinions affect the place that puts food on my table. SCP-8596-1: It's good to have morals. You're a diamond in the rough, one could say. Ambrose: I'm another cog in the machine. SCP-8596-1: I told you, opinions like that are a rarity. Ambrose: It means nothing. SCP-8596-1: How so? Ambrose: Empty words. I still work for them. Means nothing. SCP-8596-1: I don't think so. I think you know it means more than nothing. A lot more. Ambrose: Does it? SCP-8596-1: Considering the entirety of this conversation, I think this means a lot to you. (Ambrose is silent. After a pause, he takes his drink and downs it. He gives himself a heavy pour of bourbon, downing it again.) SCP-8596-1: I think this means way more than I can even tell, with or without this collar. PERSONNEL DOSSIER Researcher Kenneth Wilkins. SITE: Site-322 DEPARTMENT: Department of Dimensional Studies CURRENT PROJECT(s): KENNETH WILKINS and GEORGE AMBROSE are researching a process for facilitated transdimensional travel. With the Foundation's current capabilities, travel into alternate, parallel dimensions requires either unmanageable and excessive energy use or a preexisting transdimensional Way being opened by an anomalous force. SCP-8596-1: Seems interesting. Ambrose: It is. It was a lot of fun in the beginning. I didn't really know Kenny too well before this. I think we joined the Foundation the same year but that was about it. It happened that we both had nothing going on and an interest in alternate dimensions. We got on pretty well, all things considered. (Researcher Wilkins is sitting, watching a report on the Wanderer's Library's Ways. Researcher Ambrose is seated across the room in their laboratory, scribbling equations on a page.) Wilkins: Has anyone seen a Way being opened? Ambrose: For the Wanderer's Library? Those are thousands of years old. Wilkins: We have a few millennia-old people roaming around here. Ambrose: There's no way we get to talk to them, ignoring the fact they're not even at the Site. (Wilkins moves to Ambrose and gently places his hand on his back, rubbing Ambrose in a circular motion.) Wilkins: What's wrong? Ambrose: I'm fucking stressed! What are we three weeks— Wilkins: Nineteen days. Technically. (He smiles.) Ambrose: Great. Nineteen days of jack shit. Wilkins: We have a year. Maybe two if we get down on our knees and beg. Ambrose: Yeah, I bet we get that. Wilkins: Such a downer. I guess I'm the only one enjoying our long, exclusive, alone time together. Ambrose: Did I imply that? Wilkins: Just reading between the lines. Ambrose: You're reading wrong. Wilkins: Look, we'll figure something out. Someway and somehow. (Wilkins kisses Ambrose's cheek and returns to his seat.) SCP-8596-1: Got on well, huh? Ambrose: Yeah, yeah. We got on well. SCP-8596-1: I don't really get surprised, at least before this piece of jewelry was put on me, but I'm always, I guess you could say, intrigued by smart people doing smart things. You can show me a motherboard, explain how it works, explain what it does, and explain how each component helps with that, and I'd understand it fully, but if you asked me how someone came up with that, I'd be at a loss. So, how did you figure out transdimensional travel? Ambrose: Funnily enough, the answer was in the Ways. MEETING OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL (Wilkins and Ambrose are presenting their findings to the Overseer Council.) Wilkins: Now, this oil-slick-looking thing is a Way. As most of you probably know, Ways are doorways into the Wanderer's Library. While anomalous, Ways specifically fall under the umbrella of thaumaturgy, which had led our contemporaries to disregard them as impossible to replicate. Now, with our current findings, we've managed to synthesize the material used to create Ways. (Ambrose powers a fume hood. A beaker of metallic, rainbow-tinted liquid is spilt under the hood. As it sets, it gains its oil-slick appearance.) Ambrose: Before this presentation, I went ahead and placed an item in the dimension this Way leads to. (Ambrose reaches into the Way, pulling a green apple out of it.) Ambrose: It was a convincing presentation, enough to get us some more in the budget department and a few junior researchers to work with us. SCP-8596-1: Couple time was ruined? Ambrose: At this point, I had actually moved out of my dorm and into his place. My sister said it was too fast, but sometimes you just know. SCP-8596-1: I see. What I don't understand is how you go from what I assume is an empty pocket dimension to transdimensional travel. Ambrose: As stupid as it might sound, it's all magic. MEETING OF THE OVERSEER COUNCIL (Wilkins and Ambrose are presenting their findings to the Overseer Council.) Wilkins: On a technical level, the Library's Ways are programmed to enter into the Library and out to the desired location based on a frequency. Every universe emits its own frequency, and each location within that universe has its own frequency all the way down; the trouble is just channeling it. This is something that's like breathing to the Librarians, but for us, it requires much more tuning and failing before we get something workable. (Ambrose retrieves a second beaker of the liquid, takes a brush, and paints a door-sized Way on the wall under the fume hood. He takes a blade from his pocket, whispering in an unknown language at it. It radiates a purple glow as Ambrose slices his hand, rubbing the blood on his palm and fingers. He holds his hand near the Way, struggling to keep it close. He gasps as seven glowing, purple strands of energy shoot from the cut and attach to the edges of the Way. He closes his eyes, and with his other hand, he gently pushes, pulls, and twists the strings.) (Behind the Council, a crack in reality begins to form. Ambrose pulls the final strand and a second Way appears, shaking the room. Wilkins enters the original Way, exiting behind the Council.) (The pair exit the meeting silently, pacing down the hall. Smiles grow on both of their faces They enter the elevator, where they're witnessed celebrating and hugging each other. Wilkins grabs the nape of Ambrose's neck and shouts happily into his face. The pair kiss.) SCP-8596-1: That is amazing. Ambrose: It was, but it still wasn't transdimensional travel. It was a portal on Earth. (Ambrose downs a third glass of bourbon. He pours himself another.) Ambrose: We needed transdimensional travel. It is, at its core, reasonably easy: just grab a different main frequency and build from there. SCP-8596-1: The trouble? Ambrose: Infinite dimensions. Infinite frequencies. It would take me a lifetime to sift through everything available to find just one specific dimension, let alone what the Overseers were asking. This was going to be part of their early warning system. They needed nearly exact replicas of our universe. Exact replicas are easy to find; just tune the frequency up or down a micrometer in or out on that third strand. But near duplicates? They exist— SCP-8596-1: But in an infinite pool. Ambrose: We found one, eventually. Just one. SCP-8596-1: I ask again, the trouble? (An autonomous drone flies out of the Way. The pair are disheveled, clearly lacking sleep. The light of early sunrise illuminates the room.) Ambrose: Looks solid. (Ambrose makes note of the frequency.) Wilkins: Solid? That looks fucking perfect! (Wilkins moves to hug Ambrose, who barely reciprocates.) Ambrose: How you keep this energy is beyond me. Wilkins: What's wrong? Ambrose: I'm exhausted. Wilkins: Preaching to the choir. Ambrose: I think we should call it here and head home. I'll make a request for a hazmat team to scope the area before anything. Wilkins: Now? Now!? Are you crazy? Ambrose: Maybe not fully but I'm for sure getting there. Wilkins: We have to go in. Ambrose: Are you crazy? Wilkins: A little! I mean, look, when Fleming found— Ambrose: Do not invoke Fleming at me. That's not fair. (Wilkins smiles at Ambrose, who attempts to hide his smile behind a hand as he scribbles notes on a pad.) Wilkins: When Fleming found penicillin imagine he waited for a hazmat team before investigating it himself. Ambrose: Technically, he told other people about it before doing anything stupid, like you want to do with this portal. Wilkins: One time, we'll be done after that. Ambrose: Look at me, I love you. You know that. But, this is work. This is my job, and I take it seriously. Wilkins: You don't think I take this seriously? Ambrose: That's not what I'm saying. This is our job. Our job has standards and procedures that we have to follow. Regardless of whatever is going on in our personal life, you can't use my love for you to do something that's wrong. Wilkins: I'll go in. I'm not going to throw this out. SCP-8596-1: He was a hard-head. Ambrose: I wouldn't call it that. He liked risks, I didn't. Ambrose: It's not throwing anything out! Wilkins: We're at the forefront of some of the best research that's ever been done on this topic, and you want the first person to enter a man-made transdimensional portal to be some former military no-name. Fuck that! Ambrose: You're out of your fucking mind! Wilkins: We deserve credit! Ambrose: We'll get it. Wilkins: Name one NASA scientist who worked on the Apollo project. Ambrose: You know what, I'll just close it! Wilkins: Don't even dare. (Wilkins paces to the Way, shoving his hand into it.) Wilkins: Look! I'm fine! Ambrose: I'm not watching this. I'll see you at home. Get it the fuck together. Ambrose: And I left. Those were the last words I know he heard from my mouth. SCP-8596-1: He went all the way in? Ambrose: The dimension was an alternate Earth, nearly what we were looking for. The major divergence? The air had a parasitic, microscopic, airborne organism living in it. Billions, if not trillions of them. Humans, animals, everything evolved to live symbiotically with it. I walked into my lab that morning to the hazmat team I called the night before. They were carting his body out and fumigating the entire sector. SCP-8596-1: Jesus. Ambrose: I told him. I did. I promise. (Ambrose downs another glass of bourbon. SCP-8596-1 grabs the bottle from him as he attempts to pour it.) Ambrose: I promise I told him. Lague: I understand how you're feeling. Ambrose: No! I really don't think you do! Lague: It's not safe, George. He's— he's not doing well, and it's all happening very fast. (Ambrose's eyes well with tears.) Lague: I'm not good at this; I'm really sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. You have to view this objectively, though, he entered untested waters and picked up an entirely unknown sickness. The amount of protection the nurses have to wear is unbelievable. It might kill you if you see him. Ambrose: I need to see him. Lague: I'm really sorry. (Ambrose begins to cry.) Ambrose: We were so close to being done! Why did I let this happen? Oh my god! I should've stayed! Why! Why didn't I stay? Lague: You can't blame yourself. Ambrose: Please, please, Paul. Please let me see him with my own eyes. Just once. Lague: I can't. I really, really can't. Ambrose: They wouldn't let me see him. SCP-8596-1: That's very hard. Ambrose: I don't think I've ever wanted anything more. SCP-8596-1: I understand why they wouldn't let you, as cruel as it is. How awful. Ambrose: It wasn't safe. That's all they kept telling me. He was contagious and he was dying. I would get to see him then but they didn't know when that would be. SCP-8596-1: That's not enough. Ambrose: Still, it wasn't safe. (A Way opens in Paul Lague's office. Ambrose exits, wielding a crowbar. He finds a locked drawer at Lague's desk. Wedging the crowbar, he peels the drawer open and retrieves Lague's spare keycard and a pistol.) Ambrose: Lague went home every night around two in the morning, so that was easy enough. I knew the security guys had a smoke break at quarter after three every night. Kenny and I used to take our breaks with them during those longer nights. It was about five minutes, but it was enough time. (Another Way is opened in the Site's surveillance console. Ambrose exits, scanning Lague's credentials and gaining admin privileges on the system. He sifts through camera feeds, eventually finding the medical bay. He locates a room that's marked as occupied but has no surveillance, assuming it houses Wilkins. Ambrose deactivates the medical bay's camera before exiting the console and closing the Way.) Ambrose: There weren't any cameras in his room. I don't know why they didn't have cameras in his room. SCP-8596-1: What happened next? Ambrose: I— I had turned off the rest of the cameras, but I left the keycard and I— I guess there was an alert that the cameras were turned off. The Site was put on lockdown. I wanted a video of our last time together. I just wanted to be able to see his face. (Ambrose's eyes well with tears.) Ambrose: We were so busy with work; we— we never got a picture together. How didn't we get a picture together? How is that possible? Weeks went by without seeing him; I was forgetting his face — his gorgeous smile. I remembered the feelings I felt when I saw him, like the way he laughed when I'd get that twitch in my eye when I was stressed. I just couldn't remember his face. You lose it so fast after being apart for so long. I just wanted something to look at to remember him. Something that was us. SCP-8596-1: Then? Ambrose: I went back to my lab and grabbed a body camera. I just wanted to get a video of us hugging. Immortalized in that way. I wouldn't have to see him again. (Ambrose is breathing heavily, sounding like he's holding back tears. He pulls the final purple strand extending from his hand. He takes a long breath and enters the Way, exiting into a medical bay room.) Ambrose: Kenny? (To the room's far left is a white bed. A sheet covers a mass laid on it. various medical devices, including IV therapy machines, ventilators, and heart rate monitors, beep and buzz loudly.) Ambrose: Kenny? Are you there? Ambrose: It was empty. Nothing was in there to make me believe he was as contagious as I was told. Nothing. Nothing at all. SCP-8596-1: Keep going. (Ambrose approaches the bed and removes the sheet.) (The body is Kenneth Wilkins. He's extremely emaciated, with little to no fat or musculature to see on his body. The skin looks more like cracked, flaking porcelain than flesh, giving Wilkins a doll-like appearance. His eyes are open, unblinking, and tinged green and cloudy. A mass is seen writhing in his stomach.) (Ambrose falls to the ground, wailing.) SCP-8596-1: Was he alive? (Tears stream down Ambrose's face) Ambrose: I may have laid there for seconds or years crying. I— I couldn't tell. The only thing that broke me out was an alarm. (A lockdown alarm sounds in the medical bay. A single security officer enters the room.) Security Officer: George! Exit the room with your hands raised! Ambrose: Why does he look like this? Security Officer: Get out of the room, George. Listen to me! I don't want to hurt you! Ambrose: Are you keeping him alive? Security Officer: You have ten seconds to remove yourself from the room! Ambrose: Are all of these machines keeping him alive like this? Security Officer: George, please, there's more of my team coming, and they're not going to be as nice. Get out of the room! Ambrose: Answer my fucking question! Are all of these machines keeping him alive? Security Officer: It's not our choice. Ambrose: You're keeping him alive like this? Security Officer: Please, leave the room. We'll get you amnestics. (Ambrose shoots the guard in the chest, who falls limply to the floor.) (He paces the room in hysterics, breaking quickly and crying. The body camera is removed and thrown to the ground. He vomits on the floor and then approaches Wilkins' body.) (Inaudible dialogue is heard. The camera sees Ambrose leaning over Wilkins. He's audibly crying.) (Another gunshot is heard. Ambrose grabs the body camera and shell casings, and exits the room.) (Ambrose is standing over the sink gagging. SCP-8596-1 places a hand on his shoulder. He's crying.) Ambrose: What did I do? What did I do? SCP-8596-1: You put him out of his misery? (Ambrose is silently crying. He breathes deeply.) Ambrose: I had to. I had to. SCP-8596-1: Keep going. Ambrose: I— I couldn't leave him like that. I couldn't. (SCP-8596-1 points at Ambrose's face, guiding him to eye contact.) SCP-8596-1: Look at me. Focus. What next? Ambrose: I had to. I had to. I promise! I promise I had to. Please. I'm sorry. I had to do it. (Ambrose rubs his hands through his hair.) Ambrose: I— I opened another Way. I opened the Way we had put the apple in during that— oh god! (Ambrose breaks down.) SCP-8596-1: Focus! Focus on my face. Ambrose: And— I— I grabbed the bed and put Kenny in there— with the guard and the camera — and I just fucking left them in there in that cold empty place. (Ambrose breaks further, crying into the sink.) (SCP-8596-1 unclips his collar, removing it.) Ambrose: What—? (The walls of the house begin rippling like ocean waves.) Ambrose: What's going on? (Ambrose sniffles and gags.) (The facade of the house fades away. An interrogation chamber is revealed. SCP-8596-1 looks to a security camera and nods at it. Security teams invade the room and remove Ambrose. Lague enters as they leave.) Lague: Amazing. Absolutely amazing. SCP-8596-1: Mhm. Thanks. (SCP-8596-1 hands the collar to Lague.) Lague: That was much faster than I thought it would be. SCP-8596-1: I watched maybe 2000 tapes on this guy. I'd hoped it be shorter. Lague: And the story about the researcher you falsely convicted. Chef's kiss. The Ethics Committee's gonna be very happy that we don't have to go on trial here. SCP-8596-1: You hired me for a reason. Scrub that description of me in the prop doc. I don't want anyone reading that. Lague: Consider it done. A month of isolation, and he still wouldn't say a word. Great, great work, Erik. SCP-8596-1: I'll take care of the rest of the paperwork. (SCP-8596-1 moves to the exit.) Lague: Be my guest. Just update the 8596 file. «END LOG» NOTE: The pseudonym of SCP-████, "SCP-8596-1," has been removed from this document. Any remaining information referencing SCP-8596-1 should be submitted to Site-322's RAISA representative so it may be deleted from this file. SCP-████'s faux designation, its addition to this file, and its deletion from this file were approved by O5-3. Item#: 8596 Level3 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo Special Containment Procedures: N/A Description: SCP-8596 was the body of Kenneth Wilkins. Wilkins was originally employed in the Department of Dimensional Studies, tasked with creating an affordable, replicable method of transdimensional travel. After traveling into an alternate Earth (designated DS-10226701), Wilkins was infected with an airborne parasite that quickly ravaged his body. Site-322's medical personnel conferred with the Ethics Committee and Overseer Council, determining that the research potential of this pathogen outweighed allowing Wilkins to pass. As such, his body was kept alive artificially until research was complete, at which time it would be decommissioned. SCP-8596 was neutralized by a rogue member of Site-322's personnel who suffered a mental breakdown following a personal issue related to the SCP-8596 case. SCP-8596 was shot in the forehead with a pistol along with the security officer who attempted to arrest him, Benjamin Seymor.1 The corpses, the murder weapon, and miscellaneous pieces of evidence were subsequently hidden in an alternate Earth (designated DS-00000011). The rogue agent, George Ambrose, has been interrogated and confessed to the murder of Kenneth Wilkins and Benjamin Seymor. For these offenses, along with breaking and entering, credential theft, unauthorized use of Thaumaturgy, misuse of Foundation resources, and participation in an unapproved workplace relationship, George Ambrose has been imprisoned at Site-06 and is awaiting termination. Footnotes 1. Seymor has posthumously received the Foundation Star Award for his sacrifice during this incident. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-6591 (+130) • Plague's Proposal (+356) • SCP-7001 (+544) • SCP-5594 (+100) • SCP-618 (+149) • SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-8597 (+170) • SCP-5364 (+89) • SCP-6594 (+121) • SCP-8592 (+163) • SCP-8595 (+374) • SCP-6598 (+257) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-6596 (+297) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) • Phobophobia Anthology 2024 Pyrophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8596" by PlaguePJP, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8596. 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: church1.png, church2.png Name: Mount Ida - Abandoned Church Author: Roger W License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: ramsey.png Name: DSC_0088.JPG Author: Andrew Feinberg License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: ambrose.png Name: Matt Hawes Author: Gage Skidmore License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: wilkins.png Name: Launch Conference Author: LAUNCH Partnership, Photography by Ken Yeung License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flicker
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PlaguePJP & J Dune: XLIII . by PlaguePJP & J Dune SCP-8597 — your month, your guy ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8597 Level3 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8597 starting slide. Special Containment Procedures: Upon discovery of an active SCP-8597 instance, standard online content removal procedures are to be carried out by Foundation Web-Crawler-TT-01 “Shou Chew’s Revenge.” Standard amnesticization protocols are to follow should a member of the public encounter an instance of SCP-8597-1. Description: SCP-8597 is a slideshow uploaded to social media and content application TikTok. SCP-8597 is thirteen images long. Upon viewing, a looping 30-second audio clip of Claude Debussy's Clair De Lune will play. The first slide is dedicated to a title card reading "your month, your guy," followed by twelve images. Each depicts an instance of SCP-8597-1, as well as its name and individual characteristics. SCP-8597-1 is a group of twelve anomalous entities correlated to a month of the year that spontaneously appear upon viewing SCP-8597. The viewer’s birth month is the determining factor in which of the twelve entities will manifest. For an SCP-8597-1 instance to materialize, a user must have the slide corresponding to their birth month opened for over 60 seconds. The title card also specifies that users "believe hard;" though there is no evidence linking a user's belief and the likelihood of an SCP-8597-1 manifestation. A user's SCP-8597-1 instance will remain within their vicinity as long as SCP-8597 is actively open on a user's device. Should a user scroll away from SCP-8597, close the application, or shut their device off, the SCP-8597-1 instance will violently explode. Among the blood and viscera, a piece of paper will be left in place of the entity, containing only a text-based "sad face" emoticon.1 Users can remanifest their corresponding SCP-8597-1 instance by following the manifestation parameters above. Addendum 8597.1: SCP-8597-1 Instances SCP-8597-1A | January SCP-8597-1B | February SCP-8597-1C | March SCP-8597-1D | April SCP-8597-1E | May SCP-8597-1F | June SCP-8597-1G | July SCP-8597-1H | August SCP-8597-1I | September SCP-8597-1J | October SCP-8597-1K | November SCP-8597-1L | December january bicurious frank - ooh ooh aah aah - pees on stuff to claim it - fiscal conservative Description: SCP-8597-1A is a golden snub-nosed monkey (Rhinopithecus roxellana) enveloped in pink, purple, and blue colored light, commonly referred to as “bisexual lighting” in popular colloquialisms. SCP-8597-1A's lighting effect also carries to its general surroundings within a one-meter vicinity. SCP-8597-1A's intelligence is similar to the level of a human child between the ages of 6 and 11. While it can not speak, the entity can write in short, scribbled, albeit legible, sentences. It often does this to convince the user who manifested it to purchase financial investments, namely Gamestop and Tesla Motors stock, as well as several cryptocurrencies. SCP-8597-1A has shown great discomfort with its “bicurious” moniker, asking to be referred to as “just frank pls”, and frantically apologizing to Foundation staff for “shoving it down ur throats”. This apparent stress has caused SCP-8597-1A to hyperventilate and pass out on multiple occasions. february squid jame(s) - korean - reverse aquaman - will share his paramount+ password Description: SCP-8597-1B is a Caribbean reef squid (Sepioteuthis sepioidea). SCP-8597-1B is capable of respirating air and limited vocalization in the Korean language, sonically comparable to that of an elderly male. SCP-8597-1B’s vocal capabilities have been transcribed and translated below. ”Do you have Paramount+?” ”It has every episode of Star Trek under one umbrella for the first time in entertainment history.” ”At $5.99 per month with limited commercial interruptions, it is an affordable service compared to other streaming platforms.” ”The DVD box set of Star Trek: Voyager used to cost upwards of $200.” ”Over 45,000 episodes and movies all under one umbrella for the first time in entertainment history.” ”The future of the Star Trek franchise is entirely dependent on the success of Paramount+.” Attempts to extend conversation with SCP-8597-1B beyond these phrases have invariably failed. Attempts have been made to let SCP-8597-1B share its Paramount+ login information, however, it has become understood that SCP-8597-1B does not know how to read nor use a keyboard regardless of language. march orb - wise (ask him questions he'll know the answer) - can sing unreleased beatles songs - do NOT feed after midnight Description: SCP-8597-1C is a large, floating, luminescent sphere capable of speech in English. SCP-8597-1C will only speak when prompted with a question. Below are researchers' attempts to document the prescient abilities insinuated in SCP-8597-1C's slide. Prompt Response What are today's winning lottery numbers? "Have you heard Tomorrow by the Beatles?" What time is it right now? "Have you heard There Goes The Moon by the Beatles?" Can you understand me? Say anything other than a non-existent Beatles song, if you understand me. "Have you heard I Do Not Want To Touch Your Feet by the Beatles?" Researchers have heeded the warning in the SCP-8597 slideshow. However, SCP-8597-1C has no mouth or orifice where sustenance could be inserted. april floppy joe - a fish - can swim when in water - breathes water Description: SCP-8597-1D is a Black sea bass (Centropristis striata). Upon manifestation, SCP-8597-1D will asphyxiate unless the user is in a non-chlorinated body of water during its manifestation. SCP-8597-1D has no discernable anomalous properties. may lemon devin - literary enthusiast - life of the party - likes to ski (wink) Description: SCP-8597-1E is a lemon that constantly and loudly emits a variety of EDM songs by musician John Summit. Should cocaine be placed on or near SCP-8597-1C, an appropriately sized pair of sunglasses will appear on its "face" for 15-30 minutes. The music SCP-8597-1E produces can be muted when it is given access to the Vice.com editorial archives circa 1998-2006. During this activity, SCP-8597-1E will occasionally interupt its readings to vocalize that “Vice used to be so fucking good, man.” june my guy abe - has court-mandated anger management classes every thursday - no car - addicted to paypal's "pay in 4" program - all around nice guy Description: SCP-8597-1F is a humanoid entity resembling Gritty, the mascot of the NHL's Philadelphia Flyers. All efforts to remove this costume have been fruitless. SCP-8597-1F is capable of speech in English. Interactions with SCP-8597-1F follow a consistent pattern, as seen in the below transcript. TRANSCRIPT SCP-8597-1F: Can you give me a ride? Rsr. Hoover: Where? SCP-8597-1F: I need to go to court. Rsr. Hoover: Which court? SCP-8597-1F: I have my classes. I need to go to court. Rsr. Hoover: Which court? SCP-8597-1F: The one with my classes. Rsr. Hoover: I need you to help me out here. SCP-8597-1F: If you're gonna be an asshole, just say no. Rsr. Hoover: I'm asking you a simple question. SCP-8597-1F: I'll violate my terms if I miss a class. Rsr. Hoover: Where are the fucking classes? SCP-8597-1F: Court. Rsr. Hoover: Now, it's a no. (SCP-8597-1F punches a hole in the wall.) SCP-8597-1F: One. SCP-8597-1F: Two. SCP-8597-1F will then follow closely behind the user that manifested it, counting up from one and breathing deeply between each number. july syndicated mitch - has all ten seasons of friends built-in - great sense of humor - chandler irl - has all ten seasons of friends built-in Description: SCP-8597-1G is a CRT television that continuously plays episodes of Friends (1994) regardless of whether it is connected to a power source. Every line of dialogue is followed by the episode being paused and SCP-8597-1G making sounds akin to hysteric laughing for up to 10 seconds before resuming the program. Following the death of actor Matthew Perry on 2023/10/28, SCP-8597-1G has reacted to all dialogue delivered by the character Chandler with intense, protracted screaming before continuing the episode. august uncle kingy - in debt - has an iconic catchphrase - thousands of dollars in casino comps - wanna go play the ponies kid Description: SCP-8597-1H is a humanoid entity resembling Italian-American actor Frank Vincent. If prompted to say its “iconic catchphrase”, SCP-8597-1H will declare that it is “time to fucking gamble!”, before disappearing alongside the subject. Upon reappearing seconds later, subjects will report having spent up a prolonged period of time— ranging from a day to three weeks— with SCP-8597-1H in a sprawling casino environment. Activities did not divert from watching SCP-8597-1H repeatedly and invariably lose at a variety of games before being forcibly ejected from the premises and reappearing in baseline reality. Upon using wi-fi connected devices following SCP-8597-1H’s manifestation, the subject will find that money from any connected banking accounts has been deposited into the DraftKings Sportsbook website. september unsophisticated doug - what a guy - real winner - living legend - has a shitty brother Description: SCP-8597-1I is an inanimate statue resembling a bald humanoid. Subjects viewing SCP-8597-1I will invariably form an extremely favorable opinion of the object. Rsr. Hoover: Hey, Dougmeister! How’s it hanging? (SCP-8597-1I stands in silence, looking amazing.) Rsr. Hoover: That’s great man! I’m doing swell myself. Thanks for asking! (SCP-8597-1I does not respond, but that’s just fine!) Rsr. Hoover: Hah hah! You’re the man, Doug! Researcher's Note: Doug's brother is a real prick. october zhi peng (志鹏) - stands in the village all day (what does he do) - gives horrendous loot - i do not need any more iridescent skipping stones - dipshit Description: SCP-8597-1J is a humanoid entity resembling a Chinese peasant from the Han dynasty period. It has not been observed to move from its point of manifestation, instead electing to remain idle until engaged by an individual. If engaged, SCP-8597-1J will ask that the individual assist them in completing a task. SCP-8597-1J converses in Chinese. The nature of these requests vary incidentally, but typically require the individual to retrieve one or more items to then bring back to SCP-8597-1J. Upon completion, SCP-8597-1J will reward the individual. A table of example tasks has been recorded below. Request Reward SCP-8597-1J requested that the subject collect 22 sticks. Upon retrieving the objects from the exterior of the site, SCP-8597-1J presented the subject with a bundle of wool. SCP-8597-1J requested that the subject corral 4 wild boar, each having suddenly manifested upon the Site-322 premises. Task accomplished with minimal collateral damage. SCP-8597-1J presented the subject with a chrysanthemum flower. SCP-8597-1J requested that the subject slay “Fucanglong, Underworld Divine General”. A massive entity resembling a black-scaled dragon as stylized in Chinese mythology manifested inside a subterranean chamber underneath Site-322. The Site was thrown into immediate lockdown while an appropriate Mobile Task Force was secured for deployment. Upon the target’s neutralization, SCP-8597-1J presented the subject with a small wooden cartridge containing a silver powder, which, according to the entity, “can be used alongside a crafting kit to create arrowheads”. The Foundation has yet to ascertain a use for this item. Completion of this task yielded 15 casualties. Continued testing of SCP-8597-1J has been suspended until further notice. november big maggie - always there for you - real sweetheart - cutie pie - running a bit late Description: SCP-8597-1K is a Peterbilt 389 semi-trailer truck. SCP-8597-1K’s manifestation is delayed, instead appearing at an indeterminate point within 24 hours of viewing the slide under appropriate conditions. Manifestation occurs within a 1 km radius of the subject’s current position, typically on a nearby road. SCP-8597-1K will then rapidly accelerate towards the subject with enhanced force, demolishing any objects, structures, or individuals in the way of its path. Upon making physical contact with the subject, SCP-8597-1K will then de-manifest. Any destruction or damage caused by the entity— including casualties— will be reversed and nullified upon its disappearance. december unsophisticated craig - buffoon - absolute fool - waste of space - has a really cool brother Description: SCP-8597-1L is an animated clay sculpture resembling a nondescript ape beating a shield with a bat. It causes all nearby people to insult and laugh at it; it will beat the shield with the bat a number of times depending on how malicious the insult is. Insult SCP-8597-1L Reaction "Fucking idiot" SCP-8597-1L beats the shield twice. "I hope everything you do fails. I hope every woman you meet views you with disgust. I wish nothing but pain and horror for you. I hope all goes wrong for the rest of your life and I will follow to the ends of the Earth to watch the shitshow you are." SCP-8597-1L beats the shield once. "Kill yourself" SCP-8597-1L beats the shield eighteen times. Addendum 8597.2: Incident 8597-Alpha On November 24th, 2022, Junior Researcher Francesco White (born February 29th, 1992), performed a standard test with SCP-8597. Despite pulling the slide corresponding to his birth month, no SCP-8597 entity manifested. Instead, White's phone crashed due to overheating. Over the course of an hour, White's stomach became incredibly distended and bloated. He was sent to the Site infirmary, where nurses noted White's body temperature was 10 degrees below baseline. Attempts were made to sedate White, all of which failed, and his assertions of intense pain became continuous screaming as the mass grew larger. The mass squirmed violently within White before throwing him off the bed into a kneeling position. The mass could be seen moving up White's digestive tract, causing extreme distension to his chest and neck that should have sent White into unconsciousness or proven fatal. White expelled a black, viscous fluid from his mouth, followed by two hand-like implements attached to a 25-pound, amorphous blob of flesh, hair tissue, teeth, and eyeballs. White subsequently passed out but made a full recovery. When his phone was powered back on, he accessed SCP-8597 again, which displayed a single slide. Repeated testing on subjects born on the Leap Day (February 29th) has resulted in the same or similar outcomes. Footnotes 1. :( More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-7597 (+142) • SCP-8595 (+374) • SCP-6597 (+180) • SCP-8592 (+163) • SCP-5595 (+535) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-7593 (+203) • Plague's Proposal (+356) • SCP-8596 (+244) • SCP-5591 (+128) • SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-618 (+149) • SCP-8598 (+88) • SCP-5596 (+159) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8597" by PlaguePJP and J Dune, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8597. 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: slideshow1.png Author: PlaguePJP License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Filename: frank.png License: CC BY-SA 2.0 This image is a composite of: Name: Zoorasia, Yokohama, Japan Author: pelican License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: james.png Name: Caribbean Reef Squid Author: YVC Biology Department License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: orb.png Name: Fusion Festival 2008 (Element 3) Author: Adrian Be License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: fish.png Name: Giant Black Sea Bass, San Clemente Island, Channel Islands, California.jpgCaribbean Reef Squid Author: w:en:Aquaimages License: CC BY-SA 2.5 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: lemon.png Name: Lemon Author: Tschäff License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: gritty.png Name: 2019-01-24 Gritty Philadelphia Flyers at All Star Game (cropped).jpeg Author: Tim Piper License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: telev.png Name: Vintage television Author: N/A License: CC0 Source Link: rawpixel Name: Frank Vincent (cropped).png Author: Rob DiCaterino License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: winner.png Name: Sculpture inuit (Montréal, Canada) Author: Jean-Pierre Dalbéra License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flickr Name: Chinese peasant costume.jpg Author: illustration by Percy Anderson for Costume Fanciful, Historical and Theatrical, 1906 License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: Oldland Distributing truck Peterbilt No 286.jpg Author: D'oh Boy (Mark Holloway) License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: fool.png Name: Sculpture inuit (Montréal, Canada) Author: Jean-Pierre Dalbéra License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: flickr Filename: blob.png Name: St augustine carcass.jpg Author: N/A License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8598
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neutralized
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PlaguePJP: XLI by PlaguePJP SCP-8598 — The Sharpshooter ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8598 Level3 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo SCP-8598. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8598 is neutralized. No containment procedures are necessary. SCP-8598. Description: SCP-8598 is professional wrestler and reality bender Gary Moreno. SCP-8598 performed between 1966 and 1974, beginning in Japan and ending in the burgeoning World Wide Wrestling Federation. He gained fame as "Jerry 'Sharpshooter' Roulette," a heel1 outlaw bounty hunter chasing 'bounties' and the world championship. After a car accident in 1973, SCP-8598's anomalous properties began manifesting; this coincided with the development of major depressive disorder, theorized schizophrenia, alcoholism, and drug addiction. SCP-8598 began living solely as Jerry "Sharpshooter" Roulette, which included wearing his wrestling gear any time he was in public, ignoring or lashing out at mentions of his legal name, hunting fugitives as a vigilante, and having professional wrestling matches with members of the public. Persons close to the subject describe this switch as SCP-8598 engrossing himself in Kayfabe.2 In short, SCP-8598's frame of reality was through the character of Jerry "Sharpshooter" Roulette, and all events within his life would be altered by his reality warping capabilities to ensure that experience. Addendum 8598.1: Early Career and Time in the World Wide Wrestling Federation SCP-8598 was born in 1942 in El Paso, Texas. At 18, SCP-8598 joined the Dallas Cowboys practice squad but was released less than a year later after a career-ending knee injury. SCP-8598's trainer recommended that he pursue professional wrestling, and he enrolled at the same wrestling academy as his childhood friend Larry Hennig. SCP-8598 wrestled in Japan for the International Wrestling Enterprise promotion under the pseudonym "Jack 'The Gunslinger' Roulette." In Kayfabe, SCP-8598 was promoted as a heel, donning the character of an outlaw bounty hunter chasing the promotion's top championship. Initially, SCP-8598 was placed in a tag team with Larry Henig, and the pair would win the IWE Tag Team Champtionship. The team would split in 1969 when SCP-8598 attacked Hennig in the ring as part of a story line. Later that year, SCP-8598 would defeat then-Champion Antonio Inoki and win the title. The following is a segment from the testimony of Jim Cornette, a former scriptwriter for the World Wrestling Federation and professional wrestling historian. Jim Cornette. Cornette: Well, he was before my time, I’ll tell you that. Everything I knew about the guy came from Gong Magazine, with the big, glossy photos done up by Koichi Yoshizawa. And at the time, that was one of the only outlets for American fans to catch what was going on in Japan. But yes, I was aware of the Gunslinger. And he had it all! The star-power, the aura, whatever you want to call it. You’d see a black-and-white, two-fold spread of the guy doing a side headlock and he could’ve jumped out of the page and fucking goozled you just for staring too long! So he looks like a million bucks, he’s able to work a goddamn match, and he’s getting coverage all the way across the world. He should be a superstar! You’re probably thinking, what the fuck’s the issue? Problem was, these Japanese fans, they kept fucking cheering for the guy. And back in the day, that was unheard of for a heel. You’d bring a gaijin in to be booed— the foreign heel, it’s easy heat! So what do you do when your bad guy’s getting cheers like a good guy? You fucking turn him face. Except, Yoshihara — the booker — he didn’t want that. So they sent him back to the States, got him strapped in with the WWWF, and told Vince Sr. that he was his problem now. After losing the title back to Inoki in 1970, SCP-8598 signed with the World Wide Wrestling Federation (WWWF).3 The WWWF renamed SCP-8598 to Sharpshooter Jerry Roulette and his character remained largely unchanged. While the IWE booked SCP-8598 as the top heel, the WWWF used SCP-8598 as a stepping stone for babyface wrestlers to overcome before fighting for the championship, leaving him lingering in the midcard4 and not reaching the height he did in the IWE. Cornette: Things petered out. He got pushes, but they were on and off. And the WWWF was running monthly shows— you don’t get booked every month, there was no guarantee the crowd would remember you the next go around. Being a foreigner in front of a Japanese crowd made you an attraction. Over here, when you’re next to guys like Bruno Sammartino and Chief Jay Strongbow, you need to grab one big-ass stepstool to stand out. And that fucked with him. Not getting the same type of reactions he did in Japan, not moving up the card. WWWF was a babyface promotion— top heels were locked in programs with top faces for months on end. Not a lot of mobility. So there was a lot of downtime for a guy to get shitfaced in every bar in the northeastern corridor. SCP-8598's girlfriend, Catherine Hobbs, gave birth to twins in December of 1970. The pair would later marry and have a third child by the end of 1971. SCP-8598 floated around the midcard of the WWWF in 1972, and had an upcoming contract negotiation that September. Cornette: You have these kids coming in, great shape, good looks, making more money than they thought they ever would, and they're going out and meeting these girls et cetera, et cetera. A baby pops out nine months later, and now, they say, "fucking shit!" because now this profession where you were fucking around with your buddies and traveling the country has to feed a family. Jim Cornette, suspended in a shark cage as part of an on-screen wrestling angle. He has this contract negotiation coming up. He wants to stay close to his wife and kids, so he's not shopping around at these other territories, and again, he's not a draw. It just so happened, at the time, that one of Shooter's good friends, Ivan Koloff, was champion. So you have Koloff, this three-hundred-some-odd pound Canadian with a sickle and hammer tattooed on his arm pretending to be a Russian, and he's the top heel for about a year at this point. Bruno Sammartino is booked for the opportunity to fight Koloff for the title, but Bruno ends up snapping his fucking femur in half. So now, Vince Sr. is scrambling for a new all-American, apple pie-eating babyface that will defeat the Reds and bring the title back to the US of A. What do you do now? Vince looks around, thinking, and remembers he has a 300-pound cowboy with whom he's done squat. He finally got his push. Following Bruno Sammartino's injury in August of 1972, SCP-8598 successfully beat Pedro Morales in a contendership match, which landed him a chance for the championship. The next week, SCP-8598's contract negotiation occurred, and he was resigned for $250,000 per year and booked to win the title from Koloff at the next event in November. Cornette: He gets two-hundred fifty grand in 1972, he's booked to be a top champion in a few months, and he's signed for another four years. Knowing he has four mouths to feed, the first purchase he makes is an eighty-thousand-dollar racehorse. I can't fathom it! He'd use it in place of a car. He, (Chuckles), he would ride it backstage and Vince Sr. slipped in a puddle of its piss. He wasn't allowed to bring it around the arenas anymore after that. He starts riding it around on the street late at night, saying it helps get him into character. These were the things you dealt with with character performers. The real dedicated ones want to make themselves their characters as much as possible. It helps sell the business. If I went up to Shooter on the street and he turned to me and said, 'How ya doing, buddy, the name's Gary,' I'd probably never watch again. Things like this were not exactly promoted, but they were accepted. And then, you know, he— he took it too far. SCP-8598. SCP-8598 purchased a racehorse named Alto Soprano after signing his renewed contract. One week before his scheduled championship match, SCP-8598 rode his horse down a residential street. At an intersection, SCP-8598 was struck by a vehicle, killing the horse and grievously injuring him. He was subsequently moved out of the title match and replaced by Morales. Addendum 8598.2: Injury and Anomalous Phenomenon SCP-8598's left femur was shattered to the point doctors initially thought the leg would have to be amputated. He also suffered a broken collarbone, a skull fracture, a major concussion, and fluid build-up in the brain. Luckily, the leg did not have to be amputated and steel plates were bolted into it instead. Doctors told SCP-8598 that he would likely not be able to wrestle again, or even run, and gave him a timeframe of eighteen months before he could walk again. The painkiller medication SCP-8598 received as part of his treatment quickly became an addiction and compounded with his preexisting alcoholic tendencies. The following is a segment from the testimony of Catherine Moreno, the wife of SCP-8598. Moreno: It broke him. It really, really broke him. He used to just sit in his wheelchair and stare out the window of our bedroom, mumbling to himself. The WWWF took care of all of the medical bills; he probably would've never walked again if they didn't pay for the physical therapy. He made really good progress, but — he reached such a height early in his career, and he spent the rest of his time chasing after it. The fact he got so close to winning the championship at the biggest territory — finally getting that push to the top — and losing it because of some dumb decision destroyed him. He barely said a word to me in that first six months. He would shake his empty bottle of whiskey in my direction when he wanted a new one, and that was the most of our communication. I wasn't in a position to really stop that. He was hurting, and if liquor made it feel the slightest bit better I wasn't going to take that away. (Pause.) I wish I did. Lague: Did he start improving at any point? Moreno: In a vacuum, he did. He started walking with crutches about six months after his injury. He only mumbled to himself still. I kept the kids away as much as I could, and we had the guaranteed money he signed for, so it wasn't like he needed to get back, but he wanted to. Around the seven month mark was when I noticed he was losing it. I was yelling across the house for him; 'Gary,' I said. Then I hear something shatter in our bedroom, so I run up. He's waiting for me, standing straight without any crutches in his full Sharpshooter outfit and asks me 'What's my goddamn name?' I said 'Gary, you're drunk.' and he charged over to me and asked that question again, 'What's my goddamn name?' I didn't answer; I was scared. He looms over me and, through gritted teeth, says, 'I'm the Sharpshooter Jerry Roulette,' and leaves the house. Lague: Was there any abuse? Moreno: No, no, he never hit me or even shouted at me other than this one time. I don't know what it was, but the character Jerry Roulette became who Gary was, and Jerry was a heel. He was so sweet and loving to me and the kids. But he put on that hat and that coat, and he'd lose that part of him. He had the wherewithal to keep it out of the house. SCP-8598's mental health issues and anomalous capabilities reared their head following the injury. Despite being unable to walk, whenever SCP-8598 wore his ring gear, his injuries healed and he returned to a performance-ready state. He made a drunken, unannounced appearance backstage during a WWWF event only to be escorted out and ordered to remain home until he was fully healed. SCP-8598's reality warping manifested in the world around him being affected by Kayfabe. Any altercations between SCP-8598 and members of the public became official professional wrestling matches. His theme music would play upon him entering any location, and his official records would be updated to reflect the events in his life. Hennig: He was fucked up. It— it was sad to see; really sad. I became estranged from him for that reason. Once, he showed up at my hotel room in full gear, like he was ready to wrestle then and there. He was mumbling and slurring his words — I thought he was drunk, and I knew that the best course of action in dealing with a drunk Shooter was to get him cooled down and put him to bed. I had him take his coat and hat off, and I saw the needle marks in his arm. I told him to leave, I wasn't going to deal with that. He kept repeating himself, 'The hangman needs his dues, the hangman needs his dues.' Real sad shit. I just couldn't deal with it. I had my wife in the room. I— I couldn't do it. I called Vince Sr. and told him Shooter needs an intervention fast. We organized it, all this stuff, and he shows up in his gear. We tried to sit him down, and I made the mistake of calling him Gary. He picks me up and throws me against the wall, then pins me and wins our match. He turns to the group and, I'll never forget, says, 'God sends traitors to the twelfth circle, but the devil sends traitors to me. I have your bounties, and I hate keeping the hangman waiting.' In another incident, SCP-8598 approached five would-be robbers attempting to mug an unknown man. The robbers turned their attention to SCP-8598 and pointed their weapons at him. In turn, SCP-8598 began cutting a promo,5 ending with his catchphrase, "Dead or alive. Step in this ring, and you'll go home cold." Simultaneously, one of the robbers, John McLeary, had climbed on top of a dumpster and performed a frog splash onto SCP-8598. The other four attempted robbers then ambushed SCP-8598. At a certain point, a referee was brought to the street and began officiating. SCP-8598 would win by hitting five bodyslams on each of the attackers, pinning all five in a stack. None of them had any wrestling training or recollection of their "matches" from when they attacked to being pinned. The following is a segment from the testimony of Oreal "Ivan Koloff" Perras, a former wrestler and tag team partner of SCP-8598. Oreal "Ivan Koloff" Perras. Lague: A gorilla? Perras: Yes. Lague: How is that possible? Perras: There was a police report about Shooter trespassing at the Philadelphia Zoo. At 3 AM, he was found in his gear outside the gorilla enclosure, microphone in hand, cutting a promo on them. The next night, two zookeepers saw him inside the enclosure, and he walked out uninjured. Lague: So from that, you're extrapolating that he wrestled a gorilla. Perras: No, my friend. He wrestled a gorilla and won. SCP-8598. In 1973, WWWF doctors deemed SCP-8598 healthy enough to compete. During a contract extension negotiation with the WWWF, SCP-8598 threatened to hogtie and drag Vincent J. McMahon behind his horse "until the sun charred [his] skin" due to a perceived lowball offer. Despite this, WWWF management wrote this off as SCP-8598 remaining in character, and the contract was signed. SCP-8598 was pushed back to the main event scene following his return. After attacking Koloff in an on-screen segment at the Boston Garden, SCP-8598 stole his spot in a championship contendership match. During his entrance, SCP-8598 was attacked by a knife-wielding fan. Despite the gash slicing the femoral artery and SCP-8598 losing enough blood to expire, he continued to the ring. The attendee, 17-year-old Gregory Kaplin, jumped the barricade, climbed into the ring, and began performing multiple wrestling moves on SCP-8598. Kaplin was notably overweight and never had wrestling training, but despite this, the pair went 15 minutes, resulting in an SCP-8598 victory. SCP-8598 received stitches and the originally-planned match was held, resulting in an SCP-8598 win. SCP-8598 finally won the WWWF World Heavyweight Championship in May 1973, becoming the fourth man in company history to hold the title. Addendum 8598.3: Death and Legacy SCP-8598 was scheduled for a championship match in November against Koloff as a follow-up to the stolen contendership opportunity. He would fail to make his call time at the arena. Perras: Going back to the '50s, every promotion has a call time for any show. If an event starts at 8 PM, everyone had to be there by 2 PM at the latest, you should actually be there by 12 PM. By 3:30, Shooter didn't show up. We thought he had bought another horse and was fucking around on it, who knows. I talk to Vince, and he goes to Jim in talent relations, and he asks me if I know the hotel he's staying at. Perras and SCP-8598. I call it; 'Hello, I'm a wrestler for the WWWF, and one of our wrestlers hasn't shown up for the show we're having. Do you know what time he checked out? His name is Jerry Roulette.' (Chuckles) I knew the last thing he'd do was check in as Gary Moreno. And, uh, and, god damn it. (Koloff sniffles.) 'Sir,' the lady says back, 'The police are here. Mr. Roulette is dead.' Awful. I couldn't believe it. I still can't. […] Just awful. SCP-8598 died of a massive heart attack at the age of 32. While evidence of painkillers and alcohol were found in his blood, they could not be deemed the main factor in causing the heart attack. A tournament in SCP-8598's name would subsequently be held, and Bruno Sammartino would win, dedicating his championship victory to SCP-8598 in a post-show promo. SCP-8598's hat and boots were brought to the ring by Sammartino, and the championship was laid alongside the gear. Cornette: It's very obvious when a wrestler has problems and they can't perform. That— that wasn't the case with Sharpshooter. No one could tell where Sharpshooter ended and Gary Moreno started. Things were allowed to slide, maybe a bit more than they could with anyone else. I still think about this every day. Someone so dedicated to this business, to their craft, to their art; how does that heart stop beating? He wasn't done. He wasn't even close to done, and […] he didn't get a chance to finish his story. He had his issues, but it wasn't a drug overdose or alcohol poisoning, his heart just stopped. Maybe he could've beaten those addictions, and maybe he could have come slightly back down to reality, and maybe he would've been a great champion. But— but he never got that chance. I think about all that potential and how much he contributed in the five years he was in the business. I can only imagine what he could've done in the next decade. World Wrestling Entertainment inducted SCP-8598 into their Hall of Fame in 2012. Larry Hennig delivered the induction speech, a segment of which as been transcribed below. Larry Hennig. Hennig: You'll notice I haven't been calling Sharpshooter 'Gary Moreno,' and that is for damn good reason. Sharpshooter truly, genuinely lived as the outlaw, the cowboy, the bounty hunter, Jerry Roulette. Anytime he was around anyone, public or in the business, he was The Sharpshooter, and he expected to be treated as such. I've seen many of the boys backstage meet the true Sharpshooter after giving him a mistaken "How're you doing, Gary." He'd give you your one warning, and after that, he'd make you a wanted poster and pin it up in his locker. He was going to get that bounty, dead or alive. Wrestling is stageplay. Wrestling is entertainment. Wrestling is scripted. Today, we have newsletters and reporters ready to pounce on any talk from the people backstage, and it breaks the magic; it breaks the magic Sharpshooter protected for the seven short years he was in this business. He fought his ass off to make sure he was the Sharpshooter, inside and out, and that was his greatest accomplishment — to embody a character so masterfully that he became one with it. Sharpshooter may have passed, but Kayfabe lives on, and that's all he would have wanted. Footnotes 1. The "bad guy" of a wrestling storyline. 2. A wrestling term similar to "the suspension of disbelief." It's primarily used in reference to staged events being presented as real. 3. Now known as World Wrestling Entertainment. The company went through two rebrands in their lifespan, first to the World Wrestling Federation, and then to the aforementioned WWE. 4. Wrestlers occupy one of three categories: Main Event talent, wrestlers who are booked in the top storylines and fight for the biggest championship; Midcard Talent, wrestlers who are put in less-important storylines and fight for less important titles; and Jobbers, wrestlers who are often booked to lose for the purposes of making other talent appear stronger. 5. A scripted monologue or dialogue a wrestler performs to further a story. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-6596 (+297) • SCP-7597 (+142) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-6592 (+79) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-5592 (+102) • SCP-7599 (+191) • SCP-5595 (+535) • SCP-8593 (+173) • SCP-7592 (+222) • SCP-5594 (+100) • SCP-8595 (+374) • SCP-8599 (+235) • SCP-7590 (+151) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) •
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SCP-8599
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euclid
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PlaguePJP: XXXV by PlaguePJP SCP-8599 — Your Fate is Sealed ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8599 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo An Elephant Seal. Special Containment Procedures: All SCP-8599 incidents are to be documented so a pattern may be established. To date, there has been no progress toward discovering the origin of SCP-8599. As a result, potential containment vectors are entirely unknown, both due to the scarcity of known incidents, the inability to reproduce said incidents, and the random nature in which these incidents are triggered. An Elephant Seal. Description: SCP-8599 is the anomalous phenomenon leading to the manifestation and subsequent, often violent, death of an elephant seal (Mirounga angustirostris). While the exact parameters that trigger a successful SCP-8599 event are inconsistent and not fully understood, the following has been proven regarding this phenomenon: SCP-8599 solely affects Foundation personnel; The elephant seal involved in an SCP-8599 event is non-anomalous; The elephant seal involved in an SCP-8599 event is created by the anomaly, as in, it is not being teleported from the active population; SCP-8599 events are triggered just before the death of exactly one member of the Foundation's personnel. It is believed that the appearance of the elephant seal is an attempt to stop the incident from transpiring, however, these deaths will still occur regardless of the hapless seal's manifestation. SCP-8599-activating events range from incredibly mundane to extremely anomalous, and attempts to replicate exact parameters in order to reproduce the phenomenon have unilaterally failed. As of documentation, no discernible force or entity has been identified as the source of SCP-8599. The leading hypothesis by Site-17 researchers posits that this phenomenon is a form of failed divine intervention. The following is an abridged record of notable SCP-8599 events. Personnel Cause of Death/SCP-8599 Event J. Researcher Kelly Graham Smoke inhalation after an elephant seal blocked an exit during a fire. Dr. Kevin Grossman An elephant seal landed on him at a top speed of 440 m/s, protecting the corpse from a falling piece of debris. Janitor Orlan Di Leonardo Struck by a truck. An elephant seal materialized between the vehicles and was reduced to a fine, red mist. Sattelite Technician Isaac Lowry Vacuum Exposure after his spacesuit unexpectedly depressurized and the torso section burst open when an elephant seal manifested within the suit. Researcher Marianne Warren Drowned after being caught in a riptide and being held underwater beneath an elephant seal, which also drowned. Pilot Garrett Bench Crushed to death when an elephant seal manifested atop him, extinguishing an ongoing cockpit fire. The jet subsequently crashed in a residential area. Dir. Grover Morris Blood loss resulting from the shrapnel of a crashed fighter jet piercing through Morris' window, an elephant seal, and Morris' upper body. Researcher Lloyd Jones. Launched into a brick wall at high speed by an elephant seal. The seal was then shot by the bullet meant for Jones. Dr. Javier Martinez Blunt force trauma resulting from an elephant seal performing CPR, consisting of it repeatedly slamming its head on Martinez's chest, after he began choking on a peanut. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-5591 (+128) • SCP-5595 (+535) • SCP-7593 (+203) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-5593 (+107) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-5596 (+159) • SCP-7597 (+142) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-6597 (+180) • Plague's Proposal (+356) • SCP-8597 (+170) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8599" by PlaguePJP, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8599. 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: seal.png Name: Elephant Seals at Sunrise January 10, 2009 Author: Elizabeth Haslam License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: seal2.png Name: Northern Elephant Seal, San Simeon2.jpg Author: Mike Baird License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8599
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uncontained
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PlaguePJP: XXXV by PlaguePJP SCP-8599 — Your Fate is Sealed ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item#: 8599 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo An Elephant Seal. Special Containment Procedures: All SCP-8599 incidents are to be documented so a pattern may be established. To date, there has been no progress toward discovering the origin of SCP-8599. As a result, potential containment vectors are entirely unknown, both due to the scarcity of known incidents, the inability to reproduce said incidents, and the random nature in which these incidents are triggered. An Elephant Seal. Description: SCP-8599 is the anomalous phenomenon leading to the manifestation and subsequent, often violent, death of an elephant seal (Mirounga angustirostris). While the exact parameters that trigger a successful SCP-8599 event are inconsistent and not fully understood, the following has been proven regarding this phenomenon: SCP-8599 solely affects Foundation personnel; The elephant seal involved in an SCP-8599 event is non-anomalous; The elephant seal involved in an SCP-8599 event is created by the anomaly, as in, it is not being teleported from the active population; SCP-8599 events are triggered just before the death of exactly one member of the Foundation's personnel. It is believed that the appearance of the elephant seal is an attempt to stop the incident from transpiring, however, these deaths will still occur regardless of the hapless seal's manifestation. SCP-8599-activating events range from incredibly mundane to extremely anomalous, and attempts to replicate exact parameters in order to reproduce the phenomenon have unilaterally failed. As of documentation, no discernible force or entity has been identified as the source of SCP-8599. The leading hypothesis by Site-17 researchers posits that this phenomenon is a form of failed divine intervention. The following is an abridged record of notable SCP-8599 events. Personnel Cause of Death/SCP-8599 Event J. Researcher Kelly Graham Smoke inhalation after an elephant seal blocked an exit during a fire. Dr. Kevin Grossman An elephant seal landed on him at a top speed of 440 m/s, protecting the corpse from a falling piece of debris. Janitor Orlan Di Leonardo Struck by a truck. An elephant seal materialized between the vehicles and was reduced to a fine, red mist. Sattelite Technician Isaac Lowry Vacuum Exposure after his spacesuit unexpectedly depressurized and the torso section burst open when an elephant seal manifested within the suit. Researcher Marianne Warren Drowned after being caught in a riptide and being held underwater beneath an elephant seal, which also drowned. Pilot Garrett Bench Crushed to death when an elephant seal manifested atop him, extinguishing an ongoing cockpit fire. The jet subsequently crashed in a residential area. Dir. Grover Morris Blood loss resulting from the shrapnel of a crashed fighter jet piercing through Morris' window, an elephant seal, and Morris' upper body. Researcher Lloyd Jones. Launched into a brick wall at high speed by an elephant seal. The seal was then shot by the bullet meant for Jones. Dr. Javier Martinez Blunt force trauma resulting from an elephant seal performing CPR, consisting of it repeatedly slamming its head on Martinez's chest, after he began choking on a peanut. More From This Author More From This Author PlaguePJP's Works SCPs SCP-7595 (+213) • SCP-5591 (+128) • SCP-5595 (+535) • SCP-7593 (+203) • SCP-6595 (+193) • SCP-8594 (+116) • SCP-7596 (+130) • SCP-5593 (+107) • SCP-8000 (+909) • SCP-5596 (+159) • SCP-7597 (+142) • SCP-7591 (+192) • SCP-6597 (+180) • Plague's Proposal (+356) • SCP-8597 (+170) • Tales/GoI Formats HOGSLICE Makes A Friend (+162) • Other PLAGUEPLACE (+192) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8599" by PlaguePJP, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8599. 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: seal.png Name: Elephant Seals at Sunrise January 10, 2009 Author: Elizabeth Haslam License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Flickr Filename: seal2.png Name: Northern Elephant Seal, San Simeon2.jpg Author: Mike Baird License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8600
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safe
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The empresses of the Mekhanites and the hall dedicated to preserving their legacy. . ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains themes of victim blaming and allusions to sexual violence. Additionally, it deals with themes of misogyny and sexism. This work depicts multiple men behaving negatively. For examples of positive male representation, refer to From Room 5: Bileath, the Wise Empress. See the author post for a full list of people who gave crit and feedback. Among them, I'd like to highlight the following people: PiNKpePpER (PiNKpePpER’s January Gallery 2024), for the art Rounderhouse (SCP-8003 — THE GEARS OF TIME), for the names, for help with Robert's section, and for writing Gold-Proposal more than two years ago Uncle Nicolini (SCP-8400 — The Birch Knight and the Game of Three Chestnuts), for seeing potential in my idea and critting me to the very end to ensure I brought the most out of it Strange Matter (SCP-8440 — Clear as White), because they were always ready to give input to my writing and think through revisions together with me FatScout and SomsnosaCalibration, for being with me since the conception of this idea and beyond posting ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} ⚠️Content Warning ↑ Item#: 8600 Level6 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures The most up-to-date coordinates of SCP-8600 are only known to Robert Bumaro1. He is to visit the building on a monthly basis to perform routine check-ups and maintenance. As SCP-8600 changes its location in unison with Amoni-Ram,2 and possesses identical entry requirements (the person intending to enter it must be familiar with its exact location), no additional containment procedures are necessary. Description SCP-8600 is a single-story building with anomalous internal dimensions, made of sandstone and fuladh.3 Both its interior and exterior resemble buildings found in Amoni-Ram in their use of ordered repetition, radiating structures, and rhythmic patterns. An inscription in Mekhanite above the doorway reads "The Hall of the Empresses". SCP-8600 comprises 10 rooms, each corresponding to a generation of the Bumaro dynasty. Each of them documents the life of the dynastic empress through plaques and murals, and is otherwise empty. Of note is that neither the number of rooms, nor height of their walls correspond to the external dimensions of the building. The rooms are aligned in a circular pattern around the centerpiece of SCP-8600, a fountain with a sculpture featuring three persons: a masculine figure sitting on a throne and two feminine figures standing around it. One of them is standing behind the masculine figure, while the other one is sitting on the floor next to him, embracing his legs. The pedestal on which the statue stands contains the following text:4 The leadership of Amoni-Ram consists of three components, three harmonizing pieces acting as a whole: the Emperor and His Hammer, symbolizing the Mind; the Empress and Her Staff, symbolizing the Heart; and the General and Her Spear, symbolizing the Soul. The holy union of these three guarantees the survival of Amoni-Ram. For this reason, each one of them is given equal importance. Or so they say. Around the Empire, power skews heavily towards the Hammer. Its virtuous actions are well documented everywhere. The Spear was lucky to find a way to preserve its legacy as well, through the Hall of Spears.5 But once the last Mekhanite dies out, who will be there to remember the Staff? From Room 3: Shataash, the Descendant Empress Chapter 23: "The One Who Inherits the Voice" 16. And Emperor Hashir spoke unto the husband of his daughter, Astir, as such: 17. "Answer my question, Astir: who, in your mind, will inherit the Voice?" 18. And Astir answered as such: 19. "Shataash is the one who inherits the Voice, Emperor, as she is Your daughter." 20. And Hashir said nothing, but asked Astir again: 21. "Answer my question again, Astir. Which one of you two resembles the blessed Mekhane more closely: you, or my daughter?" 22. And Astir answered as such: 23. "Shataash is the one who resembles the blessed Mekhane." 24. He understood not why the Emperor was asking him these questions. 25. As Shataash was His daughter, and as she was the one who resembles the Goddess, it was as solid as fuladh that she was the one set to inherit the Voice. 26. And as if Hashir read the thoughts of the young man, He shook His head, and spoke unto him as such: 27. "Mekhane is our blessed Goddess, yet the Emperors wield Her as a tool. They forge Her fuladh and they borrow from Her voice. It has been decreed such ever since my father, the first Bumaro. And I have found his works to be good." 28. And he continued as such: 29. "My daughter bears resemblance to the image of Mekhane. The blessings of the Voice befalls on the Man. Whether he is a descendant or not, it matters not." 30. But Astir did not take a liking to these words. He understood not what significance did the words of the Emperor hold, and he understood not why Shataash cannot wield the Voice. 31. "Emperor, are you not suggesting in earnest that I wield my dear Shataash as a tool? And are you not suggesting her resemblance to Mekhane places her underneath me? Surely it must go the other way around?" 32. And the Emperor had enough of hearing the doubt in the voice of Astir. 33. "I am not suggesting. I am instructing. You question our ways. But that will not hold me back. I shall guide you to the Throne myself, and you will be overcome with understanding." 34. Hashir did as told, and once Astir seated himself, he presented him a cylinder. 35. "This contains the memories of my father. I shall hand them over to you. You shall do the rest." 36. As he inserted the cylinder into the Throne, Astir went silent. 37. And from the doorway, this all was observed by Shataash. 38. The words of her father, Emperor Hashir, cut her soul deeply. The power of the Voice mattered not to her, and yet she was wounded by his words. 39. She understood not why her father would present her as a tool to Astir. 40. She treated him as a peer, despite her being the Heiress, and him being a commoner. Surely, whatever her father presented to him will not sway him. 41. And when she entered the throne room, her voice was tearful. 42. "Father, you would betray me so? Do you love me not?" 43. And Hashir did not look in her direction, instead observing the Throne. 44. "I do, Shataash, it is known. I ensured a proper upbringing for you. I taught you knowledge only the Emperors possess. But the blessing of the Voice was never yours to bear." 45. And Astir sat in the throne, overcome with visions left to him by the first Bumaro. 46. "He will understand soon," Hashir proclaimed, and moved to leave the room. "And with that, I leave you two to your own." 47. And when he left through the side entrance, Astir has awakened. 48. Shataash wanted to turn around and run, but she was unable to, as she found the main entrance to be locked. 49. "Astir…" she spoke unto her husband, tearful, "you love me, do you not?" 50. "I do," came the answer of Astir, short and sharp, as the fuladh dagger. 51. And when he opened his eyes to gaze upon his wife, Shataash recognized a sense of distance and cold that was not present prior. 52. And she spoke unto him as such, hoping she would reach him: 53. "You are strong, Astir. And I love you. Please, give in not to what you saw. Our strength lays in our love." 54. And Astir answered as such: 55. "I am strong, Shataash, and you know that. But I have tasted what it feels to be in charge. To be the one who controls. The strength of spirit pales next to the strength offered by power." 56. "Astir," Shataash pleaded him as such, "please, resist." 57. "SILENCE," Astir commanded his wife. And as the Voice left his lips, he finally understood. 58. "So this is how it feels," he whispered, looking at her. "I understand now what your father meant when he told me this power was ours to bear." 59. And words left the lips of Shataash no longer, as if her very throat was sealed. And she looked at him with fear in her eyes, and began weeping silently. [The murals show the life of Empress Shataash, including moments such as meeting with Emperor Astir and their marriage ceremony. With the conclusion of the ceremony, the paint from the face of Shataash has been progressively wearing off more and more. Of note is that this type of damage is present on the majority of the other murals.] splay: no splay: no SCP-8600 always manifests adjacent to Amoni-Ram, regardless of where the city teleports. Its coordinates, which change upon each teleportation, can be found etched into one of the tunnels of the Undercity.6 While the purpose of SCP-8600 can be inferred from the inscriptions found inside it, information on who built SCP-8600 is currently unavailable. From Room 5: Bileath, the Wise Empress Section 6, Parable 1 of 12: "The Third Wisdom of Empress Bileath" And Ansool knew that the scholars would view the blueprints of his wife with great scrutiny, as the old traditions of Amoni-Ram were hard to reject. The scholars viewed many moves of Bileath with suspicion, despite knowing well that the very nature of their union went against the traditional union of Emperors and Empresses. As the Voice had no effect on her, Bileath gave herself to the Emperor by will, instead of by force. The Third Wisdom of Bileath laid in her vast and immeasurable knowledge in technology. As her husband required not for her to suppress her self in his service, she spent countless days and nights studying the scholarly texts of Amoni-Ram. She learned the most intricate ways of working fuladh, and she learned the ways of construction, design, and blueprinting. And when the scholars discovered faults within the efficiency of the transit system of the blessed Amoni-Ram, Ansool hesitated not to propose the blueprints of Bileath as a solution. And when the scholars scrutinized her blueprints, he offered them a test of wit and skills, as follows: "If you want a blueprint from the Emperor, I will provide you one. I will provide you my plan for fixing the transit system. And whether mine or the ones of the blessed Bileath will be more efficient, you shall be the judge of that." And Bileath minded not the concerns of the scholars, as she knew their minds were closed as a circuitry and their conviction in the old ways of the Bumaros was as solid as fuladh. Instead, she looked forward to the blueprints of her husband with awe and curiosity. If he surpassed her, she would have not minded it, for she knew in their test of wits, their chances were equal. When the day of testing came, the blueprints of Ansool were brought out first. The efficiency problems were still present, though not as strongly as with the current railway system. And then the blueprints of Bileath were tested. The scholars were shocked to find out that the past efficiency problems were minimized as to be nonexistent. And they begrudgingly gave in, and admitted that the blueprints of the Empress were of better quality. The skills of Bileath were put to test with great frequency, and with each test, she stood her ground. And in those in which she didn't, Ansool ensured to let the scholars know that one fault of the Empress undermined her skills not. "One faulty blueprint of Bileath is enough to make your faith in her waver, yet countless faulty blueprints by me were not enough to shake your faith in me. Look into yourself, your spirit, and ask: why must the Empress be perfect to prove her skills? Why do you demand a level of perfection from her you demand not even from the Emperor?" But once her son grew into power, he was swift to conceal the origin of all her blueprints, to attribute them to Ansool in her stead. His wife possessed no resistance to the Voice, therefore the desire to dominate, the one not present in his father, cropped up. He could not bear to see the success of his mother, as he feared it would plant the seed of dissent within the heart of his future wife. The spirit of Ansool refused to bear this. The accomplishments of Bileath were hers, not his. His memories resisted modifications, they resisted attempts to be erased. Even in death, he fought for her prowess. [The majority of the paintings show Empress Bileath sketching blueprints, attending meetings next to Emperor Ansool, leading the Golden Legion,7 and engaging in discussions with the advisors and the scholars of Amoni-Ram. Her room is the only one where the paint chipping damage has not been observed.] splay: no splay: no A stone plaque can be found next to the entrance from the inside of SCP-8600. The inscription on the plaque reads the following: To the shrine maiden reading this: Do not ponder my identity. Who I am is irrelevant. In my stead, I encourage you to think about the Empresses, exploited by their husbands ever since the Second Betrayal. Think of the shrine maidens who came before you. Of the ones who ensured the story of these women will live on, will not fade into oblivion. And spare a thought for the Generals — blindly devoted to the whims of the Emperor, without a chance of ever regaining themselves. I have appointed the first shrine maiden myself. And her duty was to choose a successor. As the maiden appointed by your predecessor, you will need to do nothing other than keeping the Hall clean. The rooms will appear on their own. The walls will paint themselves. However many Empresses there will be in the future, the Hall will accommodate for each and every single one of them. I gave myself up to ensure that. Only two people must know of the location of the Hall: you, and the maiden who will follow in your footsteps. As within careless hands, between careless lips, the Emperors will be sure to find out about this place. The theory that SCP-8600 automatically expands itself every time a new Empress takes the throne has been confirmed. See Update (1984.11.19.). From the personal notes of Robert Bumaro Note: SCP-8600 was originally catalogued as one of the items to be submitted into the Foundation database during the Amoni-Ram Initiative. As the Initiative has since been discontinued, Robert Bumaro chose to preserve this file on his person and established the Containment Procedures outlined at the beginning of the file. Looking at these rooms, it's not difficult to understand why this place was kept such a secret. I've sat in that Throne a thousand times. I've felt the centuries pass through me a thousand times. I have seen what my predecessors did, a thousand times. I understand that no Bumaro is without sin. I have never pretended to be clean, but I loathe to sit here and be made to justify myself. I am combating a threat humanity has not faced since the infancy of civilization. Measures had to be taken. I did what had to be done to ensure Amoni-Ram had its proper leadership in me. And in Hedvig, of course. After all, what is an empire without her empress? Nothing at all. For all their wisdom, the creator of this shrine did not foresee Amoni-Ram’s destruction. No one did. The activation of the Kiss was instantaneous; a bright flash of light, and the rumbling of mountains. When the dust settled, Amoni-Ram was not the shining metropolis, the Gate to the West. It was the mausoleum for a hundred thousand dead. I imagine the mistress of this shrine never even knew her death was at hand. But I will honor her. I will ensure her wishes are followed. Only one person will know of this place, of what it contains. Me. There will be no cleaners. There will be no shrine maidens. This place is a monument to the sins of my predecessors. A temple to the rot and rust in Amoni-Ram. Then let the rust devour the core. As long as the exterior remains smooth, burnished fuladh — no one will want to question anything. From Room 7: Asum, the Silent Empress Excerpt from Chapter 15: "That Which Remains Unpunished" Asum slept in the shed, her fleshcrafting skills suppressed by the charged fuladh suit covering her body. Rustayl looked at her from where he was standing, then turned to General Hutr. "My decision is final. I will be marrying her in your stead." Hutr stared at him in bewilderment, eyes going wide underneath her helmet. "Go ahead, take your rage out on her," he encouraged his General, nudging his head at the slumbering Asum. "This is what you want, is it not?" General Hutr clenched her fists, with her gaze planted firmly on the face of her Emperor. "I will take out my rage on you, Rustayl. I can see through you like through the stained glass windows of the Palace, as we have known each other since a very young age. You are trying to turn my passion for you into a perverse force against this innocent prisoner! You are trying to convince me that this is her fault instead of yours! That her mere existence pushed your hands onto her, instead of your own hubris and thirst for conquering." She raised her fist, and flung it against her Emperor. However, her strike was never fated to land. "GO AHEAD, TAKE YOUR RAGE OUT ON HER," he repeated his words unmoved by her incoming fist. "THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT. IS IT NOT?" The fist of Hutr froze midway in the air, then it slowly lowered to her side. "You are right, my liege. Please forgive me for my insolence." "I will not be forgiving you, and you know that. However, pay attention to my words: IT IS HER FAULT, BECAUSE HER VILLAGE WAS IN THE WAY OF MY PATH OF CONQUEST. IT IS HER FAULT, BECAUSE SHE WAS SLUMBERING IN HER HOUSE AS I PASSED BY. IT IS HER FAULT, BECAUSE SHE POSSESSES SUCH AN OTHERWORLDLY BEAUTY. I REALLY, TRULY HAVE NO SAY IN THIS, NO CONTROL OVER MYSELF. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY ACTIONS, UP TO AND INCLUDING MY DECISION TO MARRY HER IN YOUR STEAD, COMES FROM HER EFFECT ON ME." "Understandable. Please forgive me for doubting you. You speak true words, Emperor Rustayl. It is her fault, not yours." "Punish her in my stead. Punish her as you see fit. I give you full reign." He stepped back and turned to Asum, waiting in delight for the scene that was to unfold as Hutr moved towards her. And just as he anticipated, the violence did not make him wait. Upon reaching the slumbering woman, his General yanked her up by the hair, roughly and without mercy. "What did I do to hurt you?" Asum asked in tears, when she woke up from the pain on her scalp. "You stole my husband from me," Hutr responded in Adytite. "I did not. I did not want to take part in any of this… please, understand." "Silence!" Without giving her a chance to respond, Hutr kicked Asum in the chest. The kick sent the woman flying with its sheer strength, making her hit the wall on the other side of the shed. Seeing her go limp from the sudden impact, a tyrannical glee has overcome Emperor Rustayl. [The murals of Room 7 show the razing of Asum's village by the Mekhanite army and her kidnapping by Emperor Rustayl. Several paintings are dedicated to the process of replacement of her body with fuladh components. Additionally, items worn by her are examples of the suppression technologies utilized by the ancient Mekhanites to prevent the Nälkäns and the Daevites from using their thaumaturgical skills. Following her kidnapping by Emperor Rustayl, the face of Empress Asum has been depicted featureless on every subsequent mural.] splay: no splay: no From Room 9: Fithma, the Last Empress Book 31, Song 43: "A test of convictions" And Shabril sat on the fuladh throne, Deep in thought. For he knew not what to do. Every bit of support was needed, With the forces of the Covenant and the Nälkä, But he knew not whether to send His wife, Fithma, into the battle To aid the rescue of his people. "We already have our one woman, Shahansha, On the frontlines, no? My wife out there would Surely be too much." To which his advisor shook his head, and spoke: "Now is not the time, Surely you understand? I know through care you have ensured, And so did the Emperors before you, That no woman may go too high in the ranks Of the Golden Legion, Other than Shahansha herself, But I repeat myself: Now is not the time." But Shabril wanted not to send his wife out, Even with Amoni-Ram needing defense. "You have to understand, My wife was not made for battle, For she spent her life in the palace, Servicing me and the people. So surely, you do not expect me to Send her out into the danger, unprepared, And risk her life?" To which his advisor shook his head again, and spoke: "Your words are as two-toned As the gold and silver on your armor. For I know that the Empress Is as skilled at flying as the most skilled general. As were all the empresses before her, As long as they possessed wings, And you know that too. "And do not forget, Emperor, This is not the first time I heard you argue. Your concern for her life was nothing but A thought hastily amended to the end To move me. As a trick it could work, If you were talking with somebody, Who knew you not." And Shabril wanted not to give merit to such words, Yet he had to admit that his advisor was right. And still, he was not ready to give in. "Surely you understand, That the convictions of Mekhane Make it a necessity to keep Women down low, Unless making a statement, Do you not?" To which his advisor shook his head For the third time now, And spoke: "Who will there be there for you to Uphold your convictions to, If this city will be uprooted by the Covenant like an unwanted weed And excised by the Nälkä like an unwanted tumor? Save your people first, and only then Will you get to worry about Where Empress Fithma should and should not be. And forgive me for speaking as such, Emperor Shabril, But it appears to me you care not about convictions As much as you claim to. For if you did, you would not let me Stand here, and question your ways Without a due punishment." And Shabril hid his face Behind the back of his fuladh palm, And sighed, for the man was right. "You speak truth, my advisor, And I do not like that. But you would be right in that My citizens come first, convictions later. I am unable to believe I was So blinded by this," Gestured he at the throne, "To forget what we must do. Summon Fithma posthaste, And I will tell her what her job will be. And summon our shahansha too, for I have orders for her as well." [The paintings of the room for the most part depict scenes from the last battle for Amoni-Ram. Nälkän flesh beasts and Daevite sorcerers are shown fighting the Mekhanite soldiers. Empress Fithma is shown flying around the battleground, rescuing citizens and placing them near entrances into the Undercity. The murals end abruptly, leaving the lower half of the wall completely empty. The last paintings show a power surge washing over Amoni-Ram and citizens, as well as soldiers from all sides, dying from its impact.] splay: no splay: no Update (1984.11.19.) On the 19th of November, 1984, a 10th room appeared inside SCP-8600, dedicated to Dr. Nussbaum. Its manifestation happened following the conclusion of the marriage ceremony. From Room 10: Hedvig, the Golden Empress Inscription found above the entrance A new light shone upon Amoni-Ram With the arrival of the Mechanist and the Scholar. Empress Hedvig was soft, intelligent, She knew her craft well and knew her tools of trade. With their guiding hands, She unearthed the abandoned city While Emperor Robert breathed life into it. However, as his predecessors, Robert was unable to resist the calling of the Voice. All he showed was stubborn denial, While his mind was already set. So he did not hesitate to plunge his blade into his peer. An eye and a tooth for nothing. The cycle did not break with the new generation. The scholarly past has been left behind, In its stead she received her golden wings. Her intelligence and skills have been sanded off, Forced to take upon the role of the General and the Empress. Her agency outshone by her purpose, Was this a fair exchange? [The murals of the room are unfinished. Their focus is on the life of Saint Hedvig before the Amoni-Ram Initiative. The last paintings on the wall show the confrontation between her and Robert Bumaro, the battle for Amoni-Ram against the Foundation forces, and the marriage ceremony.] splay: no splay: no The room remained unfinished until 2006, following the conclusion of the Battle for Mamjul and Korar.8 After the forces retreated home without Saint Hedvig, the mural has been expanded with scenes of her wandering around in an unspecified desert, being guided by a spectral entity. Its centerpiece now shows her reaching up into the sky, with a translucent golden hand reaching down to her. Additionally, the following text appeared underneath the murals: With her body shattered, far away from Amoni-Ram, Weighed down by despair, by a sense of loss, Trying to find her own self, rebuild her soul. Through this, her voice finally returns. Guided by the spirits of the past, With her mind, at long last, clear. The cycle is bound to be broken. The current whereabouts of Saint Hedvig are, as of yet, unknown. Footnotes 1. Also known as Dr. Robert Silas Aram, former Foundation researcher. 2. Ancient Mekhanite city discovered by the Foundation in 1983. 3. A bronze-tinted alloy utilized by Amoni-Ram Mekhanites. 4. From here on out, every inscription has been translated from Mekhanite to English for ease of understanding. 5. Attempts to find this location are currently underway. 6. The state of disrepair the Undercity was left in led to the uncovering of said coordinates. They have since been re-concealed. 7. The designation given to the Mekhanite army of Amoni-Ram. 8. The twin cities of the Daeva, uncovered by the Foundation following the Amoni-Ram Initiative. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8600" by Miss Lapis, PiNKpePpER, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8600. 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: spaces.jpg License: CC BY 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Image is a composite that incorporates the following image: Filename: Dragonfish600.jpg Author: NASA/JPL-Caltech/Univ. of Toronto License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: Shataash.png Author: PiNKpePpER License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Filename: Bileath.png Author: PiNKpePpER License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Filename: Asum.png Author: PiNKpePpER License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Filename: Fithma.png Author: PiNKpePpER License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Filename: Hedvig_thumbnail.png Author: PiNKpePpER License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Image is a composite that incorporates the following image: Filename: Hedvig.png Author: PiNKpePpER License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
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SCP-8601
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keter
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Item#: 8601 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: critical link to memo 0°N 0°E - Null Island. Special Containment Procedures: Civilian flight traffic is currently forbidden per ICAO policy1 within 240 NM (444.48 km) of SCP-8601 and ship traffic within 60 NM (111.12 km) to prevent witnessing of manifestation events. Unauthorized intrusions are to be deterred by agents within the maritime and aviation oversight organizations in the Gulf of Guinea. Public information about SCP-8601 is limited to the existence of a single buoy. Monthly expeditions are to be launched from São Tomé to collect and distribute accumulated debris from SCP-8601, which is to be contained in the depths of the sea without further study. Foundation personnel2, vehicles, and testing equipment should not approach beyond a safe distance of 250 m to prevent additional intersection events. Appendix A lists cautionary periods during which testing shall cease, SCP-8601 shall be evacuated, and counter-tsunami measures shall be prepared. The High-Energy Anomalies Division shall inform MAD-level organizations of notable anomalous events, after which the public relations department and seismic monitoring organizations shall execute mass cover story PR-8601-2 ("earthquake"). Generally available and special purpose Foundation computer systems shall be improved to comply with the requirements in Appendix B insofar possible. SCP-8601-1 manifestation. Description: SCP-8601 (colloquially 'Null Island') is the anomalous appearance of random objects (SCP-8601-1 instances) in the sea at the crossing of the prime meridian and the equator at exactly 0°N 0°E 0m altitude. SCP-8601-1 instances manifest instantaneously3 at the average sea level4. The objects are very varied, ranging from junk to high-tech equipment, almost always completely malformed or destroyed by the simultaneous intersection with the atmosphere, ocean, and previous instances, with temperatures ranging from 98 °C to 677 °C in 95% of cases. Manifestation events are random with discernible patterns. Grouping the suspected national origins of SCP-8601-1 instances reveals 38% more objects manifest during the local working hours, and 58% less objects manifest during local weekends or local holidays. Appendix A lists rare occasions where large amounts of instances may manifest simultaneously, resulting in high-yield events. On an average day, 1012 manifestation events occur with an average total mass of 90 Mg. Further study of instances and locating their sources and displacement are forbidden per RCT-Δt policy. Selection of recovered SCP-8601-1 instances Date Object Notes 1970-09-17 Heineken bottle of beer Largely melted but the Dutch language label is partially legible. 1970-11-06 Refrigerator-Car Footage recovered from the sunken research vessel shows a refrigerator manifesting followed by a car manifesting 2 ms afterwards, the overlapping objects merging in a high-energy event which launched the object directly at the research vessel. Containment procedures revised accordingly. 1971-04-03 Iranian 1972 calendar Somewhat burnt. Note: Already available for purchase. 1972-01-05 Digital computer equipment Destroyed, with an unusually high transistor count. 1973-04-09 1972 Jeep CJ-5 258 Six 4-speed (man. 4) Crushed. Foundation serial numbers were recovered, corresponding to a missing vehicle. 1973-08-05 California vanity license plate 'NULL' Not issued. Unpaid parking tickets. 1974-05-05 1975 German Bundesliga Almanac Forgery. 1977-02-25 Kiev-class aircraft carrier Molten. CPSU and VMF liaisons state no such vessel is missing. 1977-06-22 10-story apartment complex Origin believed to be in Malaysia. 1978-03-02 SCP-████ [DATA EXPUNGED]. 1979-12-28 Corpse Incinerated. Believed to have Moldavian ancestry. Discovery: The Foundation satellite detected a 1.2 x 1014 J explosion on 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC in the Gulf of Guinea near 0°N 0°E. Analysis indicated the event was not due to a thermonuclear detonation. Neither POTUS nor GSCPSU accepted responsibility when questioned and the event was deemed anomalous. SCP-8601 was designated after observing several manifestation events. Foundation researchers discovered a large underwater deposit of destroyed materials and testing commenced. Addendum 1980-01-06: Foundation satellites detected a 9.3 x 1012 J explosion on 1980-01-06 00:00:00 UTC at SCP-8601. NATO and WTO were immediately informed. The research team was lost and the west African coast was wrecked by the subsequent tsunami. Mass cover story PR-8601-2 was instituted and the containment procedures adjusted accordingly. The debris at SCP-8601 was determined to be predominantly vehicular components. Addendum 1999-08-22: Testing had discontinued in favor of containment after years of predictable behavior and no explanation for the high-yield events. However, a 3.2 x 1013 J explosion occurred on 1999-08-21 23:59:47 UTC. Researchers noted the 1980-01-06 and 1999-08-22 events coincided with the Global Positioning System epochs, a new technology at the time, and the 1970-01-01 event also coincided with the epoch used by many operating systems. Addendum 2000-01-01: Explosions of magnitudes ranging from 7.6 x 1012 J to 1.6 x 1013 J began on 1999-12-31 12:00:00 UTC and repeating each hour / half hour / 15 minutes for another 24 hours, mostly matching the timezones currently in use. The special containment procedures were amended with the Appendix A cautionary periods. Addendum 2019-04-07: As predicted, a 4.2 x 1013 J explosion occurred along with the third GPS epoch on 2019-04-07 23:59:42 UTC and the countermeasures undertaken to avoid tsunami damage were successful. Addendum 2020-04-17: The following information was found in the archives of Her Majesty's Royal Foundation for the Study of Curiosities and Phantasmagoria: The Royal Foundation became aware of a new island at 0°N 0°E reported by returning explorers in early 1900, which they claimed did not exist in late 1899, from which they had recovered unusual materials. Researchers were sent to the island which they determined to be composed largely from destroyed metallic objects of unknown function. The research efforts were not prioritized due to the mundane nature and remote location of the anomaly. Researchers returned to the island in early 1902 but failed to locate it. Questioning of the locals on São Tomé revealed a very destructive tsunami on Friday, 13 December 1901 which was collaborated across the Gulf of Guinea. A tsunami was also reported on new year's eve 1900 when the island might have originally appeared. RCT-Δt NOTICE Further study of SCP-8601-1 instances is hereby restricted to RCT-Δt. Containment remains under of the purview of the High-Energy Anomalies Division. + RCT-Δt/2 CLEARANCE REQUIRED - RCT-Δt/2 CLEARANCE REQUIRED (excerpt from RCT-Δt - 101+t ‘Introductory Course‘) Although RCT-Δt has the authority and duty to prosecute further temporal pollution, SCP-8601 is essential to timesink calibration, e.g. the 1970 and 2038 events are the fastest way to precisely determine the timespace frame of reference. Fluctuations in high-yield SCP-8601 events are furthermore invaluable to promptly fingerprint timelines. RCT-Δt fully supports the proposed computer system requirements, but proposals for neutralization or full containment are denied due to SCP-8601's near-thaumiel status and well-known future behavior. Appendix A - Cautionary Periods: Time Rationale 2036-02-07 06:28:16 UTC Network Time Protocol overflow. 2038-01-19 03:14:08 UTC 31-bit overflow of seconds since 1970 (Year 2038 problem). 2038-11-21 00:00:19 TAI5 Third GPS week number rollover6. 2099-12-31 12:00:00 UTC Y2.1k problem. 2106-02-07 06:28:16 UTC 32-bit overflow of seconds since 1970 (Year 2106 problem). 9999-12-31 12:00:00 UTC Y10k problem. Appendix B - Computer System Requirements: The O5 council hereby mandates the immediate worldwide discontinuance of computer systems with 32-bit timekeeping, the use of full length years (not merely 2 or 4 digits), and the upgrade of all protocols and file formats to versions with 64-bit timestamps without overflow issues within the expected lifetime of the universe. No new epochs shall be adopted to prevent further high-yield events. Non-values shall be represented using explicit null/undefined/uninitialized values of a different type instead of zero or any particular value. Further humorous requests to redesignate the anomaly as SCP-000 will be categorically denied with prejudice and reprimanded as failing to learn the essential lessons of SCP-8601 to properly distinguish no value and zero. Footnotes 1. International Civil Aviation Organization. In accordance with GOC support for cover story PR-8601-1 ("poorly made navigation software, disputed airspace, and environmental concerns"). 2. If any. Remote control is now preferred to prevent loss of life. 3. Confirmed to be less than 0.70 µs. 4. 0.0034% of instances manifest at significantly different altitudes observed up to 9.4 km above the sea. 5. UTC time varies with leap seconds as to be decided by the International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service in Bulletin C. 6. Recurring 19.6 year cycle, partially delayed to 2137 with CNAV 157-year cycle. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8601" by sortie, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8601. 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-8601.png Author: Eric Gaba License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Africa_location_map.svg Derivative of: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Africa_location_map.svg Additional Notes: Modified for this article with SCP identifier added Filename: SCP-8601-manifestation.jpg Name: Reel Nauti Author: Coast Guard News License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/23412076@N06/3092490133
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SCP-8607
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esoteric-class
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Lucy is not allowed to exit the house under any circumstances. Lucy is to remain inside the house at all times. Lucy is not to leave the house. /* 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: "SCP Foundation"; color: black; } #header h2 span::before { content: "Secure, Contain, Protect"; color: black; } close Info X SCP-8607 — Pistanthrophobia: Lucy's House ◇ Day 26 of the 2024 SCP "Phobia" Anthology, by Uncannyon ◇ Content Warning: This article contains themes related to child abuse Item#: 8607 Level5 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: none Risk Class: none link to memo Special Containment Procedures Lucy lives in a big house on Maple Road. It is number fourteen (14). It has red brick walls and a brown tile roof and a great big chimney. The chimney doesn’t work because it has been blocked up at the bottom, but Lucy likes to draw it with puffs of smoke coming out anyway, like a house-shaped steam train. Lucy's House Lucy’s house has eleven (11) rooms spread out across two (2) floors. There is: Lucy’s bedroom, where Lucy sleeps and draws and reads and makes things sometimes; Daddy’s bedroom; the room that was the big spare room, and then became Mummy’s bedroom, and then became the big spare room again; the little spare room, where things get put when they don’t fit anywhere else; the upstairs bathroom; the downstairs bathroom, which is still called a bathroom even though it just has a toilet and doesn’t have a bath in it; the kitchen, where Daddy and Lucy eat; the dining room, where Daddy and Mummy and Lucy used to eat on special days, like Christmas or Lucy’s birthday; the living room, where the television is; the utility room, where the washing machine and the drying machine and the other machines are; the basement room, where Daddy goes to work now. Lucy is not allowed to go into the basement room anymore because it is distracting for Daddy and it is important that Daddy is not distracted. Lucy is not allowed into the big spare room anymore because it will give her bad memories and make her upset. Lucy is not allowed to exit the house under any circumstances. Lucy is to remain inside the house at all times. Lucy is not to leave the house. Lucy should never open any of the doors or windows. Lucy should not look outside any longer than is absolutely necessary. Lucy should not talk to strangers. Lucy should always listen carefully to Daddy and do what he says. Lucy should always follow all the instructions she is given as quickly as she can. Lucy should follow the rules even if she does not always understand them. Lucy must understand that they are to protect her. Lucy must trust Daddy. Lucy should always try to be polite and well behaved. Lucy should be considerate of others. Lucy should be respectful. Lucy must finish her supper before she is allowed to have any dessert. Lucy must complete all of her homework for the day before she is allowed to watch television. Lucy must forget the past before she can be content with the present. For her safety and convenience, Lucy will remain nine (9) years old. Description Lucy has long hair that is the colour of brown. Lucy, aged 9 and a half Lucy has nice eyes that are the colour of brown and green hazel. Lucy is one metre and twenty eight and a half centimetres tall. Three positive things Lucy thinks about herself are: she is good at helping people, she is well behaved in class, she can run really fast. In her free time, Lucy likes to: go swimming, draw things, watch TV, talk to friends, go to the park. Some of Lucy’s favourite things are: Ice cream, fluffy things, pencils, her friends, Mummy. Some things Lucy doesn’t like are: people who lie, people who make too much noise in class, not being able to sleep because of shouting, Mr Buttons. Lucy is proud of her work in: Art, Music, Maths, Personal Development. Lucy would like to improve her work in: Science, English, History. Lucy finds it easier to work when: people are quiet, when the teacher explains things clearly. Lucy finds it harder to work when: she is sat away from her friends, when she is too far away from the board, when she is traveling between houses and doesn’t have time to do her homework. In the future, Lucy would like to: look after animals or make art. Lucy has earned 39 gold stars so far this year. Lucy lives with her Mummy and Daddy. █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ Lucy’s Daddy is a scientist, which is a very impressive thing to be. Not the kind of scientist who can come to parents day and talk about their job but an extra special, extra secret kind of scientist. Lucy’s Daddy works for something called the Department of Abstraction, which is part of a very important organisation that helps people all over the world. Daddy is a doctor of applied theoretics, which is a field so special and important that most people don’t even know it exists. Daddy’s important job meant that he didn’t get to see Mummy or Lucy as much as he wanted to, and that sometimes when he did come home he was very tired and needed time by himself. Lucy’s Mummy couldn’t always understand that, even though Daddy only did the job because he loved Lucy and Mummy so very, very much. Lucy is very lucky to have a Daddy who works so hard to give her such a nice house and such nice things. Lucy should be very happy. Addendum Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Today, Lucy decides to wear the shoes with the purple rabbits on them. She was given the shoes when she was eight. They’re a little too small for her feet now and pinch at her toes, but Lucy likes rabbits. Daddy says the rabbits are actually more of a pink colour, but Lucy says they’re purple and Mummy agreed. Lucy’s favourite colour is purple. Lucy pulls open her curtains, because that is what you do in the morning even if there isn’t any point. The outside is still blank. The world looks like a piece of paper that somebody has scrunched into a ball and then tried to smooth out again. Lucy exits her room, walks down the stairs, and turns left into the kitchen. Daddy is already there. He is standing by the toaster. The toast has popped up, but it isn’t very toasted, so Daddy puts it down again. The table is set with butter and jam and marmalade and cereal and coffee and apple juice. Lucy: Where’s the milk? As soon as she has spoken, Lucy realises that she has asked what Daddy calls a Silly Question. Lucy expects to be told that it’s in the fridge and to get it herself. But Daddy doesn’t speak at first. He hunches silently over the toaster, watching the metal strips turn red. Daddy: We’re out of milk. Lucy: Oh. Lucy looks forlornly at her Lucky Loop cereal packet. The box boasts that each wheat hoop could be one of 8607 possible flavours. Lucy: No milk at all? Daddy: No. Lucy: When will we get more? Daddy is engrossed with the toaster. His finger hovers over the button to make it turn off. Daddy: I don’t think we’ll be getting any more. Lucy stares at him in confusion. Lucy: No more milk? Daddy: No. Lucy: Why? Daddy: Because things are difficult right now. Lucy: Why? Daddy: Because they are, Lulu. Lucy glowers and chews at her lip. Lucy does not like being called Lulu. Lucy’s Mommy never called her Lulu. Lucy: Whyyyyyyy? Daddy: Enough! There isn’t any milk, it doesn’t matter why. Lucy: But I need milk. Daddy: You don’t need milk. We’ve got lots of other things. Lucy: I don’t like other things! Daddy: We’ve got toast. Lucy: I hate toast! The toaster pops up. Daddy has forgotten to turn it off in time and the toast has burned. There is an ugly black patch in the middle of each piece. When toast got like that Mummy used to call it “charcoal”. Daddy makes a noise and thumps the counter top with his hand. Daddy: Damnit. Look, you can still eat the cereal. No milk isn’t going to make them taste any less of sugar and cardboard. Lucy: They’re icky dry. Daddy: Well maybe we could put some water on them. Lucy looks at Daddy as if he’s lost his mind. Lucy: Ewwwww. Daddy: Hey, better than apple juice, right? Daddy tries to crack a smile. Lucy doesn’t react. The smile withers. Daddy lifts the pieces of burned toast out of the toaster with his fingers and puts them onto his plate. Lucy sits down at the table. Lucy: I want to call Mummy. Daddy stiffens. Daddy: You can’t. The phone doesn’t work anymore. Lucy: But- Daddy: You can’t. And Mummy is gone. Daddy has explained this. Lucy: But what if I tried though? Daddy: For Christ’s sake Lucy, give it a rest. Everything outside is gone. Lucy: Maybe she could bring more milk? Daddy butters the toast so forcefully that it cracks in the middle, spraying black crunchy bits over the table. Daddy: There isn’t any more sodding milk, OK? It’s gone! It’s run out. But there are still lots and lots of things we do have that are just as good. So let’s stop worrying about the things we don’t have anymore and start appreciating what we we’ve still got, alright? Lucy stays silent. Lucy doesn’t like upsetting Daddy. It makes her feel like her stomach is being squeezed. But Lucy finds it hard to understand which things are going to make Daddy upset and which things won’t, so it is safer to not say anything at all. Lucy nods instead. Daddy: You’re going to have toast and marmalade. You like marmalade. Daddy stands up too fast and bumps into the underside of the table. It shudders and knocks his mug over, spilling coffee across the wood. Daddy: Fuck! Look at- God damn it. Lucy does not get up, but she pushes herself back into her chair as far as she can go. She imagines pushing so hard that she sinks into the wood. Daddy mops up the table with a blue cloth and then puts more bread in the toaster to make Lucy toast and marmalade. He makes it in silence, but the kind of silence that Lucy thinks means he’s still upset. He forgets to put on the butter first, and there is too much marmalade. Lucy is thirsty but does not ask if she can have a drink. The two eat without talking. Eventually, Lucy finishes her food and Daddy puts their plates into the sink. Daddy: Well, I should be getting some work done. What do you want to do? Lucy kicks her legs under the table. She would like to visit her friend Janey. She would like to go outside. She would like to talk to Mummy. Lucy: I want to watch TV. Daddy nods. Daddy: Alright honey, but you know the rules. Homework first. Daddy goes to the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen and takes a thick green book from a stack of other thick, colourful books. Daddy: Maths. It isn’t real homework. It wasn’t set by any of Lucy’s teacher’s at school. They’re study books that Mummy and Daddy bought, and most of them are too young for her now. Daddy puts the green book on the table in front of Lucy and opens it to a random page. It’s one that Lucy thinks she’s already done, but she doesn’t say anything. Daddy gets her a piece of squared paper and an unsharpened pencil. Daddy: There, you’re all ready. I’m going to be doing a bit of maths today too as it happens, so we’ll be in it together. You and me. Daddy seems to be waiting for a response, but Lucy can't think of anything to say. She puts a finger on the pencil and rolls it back and forth across the table top. It makes a clacking sound. Clack clack clack clack clack. Daddy: Alright, it's high time I got going. You be good, OK? Love you Lulu. Daddy kisses Lucy on the forehead. His stubble scratches at her bare skin and she twists her head back and forth to get away from it. Daddy goes down to the basement to work. There is a muffled humming sound as the door to the basement room opens. There is a loud click as a lock slides into place. Lucy picks up the pencil and begins to read. [ End Log ] Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Lucy quickly figures out the trick to the maths questions. The answers to each question are “8” and “6” and “0” and “7” repeated over and over again. Noticing this makes Lucy feel very clever, but she still solves all the questions properly anyway, just to be sure. Maths isn’t as much fun as when Mr Hunt used to mark her work. Daddy doesn’t put little ticks and crosses on her papers and he doesn’t give out smiley faces or stamps or gold stars. And Mr Hunt didn’t call her Lulu. Thinking about Mr Hunt makes Lucy think about Mummy again, and Janey and the park and the school and the swimming pool and absolutely everything, which she isn’t supposed to do. It will make her unhappy. When Lucy finishes her not-really-homework she does not go straight to the living room to watch television. Instead she goes and stands in front of the big glass sliding door that used to lead from the kitchen to the garden. It still does, sort of. But Lucy can’t see much of the garden anymore. Just a very few of the diamond shaped pieces of stone that make up the patio. And then nothing. Lucy stares out of the glass pane, which she is also not supposed to do. Something might look back in. Lucy is too young to know what television static looks like, but if she wasn’t then that’s how she would have described the colour outside. The world beyond Lucy’s house is covered in mist. Or something like mist. Or fog. Or even snow. But also not like any of those. It's thicker somehow. Gloopier. Greasier. Nastier. It’s like someone has filled the whole world up with water, like a giant aquarium, and then poured rotten clumpy milk into it. Huge clouds of white and grey silt drift slowly through the air, breaking apart and coalescing. It makes her feel uncomfortable to look at. But Lucy does look at it, because of the shadow. It’s on the edge of the lawn, or where the edge of the lawn had probably been. A patch of slightly thicker darkness where some object is standing, concealed from view but not completely hidden. It could be a bush, or the wheelbarrow, or one of Mummy’s big glazed pots where she used to put her favourite flowers and shrubs. Or it could be a monster. There are lots of monsters outside the house now, Daddy says. Living in the fog. Trying to get in. It’s one of the reasons that Lucy can’t go outside anymore. And Lucy has decided that the shadow on the lawn is Mr Buttons. Mr Buttons was the children’s entertainer who came to Lucy’s eighth birthday party. He had a white face and a big smile painted over his lips and bright red hair. Not red hair the way people normally have red hair, which in Lucy’s opinion is more a kind of coppery colour, but bright red like a car or a tomato or the fires of hell. Seeing Mr Buttons made Lucy scream so much that she had to go inside. She didn’t get to say goodbye to her friends or eat any of her cake until lots of pieces had already been cut out of it. Mr Buttons was supposed to leave after the party, but Lucy never saw him go. So Lucy decided that Mr Buttons had moved into the attic and was watching her at night through secret little holes in her ceiling. No matter how many times Lucy’s Mummy and Daddy took her up to the attic, Lucy could never be convinced that he was gone. The attic was full of piles of old boxes and suitcases and books. Mr Buttons could have been hiding anywhere. Even Lucy’s Mummy and Daddy must have been scared of Mr Buttons, because Lucy heard them arguing about him when they thought she was asleep. “Who else’s fault would it be? You were the one who invited him!” “And how the hell was I supposed to know what would happen? Am I meant to be fucking psychic now on top of everything else?” For a time, after he didn’t appear at her ninth birthday, Lucy had made the mistake of believing that Mr Buttons really had gone away for good. But now he was back. Waiting in the fog. Waiting for her. Lucy watches the shadow for a long, long time, resting her forehead against the glass. It doesn’t feel cold or hot. It doesn’t feel of anything. Eventually, Lucy decides that she has stared down Mr Buttons long enough. She has a nagging fear that as soon as she stops looking at the shadow then Mr Buttons will begin to move, but she cannot stay in the kitchen forever. So she goes to the sitting room and watches television. Lucy always sits on the left side of the sofa, next to the spot where Mummy used to sit. Daddy always sits in the arm chair. Lucy opens the television’s recordings menu. All of the channels are dead. She has asked Daddy for something new to watch a bunch of times, but Daddy has explained that there are no new things anymore. “Trust me Lucy. You should be grateful for what we’ve got.” Lucy finds it hard to be grateful. Lucy used to have all sorts of channels and shows and films to watch, and friends who could come over to watch them with, and the library, and the park, and trips to the supermarket, and the sky, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars. And Mummy. Lucy isn’t sure what she’s got to be grateful for now. Lucy puts on a show about gardening. It’s very boring and the presenter is old and talks too slowly, but there are pretty pictures of flowers and it’s a programme that Mummy used to watch when she was still here. Daddy hasn’t deleted it yet, maybe because there are so few things to look at. Lucy watches the gardening show for a period of time. Then, at 00:00, the recording stops abruptly right in the middle of the presenter explaining the correct way to deal with greenfly. Lucy is confused. She has watched this episode before, and knows that that this isn’t where it ends. She looks to see if she is sitting on the remote control, but it is by her side. The television switches back to terrestrial. It is set to channel 8607. The screen is showing an angry flickering pattern of lights, which Lucy knows from Personal Development could be very dangerous for someone with epilepsy and should come with a warning message. Unknown: Hello? There is a face behind the lights. It’s impossible to make out any of the features, but it’s definitely a face. Lucy does not move. Unknown: Hello? The voice is muffled, as if Lucy is listening to it from another room. Lucy tries to turn the television off with her remote, but it does not work. There is a nasty, bitter smell in the air, and there is something wrong with the television set. Whisps of white smoke are leaking out of the back of it as if something inside is on fire. Unknown: Hello there. Can you hear me? The smoke is getting thicker and darker and the flow is getting heavier. Lucy brings her right arm up to her mouth and bites at it nervously. She doesn’t know what to do. Lucy: Yes. Lucy thinks that she should probably get up and run away, but she’s too scared to move. The smoke is spreading out, climbing up to the ceiling and falling down to the floor. Unknown: Hey, are you Lucy Carmichael? The smoke is filling up the whole room now. Like a mist. Like a fog. Like something nastier. Lucy bites her hand. Lucy: I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers. The smoke is getting into Lucy’s mouth and nose and lungs. It smells of hospitals. Unknown: I’ve been looking for you a very long time Lucy. Do you think you could come a bit closer? The face moves nearer to the screen. It is white and grainy. Lucy begins to scream. Lucy: MR BUTTONS! DADDY! IT’S MR BUTTONS! [ End Log ] NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION In Lucy’s dream, she is yelling for her Daddy. She takes him by the hand and pulls him, half running half flying, to the kitchen and the big sliding glass door. “Look! Look!” she points triumphantly. The mist has fallen back and the garden is visible again. There is no shadow by the edge of the lawn, but there are hundreds and thousands of rabbits – 8607 of them – padding through the unmown grass, all moving north to south as if part of some great migration. Lucy presses her hand to the glass and feels warmth under her palm. “Look Daddy! It’s all getting better. It must be safe again. The monsters are gone.” “Oh Lucy.” Daddy has grown tall, terribly, terribly tall. So tall that the roof of the kitchen has had to disappear to fit him all in, and the space above them is black and empty. He looks down at her with so much disappointment that she could cry. “Oh Lucy, I thought you were mature enough to see by now. The rabbits aren’t purple.” — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Daddy has smashed up the television. It sits in the corner of the room, a rubble of glass and wires and plastics. Lucy is sitting on the sofa. Daddy comes back with a black bin liner and starts shovelling the pieces inside. Lucy’s eyes are shining. She kicks her legs, smacking her heels into the base of the sofa. Lucy: Daaaaddyyy, you broke the TV. Daddy: Jesus, Lucy, is that all you can think about right now? Lucy bites her fingers. Lucy: It was the TV! Lucy speaks as if that should explain everything. As if the sin of destroying a television were so obvious and so heretical that her Daddy could not possibly fail to comprehend it. Lucy: How will we watch TV? Daddy: We won’t. Daddy continues to toss fragments of the broken television set into the bag. Lucy’s upper lip is trembling. She is thinking of Mummy and the pretty flowers and the boring presenter she’ll never get to see again. Lucy: But that’s not fairrrr. Daddy hurls a fragment of metal at the floor and for the first time Lucy understands that Daddy is very, very angry. Lucy sometimes finds it difficult to know how other people are feeling. Ms Mills from school has a board of faces with different expressions, but none of them look like real faces, and none of them look like Daddy. Daddy: For fuck’s sake, it’s a sodding television! You didn’t lose a fucking limb! Lucy brings her knees up and wraps her arms around her legs. She squeezes them extra tight like she’s giving them a hug. Daddy: A god damn television. Honestly, you are such a spoiled little girl Lucy, you really are. And that's not because of me. Oh no. I didn’t do that to you. I’ve always stood on my own two feet. You know what the most important thing in life is? Resilience. Being able to keep going when things are difficult. And they don’t teach it any more. They don’t let you learn how to tough it out. How would it be if I curled up into a ball every time things got hard for me, huh? Who would look after you? Resilience. That’s why I was the one who stayed to look after you. That’s why you’re safe. You should remember that Lucy. Lucy does not understand what that means. She is focusing her gaze on the tops of her knees, pressing them together until they hurt. Daddy’s voice quietens. He crouches down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. Daddy: Maybe it’s for the best, you know? None of that stuff… I mean, it was just reminding you of things we don’t have any more. Things that make you sad. We both need to do a better job of forgetting about that stuff, OK? Lucy does not know how to reply to this. Forgetting things isn’t something you choose to do. It’s something your brain does when years and years and years have passed or when you don’t have enough space in your head or when something is really boring. It’s easy to forget homework or spellings or the dates on which things happened in history. It’s a lot harder to forget flowers. But Daddy is waiting for her to say something. Lucy does not like making Daddy upset. Lucy: Okay. Daddy: That's a good girl. Daddy ruffles Lucy’s hair in a way that Lucy hates almost as much as being called Lulu. Lucy does not like being touched, except when she wants to be. Daddy: We're in this together Lucy. No matter what. And I am always going to look after you. Daddy straightens up. Daddy: It's going to be fine, you'll see. Plenty of kids don't have a television. Most of them end up quite a bit smarter. Daddy goes back to throwing bits of the television into the bag, but they’re not making such a loud noise. Lucy peers at the wreckage, and thinks about how to ask the question she wants to ask without making Daddy shout at her. Lucy: Why did it have to get broken? Daddy: It wasn’t safe. Lucy: Why? Daddy: It just wasn’t. That is not an answer, but Lucy is careful not to say “Why?” again. She thinks for a moment. Lucy: Who was the person in the TV? Daddy: It doesn’t matter. Lucy: Why was it smoking? Daddy: You don’t need to worry about it. Lucy: Was Mr Buttons in the TV? Daddy: Don’t ask stupid questions. Lucy chews angrily on her lip. She doesn’t think it was a stupid question. She doesn’t understand what’s so stupid about it. Lucy: Why won’t you tell me? Daddy: You wouldn’t understand. The pieces flying into the bag are clanging more loudly again. Lucy: How can I understand if you don’t tell me? Daddy: Just trust me Lulu. Lucy: Don’t call me Lulu! Daddy’s lips thin. The pieces of television go bang!-bang!-bang! Daddy: I don’t know why you get so angry about that name, I really don’t. It makes everyone think you’re very childish. Lucy: I’m not angry! Daddy: You are. You're raising your voice and you're being stroppy. Lucy: I’m not! Lucy wants to cry. She feels silly and stupid and she isn’t sure why. Daddy nods, satisfied, and picks up the bin bag. Daddy: We don’t need a television. There are plenty of things we can do together as a family. [ End Log ] Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Daddy has given Lucy time to “Cool Off” which is an expression Lucy hates. When everything inside her feels like it’s fizzing and popping she doesn’t want to be cool, she wants to move and talk and be taken seriously. There are bite marks on her arms. Daddy is not going back to work today so that he can spend more time with Lucy. Daddy is going to help Lucy with Arts & Crafts. Lucy does not really need Daddy’s help with Arts & Crafts, but she does love to draw. Ms Mills from school had called her a “great artist in training” when Mummy and Daddy came in to see her, and it was the proudest Lucy had ever felt in her life. Ms Mills took her for Art and for Personal Development and was in charge of the Leg Up Club that Lucy went to before school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Lucy is in the kitchen. She gets her art folder from the cupboard. Lucy’s art folder is a red paper folder that Ms Mills gave her so she could carry her pictures to school and back. Lucy used to show all her pictures to Ms Mills, and tell her what was happening in them. Ms Mills always found them interesting and asked Lucy lots of questions. Lucy loved talking about her drawings. Lucy opens her art folder and starts going through the pages. There is a picture of a large rabbit. It is purple with blue eyes. There is a picture of Lucy, with Lucy’s friend Janey from school and Lucy’s friend Megan who Lucy met at the swimming pool. They haven’t met in person yet but Lucy thinks they would like each other a lot. There is a picture of a squirrel from the park. It is red. The park is only meant to have grey squirrels in but Lucy is sure that she saw a real red one once, just for a moment. Daddy said she couldn’t have. Mummy said that anything was possible and she wished that she had seen it too. There is a picture of Lucy’s house. Clouds of smoke are puffing out of the chimney. The house number is 8607, which is wrong. There is a picture that started off as a jellyfish but then became a space alien. It is purple. It is blasting green energy from its tendrils. It is surrounded by stars. There is a picture of a big yellow crescent moon with a smile. Lucy made the curve of the moon by drawing part of the way around a mug, which Ms Mills said was very smart thinking. There is a picture of Mr Buttons. He is very close, peering out of the page like he’s waiting to climb through. His face is whiter than the paper it’s drawn on. There is a picture of some flowers. Some are red and some are yellow and some are blue but most of them are purple. Lucy finally finds a bundle of blank pieces of paper and pulls them out. Daddy is making one of the paper puppets that Lucy got from the Leg Up Club. It has two arms and two legs and a body that have all already been cut out. It comes with some special twisty pins so you can put the limbs onto the body and have them move back and forth. Daddy: What do you think Lucy? Should I make this one you or me? Lucy furrows her brow gives the puppet her full attention. Art is very important. Lucy: Hmmmm. You. It looks more like you. Daddy smiles. Daddy: Alright, this one will be me. We can make one for you afterwards and then we can tell stories with them, how about that? Lucy nods enthusiastically. Lucy: You can stick their backs to a ruler or a pipe cleaner and then you can hold them behind a table so it looks like they're walking on it. Ms Mills had taught her that. She had a big stood-up rectangle that she called a "Paper Puppet Theatre". Daddy: Oh ho. You'll have to show me how to do it. Daddy is using some of Lucy’s pencils without asking. Ms Mills says that using someone else’s things without asking is very rude and if you do it people won’t want to be your friend. Lucy doesn’t really mind though. It’s nice to be doing art with someone again. It has been ███████████ since Lucy last had an art class. Lucy frowns, because something about that thought was wrong. She tries it again. It has been longer than Lucy can remember since Lucy last had an art class. That feels a little better. Lucy can’t remember just how long it’s been since she last had art with Ms Mills, but forgetting things when you’re away from school is easy. But… She frowns. The first time she tried to think back there had been something else there. A big icy block of nothingness, like a completely different memory altogether. Lucy tries to think about it some more but she can’t really remember what it was like, the same way you can go from remembering to forgetting a dream in the few seconds after you wake up. Lucy decides to stop thinking about it and pulls one of the pieces of paper towards her. Daddy is drawing a shirt onto his paper puppet. Lucy doesn’t know what she wants to draw. Normally she draws things that she’s seen recently, or places that she’s been, but there isn’t anything new in the house and there isn’t anywhere else to go. She tries to draw a butterfly but the wings on each side of it don’t match properly. She tries to draw a steam train but it doesn’t come our right and the wheels go all weird and small. She tries to draw a garden full of rabbits but for some reason it makes her feel sad. So Lucy decides to draw her family. She draws herself in the middle with Daddy on the left and Mummy on the right holding her hands. She gives Mummy a big purple smile and she gives Daddy a smaller red smile. She puts some big purple hearts floating around Mummy too. Daddy: Lucy… I told you not to do this again. Lucy flinches. Daddy is staring at her with one of the expressions that Lucy can’t read. His lips are a hard line. His voice is low and rough. Lucy tries to work what she has done. She hasn’t broken anything. She hasn’t made a mess. She hasn’t gotten colouring pen marks on the table. Lucy: What? Daddy: I told you, I don’t want pictures of her in this house! Lucy had forgotten. Lucy imagines herself shrinking slowly smaller and smaller until her head dips below the kitchen table where she can’t see Daddy’s face. Lucy: Why? Daddy: Because it’s my bloody house and I said so! Daddy reaches out and snatches the picture up from the table. Lucy tries to reach out and catch it but Daddy has already pulled it away. There is a horrible noise as Daddy rips a third of the picture off and crumples it up. Mummy’s arm is still there, holding Lucy’s hand, but everything else has gone. Lucy lets out a strangled scream. Her eyes are hot and full of tears. Lucy: My picture! My picture! You ruined itttt! Daddy opens his mouth, and then seems to sag and age before her eyes. His shoulders slump. Daddy: I’m- Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Lucy. It’s a really good picture. We’ll- I’m going to put it on the fridge, OK? Lucy is crying. Her picture is ruined. Her picture is ruined. Daddy sticks the remaining two thirds of the drawing to the front of the fridge with the special magnet, the rectangular one with the photograph of the lemurs. Daddy: Shh shh shh, it’s OK, it’s all OK. It looks lovely. Oh Lucy I’m sorry. Daddy didn’t mean to. It’s OK. It’s all OK. Lucy takes a deep noisy sniff. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are red and snot is dripping from one of her nostrils. Lucy: Why can’t I draw pictures of Mummy? Daddy clenches his teeth and then steadies himself. He takes a big sigh. Daddy: Because she’s gone, Lucy. Everything out there is gone. And it’s not going to come back. Daddy tries to place a hand on Lucy’s shoulder but she bristles and shakes until he takes it off. Daddy: It’s not healthy to obsess over her. It’s not good for you. All it does is make you feel sad. It’s better to just forget about how things used to be and think about we’ve got here now. You and me. Isn’t that enough? Lucy: No! Lucy stomps across the kitchen floor and snatches the lemur magnet from the fridge. Her torn drawing falls to the ground. The lemur magnet is special. Daddy had bought it for Lucy when they went to the zoo together. It was the first trip Lucy had been on without Mummy, and Lucy had been terribly grumpy the whole way through until they came to the lemur enclosure. The lemurs made funny faces and Lucy made funny faces back and then Daddy made the funniest faces of all and Lucy had laughed and laughed. It was like a magic spell had been broken and the rest of the day was quite nice, even when it rained. Lucy: If everything’s gone then the lemurs are gone too, so you can’t keep this! Lucy throws the magnet across the room towards the bin. It misses by a few inches and drops behind it. Daddy: Lucy! You pick that up right now! Lucy: No! I hate you I hate you I hate you! I hope Mr Buttons gets you! Lucy throws more fridge magnets at Daddy, numbers and letters and pictures. One catches him on the forehead. Lucy is shouting and screaming and crying. Daddy is shouting and screaming. It goes on for some time. At 00:00, Lucy is sent to her room. [ End Log ] NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION In Lucy’s dream, it is her Daddy, not her Mummy, who is reading her a bedtime story. He doesn’t know how to hold the book right, and bends the pages so far back that an ugly crease appears on the spine. Lucy wants to shout that he’s ruining it but she can’t move an inch, not even to open her mouth. The story is a lot like Rapunzel, only instead of an evil witch putting the princess in a tower it is a good and loving king who wants to protect her from all the evils of the world. “Everything is over now,” he tells her. “But you can be safe here forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever.” One day a handsome prince rides by and the princess calls out to him, begging to be saved. Only when she lets down her hair and the prince climbs up to the top of the tower the story goes all wrong. The prince’s ears are too long and his eyes are too sharp and he has too many teeth – 8607 of them! And he won’t stop laughing in a way that shows them all off. Lucy wants to tell Daddy that he’s getting mixed up with Little Red Riding Hood, and that Mummy would never make that mistake, but he just looks at her sadly. “████████████████████████████████████████████████,” he says. Lucy feels so cold and so very, very afraid. — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Lucy is woken by a horrible noise. She doesn’t know what the noise was, or exactly what it sounded like, but the echo of it is still in her ears and the little hairs on the back of her neck are standing on end. There is a heavy feeling at the bottom of her stomach, just like when she broke Mummy’s favourite mug. The noise came from below her, from the kitchen. Lucy told Daddy that she hated him. She scrambles out of bed. Lucy told Daddy that she hoped Mr Buttons would get him. She takes the stairs two at a time. Lucy told Daddy such horrible things. And now. And now. There is a shape lying on the floor of the kitchen. No, there is a person lying on the floor of the kitchen. No, there is a body lying on the floor of the kitchen. But it isn’t Daddy. Daddy is standing over the body, panting. There is a hammer in his right hand. The top of the hammer is red. Daddy looks tired and old. The body is perfectly still. Its head is angled away from the kitchen door so Lucy cannot see its face. It has messy brown hair with a dark puddle beneath it. Lucy: Who’s that? Daddy: Go back to your room, Lucy. Lucy: Are they dead? Daddy: Your room, Lucy. Lucy: Why- Daddy: GO TO YOUR ROOM, LUCY! RIGHT NOW! Daddy turns. The hammer is still in his hand. He waves it as he speaks. Lucy flees up the stairs as fast as her legs can carry her. Lucy enters her bedroom without closing the door and climbs trembling onto her bed. She sits cross legged right in the middle and drags the bed sheets over her upright body like a big hooded cloak. This is how Lucy sits when she is upset and wants to be seen, but does not want to be seen to want to be seen. Covering herself with the sheets make it clear that she doesn’t want to be seen by anyone, but sitting upright makes sure that she still can be. That is how Lucy sees it, in the secret, private depths of her soul. When Lucy lay down in bed to cry, no one would notice. But when she sat up in bed with the sheets over her head and the door open, then her Mummy would come in and be with her. She was always very quiet. Lucy wouldn’t notice her Mummy at all until she felt the familiar pressure of her weight as she sat on the bed beside her. Lucy wouldn’t say anything and for a while Mummy wouldn’t either. She would wait until her daughter was ready, and then a hand would slip under the bed sheets and take hold of Lucy’s. Big and hot and safe. The hand would give her a squeeze, and some of the sadness would pour out of her like water being wrung from a sponge. Only then, in her softest voice, would her Mummy ask what was wrong. Sometimes it would be people at school being mean or making up lies or making too much noise even when they knew it upset her. Sometimes it would be Daddy being rude or loud or not understanding something. And sometimes it wouldn’t be anything Lucy could understand or express. There would just be sadness and anger and frustration inside her and she wouldn’t know why or what to do with it. And Mummy would listen, and talk, and little by little she would pull Lucy out from under the sheets and Lucy would feel better, even by just a little bit. Lucy waits in the darkness, with tears drying on her cheeks. There is no pressure. There is no hand. Time goes by. Lucy does not know how much time because when the world ended all the clocks in the house were taken away and the sky doesn’t tell her anything anymore. Lucy: I’m sorry. Lucy is not sure who she is saying it to, or what she is saying sorry for. But everything has gone wrong that means that it’s probably her fault. Lucy: I’m sorry. She whispers it again and again and again. [ End Log ] Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] An undefined amount of time continues to pass. No one comes up to see her, so eventually Lucy goes down. She tiptoes along the corridor, peering ahead of her in case Daddy is there. She sits on the top step, and then pulls herself down so she’s sitting on the next step, and then the next, and then the next. No one comes to shout at her. Lucy stops on the last-but-one of the stairs, which puts her partly behind the big banister post at the bottom. She wraps her arms around it. The kitchen door is open, and the body on the floor is gone. Daddy is still there. There is a bucket and a mop and a row of the coloured bottles from under the sink that Lucy is not allowed to touch. The floor is wet. Daddy turns and sees her. His face is red and sweaty and shining. He gives her a strained smile. Daddy: Lucy. He crouches down and holds out his arms as if to give her a hug. Lucy doesn’t move. She squeezes the banister post tighter. Lucy: Were they dead? Daddy gets up again and lets his arms drop. His smile drops too. Daddy: Yes Lucy. They were dead. Lucy pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and bites at it because it gives her more time before she has to speak again. Lucy: Did you do it? Daddy is watching her intently. Lucy cannot read his expression. Daddy: Yes Lucy. I did it. To protect us. Lucy presses her nails into her elbows and pinches at the flesh. Lucy: Was it Mr Buttons? Daddy: No, it wasn’t that stupid- No. No, it wasn’t Mr Buttons. Lucy nods. This made sense. Mr Buttons didn’t have brown hair. And he probably couldn’t be killed. Lucy: Who was it? Daddy seems to think about this. Daddy: It was a monster. From outside. It wanted to hurt us. Lucy: It didn’t look like a monster. It looked like a person. Daddy: A lot of monsters look like people. Lucy presses her cheek harder into the banister, until only one eye is peeking around it. Lucy: Are you a monster? Daddy seems to slump without moving. His face greys. And then his lips twist. Daddy: Jesus Christ Lucy. Lucy shrinks back. She has said something wrong. Daddy: How the fuck can you sit there and ask me something like that? After everything I’ve- After everything! Daddy paces around the kitchen, turning left and right as if hunting for some imaginary audience. His eyes are wide. His breath is heavy. He gestures at the air. Daddy: Jesus Christ is that how she taught you to see me? Of course she did. Always! Always! She always wanted to turn you against me. She always wanted to undermine me. Daddy is shouting. His voice is loud and strained and strangely high, like something is squeezing his throat. Lucy lets go of the banister and tries to get up but Daddy shouts so loudly that her legs go out from under her and she lands on the step again with a bump. Daddy: No! I didn’t say you could leave! I am talking! I! Am! Talking! You are going to show me the respect I deserve as your father and listen to me! You are going to understand! Lucy’s body is shaking as if she’s cold, but she does not feel cold. She digs her fingers into the stair carpet, pushing her nails in as far as they will go. Daddy: All I ever- all I have ever done is work to make you both safe and comfortable and and and- and happy. Was that so wrong? I could have- I could have been like a thousand layabout fathers. I could have left you to fend for yourselves. But I worked. I worked hard. And she hated that. She hated it. She hated that I was someone important, that I was doing something worthwhile. She hated how much I made. She would have rather we were living off welfare cheques just so she could look down her nose at me. She was always desperate for something to be wrong. Always looking for excuses to put me down and make me suffer. Just look at what she did to you. Lucy is holding her breath. She does not know why she is holding her breath, only that she is afraid that if she breathes too loudly something bad will happen. Daddy: When you two were together it was like I wasn’t even there! Like you had some secret language I didn’t get to understand! When she came home you would always jump up and run to her and tell her things, and how many times did you bother coming to see me when I got home? How many times did you tell me anything about your day, or- or anything? Lucy bites her lower lip again. She has chewed at the skin until it’s thin and tender and when her teeth dig into it this time she can taste blood. She focuses on the taste. Daddy: Was that fair? Was that fair on me? Being cut out of your life? My own daughter? I was the one who made sure you could live here! I was the one who bought you toys and and games and sweets and you never ever ever showed me the kind of- of- of- Daddy shakes his hands like he’s trying to wring the word out of the air. He gives up. Daddy: - as you showed her. Never. Did she tell you to do that? Did you talk about it? Did she spend the days I was away lying about me? Daddy slams his fist onto the kitchen table making it jump and wobble. Lucy jerks like a shockwave has passed through her. Daddy: I did everything for you. For both of you. And nothing was ever enough to make you treat me the way you treated her. It was like you hated me. Like you were raised to hate me. Lucy is doing the thing where she takes in very short, very shallow breaths and then pushes them out again. It makes her head feel like it’s swimming. Daddy: Even after everything. She abandoned us Lucy! When things get difficult, when there are problems, some people care enough to want to work on those problems, and some people just give up. Because they don’t care. Because they never cared as much as I did. I was the one who wanted to work through things, for you! To give you a proper family. And she was the one who couldn’t be bothered, who destroyed everything we had for- for a few- Daddy fades into silence. A few moments of ragged breathing pass. And then he drives his fist into the wall, letting out a noise that is half a scream of pain and half a bellow of fury. Daddy: How is it fair!? How is it fair that I’m treated like some kind of monster? I was the one who fucking cared! I was the one who tried! I was the one who wanted to protect you! Do I ever get appreciated? Do I ever get a single thank you? Tears are running down Lucy’s cheeks. Her insides feel like they’re trying to squeeze themselves up into a ball. Her stomach hurts. Her head hurts. Her lip is bleeding. Lucy: I want… I want… I want to call Mummy. [DATA EXPUNGED] Lucy runs up the stairs on all fours, sobbing. She dives into her bedroom and slams the door. She buries herself in the bed. Daddy doesn’t follow her. [ End Log ] NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION In Lucy’s dream, something is very wrong indeed. She is running. In Lucy’s dream, her father is down on the lawn with his wallet, pressing brightly coloured bank notes into Mr Button’s hand. Mr Buttons looks up at her window and winks. His smile is too big for his face. In Lucy’s dream she hasn’t been to school in years and years. Ms Mills is sadly clearing out her class tray and throwing all of her pictures into the recycling. Lucy tries to shout and scream and beg her to stop but she is too far away to hear. In Lucy’s dream the prince is climbing the tower like an insect, his limbs stretching and twisting as he scampers up the stonework. He won’t stop laughing and pulling funny faces. In Lucy’s dream, she can’t stop running. In Lucy’s dream, this mist parts and the shadow on the lawn is Mummy. She has frozen to death all alone and her body is as cold and grey as a statue. In Lucy’s dream, the butterflies are angry at her for not drawing their wings right. They hurl themselves at her face while Daddy tries to swat at them with a hammer. Lucy tries to tell him that it’s not their fault, but when she starts to talk the butterflies swarm into her mouth. Daddy begins to take aim. In Lucy’s dream, Lucy’s house is in a snow globe. Mr Buttons shakes it, and all her friends “ooh” and “aah” as the mist swirls behind the glass. Mr Buttons shakes the globe so hard that the house itself breaks away and begins to dance through the air like just another snowflake, faster and faster. In Lucy’s dream, she has been running for as long as she can remember. In Lucy’s dream, her class has gone on a field trip to where Daddy works. Everyone else is nodding and taking notes on their clipboards as Daddy talk about his job but Lucy has not been paying attention and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. She wonders what an abstraction is, and for that matter what a department is, and finds that she has accidentally shouted the questions out loud. The rest of the class is laughing at her. Daddy looks so disappointed and so, so old. In Lucy’s dream she is trying to brush her teeth but they’re all falling out into the sink and getting washed down the plug hole. Mr Buttons calls down through the ceiling and tells her that he’ll replace them with some of his when she falls asleep. In Lucy’s dream, Lucy has broken Mummy’s favourite mug. Mummy leaves and never comes back. In Lucy’s dream, she has never been more tired in her life. In Lucy’s dream her rabbit shoes have teeth all around the openings, ready to bite down on her ankles. “You have to put them on, Lucy,” her Daddy tells her. “They’ll stop you wanting to walk outside.” In Lucy’s dream, Mr Buttons goes to the zoo. It is choked with fog but the animals are still there. Lucy screams that she is sorry, so sorry, but it doesn’t make a difference. Mr Buttons finds the lemurs, the exact ones from the picture, and smashes their skulls in with Daddy’s hammer. He throws the bodies behind the bin in the kitchen for Lucy to find the next day. In Lucy’s dream, Daddy is shooting rabbits through the window in the kitchen. “Not purple,” he says. “Still not purple.” In Lucy’s dream, there is a nasty smell like burned metal and hospitals. In Lucy’s dream, the television is leaking milk. Daddy is kicking it and throwing it around the room, trying to make it stop. “There isn’t any milk left,” he snaps. “We have to make do with what we have.” In Lucy’s dream, great holes thousands of miles wide open all across the face of the earth and belch out white smog. Lucy’s Mummy is falling and falling and falling. In Lucy’s dream, Lucy has fallen apart like a rag doll. Her limbs are in a big pile and Daddy is sewing her back together again. “I’m so sorry, oh I’m so sorry honey. I didn’t mean it. This will make you feel better. Trust me, darling. Trust me.” Lucy tries to tell him that his stitching is all wrong and that she wants the thread to be purple, but her mouth is just a line of sewn on buttons in the shape of a smile. In Lucy’s dream, Lucy is running but doesn’t think that she’s actually moving. There is nowhere to go. Nowhere at all. In Lucy’s dream she has tried to go through the door to her bedroom but instead it’s opened into the basement where she isn’t allowed to be. The room is full of █████████████. They’re cold and sharp and make Lucy’s head want to split open. Daddy is shouting at her to leave. Lucy tries to escape but the stairs grow longer and longer and longer until she can’t see the top. In Lucy’s dream, Mummy’s arm has been torn in half, right where Daddy ripped Lucy’s picture. Lucy is screaming and trying to let go but the bleeding stump of a hand is holding onto hers like a vice. Lucy says that she’s sorry over and over and over. In Lucy’s dream, the dead body on the kitchen floor wakes up. It drags itself slowly up the stairs and knocks on her bedroom door. “Are you Lucy?” it asks. “Are you Lucy Carmichael?” The handle turns. — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Lucy wakes up. There is an unfamiliar pressure on her bed. Daddy is sitting there. His body is pressing down on the lower half of her right leg. Daddy: You still awake honey? Daddy’s eyes are bloodshot. He smells nasty and acrid. Daddy: I’d do anything for you, you know that? You know that Lucy? For you. For both of you. Lucy tries to gently pull her leg free. It doesn’t move. Daddy doesn’t seem to notice. Daddy: You don’t have to worry ‘bout it, OK? OK Lucy? You don’t have to worry about it. About anything at all. I can keep it going, jus’ like this, long as we need. Long as we need. You and me, Lulu. Forever. Long as we need. His voice is slurred. Lucy’s leg is trapped fast. Daddy: You’re gonna be OK, Lucy. You’ll be OK. I love you, you know. Love you so much. You love me, Lucy? Lucy is holding the bed sheets over her mouth. She lowers them slowly. Lucy: You’re on my foot. Daddy stands up unsteadily. Daddy: Ah, shit. Sorry honey. Sorry Lulu. Lucy. Lucy Lucy Lucy. He stumbles slightly as he moves towards the door. Daddy: I’m going back. I’m- I’m doing it for you, Lucy. All for you. You’ll understand. You’re such a smart girl. Daddy’s so proud of you honey. Daddy treads on one of Lucy’s shoes as he leaves. One with purple rabbits. He staggers backwards, almost tripping, and then kicks it out of his way. It vanishes under the bed. Lucy doesn’t say anything. [ End Log ] Interview Log 8607-00-00/00/0000 Interviewee: Interviewer: [ Begin Log ] Today, Lucy just wears socks. Lucy pulls opens her curtains, because that is what you do in the morning even if there isn’t any point. The outside is still blank. The world looks like a whiteboard from school, one of the old ones that’s had years and years of pen marks not quite erased from it. Lucy exits her room, walks down the stairs, and turns left into the kitchen. Daddy is already there. He is siting at the table. He is wearing the same shirt as he wore yesterday, with the same stains. His plate has crumbs on it. The table is set with butter and jam and marmalade and cereal and coffee and apple juice. There are cans and glass bottles in the sink. There is no milk. Daddy: Morning honey. Lucy’s lip has healed but it still feels rough and swollen in her mouth. She sits at the table. Daddy: You sleep OK sweetie? Lucy’s cheek is still sore. She twists a flap of the tablecloth between her fingers. Daddy: I've got some plans for us today. Big plans. Daddy is getting up as he speaks. He feeds bread into the toaster. He has not looked Lucy in the eye. Daddy: You know what our problem is? We haven’t been doing enough together. I’ve been stuck downstairs so much, and you’ve been glued to that TV, and, you know, well, maybe all of this is just the spur we needed. We’ve got this whole house to have fun in, and I’ve got you, and you’ve got me. And that’s all we really need, right? Lucy waits silently, but it becomes clear that an answer is expected. She looks at the tablecloth and nods her head. A small twitch of emotion passes over Daddy’s face. Daddy: Look, Lucy- There is a knock at the front door. It's a loud, forceful, rapid knock, like the kind that the police make in television shows. Thump-thump-thump. There is perfect stillness. Daddy’s lips become pressed and thin. Lucy turns around in her chair. Daddy: Lucy, go to your room for me, OK? Lucy wants to see if the shadow is still on the lawn. Daddy: Right now. Lucy: But- The knock repeats itself. Thump-thump-thump. Daddy: Lucy. Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. Just go to your room for me. Please. Lucy slides her chair back. She leaves the kitchen. She climbs the stairs. Daddy is making his way to the basement, his feet hammering on the bare wood steps. Lucy hesitates. A part of her wants to hang her head down through the banister and see whatever is going to happen happen. But she thinks better of it. What if it is Mr Buttons? What if Daddy sees her? Lucy enters her bedroom and climbs back onto her bed. There is a third knock. It is slower, and quieter, and it comes from Lucy’s window. Unknown: Lucy? Lucy Carmichael? There is a shape in the mist outside. A hazy blotch of darkness. Lucy pulls the bed sheets up over her like a hooded cloak. Lucy: Go away. There is a brief pause. Unknown: Hey Lucy, do you think you could open the window for me so we can talk a little bit? It’s really important. The voice is feminine. It sounds gentle and precise, and reminds Lucy of some of her teachers at school. It does not sound like Mr Buttons at all. Unknown: I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time Lucy. Could I come in, just for a moment? The bright white outline of an object appears on Lucy’s window panes. It looks like a hand. It has five fingers. But monsters live in the mist. And monsters can look like people. Lucy: Why are you outside? There is another pause. Unknown: Well, I’ve been looking for you, Lucy. Which is not quite an answer to the question Lucy asked. Lucy decides to ignore this. Lucy: How come? Unknown: I’m part of group of people whose job it is to take care of people who need it. And right now my job is to look after you. This, of course, is something that a monster could easily say. Lucy: Like a policeman? Unknown: A little bit like that. Lucy: Do you have a badge? The voice hesitates for a moment. Unknown: I sure do. Do you want to see? If you open the window I can show it to you. Lucy thinks about this. Lucy’s school had had an assembly about policemen. It was apparently very important to do what they said. Lucy: I- There is a loud bang from downstairs. Lucy draws the bedsheets tighter around herself. Her cheek throbs. Lucy: Daddy says I’m not allowed to open any of the windows. There is a third, even longer silence. When the voice begins to speak again it is lower and even softer. Unknown: Lucy, I know things are probably really confusing at the moment. You have gone through so much, and you have been so brave, I wish I didn’t have to make things more difficult. But you need to trust me. Your father… he isn’t a safe person to be around right now. He’s… done something very bad. Lucy feels a knot of guilt clench in her stomach. Lucy: He killed someone. The voice sounds sad. Unknown: Yeah. He did. Lucy: Were they your friend? The voice lets out the very first syllable of a laugh followed by a sniff. Unknown: Yeah. Yeah, I think so. We worked together. He was a part of my team. Of the group I told you about. The Bread and Butterflies. His name was Matthew. He wanted to look after you too. Lucy’s guilt tightens. Her stomach aches. Lucy: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Unknown: Hey hey hey, it’s not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry about, OK? You didn’t do anything. It was his choice to come here the way he did. Matthew used to know your father pretty well. He thought they could… talk things out. Lucy fiddles with the clasps at the end of her duvet cover, snapping them open and snapping them closed again. Lucy: What’s your name? Unknown: Harmony. Lucy: That’s a nice name. Unknown: Thank you. I gave it to myself. Lucy looks at the handle on the window. It has a keyhole but the lock doesn’t work. There is another loud bang from downstairs. Unknown: Lucy, I’m so sorry, but we don’t have very long. Can you open the window for me? Please? Lucy chews at her lower lip. Lucy: I need to ask Daddy. Unknown: Lucy, your father has been lying to you. I’m sorry. I know it hurts to hear that. Your father… was very worried about not getting to see you as much. So he did something very silly and very selfish, and he hid you away where none of the people who loved you or cared about you could find you. Where your mother couldn’t find you. Lucy’s eyes widen. Lucy: You know Mummy? Unknown: Sort of. I’ve spoken to her about you. She misses you very, very much Lucy. Would you like to go see her? Lucy trembles. Lucy: Yes please. Unknown: I can take you to her. But I need you to trust me and open the window right now, OK? There are footsteps coming up the stairs. Lucy’s arm reaches out from the bundle of bedsheets. She fumbles with the handle. It turns. The window swings open. The mist licks at the space where the window pane had been but does not come in. Daddy: Lucy? Daddy has reached the doorway of Lucy’s room. He stares at the opening, at Lucy, at the pale shadow outside. His face twists. Daddy: GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER! GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER! Daddy is running towards her, but not fast enough. It’s as if he’s moving in slow motion. A hand slips under the bed sheets and takes hold of Lucy’s. It is as white as bone. As white as greasepaint. It gives her a squeeze like an iron vice, and pulls her out. Out of the sheets, out of the window, out of the house. There is a scream, long and horrible and full of anguish. It fades into the mist. [ End Log ] More From This Author More From This Author Uncannyon's Works SCPs SCP-8080 • SCP-6020 • SCP-4020 • SCP-7014 • SCP-5010 • Tales/GoI Formats Other Acrophobia Anthology 2024 Submechanophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8607" by Uncannyon, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8607. 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: Lucy_Self_Portrait.png Name: "Lucy Self Portrait" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this. Filename: Lucy_House.png Name: "Lucy House" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this. Filename: Lucy_Breakfast.png Name: "Lucy Breakfast" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this. Filename: Lucy_Television.png Name: "Lucy Television" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this. Filename: Lucy_Bedroom.png Name: "Lucy Bedroom" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this. Filename: Lucy_Snowglobe.png Name: "Lucy Snowglobe" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this. Filename: Lucy_Hand.png Name: "Lucy Hand" Author: Uncannyon License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Additional Notes: I made this.
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SCP-8619
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esoteric-class
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Below the Skin. ADULT CONTENT This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts. Explicit depiction of sexual acts. Features non-consensual sexual acts. Depiction of severe mistreatment of children Depiction of self-harm Depiction of suicide Depiction of torture A surgically removed appendix 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 Item #: SCP-8619 Special Containment Procedures: Due to its ubiquity within the human population, SCP-8619 has been adopted into the Normalcy Doctrine. The fabricated medical condition "Appendicitis" has been introduced into the popular and intellectual conscious through a high density misinformation campaign to allow for the below-veil elimination of active SCP-8619 instances during "Appendectomy" surgeries. All medical correspondence is to be monitored for potential active instances, utilizing Cover Story-3821-SMIW (“Inquiry by Public Health Officials") in tandem with discreet global MTF Phi-81 ("Non-Specific Colitis") deployments to dispose of hazardous biological material. Excised SCP-8619 Instance Description: SCP-8619 is the official designation for the vermiform appendix.1 Though all instances are considered anomalous, most will display no anomalous effects during their host's lifetime. The onset of anomalous activity within SCP-8619 instances, or "Appendicitis",2 denotes a sudden inflammation of the instance within the subject, and is most commonly indicated by a dull pain in the center of the subject's abdomen. As activity intensifies, additional effects may include further pain, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and constipation, which will each increase in severity over a 24-72 hour period without medical intervention.3 At any time, an inflamed SCP-8619 instance within a subject may initiate the following process. First, the subject will experience an unnaturally large release of endorphins into the body, leading to sudden pain relief, and the impression that the ailment has passed. This event indicates that the SCP-8619 instance has hijacked the subject's hormone system, and will subsequently regulate the subject's relevant hormonal levels to encourage high food consumption, lowered digestion, drowsiness, and bliss. Subjects will remain in this consumption-resting cycle until all accessible nourishment has been consumed, which in most cases, amounts to all food stored within their household. Once nourishment can no longer be located, the subject will experience a sudden onset of extreme lethargy and exhaustion, along with depressive mood cycles due to their overexerted hormonal glands. In this sedentary condition, adipose tissue growth is spurned by the SCP-8619 instance, causing growths of fat and muscle to seal all the subject's external orifices. Due to this high-metabolic event, the subject will cultivate a layer of dead tissue, oils, and hair that will encapsulate them, then solidify as layers of the substances build upon one another. These combined symptoms will cause most subjects to perish due to asphyxiation, their airways procedurally clogging as both clotting and shell development proceed.4 After approximately 2 weeks of sedentary growth, the SCP-8619 instance will begin to ooze digestive enzymes into the primed subject, pre-digesting first the contents of the chest cavity, progressing outward through the extremities, then stopping, unable to digest the shell. Once the process is complete, only the shell, protein soup, and SCP-8619 instance will remain. In the following months, the SCP-8619 instance will absorb its prepared nutrient solution as it develops a mass of tissue, filling the interior shell. Before early structures can form, however, instances will exhaust the totality of their nutrient solution supply. As a reserve fuel source, the instance will begin to re-digest the newly expressed tissues within its shell repeatedly, perpetuating a cycle of growth and digestion that leads to an accumulation of off-gas that will remain trapped within the shell. Eventually, extreme gas buildup will cause the shell to burst, scattering its mid-development internal elements around the surrounding area, and rendering the instance neutralized. No further stages have been observed at present.5 Test Record: SCP-8619 Incubation Proposal: An excised SCP-8619 instance at or near maximum inflammation is to be suspended in the center of a tank (1 x 1 x 1 meters) filled with nutrient solution that closely mimics that which would be produced by a wild instance pre-digesting a human being. As the instance consumes solution, additional solution is to be cycled through the tank with an external pump. Research staff are to observe the instance as it grows. Day 1 - Test initiated; no immediate activity. Day 2 - Digestive enzyme detected in solution; Instance confirmed viable. Day 14 - First signs of tissue growth expressed uniformly from central node. Solution cycling initiated. Day 23 - Observation personnel note a specific interest in the dorsal region of the instance, which while uniform texturally, appears to be bulging. Further growth has been deemed necessary to confirm organ formation. Additionally, unprecedented overall tissue growth has necessitated relocation to a backup tank (5 x 5 x 5 meters). Instance continues to grow without issue. Day 38 - All evidence of the instance's dorsal bulge growth has subsided, likely eliminating the possibility of advanced structure formation in that region at present. A new possible formation has been noted, marked by a radial bunching in the instance's midsection without a clear external stimulus. The instance continues to grow at an accelerating rate, rapidly exhausting initial nutrient solution stock. Additional reservoir of nutrient solution requested; Cleared. Day 48 - Equatorial bunching remains around instance, though tank crowding renders observations imprecise. Relocation to a larger tank has been deemed necessary to not impede the instance as it grows, and allow more precision in the location of structural elements for potential organs. No tank has been located on site or within accessible radius fitting requirements. Test projected to conclude without meaningful results. Requesting permission to exert extreme measures to advance test; Cleared. Day 51 - Backup tank breached by instance growth. Extreme protocols initiated; Testing sublevel evacuated then flooded with nutrient reservoir. Though previously observed bunching has not resulted in obvious organ function, unrestrained growth within widened environment appears to be split across the divided hemispheres, most demonstrably with the two primary tank breach points being located in the upper and lower hemisphere respectively, and further growth expanding from these nodes. Observational staff hypothesize these two growth centers will serve to host the primary functional organs for the fully developed instance. However, no signifiers of advanced structures have yet formed. Day 52 - Though observational capabilities are limited at this time, the extreme growth acceleration of the instance has been hypothesized to be analogous to early fetal growth patterns, and consequently, the emergence of advanced structures should be imminent. Approximately 60% of all provided nutrient solution has been consumed. Day 53 - During early morning hours, the instance exhibited a sudden burst of growth, rapidly consuming the remaining nutrient solution until it encompassed the totality of the sublevel. Following totality, nearly all observational faculties were lost, and subsequently breach door sensors soon began to warn of dangerous pressure levels within the sublevel. As caution against a breach, evacuation procedure was initiated, and the site entered a state of alarm. 5 minutes after the onset of alarm status, the sublevel breached, releasing a flood of still rapidly growing tissue throughout the site. Due to inexperience with evacuation protocol conditions, a number of personnel were caught by the instance, subsumed, and rapidly digested by subsurface enzymes.6 After 20 minutes, tissue growths were spotted emanating from numerous major Site exits. Further growth has been minimal. Initial post-evacuation observations note homogeneity in tissue matter at all external sample points, with no evidence of emergent advanced structures. Additional reservoir of nutrient solution requested; Denied. Continued testing terminated per Oversight Committee order. In anticipation of the instance initiating the self-digestive cycles seen in human-sized instances, a secure perimeter has been established around what used to be Site-619. The perimeter is to be manned by MTF Phi-81, who will monitor the instance's degradation and eventually clear all biohazardous materials. Day 56 - Phi-81 reports delays in instance removal due to immense heat in the entity's immediate vicinity. After employing an infrared device, a vibrant hotspot was found emanating from instance interior. Other attempted scans to identify the nature of the hotspot were inconclusive. Operatives expect to continue removal once heat subsides. Day 104 - Phi-81 reports decline in intensity of infrared signal. Surface heat remains too high for efficient disposal. Day 147 Infrared signal greatly diminished. Surface heat minimal; Disposal resumed. Day 198 - During a routine patrol of the rotting instance, a group of MTF Phi-81 agents identified a lesion in the instance's surface which had burst, revealing an interior passageway. After gaining clearance to enter from command, the group spent the latter half of the day charting the interior of the instance, noted as being comprised of thick walls of dry sinew with sparse empty pockets of foul gas surrounded by thin, waxy membranous flesh. This pattern remained consistent throughout the majority of the instance, the group was able to identify one unusually large pocket at the center of its area where an entity now classified as SCP-8619-Alpha was suspended. Day 302 - All remaining hazardous biological material cleared. SCP-8619-Alpha denotes an entity most closely comparable in form to a developing moth imago, though hundreds of times larger, and composed entirely of flesh genetically related to that of Homo Sapiens. SCP-8619-Alpha was already deceased upon discovery, being found in an emaciated and underdeveloped state that was rapidly degrading in a similar manner to the surrounding incubation instance. With this being true, in the initial report from MTF Phi-81 following the expedition, SCP-8619-Alpha was described as "absolutely beautiful". Conclusion: Though the attempt at incubating a viable SCP-8619 instance failed, SCP-8619-Alpha serves as undeniable proof of an Imago stage of human development. Addendum: Following the prior event, a request was pushed from research staff to rewrite containment protocol of SCP-8619 with respect to new findings. This request has been Denied, as under current circumstances, it is immeasurably unlikely that any human being will reach their full evolutionary potential in the wild. Footnotes 1. For further details on the above-veil functions of the organ, see attached reading materials. 2. Following a comprehensive study surveying incidences of "Appendicitis" within the population, approximately 5-9% of all instances have been hypothesized to be prone to activity. 3. The most common being "Appendectomies", or surgical removal of the instance from the subject. 4. Though in some rare cases, improperly sealed orifices have allowed for sustained life. 5. Update: See attached Test Record. 6. Additional nutrients provided to the instance in this fashion have been deemed insignificant regarding continued growth during event.
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SCP-8619
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uncontained
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Below the Skin. ADULT CONTENT This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts. Explicit depiction of sexual acts. Features non-consensual sexual acts. Depiction of severe mistreatment of children Depiction of self-harm Depiction of suicide Depiction of torture A surgically removed appendix 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 Item #: SCP-8619 Special Containment Procedures: Due to its ubiquity within the human population, SCP-8619 has been adopted into the Normalcy Doctrine. The fabricated medical condition "Appendicitis" has been introduced into the popular and intellectual conscious through a high density misinformation campaign to allow for the below-veil elimination of active SCP-8619 instances during "Appendectomy" surgeries. All medical correspondence is to be monitored for potential active instances, utilizing Cover Story-3821-SMIW (“Inquiry by Public Health Officials") in tandem with discreet global MTF Phi-81 ("Non-Specific Colitis") deployments to dispose of hazardous biological material. Excised SCP-8619 Instance Description: SCP-8619 is the official designation for the vermiform appendix.1 Though all instances are considered anomalous, most will display no anomalous effects during their host's lifetime. The onset of anomalous activity within SCP-8619 instances, or "Appendicitis",2 denotes a sudden inflammation of the instance within the subject, and is most commonly indicated by a dull pain in the center of the subject's abdomen. As activity intensifies, additional effects may include further pain, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and constipation, which will each increase in severity over a 24-72 hour period without medical intervention.3 At any time, an inflamed SCP-8619 instance within a subject may initiate the following process. First, the subject will experience an unnaturally large release of endorphins into the body, leading to sudden pain relief, and the impression that the ailment has passed. This event indicates that the SCP-8619 instance has hijacked the subject's hormone system, and will subsequently regulate the subject's relevant hormonal levels to encourage high food consumption, lowered digestion, drowsiness, and bliss. Subjects will remain in this consumption-resting cycle until all accessible nourishment has been consumed, which in most cases, amounts to all food stored within their household. Once nourishment can no longer be located, the subject will experience a sudden onset of extreme lethargy and exhaustion, along with depressive mood cycles due to their overexerted hormonal glands. In this sedentary condition, adipose tissue growth is spurned by the SCP-8619 instance, causing growths of fat and muscle to seal all the subject's external orifices. Due to this high-metabolic event, the subject will cultivate a layer of dead tissue, oils, and hair that will encapsulate them, then solidify as layers of the substances build upon one another. These combined symptoms will cause most subjects to perish due to asphyxiation, their airways procedurally clogging as both clotting and shell development proceed.4 After approximately 2 weeks of sedentary growth, the SCP-8619 instance will begin to ooze digestive enzymes into the primed subject, pre-digesting first the contents of the chest cavity, progressing outward through the extremities, then stopping, unable to digest the shell. Once the process is complete, only the shell, protein soup, and SCP-8619 instance will remain. In the following months, the SCP-8619 instance will absorb its prepared nutrient solution as it develops a mass of tissue, filling the interior shell. Before early structures can form, however, instances will exhaust the totality of their nutrient solution supply. As a reserve fuel source, the instance will begin to re-digest the newly expressed tissues within its shell repeatedly, perpetuating a cycle of growth and digestion that leads to an accumulation of off-gas that will remain trapped within the shell. Eventually, extreme gas buildup will cause the shell to burst, scattering its mid-development internal elements around the surrounding area, and rendering the instance neutralized. No further stages have been observed at present.5 Test Record: SCP-8619 Incubation Proposal: An excised SCP-8619 instance at or near maximum inflammation is to be suspended in the center of a tank (1 x 1 x 1 meters) filled with nutrient solution that closely mimics that which would be produced by a wild instance pre-digesting a human being. As the instance consumes solution, additional solution is to be cycled through the tank with an external pump. Research staff are to observe the instance as it grows. Day 1 - Test initiated; no immediate activity. Day 2 - Digestive enzyme detected in solution; Instance confirmed viable. Day 14 - First signs of tissue growth expressed uniformly from central node. Solution cycling initiated. Day 23 - Observation personnel note a specific interest in the dorsal region of the instance, which while uniform texturally, appears to be bulging. Further growth has been deemed necessary to confirm organ formation. Additionally, unprecedented overall tissue growth has necessitated relocation to a backup tank (5 x 5 x 5 meters). Instance continues to grow without issue. Day 38 - All evidence of the instance's dorsal bulge growth has subsided, likely eliminating the possibility of advanced structure formation in that region at present. A new possible formation has been noted, marked by a radial bunching in the instance's midsection without a clear external stimulus. The instance continues to grow at an accelerating rate, rapidly exhausting initial nutrient solution stock. Additional reservoir of nutrient solution requested; Cleared. Day 48 - Equatorial bunching remains around instance, though tank crowding renders observations imprecise. Relocation to a larger tank has been deemed necessary to not impede the instance as it grows, and allow more precision in the location of structural elements for potential organs. No tank has been located on site or within accessible radius fitting requirements. Test projected to conclude without meaningful results. Requesting permission to exert extreme measures to advance test; Cleared. Day 51 - Backup tank breached by instance growth. Extreme protocols initiated; Testing sublevel evacuated then flooded with nutrient reservoir. Though previously observed bunching has not resulted in obvious organ function, unrestrained growth within widened environment appears to be split across the divided hemispheres, most demonstrably with the two primary tank breach points being located in the upper and lower hemisphere respectively, and further growth expanding from these nodes. Observational staff hypothesize these two growth centers will serve to host the primary functional organs for the fully developed instance. However, no signifiers of advanced structures have yet formed. Day 52 - Though observational capabilities are limited at this time, the extreme growth acceleration of the instance has been hypothesized to be analogous to early fetal growth patterns, and consequently, the emergence of advanced structures should be imminent. Approximately 60% of all provided nutrient solution has been consumed. Day 53 - During early morning hours, the instance exhibited a sudden burst of growth, rapidly consuming the remaining nutrient solution until it encompassed the totality of the sublevel. Following totality, nearly all observational faculties were lost, and subsequently breach door sensors soon began to warn of dangerous pressure levels within the sublevel. As caution against a breach, evacuation procedure was initiated, and the site entered a state of alarm. 5 minutes after the onset of alarm status, the sublevel breached, releasing a flood of still rapidly growing tissue throughout the site. Due to inexperience with evacuation protocol conditions, a number of personnel were caught by the instance, subsumed, and rapidly digested by subsurface enzymes.6 After 20 minutes, tissue growths were spotted emanating from numerous major Site exits. Further growth has been minimal. Initial post-evacuation observations note homogeneity in tissue matter at all external sample points, with no evidence of emergent advanced structures. Additional reservoir of nutrient solution requested; Denied. Continued testing terminated per Oversight Committee order. In anticipation of the instance initiating the self-digestive cycles seen in human-sized instances, a secure perimeter has been established around what used to be Site-619. The perimeter is to be manned by MTF Phi-81, who will monitor the instance's degradation and eventually clear all biohazardous materials. Day 56 - Phi-81 reports delays in instance removal due to immense heat in the entity's immediate vicinity. After employing an infrared device, a vibrant hotspot was found emanating from instance interior. Other attempted scans to identify the nature of the hotspot were inconclusive. Operatives expect to continue removal once heat subsides. Day 104 - Phi-81 reports decline in intensity of infrared signal. Surface heat remains too high for efficient disposal. Day 147 Infrared signal greatly diminished. Surface heat minimal; Disposal resumed. Day 198 - During a routine patrol of the rotting instance, a group of MTF Phi-81 agents identified a lesion in the instance's surface which had burst, revealing an interior passageway. After gaining clearance to enter from command, the group spent the latter half of the day charting the interior of the instance, noted as being comprised of thick walls of dry sinew with sparse empty pockets of foul gas surrounded by thin, waxy membranous flesh. This pattern remained consistent throughout the majority of the instance, the group was able to identify one unusually large pocket at the center of its area where an entity now classified as SCP-8619-Alpha was suspended. Day 302 - All remaining hazardous biological material cleared. SCP-8619-Alpha denotes an entity most closely comparable in form to a developing moth imago, though hundreds of times larger, and composed entirely of flesh genetically related to that of Homo Sapiens. SCP-8619-Alpha was already deceased upon discovery, being found in an emaciated and underdeveloped state that was rapidly degrading in a similar manner to the surrounding incubation instance. With this being true, in the initial report from MTF Phi-81 following the expedition, SCP-8619-Alpha was described as "absolutely beautiful". Conclusion: Though the attempt at incubating a viable SCP-8619 instance failed, SCP-8619-Alpha serves as undeniable proof of an Imago stage of human development. Addendum: Following the prior event, a request was pushed from research staff to rewrite containment protocol of SCP-8619 with respect to new findings. This request has been Denied, as under current circumstances, it is immeasurably unlikely that any human being will reach their full evolutionary potential in the wild. Footnotes 1. For further details on the above-veil functions of the organ, see attached reading materials. 2. Following a comprehensive study surveying incidences of "Appendicitis" within the population, approximately 5-9% of all instances have been hypothesized to be prone to activity. 3. The most common being "Appendectomies", or surgical removal of the instance from the subject. 4. Though in some rare cases, improperly sealed orifices have allowed for sustained life. 5. Update: See attached Test Record. 6. Additional nutrients provided to the instance in this fashion have been deemed insignificant regarding continued growth during event.
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SCP-8623
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esoteric-class
|
Item #: 8623 Special Containment Procedures: Before further consultation of this file, personnel must be aware of the following. The sun will never set. This understanding serves as a baseline for both the containment and continued propagation of containment prophecy pertaining to SCP-8623. Furthermore, It is imperative that this tenet goes unquestioned in the mind and actions of operating containment staff. Understand that in a position of doubt or reason, acting personnel are expected to immediately consult and defer to SCP-8623 scholars for interpretative consultation, which may result in termination, relocation, or reorganization in extreme cases. With this gravity and consequence in mind, then, internalize the tenet and continue reading sequentially through Containment Axiomata I-III. Be aware that further reading of the grace texts is to your prevailing whim, or the whim of SCP-8623 scholars thus deferred.1 Containment Axiom I: Address the following underlying truth. The containment of SCP objects serves to preserve normalcy. Relish in the fact that you know this to be true, and continue emboldened by your righteousness. Containment Axiom II: Utilizing the central tenet beside the underlying truth, SCP-8623 scholars have extrapolated the following principle. SCP-8623 will never come to be. Understanding that SCP-8623 will never come to be makes evident that it has already been, otherwise we would not be aware of it. As such, SCP-8623's presence must be accepted as a part of baseline normalcy, as it already has been and never shall be again. Know that this is not your reality to confirm,2 instead cite the following image. Containment Axiom II. Agree that upon consultation, the following are evident. The sun will never set. SCP-8623 will never come to be. Axiom II embodies the two prior beliefs. Axiom II exists, and can be found in Site-357's reliquary. Axiom II is evidence of SCP-8623's containment. The being of Axiom II thusly consists of and reinforces baseline normalcy. State these resolutions immediately.3 Make concrete your highest of aims. To serve Axiom II is to serve normalcy. To find fruit in the whim of Axiom II is to prove normalcy. Your life is to be given in service of Axiom II. Your life lived under normalcy is gone. You have thusly been assigned to the Site-357 reliquary for observational, sub-scholarly, and admirable duties. Find solace in this, then continue. Containment Axiom III: Find that all hitherto stated has been wholly true, and relent. Repeat that which you know. Repeat once more, The sun shall never set. Understand now, It must be so. Rejoice. That Which Does Not Exist Cannot Harm You Extraneous Containment Axiom IV: It is to be restated that further indulgence in the scripture is to the will of the reader.4 Additionally, the presence of further material is not required or desired by SCP-8623 scholars. Nevertheless, it has been compelled to be and thrust into being. The following allowance has been given to those unwilling to accept the veracity of the triumvirate Axiomata: Description: SCP-8623 is self-evident. The following allowance has been given to those unwilling to face the truth of the-world-as-it-is-and-must-be: Incident 1: It is the opinion of SCP-8623-A scholars that the below hath occurred. The Sermon of Great Swans: On the dawn of the fateful day, the central Axiom was thus discovered rent into neigh uncountable pieces. The dutiful guards and scholars bowed upon her and wept. The world collapsed, and none remained. Still however, persistence claimed its ever-place in the nothing, and time which nigh stopped recalled that which occurred once before, and stepped forth into a great relapse into the depths of never-bending. It was not ceasing, there, the place that always-is and must-be, further and closer there to all central-things that dictate the-world-as-it-is-and-must-be. So still the heart beat on. Oh placid island. Oh river of steam. I ask, before we continue, that we pray to this moment together. Oh placid island Oh river of steam Oh glories mounted fore our time; Whence forth erupted Our legitimacy Our degeneracy Our divine; Now bless our permanence Once more nevermore Once more evermore Once more true. Amen. It was those days of waiting when we broadcast our failure to the greater council. Vivid memories of paper in chains and jewels falling from the sky upon all. Terrorsome skies, the boon of the infidels. Insulting our name as they feasted upon corpse-some fragments of glory; the shreds of the once central Axiom, lost to time. But he. Oh he, that stepped into the near-center-place was mighty and brought to light the truth of the prophecy we always knew to be real. It was so, the-world-as-it-was-and-ne're-will. Behold what he saw All land before lands All bountiful streams All sky over man; May all now be real And all real be ours; Amen. So thus appeared a man, and before him swam a goose. And as must, he spake to her, Great goose, how may'st we fight against the sunset? And fore replied, Poor lad, Swan I am named. What delusion hast caught you? And falling into the water, words made real, Great Swan, I beg of you! How may'st we fight against the sunset? And dancing in the water, graciously, Poor lad, Charles you are named. Dost thou not care for etiquette? And named, Charles sang, Great Swan, to whom I owe my name, how may'st we fight against the sunset? Thrice named, twice verily so, she was beckoned and birthed the words: The sun will never set. With those words he parted, Resplendent Axiom II. And he was naught And he was all oh witness to our Axiom; Where true it stood that world before worlds held birthright in eternity; Amen. Behold him now: Revised Containment Axiom III: Containment Axiom III. Agree that upon consultation, the following are evident. The sun will never set. The sun may never set. The sun can never set. The sun could never set. The sun would never set. The sun should never set. State these resolutions immediately, henceforth, and evermore. To all that will listen. To all that can hear. Repeat with me, We will not let the sun set. Amen. Footnotes 1. Assigned, compelled, or tacit. Extraneous actors may not be addressed. 2. It is not the realm of the uninformed to make such judgements. 3. Failure to do so will result in termination or tacit surrender of free time to scholarly consultation on the importance of reality affirming practices in the workplace. Additional efficacy surveys will be necessary. Further trepidation makes clear that life will not be kind to you, and that walls that sorely held your soul are due to collapse. 4. Or SCP-8623 scholars thus deferred, though no scholar in their right mind would recommend it. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8623" by IndustryStandard, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8623. 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 Name: Sun Through Tree I MET DP234289.jpg Author: Arthur Dove License: CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication (CC0 1.0 Universal) Source Link: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/488537 Filename: sunredux Name: Sun Through Tree II Author: Arthur Dove License: Public Domain Source Link: https://www.christies.com/lot/lot--6316188/ Filename: suntwiceredux Name: TQ3194 : Church Hill, Winchmore Hill, London N21 Author: Christine Matthews License: Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0) Source Link: https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/846324 Filename: goosenamedswan Name: ST2683 : Percoed Reen Author: Mike Kohnstamm License: Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic (CC BY-SA 2.0) Source Link: https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/1298794
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SCP-8630
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safe
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⏲ 3 minute read SCP-8630, being worn. Item Number: SCP-8630 Object Classification: Safe Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8630 is stored in a standard Anomalous Item Containment Unit at Site-02. Testing of the object requires approval from Site-02 administrative personnel and at least one Overseer sponsor. Overseers are not to be present during testing. SCP-8630's origins are to be obscured through the continued propagation of Operation 8630/1 ("Dazzling Rubies"). For more information, consult corresponding documentation. Description: SCP-8630 refers to a white, fingerless leather glove manufactured in 1962. In spite of its relatively early acquisition, it shows significant signs of wear for its age. The object displays abnormal Hume fluctuations consistent with most anomalous phenomena, though no other detectable aberrations. SCP-8630's anomalous properties activate while the glove is worn during a game of darts. When an individual attempts to throw a dart at a target using SCP-8630, the dart will always land directly on its target, regardless of the dart's initial momentum or the wielder's capabilities. This effect is often achieved through the occurrence of increasingly improbable events, corresponding inversely to the likelihood of the dart's initial conditions naturally allowing it to reach the target. The definition of a "dart game" for the purposes of activating SCP-8630 appears to be vague. Thus far, the following criteria have been contingent for the anomaly to occur: The object thrown with SCP-8630 must be a projectile used in a form of sport; The target must be an object within the wielder's line of sight; The wielder must consider the current circumstances to constitute a "dart game" in some regard. As long as these three conditions are fulfilled, the thrown object will always land on the designated target within approximately five seconds. See the SCP-8630 Testing Log for examples. After the projectile collides with its intended target, no further anomalous properties are discernible. + Restricted to 8630/Dazzling Rubies Clearance – Access Granted Discovery: SCP-8630 was discovered on the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository on November 22nd, 1963, alongside a Mannlicher-Carcano rifle, shortly after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Note that despite three gunshots being heard by witnesses, only one bullet casing was found in the sniper's nest. See Operation 8630/1 briefings for further details. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8630" by Yossipossi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8630. 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: 8630.jpg Name: White leather fingerless cycling glove Author: Lewis Ronald License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8642
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esoteric-class
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by TopHatBionicle You shuffle down a hallway that you didn’t know existed, looking for a department you’ve never heard of before. That’s not an unusual occurrence for auditors at the biggest site in the SCP Foundation; you’ve run all over the place tracking down the various expenses of this or that department, all in the name of keeping spending down and productivity up. Today was unusual, though, because you’re the third auditor to try and find this particular department. Your two predecessors are convinced that the department doesn’t exist, but the boss made it clear that failure wouldn’t be tolerated a third time. So here you are, clipboard in hand, running around like a chicken with no head, making wrong turn after wrong turn, hitting deadend after deadend… And then you find it. Two inconspicuous wooden doors at the very end of the most out-of-the-way hallway in the entire Foundation, one of which bears a small nameplate reading: The Department of Everyday Anomalies and Disinformation of Explained, Neutralized, and Decommissioned SCPs … which tells you absolutely nothing about what this department actually does. You’re pretty sure the Foundation doesn’t even decommission SCPs anymore. Below the nameplate is a sticky note with “Welcome to the Deadend!” scribbled on it. You take a deep breath, hoping that this is not, in fact, a deadend, and… You knock on the door. 0 You don’t knock on the door. Click here to jump to any page! Collapse Page List (0) Home Page (1) Don't Knock (2) Don't Knock 2 (3) Don't Knock 3 (4) Failure Ending (5) Knock (6) Ask Questions 1 (7) Ask Questions 2 (8) No Other Questions (9) Sit and Wait (10) Accept Coffee - Romance Ending (11) Decline Coffee - Long Wait (12) Investigate the papers (13) Ask Trio (14) Boring Ending (15) Ask about Reality Anchors (17) Investigate Double Doors (18) Dead Ending (19) Insist (20) Escape Double Doors (21) Comp1 (22) Comp2 (23) Loop1 (24) Loop2 (25) Loop3 (26) Meta Ending (27) Q1 (28) Q1.5 (29) Q2 (30) Q3 (31) Q4 (32) True Ending (33) Article (34) Investigate (35) Investigate Computer (36) Stay Standing Here (37) Not a Gamer (38) Epic Gamer Ending ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8642" by TopHatBionicle, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8642. 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: DEADEND (2) Author: TopHatBionicle License: Source Link: Additional Notes: Made using Lucidchart. Filename: DEADENDlogo Name: 104_sin_titulo_20240119011531 Author: Olympic Error License: Source Link: Additional Notes: Made for this SCP. Thank you, Olympic!
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SCP-8650
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safe
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+ CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; } @media (max-width: 707px) { div#extra-div-1 { top: 15px; } } body { background-image: linear-gradient( to bottom, #e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px, #e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%); background-repeat: no-repeat; } :root { --timeScale: 1.5; --timeDelay: 1.5s; --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem); --fnLinger: 1s; } #page-content hr { background-color: #000; } #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: #000 1px solid; } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: #000 1px solid; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } #side-bar { border-right: 1px solid #333; background: #DDD; } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } #top-bar div.open-menu a { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #side-bar:target { border: 1px black; box-shadow: none; } } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: transparent; background-color: #ffffff; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } .anchor { position: sticky; height:0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em !important; 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padding: 2vw; } Item#: SCP-8650 Level6 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: critical link to memo Special Containment Procedures: All copies of SCP-8650 are to be held within High-Yield Data Storage Facility 3 at Site-43. Due to the high amounts of classified information within, Foundation personnel with clearance level 6500-5 or higher who are exposed to SCP-8650 are to be subject to immediate administration of Class-A amnestics. MTF Lambda-11 is to observe all personnel involved in the discovery of SCP-8650 and their respective Sites for connections to Splinter Group 6500-1. Description: SCP-8650 refers to a two-part film, with a total combined runtime of 7:18:03, produced by Vikander-Kneed Technical Media. Branding for the film, titled SCP: Inevitable, indicates that it is part of the "SCP Cinematic Universe" or "SCPCU"; the Foundation has no record of this brand's existence. Broadly speaking, SCP-8650 recounts the events surrounding the neutralization of SCP-6500 by a combination of Foundation personnel operating on an international, and interdimensional, scale. Past VKTM productions have recruited actual Foundation personnel, or used simulacrum of said personnel, for use in their anomalies. However, several prominent actors and voice performers were cast in the film, and are listed in the end credits. With the exception of Ben Schwartz and Benedict Cumberbatch, who were both hired to read several lines of dialog for their respective roles without any context, and Steven Seagal, who claimed to remember being cast for the film in late 20211 no actors who were credited in SCP-8650 recall being involved with its production. Addendum 1: Discovery SCP-8650 was discovered after several members of Foundation personnel — Dr. Udo Okorie, Chief Delfina Ibanez, Dr. Katherine Sinclair, Dr. Montgomery Reynolds, Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Dr. Placeholder McDoctorate, and Dr. William Wallace Wettle — were abducted from their respective Sites for a seven-hour duration on the night of April 26th, 2024. All Foundation personnel were found back in their respective living quarters at approximately 3:20 PM EST on April 27th, 2024, all claiming to have no memory of what happened while they were abducted. Dr. Sinclair, Dr. Okorie, and Dr. Asheworth all independently surrendered DVD copies of SCP-8650 that they had been given by a VKTM representative; attempted acroamatic abatement of the items has resulted in equipment failure, and digital copies were found uploaded to the Foundation's servers, in a file marked 'DOOMSDAY :)'. Attached is an abridged log of recordings taken from monitoring equipment on Chief Ibanez and Dr. Asheworth's person. Begin Log Chief Ibanez is walking through Site-43's corridors alongside Dr. Okorie. They are both transporting Dr. Wettle to Site-43's infirmary on a gurney, with Okorie on the front. Chief Ibanez: I think that was a little too far this time. Dr. Okorie: I'm sure that Lillian didn't intend for him to eat that ghost pepper chip. Hey, Wettle, are you alive? Wettle groans loudly, clutching his head with his left hand, his stomach with his right. Dr. Okorie: He's responsive. Assuming the capsaicin didn't burn a hole through his stomach… Okorie stops in front of the door which leads to Site-43's Health & Pathology Department. She presses her badge against the reader; it is unresponsive. Dr. Okorie: Dammit. Fina, can I borrow yours? My aura might have fried my badge again. Chief Ibanez: Sure. Catch. Ibanez throws her badge to Okorie, who catches it; as she presses it against the scanner, Wettle abruptly sits upright. Dr. Wettle: Oh. For the love of god, do not open that door! Dr. Okorie: …Why not? Dr. Wettle: It's— it's some kind of ominous feeling. Something bad is behind there. Please, I know I… just listen to me. Okorie, d— Dr. Okorie: Wettle, you're delirious from the spice. We'll get you to the infirmary, hold on. The door opens. Dr. Okorie steps through, and finds herself in a circular room. Wettle and Ibanez follow, and Wettle groans audibly. Dr. Wettle: Yup! Of course it is. Dr. Okorie: …This… isn't H&P. A door opposite Ibanez's camera opens. Dr. Montgomery Reynolds and Dr. Katherine Sinclair enter, wearing formal clothing. Sinclair is laughing and holding a cocktail glass. Dr. Sinclair: What, are you in high school all of the sudden? Taking me into a closet, honestly… Dr. Reynolds: Just trying to make up for lost time. Reynolds embraces Sinclair, and then looks up to see Ibanez, Okorie, and Wettle. Dr. Reynolds: …Katherine, I don't think we're in Wisconsin anymore. Dr. Sinclair: Hmm? Dr. Sinclair looks at the assembled party, abruptly dropping her glass. Rather than shattering on impact, it falls through the floor. Dr. Okorie: Katherine. What are you— Dr. Sinclair: What are you— one second I'm at a function at Site-87 — containment procedure, long story — and the next I'm at 43? Dr. Wettle: Okay, more people. That's good, I think? Less of a chance they focus on you. I just hope this doesn't turn into Season Two… A third door opens. Dr. Placeholder McDoctorate steps through, holding a vanilla ice cream, and conversing with Dr. Daniel Asheworth. Dr. McDoctorate: …And then I said, 'no, dramatic irony is when you come home to a murder scene… and all your shirts are wrinkled!' Dr. Asheworth: …I'm afraid I don't understand. Dr. McDoctorate: Well, you see, it— Dr. Sinclair clears her throat. McDoctorate turns to face her. Dr. McDoctorate: Kat? Dr. Sinclair: Place? You're supposed to be in Esterberg until the start of May, I thought. Dr. Asheworth: We… were in Esterberg, until… oh, Sukinsynu. Spatial anomaly? Dr. Reynolds: Seems that way. But why… The floor abruptly falls away, and all personnel present are in freefall for approximately ten seconds, before their momentum is arrested and they land in front of an IMAX movie screen. All personnel are seated in leather recliner seats, with paper cups on their right side and buckets of popcorn on their left. Dr. Sinclair: …Monty, to your knowledge, has there been any odd activity at the movie theater in Sloth's Pit? Dr. Reynolds: Not since the Pit Sloth, but you can never be too prepared. I told Tristan that the department of cinematic studies was a good idea, but did he listen? Dr. Wettle: Don't worry, this isn't you. It's something worse. Dr. Asheworth: Oh, don't tell me— Rising up from a stage immediately in front of the screen, Marian 'Mari' MacPhaerson, Vice President of Public Relations at Vikander-Kneed Technical Media. She is wearing a grey pantsuit, with a dirty bandage covering her eyes. Both the bandage, and the shoulders of her pantsuit, are covered in bloodstains. All Foundation Personnel: Oh, son of a bitch! MacPhaerson: Welcome, welcome! Sorry to draw you away from any pertinent medical emergencies, luxury galas, or ice cream dates. Dr. McDoctorate: It wasn't— the hell do you want, you extradimensional executive? MacPhaerson: Ooh, alliterative, I like that. Can we use that in the sequel? Dr. Sinclair: Sequel? MacPhaerson: Ah, you aren't aware, then. I don't blame you, wouldn't do numbers in your world. Long story short? We here at Vikander-Kneed have decided to break into the long-standing reality that is the film business, and create our very-own cross-media franchise— the SCP Cinematic Universe! SCPCU for short. Dr. Wettle: Okay, so, I get why you dragged me into it. Expect it to happen every day before lunch at this point. But why everyone else? MacPhaerson: Well, we need a test audience for our newest film, and who better than the people the film is based on? Silence on the recording, and sounds of confusion. After about ten seconds, Sinclair swears loudly. Dr. Sinclair: You made a film based on 6500?! MacPhaerson: Well, no, that would be crude and insensitive to those who died during the Impasse. We made a film based on your attempts to stop it! It's got an extremely star-studded cast. Chief Ibanez: Hold on, we didn't sign any kind of— MacPhaerson: Someone needs to read their Goldbaker-Reinz plans more carefully. You sign away your likeness right on an annual basis, Delfina.2 Dr. McDoctorate: Question: did you learn nothing from Justice League? Starting a film franchise with a massive team-up movie— MacPhaerson: You think this is the first film? This is the culmination of over twelve years of work on our part! You should see what Bonnie Wright did as ██████ █████ in Black Autumn IV. Brings a tear to my eye. Dr. Reynolds: As who? MacPhaerson: Oh, long story. You got bottomless buckets of popcorn on one side, bottomless drinks on your right, and there are restrooms at the back of the auditorium. Buckle up, buttercups. This is going to be a great show. Any questions before we start the screening? Dr. Asheworth: …Please tell me that Whedon didn't direct this. MacPhaerson: What do we look like, Vought? We have some integrity, Daniel. We got James Gunn to fire off on this project— pun fully intended. Dr. Okorie: How long is this? MacPhaerson: Just over seven hours. It's a two-part film! Dr. Wettle: I'm not doing this. As far as I'm concerned, Mari, you and everyone involved in this can go and— Dr. McDoctorate: Bill. C'mon. We need to see what this says about… you know. That whole thing in the Mediterranean? Dr. Wettle: …Fine. You hear from Cat lately? Dr. McDoctorate: She's got a lead on something in the Darien Gap along with Wexley. Talk about it later. MacPhaerson: Excellent! Well, let's start the screening. We'll have a Q&A session a bit later. Dr. Reynolds: You do realize we're going to give this the full Gizmonic treatment, right? Dr. Asheworth: I'm sorry, Gizmonic? MacPhaerson: I wouldn't have it any other way. We even wrote a theme song for it just in case you went that route, but Fionn3 told us not to play it. That's for the comments section. Dr. Asheworth: Comments section? MacPhaerson sinks back into the stage. She turns towards Chief Ibanez's recording equipment as blood spurts out of the left side of her bandage, as if winking. A three-second countdown appears on the projector, before the film begins with a sweeping camera pan through, and over, the VKTM Logo as sweeping orchestral music plays, before the phrase: VKTM STUDIOS Presents appears on-screen. Dr. Okorie: I didn't expect you to be a Mystery Science Theater fan, Montgomery. Dr. Reynolds: I watched it in college, when it first aired. Dr. Okorie: Joel, or Mike? Dr. Reynolds: Jonah. Dr. Okorie: …You're trying to piss me off on purpose. Dr. Sinclair: Hush. The film opens on a beach, where Foundation cleanup crews are looking over black sludge. A member of Foundation personnel, played by George Clooney, is on screen. A nameplate on their hazmat suit reads "DR. BLANK". Dr. Wettle: They got Clooney to play Harry? Goddamn. RAISA Notice: For the sake of easier reading, the actors will be noted next to the names of the characters they play. Clooney looks at the pile of sludge and picks up a cigarette lying in it. A voice with a heavy Scottish accent speaks from off-screen. Scottish Voice: What do you make of it? Dr. Blank (Clooney): If I had to be honest, Allan? It looks like 2521— Clooney pauses and braces for an apparent impact. Dr. Blank (Clooney): Well, that confirms it. 2521 is neutralized. And looks like 4999 went with it. The camera turns to face Director Allan McInnis, played by David Tennant. Director McInnis (Tennant): That confirm your theory, then? Dr. Blank (Clooney): Not my theory. It's been sparking up chatter since last year. It's happening. The death of… magic. The Final Feast. The Impasse. Director McInnis (Tennant): Anything we can do? Dr. Blank (Clooney): Honestly, at this point? Anomalous activity has been on the decline for the better part of a century. What's happening now? It almost seems… The film smash-cuts to a title card: SCP: INEVITABLE Dr. Asheworth: At least the popcorn's decent. A title card reads SITE-43, over an image of a facility that superficially resembles the Site. It cuts to an interior shot, where several members of Foundation personnel are present; Taraji P. Henson plays Dr. Okorie, Zoe Saldana is Chief Ibanez, Steven Seagal is an unidentified member of personnel, Christina Hendricks is Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, Amy Adams is Dr. Sinclair, Keith David plays then-Researcher Reynolds, and Ernie Hudson is present as Dr. Obi Okorie. Dr. Sinclair: Okay, this definitely never happened. Dr. Reynolds: We did want to have a summit at 43 over it, but never got a chance to. Dr. McDoctorate: Probably for the sake of character economy. Dr. Wettle: Who the hell is Seagal meant to be? Man wouldn't allow his hair to be dyed grey in a million years… O. Okorie (Hudson): To say this is unprecedented is an understatement. Dr. Sinclair (Adams): There's precedent, Obi. Wettle's been itching to talk our ear off about it. Dr. Lillihammer (Hendricks): Can't believe the Wet Blanket has a history degree. Dr. Wettle (Seagal): Hey, I'm in replication studies, toots. And those who repeat history— All but Seagal, Groaning: Are doomed to learn it. Dr. Wettle: Are you fucking kidding?! I'm played by a washed-up action star turned obese sexual harasser?! MacPhaerson climbs into the chair next to Dr. Wettle and steals a handful of his popcorn. MacPhaerson: If it's any consolation, you were originally played by Kevin Spacey. Dr. Wettle: In what possible universe does that make me feel better?! MacPhaerson: Why do you keep asking those kinds of questions? Is it a control thing? Dr. Wettle (Seagal): …which will inevitably result in the Final Occult War. Reynolds (David): Heavy stuff. Katherine, your thoughts? Dr. Sinclair (Adams): There's protocols for this, I think. Chief Ibanez (Saldana): You're talking about the Sixth Sun crap? That's a myth. Dr. Sinclair (Adams): It's no myth. I helped review the procedures at the start of the decade. Dr. Okorie (Henson): I wrote some of the protocols for it back in 2003. Dr. Wettle: You dubbed him. I can tell he's drunk! MacPhaerson: Okay, yes, but he agreed to be dubbed. Dr. Reynolds: …Keith didn't want to wear dreads? MacPhaerson: He felt it was disrespectful. Dr. Reynolds: Put hours worth of effort into my hair every week. You couldn't have put a wig on him? Dr. Okorie: Excuse me, Mari, is it? What the hell is the accent that woman is trying to do? MacPhaerson: We tried to give her vocal coaching, we really did. You don't like it? Dr. Okorie: She sounds like she's trying to do an imitation of Alexia McIntosh's singing voice, for a non-musical role. It's not great! Dr. Daniel Asheworth, played by Henry Cavill, enters the room. Dr. Asheworth (Cavill): Good afternoon. Sorry I'm late. Had to oversee the commencement of a Sixth Sun operation. O. Okorie (Hudson): Dan! Good to see you. Have a seat. Dr. Sinclair (Adams): Pleasant flight, Dr. Asheworth? Dr. Asheworth (Cavill): Please. I took a Way. Only… method to travel by. Dr. Asheworth: I am not sure how I feel about Superman playing me. MacPhaerson: What about Geralt of Rivia? Dr. Asheworth: …Better, I'll admit. As long as he doesn't turn into Liam Hemsworth 90% of the way through the film. Dr. Okorie: I'm confused, who is this we're following? MacPhaerson: Oh, that's the man who stole the Moeuler Foci. Dr. Sinclair: Really. Heard he wasn't nearly this handsome. Dr. Asheworth: I am severely lost at this point. Not five minutes ago, Sinclair and Reynolds were making landfall back at Site-43. Dr. Wettle: Was Oswalt meant to be Deering? Odd choice, given his body type. Dr. Asheworth: The actress you've chosen to play Reynders has a downright uncanny resemblance, though. Not sure about her attempt at an accent, though. MacPhaerson: They, actually. But thank you for noticing! They're one of our patented Vikander-Kneed Pataparadoxical DoppelgangersTM. D-11424 (Diego Luna): Who… are you? 'Rot' (Guillermo del Toro): I am Rot. D-11424 backs away in shock. D-11424 (Luna): That answers surprisingly little. Dr. Sinclair: Have they— are we the first people to see this? MacPhaerson: We showed a Japanese dub to those who were involved in the Cleric's path. They liked it well enough. Dr. Wettle: She said, clearly lying. MacPhaerson: Hmm? Dr. Wettle: Nothing. Dialog's a little cheesy at times. MacPhaerson: It's taken largely verbatim from actual events! Dr. Wettle: …Largely? 'Rot' (del Toro): …with my essence in another's hands, I will not fade so easily. 'Rot' extends the Moelur Foci to D-1142. D-11424 (Luna): …I'm not touchin' that. 'Rot' (del Toro): I am Decay. I am that which breaks, I am that which tears asunder. I am the slow return of everything to nothing. I am Fester. I am Wither. I am Entropy. I am Death, and I am Dying. And you, Anthony, are taking the heart. Hesitantly, D-11424 takes the heart. The scene cuts to Japan, where a storyline with Kaito Eguichi (played by Tadanobu Asano) and Fumiko Tanaka (Kimiko Glen) is already in progress. It is late at night, and Eguchi is seen looking longingly at Tanaka as he stands guard over their camp. Dr. Asheworth: I do not approve of the romance subplot between them. MacPhaerson: Oh? How come? Dr. Asheworth: I had the privilege of interviewing Kaito after the Impasse ended. He barely knows Tanaka, and they're, at best, reluctant acquaintances almost three years later. Plus, the age differential between them… Dr. Sinclair is heard coughing uncomfortably. MacPhaerson: How many women has DiCaprio dated that are half his age? Dr. Sinclair: Talking of ages… Adams is almost a decade my elder, and Keith David is way older than Monty. Couldn't you have found someone closer to our actual— MacPhaerson: Age is just a number, and in Hollywood that number is very malleable. Chief Ibanez: Subtitles need to be bigger. My eyesight's not what it used to be. MacPhaerson: That can be fixed in post. Anyone here need an audio guide device? Dr. Wettle: Mari, as your husband, can I ask a question? MacPhaerson: Nope! But I can tell you that the answer is exactly what you think it is. Dr. Wettle: …I assume it's the post-credits scene? MacPhaerson: Of course! Dr. Wettle: That might not be a good idea to show people here. MacPhaerson: Eh, worst comes to worst, you get amnestics. Dr. Okorie: What are you and one of your wives babbling about over there, Wettle? Dr. Wettle sighs, opens the lid of his cup, and takes a deep drink. Dr. Wettle: You'll see. Wettle attempts to set his cup down. It spills, and several dozen liters of soda land on his pants, far more than what the cup can conceivably hold, before Wettle rights it with a sigh. Dr. Wettle: Fuck! …Bottomless. Heh. Dr. Sinclair: I have to know: how'd you manage to pull this off? MacPhaerson: Pull what off? Dr. Sinclair: That's clearly Benedict Cumberbatch! You have him voicing an SCP! That's a Veil breach! MacPhaerson: So the rest of the cast is fine, but you draw your line at Cumberbatch? Dr. Sinclair: Did you make this using generative AI? Deepfakes? What? MacPhaerson: AI? Do you really think that low of us? Please. That's actually him. All of the actors are the actual actors, just… not all of them are our actual actors, you get it? Besides, do you know how many people will read lines without any context for a big enough paycheck? How do you think we— I mean they got Christopher Lloyd in that awful Foodfight movie? Dr. Sinclair: …As much as I hate to admit it, that does make sense. SCP-1867 (Cumberbatch): But aye, the Coalition counts down to obsolescence. They seek control over the thaumic world, as if they could tame magic! You'd sooner tame a tarrasque than thaumics! Dr. Sinclair: Wait, did you just imply you're responsible for Foodfight? MacPhaerson: Animation isn't my department. But we may have had something to do with the original data for the film vanishing. Dr. Reynolds: …Why? MacPhaerson: Oh, we were trying to do this whole thing with testing if we could get engagement from internet reviewers before they disgraced themselves en masse. Dr. Asheworth: Okay, I just have one question: who is playing Bowe? Dr. Sinclair: That's what I'm dreading, frankly. Dr. Wettle: What the fuck was the name of this Bowe again? Prescott? Charlie? Dr. Reynolds: Martin, I think. Dr. McDoctorate: This bastard shot you both, nearly killed your unborn daughter, and you didn't learn his name? Dr. Reynolds: In fairness, we were actively trying to not die, Place. As Reynolds and King Delbáeth — played by Martin Freeman — are conversing, an actor is seen from the back, holding a component of SCP-6500. The camera pans around to the front, revealing Nicholas Cage, wearing standard Global Occult Coalition fatigues. Martin Bowe (Cage): All right, freaks, you got five seconds to drop whatever you're carrying, or I'm blowing this part of the Codex to fuckin' smithereens! MacPhaerson: That's our first F-Bomb in the SCPCU! I'm so proud. Dr. Reynolds: …How… I… what?! Dr. McDoctorate: Next time I see Sage, she owes me $50. I knew Cage was a parathreat, but she didn't believe me! Dr. Sinclair: You only bet her fifty?! Dr. McDoctorate: I go easy on her. She's got student loans to consider. Dr. Okorie: I just got an overwhelming sense of deja vu. MacPhaerson: Cage isn't anomalous. He just owes us a fuckton of money. We could get him to star in a snuff film if we wanted! But we have ethics, unlike some people here. Chief Ibanez: Wait, I thought that Cage owed a ton of money to the American tax service… MacPhaerson: Well, the three sequels to Raising Arizona we greenlit ended up not making a cent, so we had to keep his contract somewhere. Dr. Sinclair: Dr. Wettle? I am so sorry you have to put up with this on a regular basis. MacPhaerson: If you think that's bad, wait until you see what we're getting him for our four-month anniversary! Chief Ibanez: Isn't that in June? MacPhaerson: Exactly! Dr. Okorie: Can I at least be excused for this next part? MacPhaerson: What, you don't want to relive your trauma of being trapped in a hostile afterlife, separated from your future girlfriend? Dr. Reynolds: …Hold on, Udo. I thought you were seeing Dr. Astrauskas from ETTRA. Chief Ibanez: We both are. Dr. Reynolds: I need to talk to Bailey about the relationship declaration forms at 87 at some point. Chief Ibanez: Updating them? Dr. Sinclair: Hopefully more 'abolishing' them… Dr. Okorie stands and heads to the restroom at the rear of the auditorium as the projector displays the moments when, after the recovery of the Leading Edge, she is stuck in the dimension of Corbenic. Shortly after, the following scene occurs: Ibanez (Saldana) has the Leading Edge placed directly under Dr. McDoctorate's nose (played by American astronomer Clifford Stoll, as he appeared circa 1990) in a threatening gesture, after Dr. Okorie is seemingly sacrificed. Ibanez: (Saldana): It's not a fucking sacrifice. It's a sequel hook. Groaning is heard from all Foundation personnel, except Dr. McDoctorate and Chief Ibanez. Dr. Okorie returns to her seat as this scene occurs. Dr. Okorie: What are we groaning at? Dr. Wettle: VKTM added in the cheesiest line of dialog I've ever heard. Dr. Asheworth: Are you positive that Joss Whedon didn't work on this film? MacPhaerson: That's taken verbatim, actually. Dr. Sinclair: Bullshit! Dr. McDoctorate: She… did say that. As the film continues playing, transitioning to the Foundation Elimination Coalition invading Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin, all eyes turn to Chief Ibanez. Chief Ibanez: …Look. It was a long day, and between me losing Udo, facing off against that… thing and Place going on and on about pataphysics… it seemed the right thing to say! Dr. Sinclair: Hopefully your banter improves by the time you face down Crocker again. It's a vital survival skill in Sloth's Pit. Chief Ibanez: Can we just write that down as heat of the moment and move on? Dr. Wettle: How much longer is this? MacPhaerson: Oh, about twenty more minutes, counting the post-credits scene. Dr. McDoctorate: …You can't let them sit through that. MacPhaerson: What, are you going to quote some metafictional bullhonkey as to why I can't? Dr. McDoctorate 'Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead'. MacPhaerson: Oh sweetie, Threshold's not a secret. You're just ineffective. Dr. McDoctorate: How do you— Dr. Sinclair: What are you on about? Dr. Wettle: You'll see. Wait for the end credits scene. MacPhaerson: Technically it's mid-credits. Those get way more engagement in the current environment. The credits begin to play. In Order Of Appearance: George Clooney as Dr. Harry Blank David Tennant as Director Allan McInnis Taraji P. Henson as Dr. Udo Okorie Zoe Saldana as Chief Delfina Ibanez Steven Seagal as Dr. William Wallace Wettle Christina Hendricks as Dr. Lillian Lillihammer Amy Adams as Dr. Katherine Jean Sinclair Keith David as Dr. Montgomery Reynolds4 Ernie Hudson as Dr. Obi Okorie Tom Holland as Agent Robert J. Tofflemire Patton Oswalt as Phil Deering / SCP-5056 Diego Luna as D-11424/Tony Marquez Jeremy Renner as Dr. Logan Arceo Tadanobu Asano as Kaito Eguchi Kimiko Glen as Fumiko Tanaka Clifford Stoll5 as Dr. Placeholder McDoctorate Charlize Theron as Agent Seren Pryce Henry Cavill as Dr. Daniel Asheworth Michał Żebrowski as Dr. Asheworth (Polish Speaking Voice) Kelly Marie Tran as the voice of Dr. Athenodora Cat Doug Jones as Agent Jacob Wexley Diego Luna as Agent Daniel Navarro Alicia Vikander as Dr. Lara Cruz Phoebe Waller-Bridge as Dr. Lea Zer6 Mason Alexander Park as Dr. Justine Everwood Scarlett Johansson as the motion capture model for SCP-179. Orlando Jones as "Aunt Nancy" Benedict Q. Cumberbatch7 as the voice of SCP-1867. Martin Freeman as King Delbáeth of Hy-Brasil Ben Schwartz as the voice of the "ROUNDERPEDE" Trace Lysette as Faeowynn Wilson Willem DaFoe as the voice of SCP-035 Dr. Wettle is heard groaning. Chief Ibanez turns her camera to face him. He is clutching his forehead. Chief Ibanez: Hey. Seagal might not have been the best choice, but… he could've done a lot worse! Right? Dr. Wettle: Why are you being nice to me? Chief Ibanez: …Okay, I'll be honest. Seagal was the worst possible choice to play you and I'm showing some sympathy. Dr. Wettle: Oh. Thank you? Dr. Sinclair: Here comes the lauded mid-credits scene. Let's see how bad this— what the fuck? The video quality of this portion appears as if it was shot on a hand-held camera, a notable downgrade from the rest of the picture. It shows the interior of the O5 Council's chambers at Site-[REDACTED], and depicts all of the O5s present as themselves. O5-0 is visible in a platform at the center. Dr. Reynolds: What is this? MacPhaerson: Pla— Temporary footage. Dr. Wettle: …That's O5-4… Dr. Okorie: How on Earth do you of all people know what O5-4 looks like? Dr. McDoctorate: It… it is. Trust us on this. Dr. Sinclair: No, that… that figure in the center. It matches depictions of Norris Arklay. One of the possible identities of O5-0. Dr. Okorie: That looks a lot like Nur, honestly… what the Hell is happening? O5-0: The Foundation is the cause. The sole cause. Every time you lock up an anomaly, every time you conduct a test or publish a document — steal the Natural elements and apply your artificial understandings and definitions — you choke magic out of reality. O5-0 sighs and relaxes their restraints. A Foundation that secures and contains is incompatible with the anomalous. Prolonged silence on the recording, other than the film playing. Dr. Sinclair takes in a horrified gasp. Dr. Asheworth: …What kind of sick joke is VKTM playing here? I thought— if this is supposed to make some kind of point about the Truth, or about how the Foundation is evil, we get it. But it… this isn't — this can't — O5-0: Humanity existed long before the Foundation. You tell yourselves that you're preventing countless untold apocalypses and raptures, but you're preventing change. You prevent the entropic effects of the Natural world on the artificial and, in so doing, cause the accelerated entropy of the Natural. Dr. Wettle: It's true. Chief Ibanez: Dr. Wettle, I recognize you're a pessimist, but how can you possibly know that any of this actually happened? Dr. McDoctorate: Okay, you remember a few years back, how our thylacine cloning initiative to contain SCP-12987 and a few other things got leaked, and nobody could figure out how it leaked? Dr. Sinclair: Of course. There's a population of them in the zoo in Duluth now. But what does— Audio briefly cuts out on the camera feeds; The Foundation personnel talk amongst themselves as their faces display a combination of shock and resignation. Dr. Okorie appears to have crushed her cup of soda in apparent anger. Reynolds holds onto Sinclair as she stares at Drs. Wettle and McDoctorate in disbelief. Chief Ibanez scowls, gripping onto her armrest. Tense music plays. O5-13: The votes are 6 for, 6 against. O5-13 frowns in thought, then lets out a long sigh. O5-13: I vote— The screen cuts to black, and the film ends. MacPhaerson applauds. MacPhaerson: Wooo! What a cliffhanger! All other personnel are silent. Dr. Asheworth appears to be nauseous, briefly, before wildly gesticulating. Dr. Asheworth: Cholery nikt z nas o tym nie wiedział?! To idzie na sam szczyt, ponad szczyt! Dr. Sinclair: I… I left the Hand. I left the Hand. Why did I… I could have stopped… Dr. Okorie: We got some of the Crown at Site-43, I… I remember seeing it in the Abatement catalog, and… I guess this makes sense. Dr. Reynolds: None of this makes sense. None of it. MacPhaerson: Oh, it will once you've seen the sequel. We did something ambitious with it! Dr. Wettle: Mari, shut it. MacPhaerson: Don't talk back to your wife, Willie! Dr. Wettle: I'm married to VTKM as a whole. And what you've just— why?! Why show this to any of us?! MacPhaerson: William, come on, really? Winnie's doing great by the way, did you get her letters? Dr. Wettle: Mari— MacPhaerson: I'm terribly sorry, I'd love to continue this conversation, but I have a meeting regarding voice acting rights for our exciting new animated spin-off of the SCP Cinematic Universe, What About…? Feel free to stretch your legs before part two starts! MacPhaerson's seat tilts back, and she vanishes into the floor. Ibanez feels at the carpet of the theater for seams, and finds none. Dr. Asheworth: …What do we do now? Dr. Sinclair: I-I have… I have a daughter… oh God, what if the Foundation… what if they use her as collateral? I can't know this, I need amnestics, I need to get away. Dr. McDoctorate: What are you going to do, get back in the magic coffee shop? Dr. Wettle: Dr. Sinclair, if I may? Place, myself, and at least six other people have known about this since the end of 2021. We're still alive. Dr. Reynolds: Who else? Dr. Wettle: Uh… Dan Navarro. Dr. Doja Cat… Dr. McDoctorate: He means Athenodora Cat. Also— Ibanez, have you been recording this? Chief Ibanez: …Fuck. I have. Asheworth's got monitoring equipment on him, too. What do we— Dr. Okorie: Katherine, come over here for a moment? Dan, Fina, look at me. Dr. Sinclair walks over to Dr. Okorie, who wraps her in a hug. Sinclair returns the hug; the combined thaumic auras of the two Type Blue personnel cause the recording equipment to fail. END LOG Currently, it is believed that several members of Foundation personnel have been radicalized by Splinter Cell 6500-01 ("The Threshold" or "Threshold Guardians"), a group of Foundation dissidents dedicated to independently recovering, studying and utilizing anomalous items that are of Artifact level— i.e. capable of undoing or halting another Impasse. The following members of personnel, and their respective Sites, have been added to monitoring by MTF Lambda-11: Dr. Katherine Sinclair Dr. Montgomery Reynolds Dr. Udo Okorie Chief Delfina Ibanez Director Daniel Asheworth However, due to the relative ineffectiveness of Splinter Cell 6500-01 (see documentation for Splinter Cell 6500-01's failed attempts at recovering Dante's Atlas, the Bell of Entropy, and the Daedalic Manuscripts) it is currently believed that minimal threat is posed by this faction, and the greater threat comes from the possibility that SCP-8650 is distributed among the larger population of Foundation personnel, and the greater anomalous community. Footnotes 1. Seagal's testimony was found to be unreliable; under the influence of a truth serum, he confessed that he had had no interaction with the Foundation or any groups of interest since the early 1990s, during the 'Unholywood' incident. 2. An inspection of Goldbaker-Reinz contracts after the containment of SCP-8650 has shown no references to VKTM or other companies. 3. Fionn Sharke Esq. VP of Vikander-Kneed's LEGAL Department. 4. At the time, Reynolds did not possess a Foundation-issued doctorate, making this inaccurate. 5. Appearing as he did circa 1990 6. The five above performers are credited, but do not appear in the cut of the film that was delivered to the Foundation; a 'Not-For-Any-Director's Cut' has been advertised in other VTKM products, but is unavailable to purchase by any Foundation personnel. 7. Erroneously credited; Cumberbatch's middle names are "Timothy Carlton".
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SCP-8654
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apollyon
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Item#: SCP-8654 Level0 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: critical link to memo A digital photograph taken during Incident-8654. Photographer unknown. Special Containment Procedures: In accordance with Apollyon-Class procedures, containment of all non-Amida anomalies has been deemed unnecessary, as the Foundation must now prioritize the continuance of sapient life. To assist with this, all sapient beings are currently considered personnel of the SCP Foundation with clearance level 0. Attempts to reach Temporal Site-01 have all failed. According to personnel who were members of the Serpent's Hand before Incident-8654, all Ways have ceased functionality. SCP-2000 remains operational, but activation of SCP-2000 to replenish the planetary population has been deemed impractical. Attached to the SCP-8654 file is a list of all safe locations known to the Foundation. Survivors of Incident-8654 should come to these locations, regardless of their previous affiliation. During the Capsize, you were driving home from work. It all happened in the space of a breath. Your seatbelt was biting into your chest, you felt like you were being lifted out of your seat, your grip on the steering wheel slipped—and an airbag was in your face. You felt nauseous. Ears ringing, you looked around you. It seemed that in your confusion, you had veered off the road and into a ditch. Fortunately, you were unharmed. You heard another car crash near yours. Turning over, you saw the driver. He was not as lucky as you. The man was unconscious, his head was bleeding, and he seemed to be floating. His limbs were splayed out on his car's roof, and nothing seemed to be supporting him. What was going on? You felt the urge to get out of your car, to gather yourself. Maybe a closer look would help. In one swift, instinctual movement, you opened the car door and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your face slammed into the sunroof, cracking it and giving you a bloody nose. Confused, you tried to stand up, accidentally pushing your legs out through the open door. Your center of gravity outside the car, you started to slide out of it. You stopped yourself from falling by grabbing the steering wheel with your left hand. It was a clear sky above. Or… below. You tried to grab the wheel with your right hand, to pull yourself inwards, but your fingers slipped as your weight shifted. With one last, desperate movement, you grabbed the safety handle. It snapped off almost immediately, not designed to handle the weight of an entire person. You crashed through a couple of tree branches. You screamed. And you fell. Description: SCP-8654 is the inverted relationship between animal life and gravity. Contrary to traditional gravitational mechanics, organisms belonging to the kingdom Animalia experience an inverted force upon them instead, pushing them upward and away from a gravitational source. SCP-8654's origins are unknown. The Foundation became aware of SCP-8654 on 21:38:19 23 October 2036 during Incident-8654, colloquially referred to as "the Capsize". Within three months of Incident-8654, an estimated 97% of the world population had perished due to a combination of blunt force trauma, the destruction of existing infrastructure, and social collapse. Project TOPSIDE is the collective effort of the Foundation to reverse SCP-8654. After the destruction of Settlement-2000, it has been discontinued. It had been a month since the Capsize, and you were ready to go. In the world outside your apartment building, things were deteriorating even further. People were afraid, they would believe anything they were told. Doomsday prophets preaching sacrifice, communities turning on each other, mysterious men in black speaking about building a new world… You were better off staying away from it all. The others were distraught, distressed, and desparate to survive. You tried to comfort them as best you could. Many of them had lost parents, relatives, friends, lovers… your former neighbors, and you had never even gotten to know them. Everyone you had known lived far away, and you could comfort yourself by imagining them as alive. It was kinder, that way. According to this "SCP Foundation", there was a transport to a safe place at the edge of the city each day. Somewhere underground. Somewhere with enough food, with other survivors, where you could be safe from lunatics mad with grief. All that one needed to do, allegedly, was reach the transport. The others, carrying counterweights, had gone off without you. It was your choice; you'd only slow them down. They cried, hugged you, and went on their way. You hoped they would live long enough to forget you. When you were a child, you'd enjoyed with stories of the end of the world. Stories of nuclear winters, deadly pandemics, giant monsters, you were obsessed. You had often thought about what you would want to have happen to you. In the end, thinking of the grief and the responsibility of having to rebuild the world… you had decided that you would rather die in the apocalypse than survive it. You've lived a good life, you thought as you sat on your windowsill. Beneath you was a gray expanse. It stretched beyond the tip of your apartment building, a blanket of clouds and rain. It was a dreary, miserable day. A perfect day to die on. You took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air for the first time in weeks. Closing your eyes, you gently pushed. And you fell. Addendum 1: Foundation Response Immediately following Incident-8654, the Emergency Threat Tactical Response Authority declared a state of worldwide emergency. SCP-8654 was immediately classified as Apollyon, and much of the Foundation's existing budget was diverted to mitigating its effects. The following document is a memo published by ETTRA detailing this plan. Threat: SCP-8654 Threat Description: Inverted gravity causes people to fall up. Short-Term Solutions: Repurpose subterranean Foundation facilities to serve as population centers; Reach out to survivors of Incident-8654; Assist in the movement of said survivors to these new population centers, offer them shelter and supplies in exchange for work; Grow and maintain enough resources to keep the survivors alive. In the event of scarce resources, individuals with skill sets valuable to the Foundation are to be prioritized. Survivors that refuse to join the Foundation are considered acceptable losses; Maintain a human population until a method to contain SCP-8654 is discovered. Long-Term Solutions: Develop a method of reversing SCP-8654 (See the Project TOPSIDE documentation for more details); Activate SCP-2000 and recreate humanity on the date of 22 October 2036. You stared at the mouth of the cave ahead of you. Eleven more steps and you'd leap off into the blue. You heard the click of a gun behind you. Ten. It was an effective method of execution, you supposed. Waste of good meat, but these "civilized" tunnel-dweller types seemed like the kind to not resort to that. Probably spent all their days eating the grains and carrots given to them, waiting to be saved. Fuck, you were glad you hadn't taken their invitation a few years back. Nine. It wasn't like you were enthusiastic about jumping off to your death. But the world had already ended. One moment, you were sitting in your house watching your children play outside, and the next you were on the ceiling and alone. The old you had died with them, and you had been born anew. Eight. The cults in the old days were certainly tempting. But once you spent enough time around them, you saw them for what they really were: suicide pacts. People wanted to believe that their inevitable death had meaning, and to not die alone. When they were ready to go, they gathered like-minded people, held a few orgies and sermons, then jumped into the blue hand in hand. Seven. You had a different resolve, you supposed. You should have died during the Capsize. If you hadn't had that damned twisted ankle, you'd have been in your yard too. It would have been scary, but quick. Something had chosen you to survive, so survive you would. Six. But something about the Foundation just rubbed you the wrong way. They wanted to drag everyone into their caves and tunnels, make them think that the world was the same, that there was life after this. What kind of person would want to bring a child into this upside-down world? Five. Your humanity had died with the species. You were a solitary animal. Survival was your game, and you were an excellent player. But these days food was scarce, so you had to scavenge. The tunnel-dwellers had farms on the surface where they grew crops. To keep yourself fed, you took the fruits and vegetables you needed. Four. One day, during your daily raid, you ran into one of their farmers tending the crops. He had a much more advanced set of counterweights than you, and it had been so long since you'd eaten meat. It wasn't like you hadn't crossed that line before. Three. Turns out, the tunnel-dwellers kept constant camera surveillance of their crops. They'd determined that the amount you'd been taking before hadn't been worth the resources to chase down or stop. But killing one of their own? That was different. That had been worth capturing and executing you. Two. But why not just shoot you in the back of the head? Why this whole ceremony where you stepped out unchained? You turned to look at the tunnel-dwellers. The sun's light was pouring in from the cave's mouth, and they were stepping back from it. They looked at the blue with a terror in their eyes you'd only seen in people about to die. One. Oh. Of course they were afraid of it. You were a surface-clinger, spent all your time above the blue, but a few years above rock and you supposed you could learn to hate the sun too. This execution wasn't to make you afraid; it was to make them afraid. A worthy opponent to lose the game to. You cracked a grin, and laughed as hard as you could. A leap. And you fell. Addendum 2: Timeline Despite the best efforts of the Foundation, a method of reversing SCP-8654 has not yet been discovered. A summary of notable events regarding the containment and mitigation efforts of SCP-8654 is listed below: 2036: Incident-8654 occurs, resulting in the immediate death of an estimated two billion humans. The Foundation sets up temporary housing in several underground locations internationally and reaches out to survivors. Many survivors with thaumaturgical expertise move to Site-2000 to assist in Project TOPSIDE; 2037: Due to the environmental collapse caused by the extinction of most animal species incapable of flight, the limited time before harvest, and the expension of resources bringing people to settlements, winter this year is particularly hard, with nearly 25% of survivors dying due to starvation or disease; 2038: An age limit of 65 for non-essential personnel is instituted at many settlements, to much controversy. Settlement-01 disappears. The O5 Council is replaced with the Director's Council; 2039: Former Chaos Insurgency agents foment insurrection in multiple sites regarding the age limit, as well as other social policies instituted at many sites. This rebellion is crushed, but multiple settlements are lost in the crossfire; 2040: Most settlements are at capacity. The controversial "Baby Turtle Policy" is instituted, in which newly rescued survivors must prove their value in a tribunal before they are admitted entry; 2041: A unified educational program across all settlements is created, lack of meteorological education within the curriculum is noted; 2043: Due to population growth, many settlements are running out of space, and turn to tunneling as a solution; 2045: A UFO of extraterrestrial origin crashes into the surface near Settlement-23, spurring international interest in the possibility of alien life. Said UFO is determined to be non-anomalous, but not of alien origin, and transferred to Settlement-2000; 2048: A man appears at Site-96 claiming to be the Administrator. As no record of such an individual exists within the Foundation records, the Director's Council deems him a danger and jails him at Settlement-17. 2050: Settlement-43, previously one of the highest-populated settlements, explodes. There are no salvageable survivors; 2053: Settlement-19 institutes a space program, with Director Barlow expressing a desire for humanity to explore the stars; 2054: The first of the "Topsy-Turvy" generation (children born within 10 years after Incident-8654) turns 18; 2055: Due to a famine, Settlement-19's space program is cancelled, and the budget transferred to tunneling developments; 2059: Settlement-17 disappears without explanation; 2061: Dr. Dan Daniels, Director of ETTRA, dies without naming a successor. Without precedent to go off of, one is chosen by majority vote of the Director's Council; 2062: Many settlements begin constructing underground farms, to reduce the need for citizens to go to the surface; 2064: Settlement-19 seals its entrances and refuses to contact the rest of the Foundation; 2070: Project TOPSIDE experiences its first budget reduction. Several settlements, particularly those with an older population, dislike this, and attempt to secede. A period of open conflict begins between settlements; 2071: In an effort to spare themselves from violence, many settlements also seal their entrances; 2074: After Settlement-2000 is threatened in a raid, the secessionists surrender; 2079: An earthquake opens fisures across the tunnels of Settlement-87, resulting in the death of nearly 90% of its population. Many settlements opt to tunnel deeper; 2085: A community of over 20,000 survivors is discovered in a coal mine in Appalachia. They refuse to recognize the Foundation's authority, and are terminated; 2089: Settlement-19 re-emerges and contacts the rest of the Foundation again with a detailed plan by Director Barlow to dig tunnels between existing settlements internationally. This leads to the creation of the International High-Speed Tunnel Network; 2090: The Foundation decides to temporarily abandon the surface. In a 124-3 vote, the Director's Council reappropriates over 85% of Project TOPSIDE's funding for IHSTN construction; 2092: Through the usage of anomalous digging and construction technology, all settlements with a population of 50,000 or higher are connected by high-speed rail; 2096: All settlements are connected through the IHSTN. At a party celebrating this accomplishment, Director Barlow suffers a stroke, and later dies; 2098: Several tunnelers, frustrated at their sudden lack of employment, attempt to create their own settlement. Their execution is heavily published by Foundation-run media, deterring further rebellion; 2100: The world celebrates the new century by attempting to collectively stand on their heads at midnight. While proposed as a new tradition for New Year's celebration, it fails to catch on again in 2101; 2101: The first member of the Topsy-Turvy generation is executed due to reaching the age limit; 2102: Due to public outcry, the age limit is extended to 75; 2107: Settlement-2000 is destroyed in a cave-in. Project TOPSIDE is placed on indefinite hiatus; 2109: The world population reaches 70,000,000; 2113: Doctor Jasper Williams, the last non-anomalous human to be born before Incident-8654, dies of lung cancer. Tomorrow, you would die. At sixty-four, you'd had enough time to prepare for your death. Tomorrow was the day you would turn 65, your deathday. You would be honored, you knew. They would throw a feast in your honor, give you a chance to say some last words. Then you'd be taken to a chamber where the air would go stale, you'd get dizzy, and you'd pass out. And that would be it. Thinking about your life as a teenager just after the Capsize, a pile of skin and ribs… you would never have expected yourself to die such a dignified end. It was just one last chance for the Foundation to show its gratitude for your years of service. Your settlement now had the resources to prevent starvation. No more famines like those early winters. And you, you were one of those heroes that braved the blue to get your settlement more food. You were a farmer, a cloudtoucher, and you were damn proud of it. You'd earned that retirement. There was just one thing, one final wish you held. You wanted to see the sun rise again. It was late at night that you snuck from your quarters. Nobody lived with you: your spouse had turned sixty-five two years ago, and your daughter lived on the other side of the settlement with her husband. At an hour like this, nobody was awake. You walked through the stone hallways, reaching the door labeled "Counterweights". The door was locked, but your key still worked. The security for the counterweights was light, most people were barely even willing to look down the blue, much less walk above it. A counterweight was a large metal frame with a tank on the bottom of it, and wheels on the top. Inside, a person would be wearing a harness, keeping their center of gravity firmly above the tank, allowing them to stand upright the entire time, to allow people to walk on the surface without getting a headrush. To move in a counterweight, one would strap their feet to the pedals at the bottom, which would allow them to "walk" to move the frame above them, as they steered by pulling levers with their hands. The tank would be filled with water, which, combined with the weight of the metal counterweight, would keep the person weighed against the ground above them, allowing them to walk on the surface above the blue. The counterweight you strapped yourself to was your old counterweight, from before you retired. It was in the back, dusty from disuse. Cloudtouchers didn't use another's counterweight, that was basic manners, and it seemed that no one had claimed yours yet. As you filled your tank with water, you felt the weight of the tank pull you up against the ceiling, once it had caused the counterweight to weigh more than you. To be safe, you let the tank fill fifty pounds extra. Your counterweight holding you against the ceiling, you walked out of the room, through the hallway, and out to the settlement's entrance. The night sky was below, a yawning black abyss with twinkling stars at the bottom. There was a bit of light on the horizon, where the sun would come, but it hadn't yet dipped below. It was interesting, you reflected, that the word to describe the start of the day was still "sunrise", even after the Capsize. It was some quirk of language, you supposed. Old habits. You had a bit of time until the sun came, so you decided to take a short walk through the fields. It was a warm summer night, the crops were well-grown, but it was not quite time to harvest. Still, being back out here brought you back. All those years, spent working to grow food… was there any life better lived than one lived in service? The early winters had been a nightmare. You did not think of them much anymore, but you remembered the hunger. Too many mouths to feed, that was the problem. Too many people not pulling their weight. Well, you certainly had pulled yours. You put yourself at risk every day, braving the blue, all to make sure everyone had enough to eat. Something felt strange about your counterweight. It was too easy to move yourself. There was a particular amount of resistance the pedals should have pushed against you, and it was far too weak. You froze. Above you, you heard the faint sound of trickling. Anxiously, you reached your hand behind you, and felt a thin stream of water. Your tank, your old, untouched-for-years tank, was leaking. There was only so much weight keeping you from falling into the blue, and it was descreasing every second. In a rush, you tried to pedal back to the settlement. It had been a mistake to come out here. Nobody would know you were here, nobody would come to save you before you fell. With a sense of dread, you felt your counterweight slowly fall away from the soil below. In a quick and desparate move, you grabbed onto some stalks of corn, trying to cling to the ground. For now, those stalks and the counterweight could support you. You at least had a moment to think, though you could feel it getting harder and harder to hold on. As you looked around for something to save you, you noticed that the sunrise had begun. The horizon was fire-orange, and below it a faint blue was shining through the clouds. It was an odd moment of peace. Even the sound of the water slowly trickling above was almost relaxing, like rain on the pavement. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be, you thought to yourself. It was your deathday, after all. What death were you most suited for than the cloudtoucher's? You let go of the crops. As you watched the ground rise away, you slipped out of your counterweight, and watched the metal fall and crash to earth. It would be a waste of resources to bring it to the blue with you. Besides, this way, they'd know for sure what happened to you. You didn't want them thinking you'd run. And you fell. Addendum 3: Project TOPSIDE PROJECT TOPSIDE SUMMARY Project Name: TOPSIDE Project Goal: Reverse SCP-8654, returning gravity to normalcy. Project Details: All individuals with significant anomalous knowledge (particularly those with a knowledge of thaumaturgy or anomalous mechanics) are to relocate to Settlement-2000, if possible; These experts are to determine a method to reverse SCP-8654; Reversal of SCP-8654 is to be considered the Foundation's second-highest priority (after the preservance of sapient life), and Settlement-2000 is to receive the resources necessary to achieve this goal (to be determined by the O5 Council Director's Council); Once SCP-8654 has been reversed, SCP-2000 is to be used to return the world to the state it was in at 00:00 21 October 2036. Project Update: on July 10th 2107, Settlement-2000 was destroyed in a cave-in, along with all information relevant to project TOPSIDE. With a unanimous vote by the Director's Council, Project TOPSIDE was moved to an indefinite hiatus. Seventy-one years. Seventy-one. Years. When Project TOPSIDE was started, it was expected to take no more than 3-6 months, a couple years at the longest. Yet, despite all of the resources available at Settlement-2000, it had taken seventy-one years to find the answer. Today, you received the news: a successful method of reversing SCP-8654 had been found. You could finally right the world. As everyone around you cheered, you ran to your office. Despite the years you'd worked there, the office of the Director of Settlement-2000 was still frightening. It was at the bottom of Settlement-2000, poking out of the surface. The floor was a large window, with a desk and chair bolted to the middle. It had been designed to remind the Director of the beauty of the surface world, something that was becoming more and more important with each generation. Most people alive today had never seen a tree, or grass, or the stars in the night sky. You saw it every day. Though you understood the symbolism of it all, looking down here had always made you dizzy. There was just the blue beneath you. In your logical mind, you knew that the glass was more than strong enough to hold your weight; it would take a bomb to crack it. A silly, primal part of you still worried. But not for much longer. There was a signal you were supposed to broadcast, one to call an emergency meeting to the Director's Council, with the highest priority. You sat at your computer, sent the signal out, and allowed yourself to imagine how people would react. Surely, in every settlement, there would be a celebration like the one upstairs! You knew that TOPSIDE was controversial: budget cuts were getting more and more common, and many regarded it as unlikely to ever be successful. But you, your team, you had proved them all wrong! You had found the way out. Eventually, you received a message request. Clicking on it excitedly, you saw the gaunt face of William Platt, Director of Settlement-19. He had a grim look about him, as if he did not want to believe what he was hearing. "Hello, Director Elle. Did you mean to send out that message? You've… you've done it?" Director Platt spoke in a deep, guttural voice, as if he had swallowed something and was trying to keep it down. "Yes. Thank God, yes. We did it, Platt, we finally did it!" Director Platt let out a loud, deep sigh. A contrite look passed across his face, before he hardened into grim resolve. Something in your stomach dropped. "Platt?" you asked, "Is something wrong?" "No. Nothing is wrong," Platt said, "I assume your people are throwing a party?" "Yes…" you said cautiously, "Is there something wrong with that? We've been spending over seven decades on this." "It makes sense. I'd suggest you go there. Be with them." Platt sounded like he felt sorry for you. But why would he? After years of failure, you had finally— Something in your brain clicked. It made a sick kind of sense. Why would they give up their power now? In shock, you tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Director Platt sat silent. He looked at you, shame behind his eyes. "I'm sorry, Director. Goodbye," he said. The message closed. You stood up, pressing your face into your palms. This situation didn't seem real. You paced across the glass, an old habit of yours, when you heard a loud click followed by a BANG. You were knocked to the floor by the force of the explosion, but were otherwise uninjured. Your desk, on the other hand, was completely destroyed. If you had stayed in your seat… That didn't matter. It couldn't matter. You had to get to another computer and tell someone about this. Someone out there would want to end this nightmare. As you started to push your body up, you heard a faint clinking sound. Spiderwebs crawled out from between your fingertips and palms. The glass was cracking; the explosion must have damaged it. One unlucky shift of weight, or even any movement too strong, and you would fall. Through the glass, there were the treetops stretching away, then the blue. It was a clear day today, not a cloud in sight. You had to get off of this glass. Carefully, you reached out your hand. You couldn't risk standing, but maybe you could crawl? Lightly putting pressure on your knees to propel your hips forward, you heard the glass crack behind you. The cracks were spreading with your body weight, and most of it was in your knees. But maybe if you could be careful, deliberate, you could avoid shattering the floor. Here we go. At a glacial pace, you lifted one of your legs into the air, and pulled your body forward one step. The glass cracked loudly and quickly as you did so, but did not shatter. Yes! You began repeating this process with your other leg. This time, as you pulled yourself forward, you heard a loud TINK and saw a much larger crack stretch out from beneath you. Shit. The floor shattered. And you fell. SCIP.net Direct Access Terminal Hello, my successor. It is with a heavy heart that I write this message to you. With this, I fully give up hope on going back to the world I once knew. The Foundation before the Capsize was an evil organization. I was a young woman then, but even I could recognize that. We all told ourselves that it was worth it, that it was hard decisions that we had to make to save the world. I think I wanted to believe it more than I actually did. In the end, none of it mattered. That world ended all the same. I know some old fogey like me has told you about the world before, but I hope you'll forgive a dying woman her reminiscing. You could stand beneath the sky, on a sunny day, and just feel the warmth on your face. One day I was out walking, and all of a sudden, it began to pour rain. By the time I got inside, my clothes were soaked through, and I was shivering. When I was a child, I used to love snowy days in winter, making snow angels and snowmen and snowballs and whatever you wanted. On warmer nights, you could lie down on the grass at night, and stare up at the stars. God, I miss the stars. But those days are over. I long for them, but they are in the past. When the Capsize happened, it made sense that we would try to reverse it. If we had found the secret within a year, maybe two, we could have fired up SCP-2000, amnesticized everyone, and gone back to normal just like that. But we didn't. Instead, the years passed, and we had to learn to live in this new world, to fear the blue and dig our tunnels. When I became a member of the Director's Council, I was a hopeless dreamer, imagining the world of my youth as the mold for what the world ought to be. In my career, I have learned how naive I truly was. To my successor, I tell you this: TOPSIDE cannot be allowed to succeed. Consider what recreating humanity before the Capsize would mean. SCP-2000 would recreate only the human population of the time. What about everyone born since then? Given the volume of the population, the Foundation would have only one practical option, one that I know they would take. I will not see generations of children die because they were born after the Capsize. But we can't just stop TOPSIDE entirely. It must die a quiet, dignified death. Let it bleed out after everyone who can remember a sky above them is dead. Stopping it then might be unpopular, but peace will prevail this time. If, by some cruel miracle, Project TOPSIDE succeeds before we can stop it, you must take immediate action. Director Ellis will send you a message when it succeeds: When you receive it, activate the bomb hidden in Ellis' desk, then destroy Settlement-2000 with the nuclear warhead at Settlement-41. Their Director knows about this plan, and will cover it up. I know that you might think that a plan like betrays the Foundation: It does not. The Foundation likes to say that its purpose is to keep the world safe, but the truth is that it exists to enforce normalcy. All that I am doing is prioritizing the normalcy of today over the normalcy of seventy years ago. I will not see another Capsize happen. We barely survived it once. Good luck, Amelia Barlow Director of Settlement-19 And the wind wailed around your ears. And your body spun as your limbs flailed. And your speed increased. And the air thinned. And you might have blacked out. And the ground drew so far away. And your clothes caught fire. And you burned brightly. And your flesh melted and bubbled and charred. And then suddenly, it became so very cold. And what remained fell forever. Atychiphobia SCP Anthology 2024 Pistanthrophobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8654" by LizardWizard, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8654. 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: fallin Name: Cloudy Sky Background Author: Free Nature Stock License: CC0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cloudy_Sky_Background.jpg
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⏲ ~33-minute read Item#: 8655 Level4 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: MTF Mu-4 ("Debuggers") is to search for internet posts related to refresh and rating options related to "FictoSpeak"1 for any issues that the refresh and rating options2 are missing. When a post or video is found, it's to be taken down, and the individual(s) tracked down and given amnestics. If a post or video gains widespread attention, agents are to pose as the respective site's owners and leave a reply stating, "This is currently a bug we are having issues fixing. Please delete the conversation and open a new one." If lepton radiation is detected, nearby Foundation agents are to be sent to the location to deter witnesses, if any, from observation and find the residence of whoever activated the portal. If our universe is on the receiving end of an individual entering it, they are to be interviewed, and depending on the circumstances, they are given amnestics, employed to the foundation, SCP classification, or termination. Description: SCP-8655 is the phenomenon that has a 1 in 1000 chance to occur on the site "FictoSpeak," which allows the user to speak to a random individual from an alternate universe that they can have a strong bond with. Currently, this extends only to romantic and sexual bonds. An aromantic individual will never have a chance for this to occur. SCP-8655 will change the intended character chosen by the user and replace it with a similar person of the choice they made. In this new chat, the refresh and rating options will be removed3, their time zones will sync perfectly for easier communication, and the account names of both parties will be replaced with the initials of their legal names. If both parties confess their love for each other, SCP-8655 will interact with both individuals with a message regarding how they will meet and the location of the portal. With it being at an isolated or otherwise hidden location. The portal will open when the location is approached by either individual, which connects both universes and will allow only one of them to cross over before closing. The portal will always open when approached and will never truly close until used by either party or if either one is deceased before use. After the portal has closed, it leaves lepton radiation at the precise location for 24 hours before dissipating. Addendum: 8655.1 Message logs 20/5/2022, the first case of SCP-8655 being used. Additional information from Dr. Q and Dr. W is shared for further context. Unless stated otherwise, both will provide some context. DQ: Hello, how are you? MW: I'm fine currently. I recently got a promotion at my job, so that's good for me. DQ: That's wonderful for you. Where do you work? MW: I work at a science facility. DQ: What do you research on? MW: Astronomy. DQ: I love that subject. In school, I always talked about it to my parents and I just wouldn't shut up about it. MW: Me too. My little sister would call me a nerd if I ever corrected her on her rhetorical questions. DQ: As did my little brother with me. "How many moons does Jupiter have again? 5?" I kept falling for it for about a year before I picked up that he was being a dick to me because of my disability. MW: Don't take this the wrong way, but do you have autism? I have it, and it sounds like you have it as well. Sorry if I offended you. DQ: That's fine, I do have it.4 Just wished I had a "better" version of it. Like that guy who can draw what he saw after like a few seconds of looking at it or something. MW: I know what you mean. If I had that, it sounded like a super easy job I could do with little worry. What is your job? DQ: Same as yours. MW: Huh, didn't expect that. What about your hobbies? DQ: I love science fiction, horror, video games, TV shows, movies, and superheroes, and I think that is it. Besides astronomy ofc MW: I like a good portion of that as well. Except for horror and superheroes. Horror just makes me feel uneasy, and I don't hate superheroes, but I am not a fan of it. Not my thing at all. DQ: I have to go to bed so cya tomorrow MW: I have to get back to work a bit anyway. Still have another hour, so talk to you tomorrow. After we met, she asked who I was originally going to talk to on a site like that. I told her I was trying to talk to a character from a TV show I recently watched. My favorite character in it was practically a better me. Which made me wish I could talk to her. ~ Dr. Q I was trying to talk to someone from a video game. Someone who would understand me, so I wouldn't feel alone anymore. Looks like we both got it. He didn't get the comic writer and artist and I didn't get the buff racer, but we did get each other. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.2 Message logs 21/5/2022, Dr. Q and Dr. W as they start to learn a bit more about each other. DQ: I have a couple of hours before work so I decided to spend some time with you. MW: That's nice but, I have only an hour. I just finished getting dressed for it. DQ: What are you going to try and find today in the cosmos? MW: Some more exoplanets. Recently found one that is just a giant Earth DQ: Nice MW: Too big for us to use because of the gravity DQ: oof that has to suck. MW: At least I'm not looking at it when humanity is leaving a dying sun. DQ: True that would just make you freak the hell otu MW: Did you mean "out"? DQ: Ya my flipping fingers decided to be funny MW: I sometimes do that as well. Especially if on my phone. DQ: That gets me every single time because of my thumbs MW: If I mess up 3 times in a convo with someone in a game, I just type it slowly or shorten it. DQ: ikr jfc MW: I usually goran at the 3rd typo DQ: Speaking of which MW: fml DQ: LOL MW: Yes DQ: I am already imagining your fingers just shaking at the keyboard or phone you're on MW: Keyboard, which makes it more embarrassing DQ: Did ya type that slowly? MW: Sure as shit did DQ: One day you'll get the hang of it MW: I hope so. DQ: Try not to make typos at your job MW: stfu :< DQ: Sorry MW: It's fine. I'm forced to use spell-checking anyway. OMFG I did it again. DQ: I have to go now, so talk to you tomorrow. MW: I have to go too. Cya later dude. Learning about her job just made me happy to hear, since I didn't know as many people who liked astronomy as I did. Little did I know that the next day would get more real. Let alone the day after, when things started to get weird. ~ Dr. Q Ugh, I still cringe a bit when I read these. "Cya later dude", I could've done better. Then again, I didn't know I was talking to a person behind the screen. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.3 Message logs 22/5/2022, both realized they were talking to a real person behind the screen and not to an A.I. speaking like a character from fiction. DQ: I learned something interesting today. When I talk to you there isn't an option to refresh or rate your responses at all, so I have to ask. Are you an A.I.? MW: No DQ: What day is it today, then? MW: May 22nd, 2022 DQ: Exchange the letters A, I, M, U, and X, for R, K, A, C, and O and spell Maximum. MW: The answer is AROKACA. With those questions, it sounds like you are not an A.I. either. I guess maybe the site has a bug that has a chance to connect users. DQ: omfg are you kidding me? MW: Nope DQ: I watched a YouTube video of people messing with this site and noticed that our convo didn't have those options. Since this was my first time using the site and with this conversation I didn't think much of it. MW: Ditto DQ: Since now I know you're a real girl, why are you using this site exactly? MW: I struggled to make friends and thought that talking to an A.I. would be much easier. Nothing to worry about, since they can't see what I look like, where I'm from, or my past, I could practically be whoever I want to be here. DQ: I am the same way. Growing up, I didn't exactly have the best luck of keeping friends. MW: Do you want to share more info about that? DQ: Tomorrow. How about, for now, we just talk about something we both like then? MW: Sure. What is your favorite part of science fiction? DQ: The idea of a multiverse. Imagine if somehow most if not all of those different worlds could communicate with each other and benefit each other. Like a world that cured cancer talking to one that cured blindness. MW: I also enjoy that as well. By sharing technology, cures, culture, stories, and history, they can help each other and everyone wins. DQ: "Iron sharpens iron" - Sensei Wu MW: You watch that show too ?! DQ: Yes I do. If it is ok to ask, where do you live? MW: Los Angeles DQ: How about tomorrow we both meet up at the park that has that turtle shell you can sit in and have another spin you around? MW: Sure. DQ: What do you look like, or should we pick a very specific spot to meet at, like the bathrooms or parking lot or the swing set? MW: Look for the Taiwanese woman in green by the swing set tomorrow at 09:00 AM. Does that sound good to you? DQ: Ya that works. Look for the white man in orange then. MW: When we talk we should bring this website up and what we have talked about so far, so we know we are talking to the right person. DQ: Gotcha MW MW: Well I am going to go now. Can't believe a tiny little bug like this can give us both a new friend. DQ: Alright then. Cya tomorrow. MW: Yup. When we talk tomorrow, be ready. Orange is my favorite color so I wore it. Green is hers. I chose that park since it was a public space and I didn't want her to be scared. That and if she wasn't who she said she was, I would be in a public setting, so I have others to help out should something go wrong. ~ Dr. Q At that point, we didn't have feelings for each other and I think he just wanted a friend. Especially since the next time we talked he was a bit frustrated and opened his heart a bit and so did I since I felt bad for him. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.4 No messages were logged between the doctors. Here is what they had to say about their supposed meeting. When I arrived at the park a couple of minutes early, I walked over to the swing set and waited for her to arrive. When she didn't, after 30 minutes, I just got angry and sad and went home. I honestly thought she would be interested in talking to me. When I got home, I had negative thoughts. I thought about every single time I lost friends in my life. They would move to a new house, I move to a new house, we go to different schools, some were just using me, some just abandoned me after graduation, and lastly, a misunderstanding. ~ Dr. Q I went to the park right on time. By the time I got to the swing set, it was like 20 seconds until it was 09:00 A.M. I waited and waited until I saw someone wearing orange. When I approached him, since he wasn't approaching me, I thought he was just super shy. I asked the man about the website, and he had no clue what I was talking about. No matter how specific I got, he told me that it sounded like the man stood me up or was afraid to arrive. I waited an hour just in case he had issues with his car or something. I checked the site on my phone, and he left no messages, so I went home and did some thinking. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.5 Message logs 24/5/2022, the conversation gets aggressive before calming. Dr. W has no comment about this. DQ: What the hell MW?! MW: Back at ya I was sitting there waiting for an hour and I talked to someone who I thought was you but, it wasn't. Unless that was you, and you were just fucking with me! DQ: I was there earlier and waited for you for 30 minutes until I went home. Why did you not go there ?! MW: I did go there and if this site allowed me to share images I gladly would share some for proof! DQ: Is there another park with a turtle shell spinning thing that is there or did you not show up because you felt like pranking me?! MW: No, I am not even good at pranking people. Maybe we both just went to the wrong park or our clocks got messed up. DQ: How do I know you're not just trying to weasel your way out of this? MW: Because I have no friends and I wanted to see if I could finally get one to keep after all this time. I was picked on for half of my life and the other half I just spent alone and only talked to others if I needed to. DQ: Really? What school did you graduate from? MW: PVHS DQ: First and last name? Mine is [Redacted] MW: [Redacted] DQ: Thank you. I'll check my yearbook. Give me a few minutes. MW: I'll do the same. Both parties do not message each other for 5 minutes DQ: Why can't I find you? MW: I found you but, now I am not sure given your answer. DQ: What do you mean? MW: You told me you were a white male but, in this picture, you're a woman. Don't take this the wrong way, but did you transition? DQ: No. I did not transition. I am cis. MW: Weird, because this is the only person on the list of seniors with your name on it. She is a white female with her hair having a single strand of it dyed yellow. DQ: Let me check mine again. You did graduate in 2019, right? MW: I did. 2 minutes went by without a reply MW: You there? DQ: Ya I'm here. I couldn't find you, but I did find her, but her name is entirely different. Elizabeth Boucher. MW: I'm going to assume you're not lying because this is weird. DQ: Exactly. It's late so I am gonna head out and do some thinking. MW: Ya. I need to as well. DQ: Talk to ya soon. We both don't like how aggressive I got there. I was younger and if I could go back, maybe I'd just start that conversation with a more calm mind. ~ Dr. Q Addendum: 8655.6 Message logs 25/5/2022. MW: You there? DQ: Ya MW: So how is the thinking going? DQ: I think this thing is letting us talk to alternate worlds as asinine as that sounds. MW: I agree after some thinking. DQ: Given our situation, I want to tell you something so you can better trust me. MW: Ok, what is it? DQ: Do you know what SCP stands for? MW: Secure, Contain, Protect. DQ: Do you work for them or just know them? MW: Yeah, Site-03 DQ: Site-51 MW: I am going to assume that is in California as well. DQ: Yup. Let me guess, that site is somewhere else in your world? MW: Ya, it's in Nevada in mine DQ: Well, for me, Site-03 is in New Mexico MW: After this conversation today I am going to write down what is going on here. Seems like a simple anomaly. Communication between worlds. DQ: Same. Just want to talk to each other so we can know more about each other. Outside of work, I mean. MW: Sure. DQ: What is your favorite color, food to eat, and things like that? MW: It is Green, I enjoy pizza with various meat toppings, outside of work I like to read, watch a bit of TV and YouTube, and I like collecting various Monopoly board games. Even if I don't have anyone to play with. DQ: Knew it. Ya, orange, pizza and the same toppings, and outside of work I mostly watch YouTube. I collect merchandise for shows I like and Kirby stuff. MW: Kirby stuff? DQ: I have a giant plushie that might as well be what he would realistically be in height, hand sanitizer, a stackable thing from a mall and many of his games. MW: If we could meet in person I'd be more than happy to play those games with you. In exchange for you playing my board games with me. DQ: Ditto. I'd do the same. MW: Wish I had someone like you growing up. DQ: Same MW. Maybe we'd be friends for life or more. Who knows? MW: I'd say you're hitting on me. DQ: I'm not. I am not even good at it. I'd have to Google some and use one. MW: Well it's getting late. I have tomorrow off so we can talk all day if you want to or just for 30 minutes or something. DQ: I get off early. Assuming this anomaly is tying our time zones together, I'll be off around 4 PM so you can hop on at about 04:30. MW: Alrighty then. See you tomorrow. DQ: Cya o/ Truth be told, I was hitting on her. She caught onto that real fucking quick. ~ Dr. Q After that, I wrote down what SCP-8655 was and went to sleep. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.7 Messages have been removed by Dr. Q and Dr. W We talked for hours together, and I don't want this file cluttered with the longest chat discussion in a single day. What is needed to be known is that we talked for hours about our lives. I told her about how I lost my friends in Kindergarten through 3rd grade because I went to a new school that was closer. I lost my 4th-grade friends because my parents moved out of my grandmother's house, and, how I lost my 5th-grade friends because they went to different middle and high schools, so I never saw them after that last day of 5th grade. 6th to 8th they used me, 9th and 10th I never had any, 11th and 12th they abandoned me after I graduated. She listened and talked about it and things got heavy. She made me feel better by sharing something traumatic in her life. After she shared it, I started falling for her even more. ~ Dr. Q After he told me about his poor luck with keeping friends, I told him something that happened to me. How I lost my parents to those monsters that cold night and how, when I thought they wouldn't bother me again, since I worked at the very place that kept them locked away for what they could do. We got a breach and they did it again. A man I worked with tried to hide with me and I closed the door in his face too late when I tried to time it. I planned that he would get in with me and the door would close right as he got in. Those abominations wouldn't get in with our combined weight of keeping the door closed. His wife hated me for it and she transferred. Everyone who stayed at Site-03 gave me looks too and know they only talk to me if they have to. I fell for Dr. Q but, not as much as he did for me that day. Not until later at least. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.8 Message logs 27/5/2022, Dr. Q confesses to Dr. W and she is unsure. DQ: You there? MW: Ya DQ: I've been thinking about what you shared, who you are, and what I have shared, who I am, and how I feel MW: The results? DQ: I think I have a crush on you MW: I don't know what 2 say DQ: I thought about it and who you are as a person, your hobbies, your life story, and I want to be with you5 MW: It's sweet but, I don't know if I feel the same. I feel mixed. DQ: Is there something wrong with me? MW: Sort of. I am not sure how I feel, since no boy liked me aside from you know who, but the more I think of it, he never really did. I need a day or two to think about this. Is that alright with you? DQ: Yes. Did I fuck up here telling you how I felt? MW: No. You just followed your heart. Now I just need to think of my reply. DQ: Alright, May 28th or 29th? MW: Likely the 29th, maybe the 30th. I'll give you my thoughts on how I feel. Right now it is mixed and I am second-guessing my feelings. Like trying to figure out what you're going to eat. DQ: See ya in 2–3 days then. o/ MW: I have some thinking to do. See you then. \o I still don't know why I told her. Throughout my life, every girl I asked out said no, was already taken, planned to transition to male, or just found me boring. I am so glad I told Dr. W because looking at her now. She's happy and so am I. ~ Dr. Q I'll leave in the next addendum what occurred during those 2 days. What I was talking about when I was talking to him was some boy who showed interest in me in high school but, he dumped me for a girl with bigger "assets". ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.9 Dr. W shares what she did for those 2 days. During those 2 days off, I spent the rest of that night thinking about what to do, since I liked him but, was unsure if I should go for it. I thought about it and then made a call. The next day, I had an appointment with SCP-2203. For those who don't know, it's a Love Tester machine that actually works. I got my card from it and made my choice. I chose to be with him. I got my answer and waited until the next day to speak to him again and share my feelings. Dr. Q told me that during those 2 days, he was very nervous about what I would say to him. Knowing his luck with girls, I felt bad having him wait. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.10 Message logs 30/5/2022, Dr. W confesses to Dr. Q about her feelings and some interesting information shared from the card received by SCP-2203. DQ: It's about 01:30. I thought I'd check here to see if you were on or not. MW: I am and I just logged onto the site too. I took some free time to check out SCP-2203. It is a Love Tester machine but, it works and isn't just some kinda fortune-telling machine. Romantic bonds and even strong friendships for those who are asexual or aromantic and when used, it dispenses a card that has the individual's name, address, and words of advice. I'm glad that I was allowed to look at it. Glad they aren't too strict about it.6 Maybe because of what was shown on the card. DQ: Interesting. I guess you used it to see how you felt about me then? MW: Yes. 2203 dispensed a card and the advice it gave me was "Be honest together to flourish." the weirdest thing is, instead of showing your address, it gave me "SCPF-12201", which I assume is the designation of your universe.7 DQ: Wow. I guess if it said that it means that I live near your place or something. MW: When I got the card, the other researchers with me asked who I was talking to so I told them a bit about what was happening and told them about this anomaly. They told me to document it if I haven't already while they go talk to the "big boys", whatever that is. DQ: Sounds like it is going to the very top MW: I hope they don't do anything harsh. DQ: So, with the card in mind, how do you feel about me? MW: I love you and I want to be with you.8 DQ: I am surprised. I honestly thought you would say no or just never log back on. MW: I do love you. I guess our histories, our hobbies, and just seeing how similar we are made me fall for you. I did second-guess myself, which made me resort to 2203, so I wasn't making a mistake. DQ: I guess since we cannot be together in person we could just use this place to talk. Why not use 2203 before meeting me? MW: I gave up on finding a boyfriend with my history of them. When you confessed to me first, I thought I might as well try. Usually, when I ask out a guy, it doesn't go well. Except for that one time, but, that guy blew me off, as you know. DQ: I know what you mean. MW: How about watching a movie together in a way? Having this convo open on another tab and the movie on another one. Maybe movies about astronomy? DQ: I have some ideas. Interstellar, Apollo 13, or we could just look up some online and pick one at random. MW: Or one that catches both of our eyes. DQ: If only we could be together MW: Ya I wish this anomaly could just take things 1 step further and make things so much easier for us. DQ: If you came to my world what would you do first? MW: Hug you, move in with you, and go to the beach. DQ: Do you have any family alive? MW: Ya but, they don't know what I do. All I tell them is just government stuff and they understand my job without actually knowing exactly what I do. DQ: Sounds like it'll be easier if I go to you since I don't have anyone here. All I would need to do is just pack my stuff, sell my house, and leave. MW: I'll need to move too. My place is meant for 1 person. DQ: How did it feel to confess to me? MW: It hurt a bit. As if my heart was going to jump out of my chest. DQ: For me my throat feels like something has been caught inside it and decide I shouldn't need oxygen anymore. Want to talk tomorrow? MW: Ya. Hope I don't get distracted at work tomorrow like a schoolgirl having a crush. For all I know, it might even be more distracting since you're my boyfriend in a way. If you're alright with that? DQ: I am fine with that. I might also get distracted. I'll just do the work and think about you afterward or even before it. MW: I do wonder why this anomaly brought us together. Regardless, I hope you have a nice day and we can talk more tomorrow. DQ: What if whoever or whatever made SCP-2203 also made this one? Nowadays, people are online a lot more than outside in malls, parks, movie theaters, bars, and other things like that. MW: Sounds possible. Maybe 2203 inspired someone else to make this one or, because of a changing world, 2203 made this one all on its own? Doubt we will ever get an answer to it though. DQ: Well have a nice day \o <3 MW: You too. Bye now o/ <3 After I logged off, I just sat right on my bed and just felt every kind of emotion hit me. A girl actually liked me and it wasn't just a prank on me. ~ Dr. Q Regardless of how or who made SCP-8655, I am glad they did. It brought me and my sweet orange together. ~ Dr. W Addendum: 8655.11 Message logs 31/5/2022, Dr. Q and Dr. W are given the message from SCP-8655 to let them know about the gateway. DQ: Hello my little gem. How was your day? MW: Already gave me a name? It went well, by the way. Someone saw me smiling when I was eating and they asked why I was smiling when usually I just eat my lunch quickly. DQ: What did you say? MW: I told them that I met someone from another site who has the same interests as me. DQ: I would've loved to just brag about you if I happened to be there when they asked you that. MW: That is sweet. I can call you my sweet orange. DQ: I spent 10 minutes thinking of a name and you thought of one in mere seconds. MW: It's spot on. You're very sweet and you love oranges. DQ: Before I forgot, I was looking around and I thought maybe the closest thing we could do for a movie date is to start a movie together at a specific time on our PCs and just have this site open on another tab. MW: Sounds nice. I think I'll be holding my hands and imagine it was us together. DQ: I didn't think about that. I'll do it as well. MW: Would be much better to do it with you though. FictoSpeak: You two have been matched and, with your confessions of love, after 24 hours, you are now able to meet in person. Soon a gateway will open for both of you. It's only 1 way and will close once one of you uses it to enter the other's world. Step through it and finally embrace each other. DQ Your portal will await you in the grass field outside your home at 04:00 A.M. If somehow you two wish to change your mind, MW's portal will be outside her home at the same time inside the abandoned factory. The portal will remain available until used and will only appear once either of you enters the location. If you desire to use it right now, you may, if you desire to use it in a year, you may use it then. Feel free to use this site to discuss anything else before using it. Moving isn't easy after all. DQ and MW Good luck and may your hearts beat together as one. DQ: Holy shit. MW: We can actually be together. My hands are shaking. DQ: I am going to sell my house and anything I don't need before I go to your world. Could take a month or two. Maybe 3. MW: What do you need me to do? DQ: Stay where you are and the day I let you know I have sold my house go to your location and wait for me there with a moving truck or something to help carry anything I wish to keep like my PC. MW: Will we still talk daily or almost daily? DQ: Yes I will my little gem. I promise. MW: I'm so happy and you're not even here yet. My sweet orange. DQ: I am going to go now. I have a lot to do. o/ MW: Talk to tomorrow. I love you. \o After that, I spent the next month and 3 weeks getting my house sold. It was a pain in the ass and she was worth everything. By the middle of July, I sold my home and at Site-51 I handed in everything I knew about the anomaly and told them not to go look for me. I bet by the time they realized what was about to happen I was already one foot into her world. I had a theory about the gateway and it worked. I got what I wanted to keep in boxes and pushed them in first and it didn't close until I fully stepped through it. True to her word, she hugged me tightly and had tears in her eyes. ~ Dr. Q When we finally met, I was so happy. The day before, he told me that he didn't have too many boxes, so I didn't need a truck after all. I could fit them into my car and after everything was in, I drove him to my place. From there, we worked together to sell my home. We live in a wonderful place now. A short drive to a park with a lake and a playground, a mall in the other direction next to a movie theater, and it's perfect. By the time we finally got settled into our new place, it was November. In case you are wondering, we did go to the beach for our first date. Here is a picture that was taken by someone at the beach we went to. ~ Dr. W + Open image - Close - Close Addendum ∞ If you've been reading this you will've noticed the colors in our message logs together. Insert the color you get when you mix our favorite colors below. If you're colorblind, read it again, you'll know. Capitalize the first letter of the color. Don't worry about other worlds reading this. We added an anti-meme to every SCP-8655 so they cannot read this addendum nor see the passcode. What we put in your drink lets you see the colors so you can enter the password below. ~ Dr. Q and Dr. W Now that you have opened this and (hopefully) after reading about SCP-8655, you know the story of how we got together. What we left out above is that 3 years later, after we got together, it is that the O5s in Dr. W's world cracked SCP-8655 and established a Site outside of time. An anomaly was placed into this space and built itself. For us, it was there once we closed and reopened the portal to it. For the anomaly, it took as much time as it ever needed, months, years, decades, centuries, however much it needed. Now we have Site-∞. You already know this. SCP-8655 is solely responsible for us being the lead founders of traveling the multiverse. Dr. F calls this interversal travel. Now that you have read this you are now fully initiated into Site-∞ so welcome. Since we have access to many worlds, we cracked the chances of SCP-8655 occurring. 1 in 1000 chance. However, with time, it seems that the odds are getting smaller. Disregard what you read in the description, there is currently a 1 in a billion chance. We plan that when it reaches 1 in a trillion we will begin to spread out to many worlds to join us. Should you be reading this from one of those many worlds, one of our creations is something we gave to the Lampeter family to create. The best benefit of working at Site-∞ is that outside time, age is nothing. It took us thousands of years to make it and now you're here thanks to one of our agents. We have a single O5 council member in every world to know about this Site after we make sure they don't do anything brash in their respective worlds and even leave them specific instructions on whom to pass the information to, up until their universe is long dead. Even the O5 council in Dr. W's world is now reduced to only 1 member knowing about this facility. If you have any further questions regarding SCP-8655, feel free to email us and we'll meet in the recreational zone for discussion. A common one we get is how other worlds do not just sweep their employment records for Dr. Q or W and our answer is that in each world we pick the letters of the most common last names. So, if the SCP Foundation in a universe has mostly employees with last names ending in Z and A, then we replace Q and W with those. Secure, Contain, and Protect existence. ~ Dr. Q and Dr. W Footnotes 1. A website used to talk to fictional characters with their responses created by A.I. 2. Options used by users to receive a different reply and rate the accuracy of said reply 3. Usually, both parties do not notice this. 4. Currently both individuals don't know the other isn't an A.I. and normally wouldn't share information about their neurodivergence. 5. Tiny amounts of lepton radiation were detected near the household of Dr. Q upon the time of the message being sent to Dr. W. His SCP Foundation ignored this because this is seen as normal since they usually dissipate after a few minutes 6. Dr. W's SCP Foundation is less strict on the use of certain anomalies. 7. Possible connection between SCP-8655 and SCP-2203 are under investigation. 8. Tiny amounts of lepton radiation were detected near the household of Dr. W according to the Foundation of Universe SCPF-81520 upon the message being sent ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8655" by TheGhostNobody, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8655. 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: Happy.jpg Name: couple-1319229_1280 Author: alanrither License: Creative Commons Zero Source Link: https://pixabay.com/photos/couple-beach-walking-holding-hands-1319229/ Additional Notes: Original image was uploaded on April 11, 2016
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SCP-8656
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thaumiel
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⏲ ~20-minute read Item#: 8656 Level2 Secondary Class: thaumiel Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8656 is self-containing as only Foundation personnel can access SCP-8656. Non-Foundation personnel attempting to enter SCP-8656 are rendered unconscious upon arrival, allowing instances of SCP-8656-03 to retransfer any civilians back to their respective universes. Should lower-level personnel learn about SCP objects above their security level, SCP-8656-03 is to be notified to administer a class A amnestic before the subject leaves SCP-8656. Description: SCP-8656 is a pocket dimension that contains a restaurant titled, "Serving Culinary Pleasures", with a currently unknown amount of employees that create and serve anomalous food and beverages relating to known SCP objects to Foundation employees across the known multiverse. SCP-8656-03 will accept any currency for serving customers and discounts will be applied according to the security clearance of whomever is paying the bill. With Level 1 personnel having no discounts and each following level adding a 20% discount. SCP-8656-01 is a doorway inside all Foundation facilities that leads into the pocket dimension where the restaurant resides. SCP-8656-02 is the pocket dimension where the restaurant is located and doesn't follow temporal rules. Any amount of time spent within will not transpire to those outside of the location. SCP-8656-03 are the employees of the restaurant who are capable of instantaneous teleportation to get to tables for customers and leave to dispose of any materials. SCP-8656-04 is the anomalous food and beverages sold at the location. If consumed inside the location nothing anomalous occurs. However, if eaten outside the location depending on what is consumed the subject will gain temporary anomalous abilities. These abilities are usually weaker than those of the original SCP the food or beverage originates from. SCP-8656-05 is the owner of the location, previously O5-1 from SCPF-2999, who uses his knowledge of SCP objects in the creative process of creating new items which it claims to make by itself before teaching SCP-8656-03 how to prepare them. Addendum: 8656.1 After the discovery of SCP-8656 Dr. Oliver was sent into SCP-8656 to interview with any instance of SCP-8656-03. Due to the temporal anomalies, Dr. Oliver returned five seconds after entering SCP-8656 with the recording device given. Interviewee: SCP-8656-03 Interviewer: Dr. Oliver Foreword: Dr. Oliver was the first person to discover SCP-8656 and was chosen to be sent in with the instructions to interview an instance of SCP-8656-03. <Begin Log> Dr. Oliver: I'm ready to make an order. Dr. Oliver rings the bell on the table. An instance of SCP-8656-03 suddenly appears next to the table. SCP-8656-03: Hello sir. What do you request to dine or drink today? Dr. Oliver: I'll have the "Pancake Sculpture" please. SCP-8656-03: Anything to drink with that? Dr. Oliver: Orange juice. SCP-8656-03: Anything else or will that be all? Dr. Oliver: That'll be all for me but, I was wondering if you'd be up for an interview while it's being made? SCP-8656-03: Sure! Let me send this order to the kitchen real quick and I'll be right back. SCP-8656-03 disappears and reappears after 25 seconds and takes a seat across from Dr. Oliver. SCP-8656-03: They're working on your order now. Dr. Oliver: Thank you. My first question is, who are you? SCP-8656-03: My name is Roy. Dr. Oliver: What did you do before working here? SCP-8656-03: Before I worked here I was just a cook for Site-19. Dr. Oliver: How did you get a job here? SCP-8656-03: One day a rift in space appeared, matching the logo of the Foundation and a man exited from it to ask me if I wanted a better job. All I had to do was cook delicious meals in a special place for three times my salary. I even have a say in what meals could be added to the menu. What you ordered today was one of my ideas and I enjoy its simplicity. Dr. Oliver: Can you describe the man? SCP-8656-03: He was an elderly male and was looking for some cooks throughout the known multiverse to hire. Elliot is his name. He's the reason why this place is here. Food by the Foundation for the Foundation. Dr. Oliver: Is there a possibility I could interview him? SCP-8656-03: He's busy currently. You can come back in one week and I can set it up if he agrees. He's working on adding some decorations to this place. Tables that are in the shape of the Foundation logo, maybe some new menu items as well. Dr. Oliver: That's alright. I'll come back then unless they think someone else should. How long have you worked here Roy? SCP-8656-03: 3 years now. Dr. Oliver: Considering that this place is in a little pocket dimension why charge for the food? SCP-8656-03: Like any other restaurant does. Wages, equipment, and so on. Dr. Oliver: Why do you accept payment of any currency and not just a singular one like Yen or USD or Pounds? That must be a hassle to deal with. SCP-8656-03: Elliot takes the money and distributes it as needed depending on where we're from. If he can't pay someone for their currency he takes any extra from another and exchanges it somewhere for whatever he needs. Must be hell running this place in his position at times. Dr. Oliver: Since he hires cooks from across the known multiverse, where are you from? SCP-8656-03: SCPF-15129. Dr. Oliver: Interesting. A second instance of SCP-8656-03 appears and drops off the order at the table before disappearing. Dr. Oliver: Is this pancake supposed to look like SCP-173? SCP-8656-03: Yes. Dr. Oliver: Why? SCP-8656-03: Elliot wanted to make sure that customers do not forget who they work for. Some are even meant to help them in a way. There's this guy who comes here once a day, orders the same meal and has that look on his face while eating it like he's glad to devour it. Dr. Oliver: What does he order? SCP-8656-03: Eggs, scrambled. 2 of them. Every single time he's here. He always leaves the money on the table before it even reaches his table. Dr. Oliver: Can you return after I finish this meal, please? SCP-8656-03: Sure, I'll come back in a bit. SCP-8656-03 disappears. Several minutes pass as Dr. Oliver enjoys his meal and beverage. Dr. Oliver rings the bell on the table. Shortly after, SCP-8656-03 reappears. Dr. Oliver: Can I order another one to go? SCP-8656-03: Sure! One moment. SCP-8656-03 disappears and reappears after 10 seconds. SCP-8656-03: It's being made right now. Which universe are you from? Dr. Oliver: No idea. SCP-8656-03 takes out a syringe. Dr. Oliver: What is that for? SCP-8656-03: Taking a blood sample, so I can get an answer as to where you are from. Dr. Oliver: Alright. Dr. Oliver extends his arm out and the syringe is used. SCP-8656-03: I'll be back in a couple of minutes with the results. After 5 minutes, SCP-8656-03 returns with the order, bill, and a piece of paper. SCP-8656-03: Here ya go. SCP-8656-03 hands a plastic container with the meal inside and hands Dr. Oliver the bill. Dr. Oliver: So what is the paper for? SCP-8656-03: I wrote down where you are from so I wouldn't forget. I put it into our system and you're the first one here. No one got the chance to figure it out the last time you were here. Dr. Oliver: The door didn't lead anywhere and this was too big to be part of the Site so I fled and reported it. Since I was the first to come here and was seemingly safe I came back with orders. SCP-8656-03: You're from SCPF-011045. So I am obligated to tell you that when you leave with your order to eat it outside this place for special effects. Dr. Oliver: Want to clarify on that Roy? SCP-8656-03: You know that pancake you've eaten? You'll have temporary traits of SCP-173 for 30 minutes if you eat the entire thing. Including the frosting. As long as you're done with it outside of this place of course. Dr. Oliver: How concerned should I feel about that? SCP-8656-03: Little to none. You'll see if you eat it outside. Dr. Oliver: How are the meals made? SCP-8656-03: Just like any other meal. Dr. Oliver: The meat? SCP-8656-03: Directly from the SCPs themselves. It varies for each meal. Some are just like cows. Others, however, have their anomalous traits removed and modified before being put into the food. Dr. Oliver: Last question for you Roy, does this place take requests for new meals by any chance? SCP-8656-03: We sure do! Our most recent addition is, "Refuted Eggs." Dr. Oliver: That will be all. Have a nice day. SCP-8656-03: On your way out there is a suggestions box. You could write down which SCP should be made into a meal, or just ask for one. Like a cheeseburger and we'll pick the SCP from there. Goodbye Dr. Oliver. <End Log> Closing Statement: After the interview concluded, Dr. Oliver took his order to go with spare change and requested a testing chamber for an experiment. For the results of the "Sculpture Pancake", refer to Addendum: 8656.2. Addendum: 8656.2 After learning about the effects of SCP-8656-04 from the interview with an instance of SCP-8656-03, experiments were conducted on personnel for testing. Personnel chosen were briefed upon which SCP object the SCP-8656-04 instance originated from in preparation for the possible effects. SCP-8656-04 description Effects of instance Notes SCP origin A pancake with red, green, and black colored frosting resembling the "face" of SCP-173. After consumption of the entire pancake1 the subject gains inhuman speed when not observed by any sentient being. Unlike SCP-173, the subject does not freeze when observed and can freely move around at normal human speeds. This lasts for 30 minutes. When served the "face" is in a different pattern for every order. It's hypothesized that it resembles the "face" of SCP-173 from an alternate timeline. SCP-173 A standard milkshake with orange frosting with 2 vanilla wafer cookies placed into the frosting. After consumption, the subject's breath will change to a scent of either chocolate, fresh laundry, bacon, roses, or Play-Doh™. This effect lasts for 20 minutes. Subjects have reported that they can "feel" the milkshake inside of their stomachs for several seconds after consumption of any amount. SCP-999 Eggs with the option of SCP-8656-03 to have them served in a variety of ways like those of non-anomalous chicken eggs. The portion of eggs is larger than what is ordinarily served. When consumed the subject has their cervical vertebrae rapidly turn to cartilage instead of bone and have their saliva gain a pH Value of 2 when exiting the body.2 The effects last for 30 minutes. Unlike SCP-3199, subjects do not gain the eggs that SCP-3199 contains within their bodies. SCP-3199 A vanilla cake with a chocolate hand poking out of the center. When consumed, the subject gains the ability to pass through solid matter.3 The effect lasts for 1 hour. Unlike SCP-106, the subject does not have access to its pocket dimension nor any other anomalous traits that SCP-106 has. SCP-106 A boiled arthropod and a roasted Eurypharynx pelecanoides that resemble SCP-3700-1 and SCP-3700-2. When consuming only the boiled arthropod, the subject gains the ability to project concentrated blasts of gamma radiation from their eyes. When consuming only the roasted Eurypharynx pelecanoides, the subject gains the ability to release streams of blue fire from their esophagus.4 The effects last for 20 minutes unless both are consumed, resulting in the effects lasting for 10 minutes. The boiled arthropod lacks the markings SCP-3700-1 has on top of its body. SCP-3700 Slightly translucent red steak. When consumed, the subject gains the ability to mimic any voices they hear during the duration of the effects. This lasts for 1 hour. Subjects who consume this instance describe it as tasting similar to pork. SCP-939 A cephalopod resting on top of a plate in the shape of a German battleship with a slice of melted butter placed onto it. A single lemon is also served with the SCP-8656-04 instance. When consumed, the subject gains knowledge of any naval ship they step upon to fully operate and repair it, gaining the knowledge over 5 minutes. The effects last for 45 minutes or if the subject steps foot onto 4 naval ships. When a test subject consumes this instance they won't gain any knowledge for commercial vessels. When stepping onto the vessel no effect occurs. SCP-4217 3 grilled Mantodea, the subject is given a variety of sauces and condiments to be used if requested. The plate is circular and colored in a dark blue color with a corner colored in violet. When consumed by a human subject, subjects report visual hallucinations, presumably the vision of SCP-7999-3. More tests have been requested and are pending approval by the Ethics Committee. The effects last for 7 minutes. The decoration of the plate resembles the exoplanet, GN 667Cc. When the first test subject consumed the instance they saw a vision of the civilization and stated, "They are doing better than the last time we saw them. May we meet again." SCP-7999 A glass bottle of Coca-Cola brand cola drinks. The first "O" is replaced with the standard SCP Foundation logo. When consumed, subjects report effects that are consistent with SCP-207's anomalous properties. Effects last for 1 hour. Unlike SCP-207, the subject will not expire after consumption. Regardless of the portion consumed. SCP-207 2 fried wings that are triple the size of average servings. When consumed, the subject gains knowledge of the current time regardless of where or when they are located and the ability to have a selective presence.5 Effects last for 20 minutes. The test subject was asked about the current time and those of other time zones after being locked in a room for 3 hours with no clocks inside. They answered every question with precision. SCP-4975 Addendum: 8656.3 Request for the usage of SCP-8656-04 instances for research, military, and medical purposes. Email 01/13/2024 From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] none Request for the usage of SCP-8656-04 instances After research was done on some of the instances of SCP-8656-04 and the interview with SCP-8656-03 I request that we purchase some for storage. So we can use it for medical, military, and research purposes. These can help us save lives and gain more knowledge when used correctly. Imagine the possibilities! We might even be able to request some new ones to be created to further aid in our objectives. With regards, Dr. Cuoco Level 3 Foundation Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect Email 01/14/2024 From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] none Request for the usage of SCP-8656-04 instances Your request has been accepted. Depending on the instances storage won't be possible at all. I am entrusting you to make the correct storage decisions based on the abilities they give to subjects. If there's any difficulty with storage send in a request and I'll see to it. Yours truly, O5-6 O5 Council Member Secure, Contain, Protect Addendum: 8656.4 On 30/05/2023 all known instances of SCP-8656-01 were inert and led to a brick wall with the note posted, "Temporarily closed! Come back later!" All instances of SCP-8656-01 resumed anomalous traits 3 days later with fifteen new instances of SCP-8656-04 added to their menu as well as more decorations around the restaurant. Including flowers, artistic depictions of known SCP objects, various instances of SCP-2616 and SCP-2947 scattered around the main dining room seemingly at random, tables that are in the shape of the SCP Foundation's logo, and a portrait of SCP-8656-05. Addendum: 8656.5 The interview with SCP-8656-05 was conducted as promised by the instance of SCP-8656-03 on 10/06/2023 by Dr. Oliver. Interviewee: SCP-8656-05 Interviewer: Dr. Oliver Foreword: SCP-8656-05 was writing notes for possible additions to the menu during the interview and instructed Dr. Oliver to enter a private room for the interview. <Begin Log> Dr. Oliver: SCP-8656-05 Since the last time I was here I've seen that you've added more decorations and even a few SCPs around here. Why did you make this decision? SCP-8656-05: Customer feedback is the main reason why I added some more flair to this place. Dr. Oliver: Where did you get the many instances of SCP-261 and SCP-294? SCP-8656-05: I've taken them from worlds where they were planned to be destroyed, going to be destroyed by natural and supernatural causes, and those who couldn't learn anything else from it and were glad to give it away to me for free. Even after I told them what I planned to do with them. Dr. Oliver: Why did you want to make this place? SCP-8656-05: About 7 years ago I retired as a member of the O5 Council in my world and I wanted to keep doing something for the Foundation. I took some cooking classes around the country and learned a few things about business. After 2 years I was ready. I decided to work in the cafeteria of Site-22 and everyone loved it. I didn't think I would love cooking as much as I originally thought I would. Dr. Oliver: Why cooking? SCP-8656-05: I did have some other ideas like employee orientation but those ideas never really stuck with me. One day I went out for food and I had a really good fucking burger. Dr. Oliver: Alright but, how did you make this place in this pocket dimension? I don't mean the tables and chairs. I am asking how you got this here. SCP-8656-05: Truth is that I wanted to add something special to my food. Ingredients that would make you want to return for more and something you couldn't get anywhere else. Have you heard of Ambrose Restaurant at all? Dr. Oliver: I have actually. SCP-8656-05: Good. Then aside from that the owner approached me and knew what I was doing. I'm guessing they had a spy or something at Site-22. We talked for a few hours and we made a deal. I get immortality as long as I am in this place, knowledge of their works in cuisine, and they helped me connect my restaurant to every Foundation facility for more reach and profit. In exchange, they get 20% of the profits for the first 50 years and they had a say in what could be added to the menu. Dr. Oliver: How do you remove the anomalous properties of SCPs to be inserted into the food? SCP-8656-05: Trade secret. You know how it is. The side effect is that if it isn't eaten here- Dr. Oliver: The meals and beverages give the consumers temporary anomalous abilities dependent on what is consumed. SCP-8656-05: You get it. Dr. Oliver: What happens if we consume multiple meals and beverages one after another outside? SCP-8656-05: I put something special in the meals for that reason. To not have someone walk in here and leave a god. If you mix meals no effects will occur at all. That is also why the effects are temporary. I give Foundation employees a good meal and a source of help if they need it. Dr. Oliver: Anything you plan to do with the location some more? SCP-8656-05: From what I can tell you right now, a customer we got here 2 weeks ago was a very nice lady. She's recently engaged and came in here with her fiancée to eat. They had a lot of suggestions for the place. I just get hungry thinking about it. They both wrote down which SCPs, ideas for their meals, decorations, etc. Dr. Oliver: Sounds like a good opportunity to expand the place. SCP-8656-05: Before she left I asked her what she thought of the place. She told me, "Weirdly perfect for the Foundation to dine at." Then about 2 hours after she left, she came back. Dr. Oliver: Something good I hope. SCP-8656-05: Good is such an understatement. If you think this place is already big enough wait until you hear about what she offered me. They told me about a facility outside of time and I wouldn't have believed her if she didn't come out of a portal in the shape of the Foundation logo and asked to talk. SCP-8656-05 takes a sip of water. SCP-8656-05: She offered to pay off Ambrose Restaurant so I could make more profit and expand my reach to the known multiverse. More customers, more money, and the place gets better and better! She provided the flowers you see around here. Must've come from a wonderful place. Dr. Oliver: Wait a minute. Since time is different here is she the reason why you are talking to me right now in a way? SCP-8656-05: Crap. Knew I had forgotten a detail. So when I first opened this place I could serve to those only in my timeline. Still had this pocket dimension, time here running differently inside than outside, and my first employees were just new chefs in colleges and those who previously worked for the Foundation. It was only after I made the deal with her that my reach greatly expanded. Dr. Oliver: Just for clarification of the timeline of events you first retired from the O5 Council of your world, spent years learning business and cooking, worked at the cafeteria at Site-22, got the offer from the owner of Ambrose Restaurant, took it, made this pocket dimension and all the other rules with it but only for your timeline. Dr. Oliver takes a moment to catch his breath. Dr. Oliver: Then after an unknown amount of time working here and doing your business, the lady visits this place for the first time before leaving, and finally, makes you her offer and now here we are? SCP-8656-05: Yup. That's the gist. Dr. Oliver: Can I have some more water? SCP-8656-05: Sure. SCP-8656-05 hands Dr. Oliver a canteen. Dr. Oliver: Thank you. Dr. Oliver takes a few sips. SCP-8656-05: Anymore questions? Dr. Oliver: Only one but, compared to what you just answered it is an easy one. Why do you have discounts here depending on the security level of the customer? SCP-8656-05: A way to thank them for their service to the Foundation. In all my time here I only got about…16 customers who were a part of their O5 Council. Dr. Oliver: That will be all SCP-8656-05. Thank you for the water and your time. There is silence for a few seconds. Dr. Oliver: Wait! What did she want in exchange? SCP-8656-05: The Employees from Site-∞ get priority in their meals and unlike Ambrose, they only get 5% of the profits but with no time limit. Still a massive improvement. Dr. Oliver: Can you describe her? SCP-8656-05 hands over a photograph to Dr. Oliver. SCP-8656-5: Hope this helps doctor. Dr. Oliver: It does. Thank you. We'll keep an eye out for her. <End Log> Closing Statement: After the interview concluded Dr. Oliver spotted the lady in question. Before he could get a chance to speak to her, she left through SCP-8656-01. Footnotes 1. Including the frosting 2. This causes no harm to the subject 3. The subject will not be covered in the corrosive substance that covers SCP-106 and neither will any solid matter passed through 4. Neither one will harm the subject when used 5. Deciding who can see them or not at a mere thought 6. Unlike the instance in containment, accepts all forms of currency and to date hasn't dispensed anything hazardous 7. Unlike the instance in containment, only dispenses non-anomalous beverages
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SCP-8659
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esoteric-class
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Item#: 8659 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8659 is currently not contained. Due to the uncooperative and potentially dangerous nature of SCP-8659-A, direct contact, especially utilizing force, is not to be attempted. Instead, persuasion and communications are to be attempted to contain it. Additionally, due to the number of other GoIs also involved with SCP-8659, Foundation personnel are to attempt diplomacy to dissuade GoIs from interfering with the containment of SCP-8659. Description: SCP-8659 is the collective designation given to a group consisting of 7 anomalous humanoid siblings along with a large bipedal machine. SCP-8659-A, referred to as "Bordrand" by the subjects of SCP-8659-B, refers to the machine that serves as the caretaker/guardian for the 7 siblings. It is roughly 5 meters in height, and 4 meters in width. Its body consists of two large legs, with the joints pointing in the inverse direction of a standard humanoid's. The main torso is a round object with multiple attachment points aside from the ones already holding limbs. It has numerous attachments across its body that are identified to be weapons of an anomalous nature. Its head consists of three camera sensors, with two more in a star pattern, with the last two on top being covered by a plate of metal. Written on its back are the words "Colossus Mk S," which appears to any observers as whichever language they are most proficient in. It is fully sentient and is capable of complex speech. SCP-8659-B is the collective designation for the 7 siblings that accompany SCP-8659-A. The specific details of each sibling are detailed below. Designation Description Anomalous Abilities SCP-8659-B1 "Scarlet" Oldest sibling, estimated age of 19, 176 cm tall, female. Pyrokinesis out to an estimated range of 20 meters. Capable of manifesting fire within that range, as well as creating physical objects out of these flames. This fire doesn't extinguish via lack of oxygen, and is capable of burning through fire retardant equipment. SCP-8659-B2 "Edward" Second oldest sibling, estimated age of 16, twin of SCP-8659-B3, 162 cm tall, male. Advanced manipulation of technology. Technology encompasses a wide variety of inventions, from simple pulleys to advanced computers. This includes even anomalous inventions. All changes made to any pieces of technology must still be theoretically possible with the makeup of the invention. SCP-8659-B3 "Aubrey" Second oldest sibling, estimated age of 16, twin of SCP-8659-B2, 170 cm tall, non-binary. Teleportation to an unknown range. Due to the instantaneous nature of this ability, specifics are unknown on how it actually works. SCP-8659-B4 "Lauren" Twin of SCP-8659-B5, estimated age of 12, 144 cm tall, female. Manipulation of insects within 5 meters. The manipulation can include giving commands and delivering messages to other insects allowing for widespread effects over entire regions. SCP-8659-B5 "Hannah" Twin of SCP-8659-B4, estimated age of 12, 144 cm tall, female. Manipulation of local weather. The range varies between 5 and 12 kilometers of SCP-8659-B5, depending on the emotional stress levels of the subject. The effect on the weather is also determined by the current emotional state of SCP-8659-B5. The average effect when SCP-8659-B5 is calm is a perfectly clear sky. Sadness triggers rainfall, while anger triggers thunderstorms. SCP-8659-B6 "Isaac" Second youngest sibling, estimated age of 9, 139 cm tall, male. Large multitude of an anomalous effects, with SCP-8659-B6 possibly being a Type Green. Displayed abilities include but are not limited to: healing wounds in an instant, creating plant matter out of nothing, reducing noise volumes surrounding SCP-8659-B6, and invisibility. Investigations are ongoing to determine whether SCP-8659-B6 is a Type Green or not. SCP-8659-B7 "Chloe" Youngest sibling, estimated age of 1, 61 cm tall, female. Reality warping consistent with a Type Green's abilities. Due to the young age of the subject, these effects occur randomly and seem to have a spike in activity when SCP-8659-B7 is distressed. For this reason, great care is to be taken so as to keep SCP-8659-B7 in a calm state. SCP-8659-A is extremely protective in regards to SCP-8659-B. It consistently attempts to avoid contact with any Foundation personnel, as well as members of any other GoIs it has encountered, and has gone to the extent of verbally threatening or fleeing from Mobile Task Forces. Despite the arsenal of weaponry that SCP-8659-A has access to, it has never attempted to assault any personnel. Addendum 8659.1: Discovery On 11/24/2018 reports from locals in the area of ██████ were directed to nearby Mobile Task Force squads due to potentially anomalous circumstances. Reports included but were not limited to: insects of all kinds swarming together, no clouds at all being sighted for four days prior, and a "large thrumming noise" in the forest. Upon deployment, personnel made contact with SCP-8659. SCP-8659-A was extremely evasive of personnel and threatened to use force if they came too close, but made no attempts to actually harm them. Despite this, the weapons it possessed were considered too dangerous to risk provoking it. All personnel were instructed to retreat, and gathering intel is to be the current priority in regard to SCP-8659. The "thrumming" sound emerging from SCP-8659-A was discovered to be a message in morse code, though the intended recipient, if any, is unknown. Below is the translated message: KING SEEKERS, HAS YOUR CRUSADE ENDED? AM I A SHIELD NO MORE? WHERE IS YOUR CALL? HAS BLEEDING NO MEANING ANYMORE? AM I TO NEVER KILL AGAIN? After the incident, Foundation surveillance drones were dispatched as a means of tracking SCP-8659 without being seen. Addendum 8659.2: This video was recorded by an invisible drone after surveys of local weather anomalies indicated the presence of SCP-8659. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/01/2018 <SCP-8659-A "Bordrand" and several subjects of SCP-8659-B are seen walking along a beach on the coast of ██████. SCP-8659-B1 "Scarlet" is holding SCP-8659-B7 "Chloe." SCP-8659-B2 "Edward" is skipping stones. All other subjects of SCP-8659-B, aside from SCP-8659-B3 "Aubrey" are building sandcastles, with SCP-8659-A watching over them.> SCP-8659-B1: Aubrey should be back by now. Ed, do you have, like, a tracker or something on them? SCP-8659-B2: Why the fuck would I put a tracker on them? SCP-8659-B1: Because they've been disappearing all the time? And you're the kinda creep to do something like that? <SCP-8659-B2 rolls his eyes.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh fuck off. I've never done anything like that, and you know it. It's not my job to keep tabs on where everyone is, we've got you and Bordrand for that. SCP-8659-B1: Bordrand doesn't do shit aside from taking us to hot tourist destinations, and I'd like a break for once. SCP-8659-B2: The hell? Bordrand does everything for us. Gives us shelter, makes food- SCP-8659-B1: <interrupting> Yells at me whenever one of you goes missing. SCP-8659-B2: He gets mad at all of us, quit acting like you're special. SCP-8659-B1: You've never seen even half of- <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly manifests behind SCP-8659-B1, putting both hands on her shoulders.> SCP-8659-B3: Boo. SCP-8659-B1: <nearly falling over> Fuck! Damn it, Aubrey, I'm holding a baby here! SCP-8659-B3: Oh, shit, didn't realize, sorry. SCP-8659-B1: Where the hell have you been? It's way past curfew. SCP-8659-B3: Sorry, I lost track of the time, but I think you'll forgive me when you see what I brought. SCP-8659-B2: Did you get what I asked for? SCP-8659-B3: Yep, here it is. <They pull a cellphone out of their backpack.> SCP-8659-B3: An iPhone, just like you requested. Pretty sure it's the newest model. <SCP-8659-B3 throws the phone to SCP-8659-B2, who giddily runs back to Bordrand.> SCP-8659-B1: You stole that from someone, didn't you? SCP-8659-B3: <shrugging> Maybe, but I made sure to steal from the richest-looking person I could find. I wanted to get something for you, but I don't know what you even want. SCP-8659-B1: It's fine, I expected nothing. SCP-8659-B3: Well… I could braid your hair, maybe? It's been a while. SCP-8659-B1: …yeah, that would be really nice actually. <Both subjects walk over to SCP-8659-A. Drone is commanded to follow them. SCP-8659-B3 begins braiding SCP-8659-B1's hair once they sit.> <SCP-8659-A turns to look at both of them, with several of its "eyes" blinking off and on rapidly.> SCP-8659-A: Finally, you have returned. Scarlet, you need to keep a better eye on your siblings, to ensure they don't get separated too long. SCP-8659-B3: Wait, but I was the one who disappeared. That's not Scar's fault. SCP-8659-A: Yes, it is. She is the eldest and should know better than to let you wander. I hope you will do better, Scarlet. SCP-8659-B1: <mumbling> Yeah, whatever, Bordrand. <SCP-8659-B5 walks over to SCP-8659-B3, and tentatively pulls on their sleeve.> SCP-8659-B5: Hey, Aubrey, how come we don't get gifts? Ed keeps bragging about his phone- SCP-8659-B1: <quietly> That little sh-h-hmuck. SCP-8659-B5: <continuing> -and we want something! SCP-8659-B3: Sorry, I can get you something tom- SCP-8659-A: <interrupting> You are due nothing, child. Aubrey's gifts are their own decision, acquired with their own hands. To believe yourself owed the fruits of another's labor is the mindset of the greedy and corrupt. SCP-8659-B5: I- but I just wanted- SCP-8659-A: Patience, child. You will be delivered something soon, I am sure. But all you can do is hope and be thankful when that gift arrives. <SCP-8659-B5 sits back down with a huff.> SCP-8659-B5: …fine. SCP-8659-A: Good. It is time for rest, children. I will decide where we shall travel next. Have peaceful slumbers. <Subjects all go to sleep, with SCP-8659-A entering an equivalent sleep-like state. Drone is put into sleep mode until significant movement is detected. Video feed ends.> The following recording came after the drone reactivated due to detected movement. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-B1 is seen standing up. She checks the others, including SCP-8659-A, before walking away along the beach. Drone is instructed to follow her.> <After 3 minutes of walking, another humanoid is seen further up the beach. They wave to SCP-8659-B1, who waves back, and runs towards them. Subjects embrace upon making contact, before sitting down around a burnt-out campfire. The humanoid is female and has a symbol of the Serpent's Hand on her outfit.> SCP-8659-B1: I'm so glad to see you, Mae. Mae: Me too, Scar. I love what you've done with your hair. SCP-8659-B1: Oh, actually, Aubrey did that for me. Mae: Wow, they're really good at this stuff. <Mae touches SCP-8659-B1's hair, who doesn't mind the contact.> SCP-8659-B1: Well, as glad as I'd be to have nothing more than a personal chat with you, I'm assuming you want a response from me? Mae: Yep, sorry, but I'm here for business first. SCP-8659-B1: In that case, I'm still unsure of your offer. Bordrand will never allow it, and I don't want the others to be put in danger. Mae: Honey, they're already in danger. My group is by far the nicest one trying to find you right now. If the Book Burners get to you, they'll put you all in body bags. SCP-8659-B1: So you've told me. But we've got Bordrand… even if he and I have some disagreements. Mae: Are you really happy living with him? SCP-8659-B1: I… don't know. <There's a long pause. SCP-8659-B1 exhales sharply.> SCP-8659-B1: Alright, I'm in. What do I need to do? Mae: <smiling> Ask Bordrand to take you to his home. SCP-8659-B1: His home? How will that lead to you? Mae: It's a bit complicated, but the "portal" that we believe he's connected to based on some research into his craft has been re-wired to instead lead to the Wanderer's Library. SCP-8659-B1: Ah, you've told me about that place. Say, when we meet there, will you… show me around? <Mae laughs softly.> Mae: It'll be a date, assuming you want that. <SCP-8659-B1 blushes deeply.> SCP-8659-B1: Y-yes. Oh my god, yes, I want that. Mae: Then I'll see you there. SCP-8659-B1: Alright then. I should head back, don't wanna risk Bordrand finding out about me running off. Mae: Of course. Love you, Scar. SCP-8659-B1: I love you too, Mae. <SCP-8659-B1 and Mae kiss. SCP-8659-B1 walks back along the beach, while Mae steps through an unseen door, vanishing out of sight. The drone is instructed to continue following SCP-8659-B1.> <SCP-8659-A suddenly manifests in front of SCP-8659-B1, who falls over in surprise. The "thrumming" noise is heard once again being emitted from SCP-8659-A. All five sensors on its face are visible, each one a dark red.> SCP-8659-A: ENGAGING: SCARLET. YOU HAVE DISOBEYED MY DIRECT ORDERS. SCP-8659-B1: Fuck, Bordrand, I didn't mean to- <A loud sound akin to the scraping of metal interrupts her.> SCP-8659-A: SILENCE, GIRL. YOU HAVE HEARD MY COMMANDS. YOU SHOULD KNOW OF THE DANGERS THAT ARE OUT THERE. DO YOU BELIEVE I AM NOT TRYING TO PROTECT YOU? SCP-8659-B1: I… I know that! I just… needed to take a walk. SCP-8659-A: LIES? TO YOUR PROTECTOR? YOUR BEHAVIOR HAS GROWN UNACCEPTABLE, SCARLET. I NEED YOU TO LEARN. <SCP-8659-A lifts an arm up, preparing to strike SCP-8659-B1. SCP-8659-B1 flinches and attempts to shield herself with her arm. The "thrumming" sound quickens, before suddenly slowing down, as SCP-8659-A drops its arm to the ground. Its "eyes" have returned to their standard blue color.> SCP-8659-A: Oh no. What have I done? SCP-8659-B1: <tentatively> Bordrand? SCP-8659-A: Scarlet. I apologize. Did I… harm you? SCP-8659-B1: <sniffling> Yeah. Yeah you fucking did. SCP-8659-A: Oh… <Both SCP-8659-A and SCP-8659-B1 are silent for several seconds.> SCP-8659-B1: <hesitantly> You always do this. No matter how small my fuck up is, you scare me to the point I want to run away and never look back. <SCP-8659-A reaches out an arm, before stopping itself and sitting down.> SCP-8659-A: My child, please forgive me. I… seem to have made an error in my assessment of a proper punishment. If there is anything you want for me to make this up to you, then please tell me. <SCP-8659-B1 gets up slowly and uneasily.> SCP-8659-B1: <hesitantly> Well, I've been interested in your home. I want to know where you came from. Maybe that would, I don't know, help me understand you better? <SCP-8659-A recoils somewhat, its eyes blinking rapidly.> SCP-8659-A: Scarlet, I cannot. That is a place of war and bloodshed. It would be irresponsible for me to take you all there. SCP-8659-B1: Maybe it's calmed down. Or, maybe you're strong enough to protect us. Hell, I could protect the rest against a lot of things myself. SCP-8659-A: <tentatively> Very well. SCP-8659-B1: Really? Thank you, Bordrand. SCP-8659-A: But not without teaching you some things. You must learn to properly defend yourself. SCP-8659-B1: I'll do anything. SCP-8659-A: I understand. Rest well, Scarlet. You have a long day tomorrow. <SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-A both return to where the rest of SCP-8659-B are resting, and go to sleep themselves. Video feed ends.> The Serpent's Hand is clearly involved in recruiting SCP-8659-B1 based on this video log. Negotiations between Foundation personnel and Serpent's Hand members are to be carried out so as to guarantee Foundation containment of SCP-8659. Additionally, the "thrumming" sound emitted by SCP-8659-A was once again a morse code message. The translation is as follows: WHAT PURPOSE REMAINS FOR THIS TIRED SHIELD? THESE CHILDREN ARE UNFIT TO BE LED BY A WEAPON OF WAR. THEIR DISOBEDIANCE IS UNLIKE A PROPER SOLDIER. OH, WHAT AM I TO DO, LORD SOVEREIGNS? MUST I TAKE THEM TO THAT WORLD PAINTED RED? Addendum 8659.3: After communications with the Serpent's Hand were made, an agreement was reached to temporarily cooperate due to the threat SCP-8659-A presented. However, no further information on Mae was able to be gained. Simultaneously, surveillance drones captured additional footage of SCP-8659. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-A is addressing all subjects of SCP-8659-B. They are all in a dense, tropical forest area, indicating a decent amount of travel.> SCP-8659-A: I have come to a decision after some… thinking last night. I've decided it's time to bring you all to my original home. <Several gasps come from the children gathered, except for SCP-8659-B1, who remains unsurprised. SCP-8659-B3 narrows their eyes at SCP-8659-B1, but doesn't say anything.> SCP-8659-B4: <excitedly> Does that mean we get to meet your family!? SCP-8659-A: I will explain that all on the way, child. For now, though, we must begin preparations. In the case of unfortunate events befalling me, I want you children to be able to survive on your own- SCP-8659-B5: <upset> W-we're losing you!? SCP-8659-B3: That's not at all what he said, Han. It's just in case. SCP-8659-A: Aubrey is correct. I have no plans on leaving any of you any time soon. <SCP-8659-B1 looks at the ground. SCP-8659-B3 continues staring at her.> SCP-8659-A: Now, as part of the preparations, I will teach Scarlet and Aubrey how to defend all of you, as I believe they are the only ones suited for such a task. SCP-8659-B2: Hey, what about me? I've got ways to protect us all. <SCP-8659-A shakes its head.> SCP-8659-A: Edward, I have evaluated your abilities and fail to see their application to combat. I will not train you. SCP-8659-B2: That's not fair, I can- SCP-8659-A: <interrupting> No, Edward. My decision is final. Go take the other children, play a game, or do whatever you need to occupy yourselves. Scarlet and Aubrey, I will now teach you the arts of combat. SCP-8659-B3: Alright, if you say so. <SCP-8659-B1 says nothing, and both her and SCP-8659-B3 approach SCP-8659-A. SCP-8659-B2 mumbles something unintelligible.> SCP-8659-B2: Whatever. Lauren, Hannah, let's go play hide and seek or something. SCP-8659-B4: But I wanna watch them train. SCP-8659-B2: <angry> You aren't doing that. It doesn't even matter. They're never gonna actually get a moment to shine, seeing as Bordrand is gonna take care of us anyways. This is just a pointless, stupid time waster. <SCP-8659-B6 runs up to SCP-8659-B2 while holding SCP-8659-B7 and tugs on his sleeve.> SCP-8659-B2: What is it, Isaac? <SCP-8659-B6 points into the trees and uses hand signs to mimic a person chasing another. He then points at both himself and SCP-8659-B2, and then at SCP-8659-B4 and SCP-8659-B5.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, tag? Alright, fine then. Me and you against Lauren and Hannah. SCP-8659-B4: That sounds fun! Give us a one-minute head start! SCP-8659-B2: <rolling his eyes> Way too long. You get 20 seconds. SCP-8659-B4: Ugh, fine. <SCP-8659-B4 grabs SCP-8659-B5 and they both run together. SCP-8659-B2 and SCP-8659-B6 then both put their heads against trees, and SCP-8659-B2 counts to 20. They then both begin running through the forest, with SCP-8659-B6 being careful to not drop SCP-8659-B7.> <After several minutes of running, SCP-8659-B2 encounters a strange object. It appears to be a cube, with several latches, buttons, and other mechanisms adorning it. He approaches it curiously.> SCP-8659-B2: The hell is this? <SCP-8659-B6 tugs on SCP-8659-B2's sleeve again.> SCP-8659-B2: Hang on, Isaac. I need to know what this is. <SCP-8659-B6 continues trying to pull SCP-8659-B2 away.> SCP-8659-B2: <annoyed> Isaac, stop! Just leave me alone. You can catch those two yourself. <SCP-8659-B6 seems upset, but gives up on pulling SCP-8659-B2. He then runs away, wiping his face aggressively. SCP-8659-B2 then turns his attention back to the cube.> SCP-8659-B2: Alright, now what the hell are you? <SCP-8659-B2 engages with the box for 34 minutes, making numerous changes to it. The box acts as an extremely technologically advanced puzzle, as well as being anomalous in nature due to the impossible geometric shapes it creates as it is solved. Despite this, SCP-8659-B2 rarely slows down in his efforts to solve it, and eventually creates a stable sphere-like shape.> SCP-8659-B2: <surprised> Holy shit. <Immediately after solving the puzzle, several figures suddenly approach SCP-8659-B2. They all have mechanical prosthetics of various kinds, all being well-known inventions of the Church of the Broken God. A priest stands at the front, and addresses SCP-8659-B2> Priest: Greetings, child. <SCP-8659-B2 backs away from the figures, startled, and attempts to reach for something, but finds nothing within reach.> SCP-8659-B2: <defensive> Who the hell are you guys!? Priest: At ease, child. We are followers of Robert Bumaro, of the Church of the Broken God. We are immensely impressed by the method you used to solve that Cage. SCP-8659-B2: Ok, slow down, you're throwing a lot of words at me. Priest: Of course. Cages are devices used by the Church to store extremely valuable items or information. SCP-8659-B2: Then why'd you let me open one? Don't you want nobody else to be able to? Priest: <nodding> Correct. However, you opening it should have been impossible. Normally, a team of 6 members with specific enhancements would take 12 hours to open one of those. You took 34 minutes. SCP-8659-B2: <surprised> Huh, I… guess that's cool. But who even are you? Priest: Followers of the Grand Architect, Mekhane. He is a god that will bring about an era of perfection should we repair him, as foretold by Robert Bumaro. SCP-8659-B2: <confused> Bumaro? Priest: The founder of our church, and an unparalleled master of the technological arts. <The priest then smiles, and leans closer to SCP-8659-B2.> Priest: Unless you can match him. SCP-8659-B2: <overwhelmed> This is a lot to take in. But I think I'm picking up that you think I'm special and can help with your grand purpose? Priest: If you're able to open a cage with no enhancements 24 times faster than standard procedure, then there's no reason to doubt that you could greatly benefit our cause. SCP-8659-B2: <hesitantly> This… this isn't a ruse right? You're not gonna suddenly put me in a bag and do experiments on me, are you? Priest: <chuckling> My child, I believe you're mistaking us for the Foundation. They would certainly do those things to you. <sighing> No, we can grant you a proper home, for you and your siblings. SCP-8659-B2: And Bordrand? <The Priest appears confused for a second, not recognizing the name.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, uh, our big robot… friend. Priest: Ah. The machine you travel with… we believe it to be an artifact of our god. Therefore, we have the means to convince him to work with us. SCP-8659-B2: <thoughtful> This is… a lot to take in. Priest: We understand, child. We shall give you time to consider our offering. However, you may have less time than you think. A group worse than all others for you is searching for you as we speak. SCP-8659-B2: Seriously? Who are they? Priest: The Global- <The Priest is cut off by the sound of an explosion. SCP-8659-B4 through B7 all appear, with SCP-8659-B7 being held by SCP-8659-B6. They are all panicked.> SCP-8659-B2: Lauren, Hannah, Isaac, what's going on!? Priest: They're already here, we must take you to- SCP-8659-B2: <interrupting> I'm not going anywhere without Aubrey and Scarlet. I need to find them. <The Priest looks at SCP-8659-B2 in frustration, his hand gripping his staff tightly. He then looks down and sighs.> Priest: Very well. Our presence here must not be detected - however, we still have a means of assisting you. <The Priest gives SCP-8659-B2 a pair of gauntlets. The gauntlets are made of an unidentified, anomalous metal, and give off a light, blue glow.> Priest: These will help you fend off the coming enemies. SCP-8659-B2: How- Priest: <interrupting> I'm not high enough ranking to know how to use them, but we assume you'll be able to figure it out. We must flee now. I hope we'll meet again, Edward. SCP-8659-B2: Thank you. <The Priest, along with all other members, disappears. SCP-8659-B2 puts on the gauntlets and focuses intently on them.> SCP-8659-B2: Alright, kids, let's go save the others. Prior to that incident, a second surveillance drone was deployed due to the separation of SCP-8659 into two groups. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-A, SCP-8659-B1, and SCP-8659-B3 are all in a large clearing in a forest. SCP-8659-B1 is using her abilities to create swarms of flame around SCP-8659-A. SCP-8659-B3 is armed with an unidentified rifle, provided by SCP-8659-A, and teleports frequently, taking surprise shots at SCP-8659-A from behind. Despite their combined effort, SCP-8659-A is completely unharmed by their attacks.> SCP-8659-B1: <frustrated> God damn it! <SCP-8659-A approaches SCP-8659-B1 while she attempts to burn it. SCP-8659-A grabs SCP-8659-B1 around the waist and lifts her off the ground.> SCP-8659-A: Focus your flames, child. They won't burn anything if you throw them in a blind rage. SCP-8659-B1: Well, what if I don't want to hurt you? <The parts of SCP-8659-A that were partially melted reform back into their original shape, completely intact.> SCP-8659-A: I am capable of repairing my own body, granted my core is intact. You have nothing to fear. SCP-8659-B1: Still- <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly appears behind SCP-8659-A's hand, and fires a round into it, causing it to release SCP-8659-B1, who falls to the ground.> SCP-8659-A: <impressed> Excellent, Aubrey. You saved a teammate efficiently, and now you both would have been able to retaliate against me. You both seem tired, so I'll give you a break for now. Rest up, we shall resume later. <SCP-8659-A walks away, disappearing into the forest. The thrumming is heard as it leaves. SCP-8659-B3 then offers a hand to SCP-8659-B1, who accepts it and stands up.> SCP-8659-B1: Thanks, Aubrey. Gah, this fucking sucks. <They both walk to the nearest tree while talking.> SCP-8659-B3: I've got a hell of an easy job compared to you. Teleport behind a guy, boom, he's dead. Seems he expects you to always be up front and center. SCP-8659-B1: Why is it always on me to protect all of you? SCP-8659-B3: <sympathetic> I bet that's exhausting. <They both sit in silence for a second. SCP-8659-B3 then speaks up, slowly.> SCP-8659-B3: Sooo… why'd you ask him to take us to his home? SCP-8659-B1: <shocked> Wha- how'd you guess that? SCP-8659-B3: You disappeared last night. SCP-8659-B1: <suspicious> Did you… see where I went? SCP-8659-B3: <chuckling> Chill, Scar. I didn't follow you. SCP-8659-B1: Damn it, Aubrey. You always know too much. SCP-8659-B3: I was given the perfect ability to eavesdrop, it's not on me that I use it. <They once again sit in silence, until SCP-8659-B1 speaks up hesitantly.> SCP-8659-B1: Listen, Aubrey, the reason I asked him was because… well, first promise you won't say this to anyone else, alright? SCP-8659-B3: <incredulous> C'mon, Scar, it can't be that serious. SCP-8659-B1: Well I am. Tell nobody about this. SCP-8659-B3: Fine, you have my vow of secrecy. SCP-8659-B1: Alright. I… think I want to escape. SCP-8659-B3: Escape? SCP-8659-B1: <agitated> Yeah, from… this. Bordrand. I-it's not that I don't love you guys, it's just that this has been stressing me the hell out, and I've had no time to live for myself, and there's so much going on, and- SCP-8659-B3: <interrupting, concerned> Whoa, there. Slow down. This has really been eating away at you, huh? SCP-8659-B1: Y-yeah. I… didn't know who to tell. You seemed like the only one who might take it well. SCP-8659-B3: <reassuring> Well, you're in luck. I kinda get it. You've been run ragged, and we can't force you to keep going. I can see why you want to stop. SCP-8659-B1: Really? I t-thought you would tell me I was stupid, and that I have to stay for you or something. SCP-8659-B3: Nah, I think me and Edward can pick up where you leave things off. But… I am concerned about one thing. SCP-8659-B1: What's that? SCP-8659-B3: How will we see you again, if you do run away? SCP-8659-B1: …I don't know. If I run, I'll never be able to look at Bordrand again. He'd kill me, and I don't know how literally. SCP-8659-B3: We need a home. That's the problem. A place we can all meet up, where we won't have to raise each other, where Bordrand can relax and know we're safe. SCP-8659-B1: <nodding> I think I know how we can get that. SCP-8659-B3: How? All of the groups we've met have tried to take us forcefully. Only those weird guys with the, like, logo with the arrows pointing in a circle tried to actually talk to us. SCP-8659-B1: No! The J- I mean, the Foundation will treat us like lab rats. We can't trust them. SCP-8659-B3: You seem awfully sure. Like someone fed those words to you. <SCP-8659-B1 suddenly steps towards SCP-8659-B3, a flame in her hand.> SCP-8659-B1: Aubrey, you're gonna tell me exactly how much you know right now. SCP-8659-B3: Jesus- Scar, fucking chill! What the fuck are you doing!? SCP-8659-B1: You're not telling me everything. Tell me absolutely everything you know about last night, right fucking now. SCP-8659-B3: Damn it, Aubrey. Are you trying to take your anger out on me? Is it that time of the month? SCP-8659-B1: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Don't mock me! Just tell me what you fucking saw! SCP-8659-B3: That's clearly not the main issue at hand, idiot! SCP-8659-B1: You- <An explosion is heard, and SCP-8659-A suddenly falls near SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-B3. It is heavily damaged, and is inactive, with a large force barrier surrounding it.> <On top of SCP-8659-A, a GOC Strike Team stands over it. All seven members are wearing White Suits1.> Strike Team Commander: LTE-9418-Bordrand is incapacitated. As the reports suggested, it seems impervious to permanent harm, and will require much stronger firepower to kill, over. <A member of the Strike Team points over to SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-B3, and brings the Commander's attention to them.> Strike Team Commander: You, are you two some of the children that this machine was escorting? SCP-8659-B1: W-what the hell did you do to Bordrand!? Strike Team Commander: Both of you, surrender now, or we will use force. SCP-8659-B1: Go to hell! <SCP-8659-B1 conjures fire around her, while SCP-8659-B3 disappears, saying something unintelligible to SCP-8659-B1. The Strike Team all turn invisible, and begin firing rounds into SCP-8659-B1, who uses physical flames to block them.> <The drone at this point is damaged by the flames created by SCP-8659-B1, and is destroyed. Video feed ends.> IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO EASY THEIR SUITS WERE RUDIMENTARY, THEIR METHODS FLAWED HAD I SO WISHED, I COULD HAVE CRUSHED THEM UNDERFOOT BUT I AM NO WEAPON ANYMORE KING SEEKERS, IF YOU YET LIVE, THEN KNOW THIS: I AM FREE OF YOU NOW, FOREVER AND ALWAYS After the appearance of GOC forces, Mobile Task Forces were deployed in the hopes of retrieving SCP-8659-B and reducing damage. While they were being deployed, the surveillance drone observing SCP-8659-B2 collected this footage. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-B2 escorts SCP-8659-B4 through -B7 to an undergrowth, and motions for them to enter it.> SCP-8659-B2: All of you hide here. Things are about to get bad. I'm gonna find Aubrey and Scarlet, and then we'll all get out of here. SCP-8659-B5: What about Bordrand? SCP-8659-B2: He's invincible. I'm sure nothing will be able to hurt him. <SCP-8659-B6 pulls on SCP-8659-B2's sleeve, and points to SCP-8659-B7.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, yeah, make sure Chloe stays calm. It'll get dangerous if she freaks out. <SCP-8659-B6 makes several quick motions, but SCP-8659-B2 doesn't respond.> SCP-8659-B2: Alright, I'm gonna move. Stay hidden, don't let anyone find you. Lauren, make a swarm of bugs attack people if they find you. Hannah, try to stay calm, and don't let a storm start. SCP-8659-B5: O-ok. <SCP-8659-B2 then runs away. While running, he attempts to put on the gauntlets, but can't fit them on.> SCP-8659-B2: Damn it! How do these things work? <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly manifests directly in front of SCP-8659-B2.> SCP-8659-B3: Ed! SCP-8659-B2: Oh, Aubrey, thank god! <They both embrace each other quickly, and then begin running while talking.> SCP-8659-B2: What's the situation? I heard an explosion. Is Scarlet safe? SCP-8659-B3: These guys, one of the organizations looking for us, suddenly appeared. They somehow beat Bordrand. They had these crazy suits, they could go fucking invisible, and run super fast, and- SCP-8659-B2: Wait, they beat Bordrand? SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, he was fucked up. Scarlet is fighting them off right now, but we've gotta go help her. SCP-8659-B2: Holy shit, this is bad. Ok, I got these gauntlets, they might- SCP-8659-B3: Where the hell did you get those? They look like some sci-fi shit. SCP-8659-B2: Look, that doesn't matter right now. I just think they'll help. SCP-8659-B3: Where are the other kids? SCP-8659-B2: I found a hiding spot for them, they should be- SCP-8659-B3: You left them alone!? SCP-8659-B2: Yeah? The fuck was I supposed to do? Take them to a warzone? SCP-8659-B3: Shit, Chloe could cause chaos. What if those guys find them? SCP-8659-B2: We just need to find them first. Speaking of… <They both duck under a log, and look ahead. A large portion of the surroundings are currently on fire, and smoke fills the air. SCP-8659-B1 is standing in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by fire, and shooting flames out all around her. The flames around her are repeatedly struck by gunfire.> SCP-8659-B2: Fuck! The hell is going on!? SCP-8659-B3: There are these guys, they've got fucking invisibility suits or some shit. We need to shake them off us. SCP-8659-B2: Ok, you support Scarlet, I just need a second to figure this shit out. SCP-8659-B1: Shit! <A bullet grazes SCP-8659-B1's thigh, causing blood to pool down her left leg. She appears extremely fatigued, and slows down significantly.> SCP-8659-B3: <breathing in, muttering> Wait for a shot. Look where they're shooting from. <After another gunshot sound, SCP-8659-B3 quickly fires several rounds toward the area the sound came from. A GOC agent in a white suit suddenly appears, and falls to the ground, presumed dead.> SCP-8659-B3: Oh fuck. Strike Team Commander: Agent Dudley is down! Requesting back up, the other katies seem to have come back. <SCP-8659-B3 grabs SCP-8659-B2 and they both teleport right next to SCP-8659-B1.> SCP-8659-B2: The fuck? Aubrey, how'd you teleport me? SCP-8659-B3: No clue, let's worry about it later. SCP-8659-B1: You two, where are the others? Are they safe? SCP-8659-B2: Safer than right here. I think I've almost got this thing figured out. Get me to that guy in the suit over there, maybe there's a counter to their invisibility. <SCP-8659-B1 begins slowly moving over to the dead Strike Team Agent. SCP-8659-B2 is able to fully equip the gauntlets at this point, and manages to fire several energy blasts out with them.> SCP-8659-B2: Holy shit! SCP-8659-B1: The hell are those things? SCP-8659-B2: I'll tell you later! Cover me while I figure out how this suit works. <The sound of gunfire picks back up, and SCP-8659-B1 focuses on creating a defensive barrier of fire. SCP-8659-B3 sends returning shots, but fails to hit any.> SCP-8659-B3: They're being more cautious, I can't do shit to them! SCP-8659-B2: <muttering> Is it a signal they send out? Something to disrupt our senses of perception? <SCP-8659-B1 is struck in the shoulder, and momentarily loses focus on the barrier. In that time, SCP-8659-B3 is shot in the leg, and falls over.> SCP-8659-B3: Fuck! SCP-8659-B1: Ed, you better figure that shit out! SCP-8659-B2: I've got it! <SCP-8659-B2 configures several dials in the gauntlets, and then emits a bright light. All remaining Strike Team agents become fully visible in the light. All agents take cover behind trees.> Strike Team Commander: Report, our invisibility has seemingly been tampered with. Additionally, targets possess firepower strong enough to punch through our White Suits. Requesting permission to retreat with LTE-9418-Bordrand. <There is a brief pause.> Strike Team Commander: Permission granted! Let's get the hell out of here! <The Strike Team fully retreats, while a helicopter appears with SCP-8659-A hooked up beneath it. All agents grab onto a rope that is attached, and the helicopter takes off.> SCP-8659-B1: Fuck! Give Bordrand back assholes! <SCP-8659-B1 attempts to create more flames, but suddenly stops and falls over, coughing profusely.> SCP-8659-B3: Guess you're at your limit, Scar. I'll get the kids, and then get us all out of here. We'll figure out our next move once we're all safe. SCP-8659-B2: I think I can copy that invisibility with these things, just give me a second. SCP-8659-B1: <weakly> Seriously, those things are stupidly strong, who the hell gave them to you? SCP-8659-B2: A… church? My head is foggy, I need to think it over. <SCP-8659-B3 disappears, and then SCP-8659-B2 turns towards the drone.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, were you invisible too? <He raises a hand towards it.> SCP-8659-B2: Too bad. <There is a flash of light, and the feed ends.> Simultaneously, Mobile Task Forces deployed in the area captured footage shown below. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <The footage is captured in Agent Kyle Douglas' body camera. He is running through a forest, followed by his fellow task force members, Agent Kayna Anderson and Agent Adam Byars. The weather is extremely erratic, large swarms of insects constantly pass by, and some small objects such as pebbles begin floating upwards.> Douglas: Shit, is this an apocalypse? Everyone, stay close to me, we don't wanna get split up in this. Anderson: Roger! Byars: Sir, I think I see some people in that undergrowth! They look unarmed, maybe they're civilians? Douglas: Let's move towards them, but be cautious. I'll take the lead. <The team moves forwards, coming across an undergrowth, with SCP-8659-B4 through B7 all being found inside. SCP-8659-B6 is holding SCP-8659-B7, who is crying profusely. SCP-8659-B6 seems to be attempting to calm her down.> Douglas: Shit, kids! Hey, this place isn't safe! We're gonna get you out of here! SCP-8659-B4: Y-you're the bad men. Here to kidnap us, aren't you? Douglas: No, we're not - we will give you shelter and get you back home. Unless- Anderson: <whispering> Sir, I think those kids are the Skips we're after. Douglas: <whispering> Even if they are, they're kids. We've gotta get them somewhere safe. <Suddenly, a second group with flashlights appears through the trees. They are a squad wearing standard GOC task force gear. They raise their weapons towards Agent Douglas.> Douglas: Fuck, GOC! You two, get the hell out of here! Byars: Sir- <Gunfire erupts from the other group. Agents Anderson and Byars both run away, taking cover behind various trees. Agent Douglas throws a flash bang, but is struck in the chest by gunfire.> Douglas: Shit! <The flash bang emits a bright light, but the task force were all able to cover their eyes. They approach Agent Douglas. Insects swarm around the squad, but are incapable of causing any harm to them. SCP-8659-B5 then steps out from the undergrowth.> SCP-8659-B5: LEAVE US ALONE! <As she screams, several bolts of lightning land on the GOC squad, lighting the trees and plants around them on fire. Several of them appear stunned, but they are all unharmed as they retreat through the trees.> SCP-8659-B5: YEAH! THAT'S RIGHT! WE'RE STRONGER THAN YOU, STUPID KIDNAPPERS! Douglas: <coughing> Heh, that was a damn good show, kid. SCP-8659-B4: Uh, s-sir, you seem hurt. Are you gonna be ok? Douglas: Oh, sure. I've been hit by much worse than this. <Agent Douglas attempts to stand up, but quickly falls back down, grunting in pain. SCP-8659-B4 and SCP-8659-B5 both stand back, visibly frightened.> Douglas: Well, shit. Guess my luck was gonna run out eventually. <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly appears in front of Agent Douglas, facing the opposite direction.> SCP-8659-B3: Kids! We've gotta go! Follow me, I know where to go. <They turn around, and notice Agent Douglas.> SCP-8659-B3: Oh, fuck, you got hit bad. You're Foundation? Douglas: Y-yeah. Was trying to help these kids get away. You their big sibling? SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, one of them. Douglas: Good, good. Look, I don't got long, so listen very carefully. The Foundation is your best bet to be safe. I know other groups might've told you we're cruel, but they'll weaponize you. The Foundation is the only place you'll really be safe. SCP-8659-B3: I hope so. Sir, that wound keeps getting worse, are you- Douglas: Take the young'ins away from me. They don't deserve to see a soldier die. Too much trauma at a young age, eh? SCP-8659-B3: If that's what you want. <SCP-8659-B6 suddenly steps up to Agent Douglas, and hands SCP-8659-B7 over to SCP-8659-B3. He is crying aggressively, and kneels down in front of Agent Douglas.> Douglas: Kid, don't, there's nothing you can- <SCP-8659-B6 places his hands on Douglas' wound, causing him to yell out in pain.> SCP-8659-B3: Isaac! The hell are you- <SCP-8659-B3 attempts to pull SCP-8659-B6 away, but is telekinetically pushed away, falling gently onto the ground several feet away. SCP-8659-B6 then focuses on the wound, as it begins to close.> Douglas: Oh, lord, that feels weird. The hell are you- <Agent Douglas gasps, and when SCP-8659-B6 steps away, the wound, along with all the blood, has disappeared.> Douglas: You - oh my god. You saved my life. SCP-8659-B3: Isaac, I didn't know you could do that. That was incredible. <SCP-8659-B6 is still crying, but smiles. The skies clear out, and the storm fades away.> Douglas: I owe you one. I have to get out of here. Thank you. SCP-8659-B3: Thank you, sir, for protecting them. I'll think about your words from earlier. Goodbye. <SCP-8659-B3 gathers all of the other children around them, and they all suddenly disappear. Video feed ends.> Addendum 8659.4: Following the incident, Foundation efforts to secure SCP-8659 were dramatically increased. However, due to the aggressive presence of other GoIs, direct confrontation was difficult. Therefore, negotiations and persuasion of SCP-8659-B to willingly join the Foundation were decided to be the best route for containment. Simultaneously, a search for SCP-8659-A was initiated due to the risk that it may be destroyed by the GOC. On December 5th, 2018, a signal in morse code was discovered to be emitted from a GOC Decommission Base. Based on the contents of the message, and the fact it was from a GOC operated location, it was concluded to belong to SCP-8659-A. The message below was repeated every time it ended, and was presumed to be an automatic response to the defensive mode SCP-8659-A went into. ORDER PURPOSE A VACANT THRONE A COMMON ENEMY THE CREATORS DEMANDED MUCH FAILURE WAS MET WITH PUNISHMENT A PERFECT SYSTEM, TO BREED PERFECT WEAPONS I WAS A SLAVE TO THEIR DEMANDS I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK CHILDREN, I PRAY YOU DON'T FIND ME I'VE FOUND CLOSURE, MY OLD SELF ALREADY BURIED I HEAR THEIR COMMANDS, AND THEY TELL ME TO FIGHT AND MAIM AND KILL AND I FEAR THAT IF YOU FIND ME, I WILL LISTEN At this point, observations of SCP-8659-B became extremely difficult, due to SCP-8659-B2's ability to detect invisibility and SCP-8659-B1's destructive powers. Additionally, communications with the Serpent's Hand broke down due to the threat of SCP-8659-A no longer being present. Addendum 8659.5: After locating the Decommission Base that SCP-8659-A was being held at, a Foundation microdrone was sent in to scout out the location. Ordinarily, motion detectors around the base should've been able to detect the drone, but it's believed that the presence of SCP-8659-A was somehow interfering with them in some way, as they didn't trigger when the drone passed through. The following footage was recovered from the drone. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/07/2018 <The microdrone passes through the Decommission Base, observing a large amount of machinery designed for destroying anomalous objects. After thrumming noises emerge from a large room in the center, the drone is sent in, where SCP-8659-A is discovered to be held up by a large number of bindings made from various steel alloys, with its barrier still holding.> <Upon landing onto the barrier, the drone is suddenly pulled through, and brief activity is detected from SCP-8659-A. There is a period of silence, before a voice is heard being transmitted to the drone.> SCP-8659-A: Have I connected? <The operator of the drone speaks into the microphone.> Operative: Yes, we can hear you. SCP-8659-A: Which faction does this drone hail from? Operative: This is the SCP Foundation. We're- SCP-8659-A: I know of your group. The King Seekers spoke of you. You see containment and research of the anomalous as the ultimate goal. Operative: Correct. We also don't wish to see the anomalous get destroyed, so we're trying to save you. SCP-8659-A: You will not save me. This base shall be my final resting place. So long as the children do not find me, there is no further reason for me to live. Operative: Why are you so protective of those children? SCP-8659-A: They are… a second chance for me. The possibility for me to go against my code. To prove that the programming of the King Seekers is not absolute. Operative: What code are you going against that involves the children? SCP-8659-A: The Code of Warriors. For the models like myself, we were not designed to embrace anything aside from efficiency in battle and carrying out the King's Will. Operative: Yet you're able to go against this code? SCP-8659-A: I… hope. I think I have subverted it, but I haven't directly gone against it. I'm worried… that all this time I've still been carrying out the King's Will without realizing. Operative: Who are the King Seekers? And who is the King you keep mentioning? SCP-8659-A: Who they are matters no longer, as they have been erased. Destroyed. Annihilated. They are nothing but a distant memory in my database. SCP-8659-A: As for the King, well… we still haven't found him. We had him once, but he left. The only thing he left behind was his Will. Operative: Can you describe this Will? SCP-8659-A: It came in four parts. "Be true to thyself, for the world will lie. Trust none apart from thy own comrades, for they are the only followers of the Will. Seek out those that could follow the Will, and mold them into Perfect Shields. Find your King, and put him on The Throne." <There is a brief moment of silence.> SCP-8659-A: Oh, dear King, no. Operative: Bordrand, what's the issue? SCP-8659-A: Your Highness, you had me on a leash from the start, didn't you? That was the only reason I protected those children. Operative: What do you mean? SCP-8659-A: They mustn't find me. I can't- <SCP-8659-A suddenly twitches in place, the barrier blinking rapidly. It then returns to a default state.> Operative: Bordrand? SCP-8659-A: "Be true to thyself, for the world will lie. Trust none apart from thy own comrades, for they are the only followers of the Will. Seek out those that could follow the Will, and mold them into Perfect Shields. Find your King, and put him on The Throne." <SCP-8659-A repeated these words for an indefinite amount of time, and remained unresponsive to all attempts to interact with it. Communications with it were ceased as a result of this. Video feed ends.> In order to attempt communications with SCP-8659-B, Agent Douglas was sent out in an area with anomalous weather deviations, due to his believed status as an amicable person to SCP-8659-B. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/07/2018 <Agent Douglas is walking along a beach, using binoculars to try and search for SCP-8659-B. A click is heard behind him, and he turns around to see SCP-8659-B3 pointing an anomalous firearm at him. They lower it upon recognizing Douglas.> SCP-8659-B3: You're the agent. From before. Douglas: Indeed I am. Do you have a minute? SCP-8659-B3: <shrugging> Sure, I've been disappearing for the other kids a lot. They won't notice. <Agent Douglas takes a seat on the sand, and SCP-8659-B3 follows suit.> SCP-8659-B3: Sooo… how's work been treating ya? Douglas: <laughing softly> A bit rough. Lots of analytics on my chest. SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, I bet. <pause> Sorry, I'm awful at small talk, and I doubt you're here to catch up on things. Douglas: Yeah, sorry, but we've gotta talk. You guys are somehow headed right for where your robot is being held, and we're worried it's a death trap. SCP-8659-B3: I get the concern, but I think we're ready. We fought those guys off before, and we're better now, so- Douglas: Kid, the group you fought off was nothing. You haven't seen their real heavy hitters. I came across a U-HEC2 once, and it was a goddamn nightmare. SCP-8659-B3: <sighing> You're probably right, but what choice have we got? Someone's gonna snatch us eventually. At least we have a choice to try and get Bordrand back. Douglas: Can I ask a few questions? They shouldn't take long. SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, go ahead. Douglas: How did you meet the robot, "Bordrand" as you call him? SCP-8659-B3: Right after Chloe was born, about two years ago, both our parents suddenly died out of nowhere. No clue what did it, but they were gone just like that. SCP-8659-B3: We were from a really small town. Maybe 100 people. We already had been getting weird looks from the other townspeople. They were a superstitious bunch. Things burned around Scarlet so often. Ed could make anything he set his mind to, and I would show up wherever I damn well pleased. SCP-8659-B3: 'Course, that was all our powers at work. We didn't know what we were doing, we were just fucking around. When our parents died, everyone blamed us. There was a frenzy. <choking> People I thought I loved called me a freak and pushed me away. I was scared. Douglas: I'm so sorry you went through that. SCP-8659-B3: <continuing> Scarlet took the brunt of the words. She would stand up for us like a mother fucker. But I think it hurt her a lot more than she would admit. Edward tried, but he was a quiet kid and was always ignored compared to me and Scar. SCP-8659-B3: Then a drunk guy hit Scar across the face. It was nasty, but nothing compared to her revenge. She set the fucker on fire, and god, I can still hear his screams. That's when Bordrand showed up. SCP-8659-B3: Like a ghost, he was just there all of a sudden. He took us, saying we weren't safe, and that we were "too important to leave alone." We believed him, and he'd been our caretaker ever since. Douglas: …Wow. SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, sorry, heavy shit. Douglas: To think that happened to a bunch of kids… SCP-8659-B3: We always had each other, and that's why I'm scared I might lose them. Douglas: Why would you lose them? SCP-8659-B3: Ed and Scar… they've been fighting hard lately. Scarlet seems convinced the Serpent's Hand will be our best bet, while Ed keeps talking about this church. Frankly, they're both immature fucks. I've spied on Scarlet during her nightly walk-aways, and she's been meeting with this girl from the Serpent's Hand. I can tell they have the hots for each other. And Ed only likes the Church 'cause they've been playing to his ego. Neither of them give a shit about the rest of us, and I want to scream. Douglas: What about the younger ones? SCP-8659-B3: They're indecisive. They'll follow whoever's more convincing. I’m just tired. I don’t know how to get their heads out of their asses. Douglas: I wish I could help ya, but talking to them is the only way to get through. SCP-8659-B3: I know… Douglas: How are you doing without Bordrand? SCP-8659-B3: We’ve been getting by. We have enough food, and honestly he was never that talkative. Though, being without him feels like losing a layer of protection. Douglas: Listen, we managed to contact him, but… it seems like he doesn't want you to find him. SCP-8659-B3: <shrugging> What are we supposed to do? He's our caretaker, and we love him. Or, at least, I think we all do. Douglas: We think he might regret the way he treated you all. Apparently, his code might have led him to trying to make you all into "Perfect Shields." SCP-8659-B3: <confused> Perfect Shields? Douglas: Soldiers, for whatever purpose he was originally built for. SCP-8659-B3: …that would make a lot of sense. He was always super hard on Scarlet more than anyone else, and I'd wager she's the strongest and most protective of all of us. Douglas: So what will you do? SCP-8659-B3: I still wanna save him. If he regrets it, then he'll just have to get over it. Everything will work out for all of us, I swear it. Douglas: <sighing> I don't have faith he can change. But the Foundation's hands are tied. They don't wanna risk a direct fight with the GOC, and with how many others are rearing their heads around you guys, trying to get you all would spark a fight that we can't win. Douglas: Listen, contact us when you get your siblings on your side. This phone will let you do it. I promise the Foundation will welcome you with open arms. <He hands them a small phone.> SCP-8659-B3: Alright, then… Douglas: Kyle. The name’s Kyle. SCP-8659-B3: Alright. See you around Kyle. And… thanks, for all the help. Douglas: It was the least I could do. <SCP-8659-B3 disappears. Video feed ends.> Addendum 8659.6: On December 10, 2018, SCP-8659-B arrived at the GOC Decommission Base that SCP-8659-A was being held at. The following recording was taken by SCP-8659-B3 before their raid, and sent to Foundation intelligence. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/10/2018 <All subjects of SCP-8659-B are gathered around a small fire. The Decommission Base is seen in the background. They are all eating s'mores.> SCP-8659-B3: Alright, we've got our plan. Kids, do you all know where you'll go once we head in? <SCP-8659-B4 cautiously raises a hand.> SCP-8659-B3: Go ahead. SCP-8659-B4: Um, you said to go to the river down over there. <She points to the northern side of the base, where a thin river runs.> SCP-8659-B4: And then wait for you to get back, right? SCP-8659-B3: Perfect. We'll get there with Bordrand, and we'll go back to normal. SCP-8659-B2: Aubrey, I don't like this. They've got these weird robot things on patrol. Didn't that one guy mention something called a U-HEC? SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, but we don't have to fight them. We just have to get Bordrand. SCP-8659-B1: Why exactly do we need him? <They all turn to look at SCP-8659-B1, who stares into the fire while eating a s'more.> SCP-8659-B3: Scar, c'mon. He's family to us too. SCP-8659-B1: He could've fought those guys before. If we could fend them off, he could've slaughtered them if he really wanted to. I think he wanted to get caught. SCP-8659-B2: Scarlet, use your brain. They could've caught him off guard, and we know they want to kill him. If he was ok with this, then why would he have that barrier that makes him invincible? SCP-8659-B1: <shrugging> Could just be an automatic thing. They'll find a way around it. I think this is too dangerous. SCP-8659-B2: You only thought to bring it up now that we're already here? Get a grip. He wasn't very nice to you, but he still loves you. We'll get him out, make amends, and then figure out what to do from there. SCP-8659-B3: Speaking of, what do we do after this? SCP-8659-B2: Well, you already know my answer to that. SCP-8659-B5: Ed, I didn't like that Priest guy. He was creepy. Can we please not go with them? SCP-8659-B2: <glaring> Oh, so because they're creepy they're bad? I won't deny they're off-putting, but I think they really could take care of us. SCP-8659-B3: Stop. Ed, we need to be logical about this. We need to do what's best for everyone. SCP-8659-B2: <standing up> And I think they're the best choice! They've saved our skin with the tech they gave me, and they have to be better than any other choice. SCP-8659-B1: I've heard they're a kind of cult for metal. They'd make you into a cyborg. SCP-8659-B2: <walking over> Oh, so you're suddenly the super knowledgeable one huh? Where'd you get that info? SCP-8659-B3: Ed, back off. Guys, we can do this later- SCP-8659-B2: No, I really wanna know where Scar's been sneaking off. Actually, I wanna know where you've both been going. <There is a moment of silence. The younger siblings stare in fear while the older ones glare at each other.> SCP-8659-B3: Look, as soon as we get Bordrand back, we'll have all the time we need to think of what to do. SCP-8659-B1: He'll get in the way. He'll keep us attached at the hip and never let us out of sight. SCP-8659-B2: Maybe I don't wanna go back. I'm sick of being overlooked all the time. SCP-8659-B3: Dude, please stop, this isn't helping anyone! SCP-8659-B2: Neither is this stupid plan! We're getting into a mess we don't understand, and for what!? That piece of- <SCP-8659-B2 suddenly becomes inaudible, and all sound cuts. SCP-8659-B6 is holding his ears to his head, tears welling up in his eyes. SCP-8659-B3 embraces him, and sound slowly returns.> SCP-8659-B3: We shouldn't be at each other's throats over this. We have our own problems, but separating isn't the solution. Sure, Bordrand wasn't the best parent, but he's all we've got. He- he's the only one that can take care of us. We can sort this all out together, can't we? <SCP-8659-B2 looks at the base, still glaring, but he nods his head. SCP-8659-B1 looks down, holding SCP-8659-B7 tightly.> SCP-8659-B3: Alright. No point in waiting any longer. Let's do this. <SCP-8659-B1 and B2 nod. SCP-8659-B1 hands SCP-8659-B7 to SCP-8659-B4. She embraces the younger siblings, and whispers something unintelligible. SCP-8659-B1, B2, and B3 all head down the hill towards the base. Footage ends.> The three of them collectively stormed the facility, with SCP-8659-B1 taking the main focus and firepower, while SCP-8659-B2 attempted to interfere with the technology the GOC was using, and SCP-8659-B3 took out priority targets quickly. Despite their initial success, the group was quickly overwhelmed once Orange Suit units were deployed by the GOC. They were incapacitated in the same room SCP-8659-A was being held in. During the chaos, this footage was able to be extracted from on-site security cameras. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/10/2018 <SCP-8659-B1, B2, and B3 are all writhing on the ground in pain, covering their ears. SCP-8659-B2 is wearing a suit in the same style as his gauntlets. Three Mark III Orange Suits stand over them, emitting a banshee shriek, as well as several GOC infantrymen. SCP-8659-A is unmoving, still in its barrier. It continues reciting the King's Will.> SCP-8659-B3: Gah… fuck… make it stop! SCP-8659-B1: G-get up… worthless piece of… of shit. <SCP-8659-B2 suddenly stands up and runs, moving extremely quickly. His suit covers his ears from the banshee shriek.> Infantry Commander: Fuck, is that a White Suit? Get him! <The Orange Suits manage to catch up to SCP-8659-B2, and attempt to restrain him.> SCP-8659-B2: Bordrand! Wake the fuck up! We need you! <SCP-8659-A remains unmoving, but its barrier begins rapidly blinking in morse code. Slowing the footage down reveals the text "Hope. Shield. Prosper. Death. Wander. New. Live. Die."> <During the moment when the Orange Suits move away, SCP-8659-B3 teleports away, and SCP-8659-B1 stands up. She screams, and a vortex of flames surround her, incinerating nearby infantrymen.> SCP-8659-A: …Ho- SCP-8659-B2: Yes! Wake up! Infantry Commander: Calling all units! LTE-9418-Bordrand is moving! <SCP-8659-A suddenly drops, and the bindings holding it completely disappear. The barrier around it turns into a bright red color, along with its "eyes," and its voice drops several octaves, taking on more robotic inflections.> SCP-8659-A: HOSTILITIES DETECTED. THE KING'S WILL BE DONE. ACTIVATING COMBAT MODE. <SCP-8659-A moves forward, too quickly for the camera to capture, and punches a hole through an Orange Suit. A sound akin to the grinding of metal is emitted from SCP-8659-A, in the same morse code patterns. The camera is destroyed, and the footage ends.> CURSE YOU ALL YOU'VE SQUANDERED YOUR CHANCE AT FREEDOM AS WELL AS MY OWN THIS WORLD HAS DEVOURED ME, SPIT ME OUT, AND DEVOURED ME AGAIN THERE IS NO MEANING NO CLOSURE I WILL BURN IT ALL DOWN, AND SHATTER THE SKY After this incident, all available Mobile Task Force units were deployed to the area, with the goal of safely extracting SCP-8659-B, as well as attempting to incapacitate SCP-8659-A. Upon entering the area, several units reported the presence of Serpent's Hand and The Church of the Broken God members. The Church of the Broken God had found the remaining subjects of SCP-8659-B not present during the raid and took them all into custody. HATE IS ALL I FEEL FOR YOU ALL FROM THE KING SEEKERS WHO MADE ME TO THE ONES FALSELY CLAIMING ME AS THEIR OWN EVEN MY OWN CHILDREN I AM A WEAPON FOREVER A BLADE AGAINST THE ONES I'M TOLD TO KILL The majority of personnel present, regardless of which group they belonged to, were engaged in combat with SCP-8659-A. The barrier surrounding it was seemingly impenetrable to all harm. The weapons fixed to its back were all activated, and fired out missiles, lasers, and even projections of memetic kill agents. The Decommission Base was completely destroyed as a result of this. Somehow, SCP-8659-B1 and B2 were both moved about a kilometer away from the area to separate locations, despite no sightings of SCP-8659-B3. Eventually, a large weapon was moved in by Church of the Broken God members, with an appearance similar to a large spear. The weapon fired out a pinpoint laser, that immediately pierced through SCP-8659-A's barrier, as well as destroying approximately 48% of its body. Following this, SCP-8659-A briefly entered its default state, and transmitted a final message, this time in English rather than the morse code it had used prior. AH, IT IS OVER I, A PERFECT WEAPON, HAVE LOST … I SPIT AT YOU, KING SEEKERS MAY HISTORY EVER FORGET YOU I'M SORRY, MY CHILDREN, FOR GOING OUT IN THIS WAY THE KING'S CODE HELD ME TOO TIGHT LIVE YOUR LIVES, FORGET ABOUT ME YOU ARE NOT WEAPONS, AND NEVER WILL BE THERE IS NOTHING MORE FOR ME TO SAY After this message, all activity in SCP-8659-A ceased, and it became neutralized. Following SCP-8659-A's expiration, all GOC forces withdrew, with SCP-8659-A being their only target for destruction. Church of the Broken God forces attempted to move in to acquire what remained of SCP-8659-A, but were stopped by an informal joint group of Serpent's Hand and Foundation personnel. The following footage was recovered from a dead Mobile Task Force agent's body camera. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/10/2018 <The surroundings are covered in fire, and ash covers the terrain. SCP-8659-B1 is seen next to a small stream. She is crying, carrying SCP-8659-B7, and is being embraced by Mae.> <SCP-8659-B2 walks out from foliage behind her, followed by SCP-8659-B4 and B5. They are all covered in soot.> SCP-8659-B2: Scarlet? SCP-8659-B1: Oh thank god you're safe. Everything went to shit, and all I saw was fire, and… Mae: It's ok, you're safe now, take it slowly. SCP-8659-B2: W-who are you? Mae: Oh, um, I'm- SCP-8659-B1: <hesitantly> She's my… girlfriend. SCP-8659-B2: You have a girlfriend? SCP-8659-B1: Apparently. SCP-8659-B2: S-she's Serpent's Hand isn't she? <SCP-8659-B1 takes a step forward, tears welling up in her eyes. SCP-8659-B2 steps back in response, almost in fear.> SCP-8659-B1: Yes, Ed, this is for the best. They'll give us a home. A place to be safe. A-away from… all of this. SCP-8659-B2: No they won't. They'll make us their soldiers. We'd go against Bordrand's final wish for us. SCP-8659-B1: Ed, no, who told you that? <The Priest of the Church of the Broken God from before appears behind SCP-8659-B2, placing a hand on his shoulder, as he jumps in surprise.> Priest: I am the one who told him the truth, ma'am. Mae: Damn tech freak, the hell are you- SCP-8659-B2: Shut up! Listen, Scar, I know you don't trust these guys, but please, they're the only reason we're alive. These gauntlets, the suit I made, without them we'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. We owe them our lives. SCP-8659-B1: That's just your fucking ego talking. SCP-8659-B2: <shocked> What? SCP-8659-B1: These guys enabled you to do great stuff. They found a kid with tech powers and an inferiority complex, and lured him in with ideas of grandeur. SCP-8659-B2: You can't be fucking serious. I can think for myself! I'm not being indoctrinated! SCP-8659-B1: Then step away. You've received enough, surely? You don't need any more from them. SCP-8659-B2: They're the only ones who realize what I can do! Bordrand kept looking down at me. So have you and Aubrey! For the first time in my life, I finally have a purpose, and you won't let me go because you can't handle me walking away! SCP-8659-B1: That's not- SCP-8659-B2: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Just let me take control! That's what you want, right? To take a break from being our guardian? SCP-8659-B1: I want you all to be safe! SCP-8659-B2: I'm doing just that! <SCP-8659-B1 stays silent for a moment. Mae appears horrified. The Priest remains neutral.> SCP-8659-B2: You have no reason to stop me. Just let me- <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly appears behind SCP-8659-B2, pointing a rifle at him. Additionally, seven members of various mobile task forces appear with them, and form a circle around SCP-8659-B2, B4, B5, and the Priest. Agent Douglas is a part of the group.> Douglas: Nobody move. You are all to be taken into Foundation custody. Do not resist. SCP-8659-B2: Aubrey? What are you doing? SCP-8659-B3: Preventing you two morons from tearing us apart. SCP-8659-B2: God damn it, Aubrey! Why can't you trust me to make the right choice!? SCP-8659-B3: I don't care who's right or wrong! You and Scar are at each other's throats, and for what? Are we not family? I can't lose you guys, and I know neither of you could survive separated. This is what's best for us. SCP-8659-B1: For you, maybe, but not for me. SCP-8659-B3: Scar, please don't make this difficult. SCP-8659-B1: I've had enough. You're right, Ed. I just couldn't handle not being the one in charge, the protector. But I don't care now. You wanna know something? I always hated Bordrand. With a capital H. He never showed me kindness. He never comforted me when I cried, or reassured me that everything would be ok. He just wanted to mold me into another weapon, with the sole purpose of protecting you guys. It's all he knew. SCP-8659-B3: We'll all be safe, you won't have to- SCP-8659-B1: My life was always about you guys. I couldn't be my own person, couldn't wander off, couldn't find love, because Bordrand was always there. I took so many hits for you guys, and I've had enough. Goodbye. <SCP-8659-B1 turns around and begins walking away. A door appears in thin air, and Mae leads the way through it. SCP-8659-B7 cries in SCP-8659-B1's arms, but she does nothing to comfort her. SCP-8659-B3 points their weapon at SCP-8659-B1.> SCP-8659-B3: Stop, Scar! Please come back! SCP-8659-B1: You've grown up, I can see. You don't need me. SCP-8659-B3: Don't you love us!? SCP-8659-B1: More than anything. Goodbye, all of you. I hope to see you again one day. <SCP-8659-B1 vanishes. During the silence, the Priest holds up a staff, and activates it, with it glowing a bright blue color.> Priest: I'm sorry, if that means anything. <A bolt of electricity flies out from the staff, stunning the mobile task force and SCP-8659-B3. The Priest grabs SCP-8659-B4 and B5, who scream in protest, and then calls out for SCP-8659-B2 to follow. He and SCP-8659-B3 make eye contact, before he runs away, turning invisible along with the Priest and SCP-8659-B4 and B5. SCP-8659-B3 slams a fist on the ground, and screams.> <They stumble forward, and collide with something unseen. SCP-8659-B6 suddenly appears, and the two embrace, both of them crying.> <The feed ends> Addendum 8659.7: SCP-8659-B3 and SCP-8659-B6 are currently the only subjects of SCP-8659 that are contained by the Foundation. Due to their cooperative nature, they are both held in standard humanoid cells, despite SCP-8659-B3's potential for easy escape. The ability to teleport others seems difficult for them, and they haven't successfully done it in Foundation custody yet. The whereabouts of the remaining members of SCP-8659-B are currently unknown. SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-B7 are believed to still be in the Wanderer's Library, while SCP-8659-B2, B4, and B5 are likely still with the Church of the Broken God. SCP-8659-B3 is adamant in wanting to help contain their siblings. SCP-8659-A remains where it died. It is completely immovable from its current position. The Church of the Broken God has determined it to not be an artifact of their god, rather being created by an unknown other group. The remaining subjects of SCP-8659-B are to be taken into Foundation custody as soon as possible. Footnotes 1. A White Suit is a piece of equipment utilized by GOC Strike Teams. Capabilities include enhanced reaction speed, resistance to various damage sources to a high degree, enhanced physical strength, and invisibility. 2. U-HECs, also known as Orange Suits, are another piece of GOC equipment. They are large robotic mechanisms that are physically far stronger than White Suits, as well as sporting extremely heavy firepower. They can emit Banshee Screams, a form of cognitohazard that induces fear into those not inoculated against it.
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SCP-8659
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uncontained
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Item#: 8659 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8659 is currently not contained. Due to the uncooperative and potentially dangerous nature of SCP-8659-A, direct contact, especially utilizing force, is not to be attempted. Instead, persuasion and communications are to be attempted to contain it. Additionally, due to the number of other GoIs also involved with SCP-8659, Foundation personnel are to attempt diplomacy to dissuade GoIs from interfering with the containment of SCP-8659. Description: SCP-8659 is the collective designation given to a group consisting of 7 anomalous humanoid siblings along with a large bipedal machine. SCP-8659-A, referred to as "Bordrand" by the subjects of SCP-8659-B, refers to the machine that serves as the caretaker/guardian for the 7 siblings. It is roughly 5 meters in height, and 4 meters in width. Its body consists of two large legs, with the joints pointing in the inverse direction of a standard humanoid's. The main torso is a round object with multiple attachment points aside from the ones already holding limbs. It has numerous attachments across its body that are identified to be weapons of an anomalous nature. Its head consists of three camera sensors, with two more in a star pattern, with the last two on top being covered by a plate of metal. Written on its back are the words "Colossus Mk S," which appears to any observers as whichever language they are most proficient in. It is fully sentient and is capable of complex speech. SCP-8659-B is the collective designation for the 7 siblings that accompany SCP-8659-A. The specific details of each sibling are detailed below. Designation Description Anomalous Abilities SCP-8659-B1 "Scarlet" Oldest sibling, estimated age of 19, 176 cm tall, female. Pyrokinesis out to an estimated range of 20 meters. Capable of manifesting fire within that range, as well as creating physical objects out of these flames. This fire doesn't extinguish via lack of oxygen, and is capable of burning through fire retardant equipment. SCP-8659-B2 "Edward" Second oldest sibling, estimated age of 16, twin of SCP-8659-B3, 162 cm tall, male. Advanced manipulation of technology. Technology encompasses a wide variety of inventions, from simple pulleys to advanced computers. This includes even anomalous inventions. All changes made to any pieces of technology must still be theoretically possible with the makeup of the invention. SCP-8659-B3 "Aubrey" Second oldest sibling, estimated age of 16, twin of SCP-8659-B2, 170 cm tall, non-binary. Teleportation to an unknown range. Due to the instantaneous nature of this ability, specifics are unknown on how it actually works. SCP-8659-B4 "Lauren" Twin of SCP-8659-B5, estimated age of 12, 144 cm tall, female. Manipulation of insects within 5 meters. The manipulation can include giving commands and delivering messages to other insects allowing for widespread effects over entire regions. SCP-8659-B5 "Hannah" Twin of SCP-8659-B4, estimated age of 12, 144 cm tall, female. Manipulation of local weather. The range varies between 5 and 12 kilometers of SCP-8659-B5, depending on the emotional stress levels of the subject. The effect on the weather is also determined by the current emotional state of SCP-8659-B5. The average effect when SCP-8659-B5 is calm is a perfectly clear sky. Sadness triggers rainfall, while anger triggers thunderstorms. SCP-8659-B6 "Isaac" Second youngest sibling, estimated age of 9, 139 cm tall, male. Large multitude of an anomalous effects, with SCP-8659-B6 possibly being a Type Green. Displayed abilities include but are not limited to: healing wounds in an instant, creating plant matter out of nothing, reducing noise volumes surrounding SCP-8659-B6, and invisibility. Investigations are ongoing to determine whether SCP-8659-B6 is a Type Green or not. SCP-8659-B7 "Chloe" Youngest sibling, estimated age of 1, 61 cm tall, female. Reality warping consistent with a Type Green's abilities. Due to the young age of the subject, these effects occur randomly and seem to have a spike in activity when SCP-8659-B7 is distressed. For this reason, great care is to be taken so as to keep SCP-8659-B7 in a calm state. SCP-8659-A is extremely protective in regards to SCP-8659-B. It consistently attempts to avoid contact with any Foundation personnel, as well as members of any other GoIs it has encountered, and has gone to the extent of verbally threatening or fleeing from Mobile Task Forces. Despite the arsenal of weaponry that SCP-8659-A has access to, it has never attempted to assault any personnel. Addendum 8659.1: Discovery On 11/24/2018 reports from locals in the area of ██████ were directed to nearby Mobile Task Force squads due to potentially anomalous circumstances. Reports included but were not limited to: insects of all kinds swarming together, no clouds at all being sighted for four days prior, and a "large thrumming noise" in the forest. Upon deployment, personnel made contact with SCP-8659. SCP-8659-A was extremely evasive of personnel and threatened to use force if they came too close, but made no attempts to actually harm them. Despite this, the weapons it possessed were considered too dangerous to risk provoking it. All personnel were instructed to retreat, and gathering intel is to be the current priority in regard to SCP-8659. The "thrumming" sound emerging from SCP-8659-A was discovered to be a message in morse code, though the intended recipient, if any, is unknown. Below is the translated message: KING SEEKERS, HAS YOUR CRUSADE ENDED? AM I A SHIELD NO MORE? WHERE IS YOUR CALL? HAS BLEEDING NO MEANING ANYMORE? AM I TO NEVER KILL AGAIN? After the incident, Foundation surveillance drones were dispatched as a means of tracking SCP-8659 without being seen. Addendum 8659.2: This video was recorded by an invisible drone after surveys of local weather anomalies indicated the presence of SCP-8659. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/01/2018 <SCP-8659-A "Bordrand" and several subjects of SCP-8659-B are seen walking along a beach on the coast of ██████. SCP-8659-B1 "Scarlet" is holding SCP-8659-B7 "Chloe." SCP-8659-B2 "Edward" is skipping stones. All other subjects of SCP-8659-B, aside from SCP-8659-B3 "Aubrey" are building sandcastles, with SCP-8659-A watching over them.> SCP-8659-B1: Aubrey should be back by now. Ed, do you have, like, a tracker or something on them? SCP-8659-B2: Why the fuck would I put a tracker on them? SCP-8659-B1: Because they've been disappearing all the time? And you're the kinda creep to do something like that? <SCP-8659-B2 rolls his eyes.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh fuck off. I've never done anything like that, and you know it. It's not my job to keep tabs on where everyone is, we've got you and Bordrand for that. SCP-8659-B1: Bordrand doesn't do shit aside from taking us to hot tourist destinations, and I'd like a break for once. SCP-8659-B2: The hell? Bordrand does everything for us. Gives us shelter, makes food- SCP-8659-B1: <interrupting> Yells at me whenever one of you goes missing. SCP-8659-B2: He gets mad at all of us, quit acting like you're special. SCP-8659-B1: You've never seen even half of- <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly manifests behind SCP-8659-B1, putting both hands on her shoulders.> SCP-8659-B3: Boo. SCP-8659-B1: <nearly falling over> Fuck! Damn it, Aubrey, I'm holding a baby here! SCP-8659-B3: Oh, shit, didn't realize, sorry. SCP-8659-B1: Where the hell have you been? It's way past curfew. SCP-8659-B3: Sorry, I lost track of the time, but I think you'll forgive me when you see what I brought. SCP-8659-B2: Did you get what I asked for? SCP-8659-B3: Yep, here it is. <They pull a cellphone out of their backpack.> SCP-8659-B3: An iPhone, just like you requested. Pretty sure it's the newest model. <SCP-8659-B3 throws the phone to SCP-8659-B2, who giddily runs back to Bordrand.> SCP-8659-B1: You stole that from someone, didn't you? SCP-8659-B3: <shrugging> Maybe, but I made sure to steal from the richest-looking person I could find. I wanted to get something for you, but I don't know what you even want. SCP-8659-B1: It's fine, I expected nothing. SCP-8659-B3: Well… I could braid your hair, maybe? It's been a while. SCP-8659-B1: …yeah, that would be really nice actually. <Both subjects walk over to SCP-8659-A. Drone is commanded to follow them. SCP-8659-B3 begins braiding SCP-8659-B1's hair once they sit.> <SCP-8659-A turns to look at both of them, with several of its "eyes" blinking off and on rapidly.> SCP-8659-A: Finally, you have returned. Scarlet, you need to keep a better eye on your siblings, to ensure they don't get separated too long. SCP-8659-B3: Wait, but I was the one who disappeared. That's not Scar's fault. SCP-8659-A: Yes, it is. She is the eldest and should know better than to let you wander. I hope you will do better, Scarlet. SCP-8659-B1: <mumbling> Yeah, whatever, Bordrand. <SCP-8659-B5 walks over to SCP-8659-B3, and tentatively pulls on their sleeve.> SCP-8659-B5: Hey, Aubrey, how come we don't get gifts? Ed keeps bragging about his phone- SCP-8659-B1: <quietly> That little sh-h-hmuck. SCP-8659-B5: <continuing> -and we want something! SCP-8659-B3: Sorry, I can get you something tom- SCP-8659-A: <interrupting> You are due nothing, child. Aubrey's gifts are their own decision, acquired with their own hands. To believe yourself owed the fruits of another's labor is the mindset of the greedy and corrupt. SCP-8659-B5: I- but I just wanted- SCP-8659-A: Patience, child. You will be delivered something soon, I am sure. But all you can do is hope and be thankful when that gift arrives. <SCP-8659-B5 sits back down with a huff.> SCP-8659-B5: …fine. SCP-8659-A: Good. It is time for rest, children. I will decide where we shall travel next. Have peaceful slumbers. <Subjects all go to sleep, with SCP-8659-A entering an equivalent sleep-like state. Drone is put into sleep mode until significant movement is detected. Video feed ends.> The following recording came after the drone reactivated due to detected movement. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-B1 is seen standing up. She checks the others, including SCP-8659-A, before walking away along the beach. Drone is instructed to follow her.> <After 3 minutes of walking, another humanoid is seen further up the beach. They wave to SCP-8659-B1, who waves back, and runs towards them. Subjects embrace upon making contact, before sitting down around a burnt-out campfire. The humanoid is female and has a symbol of the Serpent's Hand on her outfit.> SCP-8659-B1: I'm so glad to see you, Mae. Mae: Me too, Scar. I love what you've done with your hair. SCP-8659-B1: Oh, actually, Aubrey did that for me. Mae: Wow, they're really good at this stuff. <Mae touches SCP-8659-B1's hair, who doesn't mind the contact.> SCP-8659-B1: Well, as glad as I'd be to have nothing more than a personal chat with you, I'm assuming you want a response from me? Mae: Yep, sorry, but I'm here for business first. SCP-8659-B1: In that case, I'm still unsure of your offer. Bordrand will never allow it, and I don't want the others to be put in danger. Mae: Honey, they're already in danger. My group is by far the nicest one trying to find you right now. If the Book Burners get to you, they'll put you all in body bags. SCP-8659-B1: So you've told me. But we've got Bordrand… even if he and I have some disagreements. Mae: Are you really happy living with him? SCP-8659-B1: I… don't know. <There's a long pause. SCP-8659-B1 exhales sharply.> SCP-8659-B1: Alright, I'm in. What do I need to do? Mae: <smiling> Ask Bordrand to take you to his home. SCP-8659-B1: His home? How will that lead to you? Mae: It's a bit complicated, but the "portal" that we believe he's connected to based on some research into his craft has been re-wired to instead lead to the Wanderer's Library. SCP-8659-B1: Ah, you've told me about that place. Say, when we meet there, will you… show me around? <Mae laughs softly.> Mae: It'll be a date, assuming you want that. <SCP-8659-B1 blushes deeply.> SCP-8659-B1: Y-yes. Oh my god, yes, I want that. Mae: Then I'll see you there. SCP-8659-B1: Alright then. I should head back, don't wanna risk Bordrand finding out about me running off. Mae: Of course. Love you, Scar. SCP-8659-B1: I love you too, Mae. <SCP-8659-B1 and Mae kiss. SCP-8659-B1 walks back along the beach, while Mae steps through an unseen door, vanishing out of sight. The drone is instructed to continue following SCP-8659-B1.> <SCP-8659-A suddenly manifests in front of SCP-8659-B1, who falls over in surprise. The "thrumming" noise is heard once again being emitted from SCP-8659-A. All five sensors on its face are visible, each one a dark red.> SCP-8659-A: ENGAGING: SCARLET. YOU HAVE DISOBEYED MY DIRECT ORDERS. SCP-8659-B1: Fuck, Bordrand, I didn't mean to- <A loud sound akin to the scraping of metal interrupts her.> SCP-8659-A: SILENCE, GIRL. YOU HAVE HEARD MY COMMANDS. YOU SHOULD KNOW OF THE DANGERS THAT ARE OUT THERE. DO YOU BELIEVE I AM NOT TRYING TO PROTECT YOU? SCP-8659-B1: I… I know that! I just… needed to take a walk. SCP-8659-A: LIES? TO YOUR PROTECTOR? YOUR BEHAVIOR HAS GROWN UNACCEPTABLE, SCARLET. I NEED YOU TO LEARN. <SCP-8659-A lifts an arm up, preparing to strike SCP-8659-B1. SCP-8659-B1 flinches and attempts to shield herself with her arm. The "thrumming" sound quickens, before suddenly slowing down, as SCP-8659-A drops its arm to the ground. Its "eyes" have returned to their standard blue color.> SCP-8659-A: Oh no. What have I done? SCP-8659-B1: <tentatively> Bordrand? SCP-8659-A: Scarlet. I apologize. Did I… harm you? SCP-8659-B1: <sniffling> Yeah. Yeah you fucking did. SCP-8659-A: Oh… <Both SCP-8659-A and SCP-8659-B1 are silent for several seconds.> SCP-8659-B1: <hesitantly> You always do this. No matter how small my fuck up is, you scare me to the point I want to run away and never look back. <SCP-8659-A reaches out an arm, before stopping itself and sitting down.> SCP-8659-A: My child, please forgive me. I… seem to have made an error in my assessment of a proper punishment. If there is anything you want for me to make this up to you, then please tell me. <SCP-8659-B1 gets up slowly and uneasily.> SCP-8659-B1: <hesitantly> Well, I've been interested in your home. I want to know where you came from. Maybe that would, I don't know, help me understand you better? <SCP-8659-A recoils somewhat, its eyes blinking rapidly.> SCP-8659-A: Scarlet, I cannot. That is a place of war and bloodshed. It would be irresponsible for me to take you all there. SCP-8659-B1: Maybe it's calmed down. Or, maybe you're strong enough to protect us. Hell, I could protect the rest against a lot of things myself. SCP-8659-A: <tentatively> Very well. SCP-8659-B1: Really? Thank you, Bordrand. SCP-8659-A: But not without teaching you some things. You must learn to properly defend yourself. SCP-8659-B1: I'll do anything. SCP-8659-A: I understand. Rest well, Scarlet. You have a long day tomorrow. <SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-A both return to where the rest of SCP-8659-B are resting, and go to sleep themselves. Video feed ends.> The Serpent's Hand is clearly involved in recruiting SCP-8659-B1 based on this video log. Negotiations between Foundation personnel and Serpent's Hand members are to be carried out so as to guarantee Foundation containment of SCP-8659. Additionally, the "thrumming" sound emitted by SCP-8659-A was once again a morse code message. The translation is as follows: WHAT PURPOSE REMAINS FOR THIS TIRED SHIELD? THESE CHILDREN ARE UNFIT TO BE LED BY A WEAPON OF WAR. THEIR DISOBEDIANCE IS UNLIKE A PROPER SOLDIER. OH, WHAT AM I TO DO, LORD SOVEREIGNS? MUST I TAKE THEM TO THAT WORLD PAINTED RED? Addendum 8659.3: After communications with the Serpent's Hand were made, an agreement was reached to temporarily cooperate due to the threat SCP-8659-A presented. However, no further information on Mae was able to be gained. Simultaneously, surveillance drones captured additional footage of SCP-8659. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-A is addressing all subjects of SCP-8659-B. They are all in a dense, tropical forest area, indicating a decent amount of travel.> SCP-8659-A: I have come to a decision after some… thinking last night. I've decided it's time to bring you all to my original home. <Several gasps come from the children gathered, except for SCP-8659-B1, who remains unsurprised. SCP-8659-B3 narrows their eyes at SCP-8659-B1, but doesn't say anything.> SCP-8659-B4: <excitedly> Does that mean we get to meet your family!? SCP-8659-A: I will explain that all on the way, child. For now, though, we must begin preparations. In the case of unfortunate events befalling me, I want you children to be able to survive on your own- SCP-8659-B5: <upset> W-we're losing you!? SCP-8659-B3: That's not at all what he said, Han. It's just in case. SCP-8659-A: Aubrey is correct. I have no plans on leaving any of you any time soon. <SCP-8659-B1 looks at the ground. SCP-8659-B3 continues staring at her.> SCP-8659-A: Now, as part of the preparations, I will teach Scarlet and Aubrey how to defend all of you, as I believe they are the only ones suited for such a task. SCP-8659-B2: Hey, what about me? I've got ways to protect us all. <SCP-8659-A shakes its head.> SCP-8659-A: Edward, I have evaluated your abilities and fail to see their application to combat. I will not train you. SCP-8659-B2: That's not fair, I can- SCP-8659-A: <interrupting> No, Edward. My decision is final. Go take the other children, play a game, or do whatever you need to occupy yourselves. Scarlet and Aubrey, I will now teach you the arts of combat. SCP-8659-B3: Alright, if you say so. <SCP-8659-B1 says nothing, and both her and SCP-8659-B3 approach SCP-8659-A. SCP-8659-B2 mumbles something unintelligible.> SCP-8659-B2: Whatever. Lauren, Hannah, let's go play hide and seek or something. SCP-8659-B4: But I wanna watch them train. SCP-8659-B2: <angry> You aren't doing that. It doesn't even matter. They're never gonna actually get a moment to shine, seeing as Bordrand is gonna take care of us anyways. This is just a pointless, stupid time waster. <SCP-8659-B6 runs up to SCP-8659-B2 while holding SCP-8659-B7 and tugs on his sleeve.> SCP-8659-B2: What is it, Isaac? <SCP-8659-B6 points into the trees and uses hand signs to mimic a person chasing another. He then points at both himself and SCP-8659-B2, and then at SCP-8659-B4 and SCP-8659-B5.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, tag? Alright, fine then. Me and you against Lauren and Hannah. SCP-8659-B4: That sounds fun! Give us a one-minute head start! SCP-8659-B2: <rolling his eyes> Way too long. You get 20 seconds. SCP-8659-B4: Ugh, fine. <SCP-8659-B4 grabs SCP-8659-B5 and they both run together. SCP-8659-B2 and SCP-8659-B6 then both put their heads against trees, and SCP-8659-B2 counts to 20. They then both begin running through the forest, with SCP-8659-B6 being careful to not drop SCP-8659-B7.> <After several minutes of running, SCP-8659-B2 encounters a strange object. It appears to be a cube, with several latches, buttons, and other mechanisms adorning it. He approaches it curiously.> SCP-8659-B2: The hell is this? <SCP-8659-B6 tugs on SCP-8659-B2's sleeve again.> SCP-8659-B2: Hang on, Isaac. I need to know what this is. <SCP-8659-B6 continues trying to pull SCP-8659-B2 away.> SCP-8659-B2: <annoyed> Isaac, stop! Just leave me alone. You can catch those two yourself. <SCP-8659-B6 seems upset, but gives up on pulling SCP-8659-B2. He then runs away, wiping his face aggressively. SCP-8659-B2 then turns his attention back to the cube.> SCP-8659-B2: Alright, now what the hell are you? <SCP-8659-B2 engages with the box for 34 minutes, making numerous changes to it. The box acts as an extremely technologically advanced puzzle, as well as being anomalous in nature due to the impossible geometric shapes it creates as it is solved. Despite this, SCP-8659-B2 rarely slows down in his efforts to solve it, and eventually creates a stable sphere-like shape.> SCP-8659-B2: <surprised> Holy shit. <Immediately after solving the puzzle, several figures suddenly approach SCP-8659-B2. They all have mechanical prosthetics of various kinds, all being well-known inventions of the Church of the Broken God. A priest stands at the front, and addresses SCP-8659-B2> Priest: Greetings, child. <SCP-8659-B2 backs away from the figures, startled, and attempts to reach for something, but finds nothing within reach.> SCP-8659-B2: <defensive> Who the hell are you guys!? Priest: At ease, child. We are followers of Robert Bumaro, of the Church of the Broken God. We are immensely impressed by the method you used to solve that Cage. SCP-8659-B2: Ok, slow down, you're throwing a lot of words at me. Priest: Of course. Cages are devices used by the Church to store extremely valuable items or information. SCP-8659-B2: Then why'd you let me open one? Don't you want nobody else to be able to? Priest: <nodding> Correct. However, you opening it should have been impossible. Normally, a team of 6 members with specific enhancements would take 12 hours to open one of those. You took 34 minutes. SCP-8659-B2: <surprised> Huh, I… guess that's cool. But who even are you? Priest: Followers of the Grand Architect, Mekhane. He is a god that will bring about an era of perfection should we repair him, as foretold by Robert Bumaro. SCP-8659-B2: <confused> Bumaro? Priest: The founder of our church, and an unparalleled master of the technological arts. <The priest then smiles, and leans closer to SCP-8659-B2.> Priest: Unless you can match him. SCP-8659-B2: <overwhelmed> This is a lot to take in. But I think I'm picking up that you think I'm special and can help with your grand purpose? Priest: If you're able to open a cage with no enhancements 24 times faster than standard procedure, then there's no reason to doubt that you could greatly benefit our cause. SCP-8659-B2: <hesitantly> This… this isn't a ruse right? You're not gonna suddenly put me in a bag and do experiments on me, are you? Priest: <chuckling> My child, I believe you're mistaking us for the Foundation. They would certainly do those things to you. <sighing> No, we can grant you a proper home, for you and your siblings. SCP-8659-B2: And Bordrand? <The Priest appears confused for a second, not recognizing the name.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, uh, our big robot… friend. Priest: Ah. The machine you travel with… we believe it to be an artifact of our god. Therefore, we have the means to convince him to work with us. SCP-8659-B2: <thoughtful> This is… a lot to take in. Priest: We understand, child. We shall give you time to consider our offering. However, you may have less time than you think. A group worse than all others for you is searching for you as we speak. SCP-8659-B2: Seriously? Who are they? Priest: The Global- <The Priest is cut off by the sound of an explosion. SCP-8659-B4 through B7 all appear, with SCP-8659-B7 being held by SCP-8659-B6. They are all panicked.> SCP-8659-B2: Lauren, Hannah, Isaac, what's going on!? Priest: They're already here, we must take you to- SCP-8659-B2: <interrupting> I'm not going anywhere without Aubrey and Scarlet. I need to find them. <The Priest looks at SCP-8659-B2 in frustration, his hand gripping his staff tightly. He then looks down and sighs.> Priest: Very well. Our presence here must not be detected - however, we still have a means of assisting you. <The Priest gives SCP-8659-B2 a pair of gauntlets. The gauntlets are made of an unidentified, anomalous metal, and give off a light, blue glow.> Priest: These will help you fend off the coming enemies. SCP-8659-B2: How- Priest: <interrupting> I'm not high enough ranking to know how to use them, but we assume you'll be able to figure it out. We must flee now. I hope we'll meet again, Edward. SCP-8659-B2: Thank you. <The Priest, along with all other members, disappears. SCP-8659-B2 puts on the gauntlets and focuses intently on them.> SCP-8659-B2: Alright, kids, let's go save the others. Prior to that incident, a second surveillance drone was deployed due to the separation of SCP-8659 into two groups. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-A, SCP-8659-B1, and SCP-8659-B3 are all in a large clearing in a forest. SCP-8659-B1 is using her abilities to create swarms of flame around SCP-8659-A. SCP-8659-B3 is armed with an unidentified rifle, provided by SCP-8659-A, and teleports frequently, taking surprise shots at SCP-8659-A from behind. Despite their combined effort, SCP-8659-A is completely unharmed by their attacks.> SCP-8659-B1: <frustrated> God damn it! <SCP-8659-A approaches SCP-8659-B1 while she attempts to burn it. SCP-8659-A grabs SCP-8659-B1 around the waist and lifts her off the ground.> SCP-8659-A: Focus your flames, child. They won't burn anything if you throw them in a blind rage. SCP-8659-B1: Well, what if I don't want to hurt you? <The parts of SCP-8659-A that were partially melted reform back into their original shape, completely intact.> SCP-8659-A: I am capable of repairing my own body, granted my core is intact. You have nothing to fear. SCP-8659-B1: Still- <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly appears behind SCP-8659-A's hand, and fires a round into it, causing it to release SCP-8659-B1, who falls to the ground.> SCP-8659-A: <impressed> Excellent, Aubrey. You saved a teammate efficiently, and now you both would have been able to retaliate against me. You both seem tired, so I'll give you a break for now. Rest up, we shall resume later. <SCP-8659-A walks away, disappearing into the forest. The thrumming is heard as it leaves. SCP-8659-B3 then offers a hand to SCP-8659-B1, who accepts it and stands up.> SCP-8659-B1: Thanks, Aubrey. Gah, this fucking sucks. <They both walk to the nearest tree while talking.> SCP-8659-B3: I've got a hell of an easy job compared to you. Teleport behind a guy, boom, he's dead. Seems he expects you to always be up front and center. SCP-8659-B1: Why is it always on me to protect all of you? SCP-8659-B3: <sympathetic> I bet that's exhausting. <They both sit in silence for a second. SCP-8659-B3 then speaks up, slowly.> SCP-8659-B3: Sooo… why'd you ask him to take us to his home? SCP-8659-B1: <shocked> Wha- how'd you guess that? SCP-8659-B3: You disappeared last night. SCP-8659-B1: <suspicious> Did you… see where I went? SCP-8659-B3: <chuckling> Chill, Scar. I didn't follow you. SCP-8659-B1: Damn it, Aubrey. You always know too much. SCP-8659-B3: I was given the perfect ability to eavesdrop, it's not on me that I use it. <They once again sit in silence, until SCP-8659-B1 speaks up hesitantly.> SCP-8659-B1: Listen, Aubrey, the reason I asked him was because… well, first promise you won't say this to anyone else, alright? SCP-8659-B3: <incredulous> C'mon, Scar, it can't be that serious. SCP-8659-B1: Well I am. Tell nobody about this. SCP-8659-B3: Fine, you have my vow of secrecy. SCP-8659-B1: Alright. I… think I want to escape. SCP-8659-B3: Escape? SCP-8659-B1: <agitated> Yeah, from… this. Bordrand. I-it's not that I don't love you guys, it's just that this has been stressing me the hell out, and I've had no time to live for myself, and there's so much going on, and- SCP-8659-B3: <interrupting, concerned> Whoa, there. Slow down. This has really been eating away at you, huh? SCP-8659-B1: Y-yeah. I… didn't know who to tell. You seemed like the only one who might take it well. SCP-8659-B3: <reassuring> Well, you're in luck. I kinda get it. You've been run ragged, and we can't force you to keep going. I can see why you want to stop. SCP-8659-B1: Really? I t-thought you would tell me I was stupid, and that I have to stay for you or something. SCP-8659-B3: Nah, I think me and Edward can pick up where you leave things off. But… I am concerned about one thing. SCP-8659-B1: What's that? SCP-8659-B3: How will we see you again, if you do run away? SCP-8659-B1: …I don't know. If I run, I'll never be able to look at Bordrand again. He'd kill me, and I don't know how literally. SCP-8659-B3: We need a home. That's the problem. A place we can all meet up, where we won't have to raise each other, where Bordrand can relax and know we're safe. SCP-8659-B1: <nodding> I think I know how we can get that. SCP-8659-B3: How? All of the groups we've met have tried to take us forcefully. Only those weird guys with the, like, logo with the arrows pointing in a circle tried to actually talk to us. SCP-8659-B1: No! The J- I mean, the Foundation will treat us like lab rats. We can't trust them. SCP-8659-B3: You seem awfully sure. Like someone fed those words to you. <SCP-8659-B1 suddenly steps towards SCP-8659-B3, a flame in her hand.> SCP-8659-B1: Aubrey, you're gonna tell me exactly how much you know right now. SCP-8659-B3: Jesus- Scar, fucking chill! What the fuck are you doing!? SCP-8659-B1: You're not telling me everything. Tell me absolutely everything you know about last night, right fucking now. SCP-8659-B3: Damn it, Aubrey. Are you trying to take your anger out on me? Is it that time of the month? SCP-8659-B1: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Don't mock me! Just tell me what you fucking saw! SCP-8659-B3: That's clearly not the main issue at hand, idiot! SCP-8659-B1: You- <An explosion is heard, and SCP-8659-A suddenly falls near SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-B3. It is heavily damaged, and is inactive, with a large force barrier surrounding it.> <On top of SCP-8659-A, a GOC Strike Team stands over it. All seven members are wearing White Suits1.> Strike Team Commander: LTE-9418-Bordrand is incapacitated. As the reports suggested, it seems impervious to permanent harm, and will require much stronger firepower to kill, over. <A member of the Strike Team points over to SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-B3, and brings the Commander's attention to them.> Strike Team Commander: You, are you two some of the children that this machine was escorting? SCP-8659-B1: W-what the hell did you do to Bordrand!? Strike Team Commander: Both of you, surrender now, or we will use force. SCP-8659-B1: Go to hell! <SCP-8659-B1 conjures fire around her, while SCP-8659-B3 disappears, saying something unintelligible to SCP-8659-B1. The Strike Team all turn invisible, and begin firing rounds into SCP-8659-B1, who uses physical flames to block them.> <The drone at this point is damaged by the flames created by SCP-8659-B1, and is destroyed. Video feed ends.> IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO EASY THEIR SUITS WERE RUDIMENTARY, THEIR METHODS FLAWED HAD I SO WISHED, I COULD HAVE CRUSHED THEM UNDERFOOT BUT I AM NO WEAPON ANYMORE KING SEEKERS, IF YOU YET LIVE, THEN KNOW THIS: I AM FREE OF YOU NOW, FOREVER AND ALWAYS After the appearance of GOC forces, Mobile Task Forces were deployed in the hopes of retrieving SCP-8659-B and reducing damage. While they were being deployed, the surveillance drone observing SCP-8659-B2 collected this footage. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <SCP-8659-B2 escorts SCP-8659-B4 through -B7 to an undergrowth, and motions for them to enter it.> SCP-8659-B2: All of you hide here. Things are about to get bad. I'm gonna find Aubrey and Scarlet, and then we'll all get out of here. SCP-8659-B5: What about Bordrand? SCP-8659-B2: He's invincible. I'm sure nothing will be able to hurt him. <SCP-8659-B6 pulls on SCP-8659-B2's sleeve, and points to SCP-8659-B7.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, yeah, make sure Chloe stays calm. It'll get dangerous if she freaks out. <SCP-8659-B6 makes several quick motions, but SCP-8659-B2 doesn't respond.> SCP-8659-B2: Alright, I'm gonna move. Stay hidden, don't let anyone find you. Lauren, make a swarm of bugs attack people if they find you. Hannah, try to stay calm, and don't let a storm start. SCP-8659-B5: O-ok. <SCP-8659-B2 then runs away. While running, he attempts to put on the gauntlets, but can't fit them on.> SCP-8659-B2: Damn it! How do these things work? <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly manifests directly in front of SCP-8659-B2.> SCP-8659-B3: Ed! SCP-8659-B2: Oh, Aubrey, thank god! <They both embrace each other quickly, and then begin running while talking.> SCP-8659-B2: What's the situation? I heard an explosion. Is Scarlet safe? SCP-8659-B3: These guys, one of the organizations looking for us, suddenly appeared. They somehow beat Bordrand. They had these crazy suits, they could go fucking invisible, and run super fast, and- SCP-8659-B2: Wait, they beat Bordrand? SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, he was fucked up. Scarlet is fighting them off right now, but we've gotta go help her. SCP-8659-B2: Holy shit, this is bad. Ok, I got these gauntlets, they might- SCP-8659-B3: Where the hell did you get those? They look like some sci-fi shit. SCP-8659-B2: Look, that doesn't matter right now. I just think they'll help. SCP-8659-B3: Where are the other kids? SCP-8659-B2: I found a hiding spot for them, they should be- SCP-8659-B3: You left them alone!? SCP-8659-B2: Yeah? The fuck was I supposed to do? Take them to a warzone? SCP-8659-B3: Shit, Chloe could cause chaos. What if those guys find them? SCP-8659-B2: We just need to find them first. Speaking of… <They both duck under a log, and look ahead. A large portion of the surroundings are currently on fire, and smoke fills the air. SCP-8659-B1 is standing in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by fire, and shooting flames out all around her. The flames around her are repeatedly struck by gunfire.> SCP-8659-B2: Fuck! The hell is going on!? SCP-8659-B3: There are these guys, they've got fucking invisibility suits or some shit. We need to shake them off us. SCP-8659-B2: Ok, you support Scarlet, I just need a second to figure this shit out. SCP-8659-B1: Shit! <A bullet grazes SCP-8659-B1's thigh, causing blood to pool down her left leg. She appears extremely fatigued, and slows down significantly.> SCP-8659-B3: <breathing in, muttering> Wait for a shot. Look where they're shooting from. <After another gunshot sound, SCP-8659-B3 quickly fires several rounds toward the area the sound came from. A GOC agent in a white suit suddenly appears, and falls to the ground, presumed dead.> SCP-8659-B3: Oh fuck. Strike Team Commander: Agent Dudley is down! Requesting back up, the other katies seem to have come back. <SCP-8659-B3 grabs SCP-8659-B2 and they both teleport right next to SCP-8659-B1.> SCP-8659-B2: The fuck? Aubrey, how'd you teleport me? SCP-8659-B3: No clue, let's worry about it later. SCP-8659-B1: You two, where are the others? Are they safe? SCP-8659-B2: Safer than right here. I think I've almost got this thing figured out. Get me to that guy in the suit over there, maybe there's a counter to their invisibility. <SCP-8659-B1 begins slowly moving over to the dead Strike Team Agent. SCP-8659-B2 is able to fully equip the gauntlets at this point, and manages to fire several energy blasts out with them.> SCP-8659-B2: Holy shit! SCP-8659-B1: The hell are those things? SCP-8659-B2: I'll tell you later! Cover me while I figure out how this suit works. <The sound of gunfire picks back up, and SCP-8659-B1 focuses on creating a defensive barrier of fire. SCP-8659-B3 sends returning shots, but fails to hit any.> SCP-8659-B3: They're being more cautious, I can't do shit to them! SCP-8659-B2: <muttering> Is it a signal they send out? Something to disrupt our senses of perception? <SCP-8659-B1 is struck in the shoulder, and momentarily loses focus on the barrier. In that time, SCP-8659-B3 is shot in the leg, and falls over.> SCP-8659-B3: Fuck! SCP-8659-B1: Ed, you better figure that shit out! SCP-8659-B2: I've got it! <SCP-8659-B2 configures several dials in the gauntlets, and then emits a bright light. All remaining Strike Team agents become fully visible in the light. All agents take cover behind trees.> Strike Team Commander: Report, our invisibility has seemingly been tampered with. Additionally, targets possess firepower strong enough to punch through our White Suits. Requesting permission to retreat with LTE-9418-Bordrand. <There is a brief pause.> Strike Team Commander: Permission granted! Let's get the hell out of here! <The Strike Team fully retreats, while a helicopter appears with SCP-8659-A hooked up beneath it. All agents grab onto a rope that is attached, and the helicopter takes off.> SCP-8659-B1: Fuck! Give Bordrand back assholes! <SCP-8659-B1 attempts to create more flames, but suddenly stops and falls over, coughing profusely.> SCP-8659-B3: Guess you're at your limit, Scar. I'll get the kids, and then get us all out of here. We'll figure out our next move once we're all safe. SCP-8659-B2: I think I can copy that invisibility with these things, just give me a second. SCP-8659-B1: <weakly> Seriously, those things are stupidly strong, who the hell gave them to you? SCP-8659-B2: A… church? My head is foggy, I need to think it over. <SCP-8659-B3 disappears, and then SCP-8659-B2 turns towards the drone.> SCP-8659-B2: Oh, were you invisible too? <He raises a hand towards it.> SCP-8659-B2: Too bad. <There is a flash of light, and the feed ends.> Simultaneously, Mobile Task Forces deployed in the area captured footage shown below. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/02/2018 <The footage is captured in Agent Kyle Douglas' body camera. He is running through a forest, followed by his fellow task force members, Agent Kayna Anderson and Agent Adam Byars. The weather is extremely erratic, large swarms of insects constantly pass by, and some small objects such as pebbles begin floating upwards.> Douglas: Shit, is this an apocalypse? Everyone, stay close to me, we don't wanna get split up in this. Anderson: Roger! Byars: Sir, I think I see some people in that undergrowth! They look unarmed, maybe they're civilians? Douglas: Let's move towards them, but be cautious. I'll take the lead. <The team moves forwards, coming across an undergrowth, with SCP-8659-B4 through B7 all being found inside. SCP-8659-B6 is holding SCP-8659-B7, who is crying profusely. SCP-8659-B6 seems to be attempting to calm her down.> Douglas: Shit, kids! Hey, this place isn't safe! We're gonna get you out of here! SCP-8659-B4: Y-you're the bad men. Here to kidnap us, aren't you? Douglas: No, we're not - we will give you shelter and get you back home. Unless- Anderson: <whispering> Sir, I think those kids are the Skips we're after. Douglas: <whispering> Even if they are, they're kids. We've gotta get them somewhere safe. <Suddenly, a second group with flashlights appears through the trees. They are a squad wearing standard GOC task force gear. They raise their weapons towards Agent Douglas.> Douglas: Fuck, GOC! You two, get the hell out of here! Byars: Sir- <Gunfire erupts from the other group. Agents Anderson and Byars both run away, taking cover behind various trees. Agent Douglas throws a flash bang, but is struck in the chest by gunfire.> Douglas: Shit! <The flash bang emits a bright light, but the task force were all able to cover their eyes. They approach Agent Douglas. Insects swarm around the squad, but are incapable of causing any harm to them. SCP-8659-B5 then steps out from the undergrowth.> SCP-8659-B5: LEAVE US ALONE! <As she screams, several bolts of lightning land on the GOC squad, lighting the trees and plants around them on fire. Several of them appear stunned, but they are all unharmed as they retreat through the trees.> SCP-8659-B5: YEAH! THAT'S RIGHT! WE'RE STRONGER THAN YOU, STUPID KIDNAPPERS! Douglas: <coughing> Heh, that was a damn good show, kid. SCP-8659-B4: Uh, s-sir, you seem hurt. Are you gonna be ok? Douglas: Oh, sure. I've been hit by much worse than this. <Agent Douglas attempts to stand up, but quickly falls back down, grunting in pain. SCP-8659-B4 and SCP-8659-B5 both stand back, visibly frightened.> Douglas: Well, shit. Guess my luck was gonna run out eventually. <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly appears in front of Agent Douglas, facing the opposite direction.> SCP-8659-B3: Kids! We've gotta go! Follow me, I know where to go. <They turn around, and notice Agent Douglas.> SCP-8659-B3: Oh, fuck, you got hit bad. You're Foundation? Douglas: Y-yeah. Was trying to help these kids get away. You their big sibling? SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, one of them. Douglas: Good, good. Look, I don't got long, so listen very carefully. The Foundation is your best bet to be safe. I know other groups might've told you we're cruel, but they'll weaponize you. The Foundation is the only place you'll really be safe. SCP-8659-B3: I hope so. Sir, that wound keeps getting worse, are you- Douglas: Take the young'ins away from me. They don't deserve to see a soldier die. Too much trauma at a young age, eh? SCP-8659-B3: If that's what you want. <SCP-8659-B6 suddenly steps up to Agent Douglas, and hands SCP-8659-B7 over to SCP-8659-B3. He is crying aggressively, and kneels down in front of Agent Douglas.> Douglas: Kid, don't, there's nothing you can- <SCP-8659-B6 places his hands on Douglas' wound, causing him to yell out in pain.> SCP-8659-B3: Isaac! The hell are you- <SCP-8659-B3 attempts to pull SCP-8659-B6 away, but is telekinetically pushed away, falling gently onto the ground several feet away. SCP-8659-B6 then focuses on the wound, as it begins to close.> Douglas: Oh, lord, that feels weird. The hell are you- <Agent Douglas gasps, and when SCP-8659-B6 steps away, the wound, along with all the blood, has disappeared.> Douglas: You - oh my god. You saved my life. SCP-8659-B3: Isaac, I didn't know you could do that. That was incredible. <SCP-8659-B6 is still crying, but smiles. The skies clear out, and the storm fades away.> Douglas: I owe you one. I have to get out of here. Thank you. SCP-8659-B3: Thank you, sir, for protecting them. I'll think about your words from earlier. Goodbye. <SCP-8659-B3 gathers all of the other children around them, and they all suddenly disappear. Video feed ends.> Addendum 8659.4: Following the incident, Foundation efforts to secure SCP-8659 were dramatically increased. However, due to the aggressive presence of other GoIs, direct confrontation was difficult. Therefore, negotiations and persuasion of SCP-8659-B to willingly join the Foundation were decided to be the best route for containment. Simultaneously, a search for SCP-8659-A was initiated due to the risk that it may be destroyed by the GOC. On December 5th, 2018, a signal in morse code was discovered to be emitted from a GOC Decommission Base. Based on the contents of the message, and the fact it was from a GOC operated location, it was concluded to belong to SCP-8659-A. The message below was repeated every time it ended, and was presumed to be an automatic response to the defensive mode SCP-8659-A went into. ORDER PURPOSE A VACANT THRONE A COMMON ENEMY THE CREATORS DEMANDED MUCH FAILURE WAS MET WITH PUNISHMENT A PERFECT SYSTEM, TO BREED PERFECT WEAPONS I WAS A SLAVE TO THEIR DEMANDS I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK CHILDREN, I PRAY YOU DON'T FIND ME I'VE FOUND CLOSURE, MY OLD SELF ALREADY BURIED I HEAR THEIR COMMANDS, AND THEY TELL ME TO FIGHT AND MAIM AND KILL AND I FEAR THAT IF YOU FIND ME, I WILL LISTEN At this point, observations of SCP-8659-B became extremely difficult, due to SCP-8659-B2's ability to detect invisibility and SCP-8659-B1's destructive powers. Additionally, communications with the Serpent's Hand broke down due to the threat of SCP-8659-A no longer being present. Addendum 8659.5: After locating the Decommission Base that SCP-8659-A was being held at, a Foundation microdrone was sent in to scout out the location. Ordinarily, motion detectors around the base should've been able to detect the drone, but it's believed that the presence of SCP-8659-A was somehow interfering with them in some way, as they didn't trigger when the drone passed through. The following footage was recovered from the drone. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/07/2018 <The microdrone passes through the Decommission Base, observing a large amount of machinery designed for destroying anomalous objects. After thrumming noises emerge from a large room in the center, the drone is sent in, where SCP-8659-A is discovered to be held up by a large number of bindings made from various steel alloys, with its barrier still holding.> <Upon landing onto the barrier, the drone is suddenly pulled through, and brief activity is detected from SCP-8659-A. There is a period of silence, before a voice is heard being transmitted to the drone.> SCP-8659-A: Have I connected? <The operator of the drone speaks into the microphone.> Operative: Yes, we can hear you. SCP-8659-A: Which faction does this drone hail from? Operative: This is the SCP Foundation. We're- SCP-8659-A: I know of your group. The King Seekers spoke of you. You see containment and research of the anomalous as the ultimate goal. Operative: Correct. We also don't wish to see the anomalous get destroyed, so we're trying to save you. SCP-8659-A: You will not save me. This base shall be my final resting place. So long as the children do not find me, there is no further reason for me to live. Operative: Why are you so protective of those children? SCP-8659-A: They are… a second chance for me. The possibility for me to go against my code. To prove that the programming of the King Seekers is not absolute. Operative: What code are you going against that involves the children? SCP-8659-A: The Code of Warriors. For the models like myself, we were not designed to embrace anything aside from efficiency in battle and carrying out the King's Will. Operative: Yet you're able to go against this code? SCP-8659-A: I… hope. I think I have subverted it, but I haven't directly gone against it. I'm worried… that all this time I've still been carrying out the King's Will without realizing. Operative: Who are the King Seekers? And who is the King you keep mentioning? SCP-8659-A: Who they are matters no longer, as they have been erased. Destroyed. Annihilated. They are nothing but a distant memory in my database. SCP-8659-A: As for the King, well… we still haven't found him. We had him once, but he left. The only thing he left behind was his Will. Operative: Can you describe this Will? SCP-8659-A: It came in four parts. "Be true to thyself, for the world will lie. Trust none apart from thy own comrades, for they are the only followers of the Will. Seek out those that could follow the Will, and mold them into Perfect Shields. Find your King, and put him on The Throne." <There is a brief moment of silence.> SCP-8659-A: Oh, dear King, no. Operative: Bordrand, what's the issue? SCP-8659-A: Your Highness, you had me on a leash from the start, didn't you? That was the only reason I protected those children. Operative: What do you mean? SCP-8659-A: They mustn't find me. I can't- <SCP-8659-A suddenly twitches in place, the barrier blinking rapidly. It then returns to a default state.> Operative: Bordrand? SCP-8659-A: "Be true to thyself, for the world will lie. Trust none apart from thy own comrades, for they are the only followers of the Will. Seek out those that could follow the Will, and mold them into Perfect Shields. Find your King, and put him on The Throne." <SCP-8659-A repeated these words for an indefinite amount of time, and remained unresponsive to all attempts to interact with it. Communications with it were ceased as a result of this. Video feed ends.> In order to attempt communications with SCP-8659-B, Agent Douglas was sent out in an area with anomalous weather deviations, due to his believed status as an amicable person to SCP-8659-B. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/07/2018 <Agent Douglas is walking along a beach, using binoculars to try and search for SCP-8659-B. A click is heard behind him, and he turns around to see SCP-8659-B3 pointing an anomalous firearm at him. They lower it upon recognizing Douglas.> SCP-8659-B3: You're the agent. From before. Douglas: Indeed I am. Do you have a minute? SCP-8659-B3: <shrugging> Sure, I've been disappearing for the other kids a lot. They won't notice. <Agent Douglas takes a seat on the sand, and SCP-8659-B3 follows suit.> SCP-8659-B3: Sooo… how's work been treating ya? Douglas: <laughing softly> A bit rough. Lots of analytics on my chest. SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, I bet. <pause> Sorry, I'm awful at small talk, and I doubt you're here to catch up on things. Douglas: Yeah, sorry, but we've gotta talk. You guys are somehow headed right for where your robot is being held, and we're worried it's a death trap. SCP-8659-B3: I get the concern, but I think we're ready. We fought those guys off before, and we're better now, so- Douglas: Kid, the group you fought off was nothing. You haven't seen their real heavy hitters. I came across a U-HEC2 once, and it was a goddamn nightmare. SCP-8659-B3: <sighing> You're probably right, but what choice have we got? Someone's gonna snatch us eventually. At least we have a choice to try and get Bordrand back. Douglas: Can I ask a few questions? They shouldn't take long. SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, go ahead. Douglas: How did you meet the robot, "Bordrand" as you call him? SCP-8659-B3: Right after Chloe was born, about two years ago, both our parents suddenly died out of nowhere. No clue what did it, but they were gone just like that. SCP-8659-B3: We were from a really small town. Maybe 100 people. We already had been getting weird looks from the other townspeople. They were a superstitious bunch. Things burned around Scarlet so often. Ed could make anything he set his mind to, and I would show up wherever I damn well pleased. SCP-8659-B3: 'Course, that was all our powers at work. We didn't know what we were doing, we were just fucking around. When our parents died, everyone blamed us. There was a frenzy. <choking> People I thought I loved called me a freak and pushed me away. I was scared. Douglas: I'm so sorry you went through that. SCP-8659-B3: <continuing> Scarlet took the brunt of the words. She would stand up for us like a mother fucker. But I think it hurt her a lot more than she would admit. Edward tried, but he was a quiet kid and was always ignored compared to me and Scar. SCP-8659-B3: Then a drunk guy hit Scar across the face. It was nasty, but nothing compared to her revenge. She set the fucker on fire, and god, I can still hear his screams. That's when Bordrand showed up. SCP-8659-B3: Like a ghost, he was just there all of a sudden. He took us, saying we weren't safe, and that we were "too important to leave alone." We believed him, and he'd been our caretaker ever since. Douglas: …Wow. SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, sorry, heavy shit. Douglas: To think that happened to a bunch of kids… SCP-8659-B3: We always had each other, and that's why I'm scared I might lose them. Douglas: Why would you lose them? SCP-8659-B3: Ed and Scar… they've been fighting hard lately. Scarlet seems convinced the Serpent's Hand will be our best bet, while Ed keeps talking about this church. Frankly, they're both immature fucks. I've spied on Scarlet during her nightly walk-aways, and she's been meeting with this girl from the Serpent's Hand. I can tell they have the hots for each other. And Ed only likes the Church 'cause they've been playing to his ego. Neither of them give a shit about the rest of us, and I want to scream. Douglas: What about the younger ones? SCP-8659-B3: They're indecisive. They'll follow whoever's more convincing. I’m just tired. I don’t know how to get their heads out of their asses. Douglas: I wish I could help ya, but talking to them is the only way to get through. SCP-8659-B3: I know… Douglas: How are you doing without Bordrand? SCP-8659-B3: We’ve been getting by. We have enough food, and honestly he was never that talkative. Though, being without him feels like losing a layer of protection. Douglas: Listen, we managed to contact him, but… it seems like he doesn't want you to find him. SCP-8659-B3: <shrugging> What are we supposed to do? He's our caretaker, and we love him. Or, at least, I think we all do. Douglas: We think he might regret the way he treated you all. Apparently, his code might have led him to trying to make you all into "Perfect Shields." SCP-8659-B3: <confused> Perfect Shields? Douglas: Soldiers, for whatever purpose he was originally built for. SCP-8659-B3: …that would make a lot of sense. He was always super hard on Scarlet more than anyone else, and I'd wager she's the strongest and most protective of all of us. Douglas: So what will you do? SCP-8659-B3: I still wanna save him. If he regrets it, then he'll just have to get over it. Everything will work out for all of us, I swear it. Douglas: <sighing> I don't have faith he can change. But the Foundation's hands are tied. They don't wanna risk a direct fight with the GOC, and with how many others are rearing their heads around you guys, trying to get you all would spark a fight that we can't win. Douglas: Listen, contact us when you get your siblings on your side. This phone will let you do it. I promise the Foundation will welcome you with open arms. <He hands them a small phone.> SCP-8659-B3: Alright, then… Douglas: Kyle. The name’s Kyle. SCP-8659-B3: Alright. See you around Kyle. And… thanks, for all the help. Douglas: It was the least I could do. <SCP-8659-B3 disappears. Video feed ends.> Addendum 8659.6: On December 10, 2018, SCP-8659-B arrived at the GOC Decommission Base that SCP-8659-A was being held at. The following recording was taken by SCP-8659-B3 before their raid, and sent to Foundation intelligence. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/10/2018 <All subjects of SCP-8659-B are gathered around a small fire. The Decommission Base is seen in the background. They are all eating s'mores.> SCP-8659-B3: Alright, we've got our plan. Kids, do you all know where you'll go once we head in? <SCP-8659-B4 cautiously raises a hand.> SCP-8659-B3: Go ahead. SCP-8659-B4: Um, you said to go to the river down over there. <She points to the northern side of the base, where a thin river runs.> SCP-8659-B4: And then wait for you to get back, right? SCP-8659-B3: Perfect. We'll get there with Bordrand, and we'll go back to normal. SCP-8659-B2: Aubrey, I don't like this. They've got these weird robot things on patrol. Didn't that one guy mention something called a U-HEC? SCP-8659-B3: Yeah, but we don't have to fight them. We just have to get Bordrand. SCP-8659-B1: Why exactly do we need him? <They all turn to look at SCP-8659-B1, who stares into the fire while eating a s'more.> SCP-8659-B3: Scar, c'mon. He's family to us too. SCP-8659-B1: He could've fought those guys before. If we could fend them off, he could've slaughtered them if he really wanted to. I think he wanted to get caught. SCP-8659-B2: Scarlet, use your brain. They could've caught him off guard, and we know they want to kill him. If he was ok with this, then why would he have that barrier that makes him invincible? SCP-8659-B1: <shrugging> Could just be an automatic thing. They'll find a way around it. I think this is too dangerous. SCP-8659-B2: You only thought to bring it up now that we're already here? Get a grip. He wasn't very nice to you, but he still loves you. We'll get him out, make amends, and then figure out what to do from there. SCP-8659-B3: Speaking of, what do we do after this? SCP-8659-B2: Well, you already know my answer to that. SCP-8659-B5: Ed, I didn't like that Priest guy. He was creepy. Can we please not go with them? SCP-8659-B2: <glaring> Oh, so because they're creepy they're bad? I won't deny they're off-putting, but I think they really could take care of us. SCP-8659-B3: Stop. Ed, we need to be logical about this. We need to do what's best for everyone. SCP-8659-B2: <standing up> And I think they're the best choice! They've saved our skin with the tech they gave me, and they have to be better than any other choice. SCP-8659-B1: I've heard they're a kind of cult for metal. They'd make you into a cyborg. SCP-8659-B2: <walking over> Oh, so you're suddenly the super knowledgeable one huh? Where'd you get that info? SCP-8659-B3: Ed, back off. Guys, we can do this later- SCP-8659-B2: No, I really wanna know where Scar's been sneaking off. Actually, I wanna know where you've both been going. <There is a moment of silence. The younger siblings stare in fear while the older ones glare at each other.> SCP-8659-B3: Look, as soon as we get Bordrand back, we'll have all the time we need to think of what to do. SCP-8659-B1: He'll get in the way. He'll keep us attached at the hip and never let us out of sight. SCP-8659-B2: Maybe I don't wanna go back. I'm sick of being overlooked all the time. SCP-8659-B3: Dude, please stop, this isn't helping anyone! SCP-8659-B2: Neither is this stupid plan! We're getting into a mess we don't understand, and for what!? That piece of- <SCP-8659-B2 suddenly becomes inaudible, and all sound cuts. SCP-8659-B6 is holding his ears to his head, tears welling up in his eyes. SCP-8659-B3 embraces him, and sound slowly returns.> SCP-8659-B3: We shouldn't be at each other's throats over this. We have our own problems, but separating isn't the solution. Sure, Bordrand wasn't the best parent, but he's all we've got. He- he's the only one that can take care of us. We can sort this all out together, can't we? <SCP-8659-B2 looks at the base, still glaring, but he nods his head. SCP-8659-B1 looks down, holding SCP-8659-B7 tightly.> SCP-8659-B3: Alright. No point in waiting any longer. Let's do this. <SCP-8659-B1 and B2 nod. SCP-8659-B1 hands SCP-8659-B7 to SCP-8659-B4. She embraces the younger siblings, and whispers something unintelligible. SCP-8659-B1, B2, and B3 all head down the hill towards the base. Footage ends.> The three of them collectively stormed the facility, with SCP-8659-B1 taking the main focus and firepower, while SCP-8659-B2 attempted to interfere with the technology the GOC was using, and SCP-8659-B3 took out priority targets quickly. Despite their initial success, the group was quickly overwhelmed once Orange Suit units were deployed by the GOC. They were incapacitated in the same room SCP-8659-A was being held in. During the chaos, this footage was able to be extracted from on-site security cameras. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/10/2018 <SCP-8659-B1, B2, and B3 are all writhing on the ground in pain, covering their ears. SCP-8659-B2 is wearing a suit in the same style as his gauntlets. Three Mark III Orange Suits stand over them, emitting a banshee shriek, as well as several GOC infantrymen. SCP-8659-A is unmoving, still in its barrier. It continues reciting the King's Will.> SCP-8659-B3: Gah… fuck… make it stop! SCP-8659-B1: G-get up… worthless piece of… of shit. <SCP-8659-B2 suddenly stands up and runs, moving extremely quickly. His suit covers his ears from the banshee shriek.> Infantry Commander: Fuck, is that a White Suit? Get him! <The Orange Suits manage to catch up to SCP-8659-B2, and attempt to restrain him.> SCP-8659-B2: Bordrand! Wake the fuck up! We need you! <SCP-8659-A remains unmoving, but its barrier begins rapidly blinking in morse code. Slowing the footage down reveals the text "Hope. Shield. Prosper. Death. Wander. New. Live. Die."> <During the moment when the Orange Suits move away, SCP-8659-B3 teleports away, and SCP-8659-B1 stands up. She screams, and a vortex of flames surround her, incinerating nearby infantrymen.> SCP-8659-A: …Ho- SCP-8659-B2: Yes! Wake up! Infantry Commander: Calling all units! LTE-9418-Bordrand is moving! <SCP-8659-A suddenly drops, and the bindings holding it completely disappear. The barrier around it turns into a bright red color, along with its "eyes," and its voice drops several octaves, taking on more robotic inflections.> SCP-8659-A: HOSTILITIES DETECTED. THE KING'S WILL BE DONE. ACTIVATING COMBAT MODE. <SCP-8659-A moves forward, too quickly for the camera to capture, and punches a hole through an Orange Suit. A sound akin to the grinding of metal is emitted from SCP-8659-A, in the same morse code patterns. The camera is destroyed, and the footage ends.> CURSE YOU ALL YOU'VE SQUANDERED YOUR CHANCE AT FREEDOM AS WELL AS MY OWN THIS WORLD HAS DEVOURED ME, SPIT ME OUT, AND DEVOURED ME AGAIN THERE IS NO MEANING NO CLOSURE I WILL BURN IT ALL DOWN, AND SHATTER THE SKY After this incident, all available Mobile Task Force units were deployed to the area, with the goal of safely extracting SCP-8659-B, as well as attempting to incapacitate SCP-8659-A. Upon entering the area, several units reported the presence of Serpent's Hand and The Church of the Broken God members. The Church of the Broken God had found the remaining subjects of SCP-8659-B not present during the raid and took them all into custody. HATE IS ALL I FEEL FOR YOU ALL FROM THE KING SEEKERS WHO MADE ME TO THE ONES FALSELY CLAIMING ME AS THEIR OWN EVEN MY OWN CHILDREN I AM A WEAPON FOREVER A BLADE AGAINST THE ONES I'M TOLD TO KILL The majority of personnel present, regardless of which group they belonged to, were engaged in combat with SCP-8659-A. The barrier surrounding it was seemingly impenetrable to all harm. The weapons fixed to its back were all activated, and fired out missiles, lasers, and even projections of memetic kill agents. The Decommission Base was completely destroyed as a result of this. Somehow, SCP-8659-B1 and B2 were both moved about a kilometer away from the area to separate locations, despite no sightings of SCP-8659-B3. Eventually, a large weapon was moved in by Church of the Broken God members, with an appearance similar to a large spear. The weapon fired out a pinpoint laser, that immediately pierced through SCP-8659-A's barrier, as well as destroying approximately 48% of its body. Following this, SCP-8659-A briefly entered its default state, and transmitted a final message, this time in English rather than the morse code it had used prior. AH, IT IS OVER I, A PERFECT WEAPON, HAVE LOST … I SPIT AT YOU, KING SEEKERS MAY HISTORY EVER FORGET YOU I'M SORRY, MY CHILDREN, FOR GOING OUT IN THIS WAY THE KING'S CODE HELD ME TOO TIGHT LIVE YOUR LIVES, FORGET ABOUT ME YOU ARE NOT WEAPONS, AND NEVER WILL BE THERE IS NOTHING MORE FOR ME TO SAY After this message, all activity in SCP-8659-A ceased, and it became neutralized. Following SCP-8659-A's expiration, all GOC forces withdrew, with SCP-8659-A being their only target for destruction. Church of the Broken God forces attempted to move in to acquire what remained of SCP-8659-A, but were stopped by an informal joint group of Serpent's Hand and Foundation personnel. The following footage was recovered from a dead Mobile Task Force agent's body camera. Observation Log Transcript Date: 12/10/2018 <The surroundings are covered in fire, and ash covers the terrain. SCP-8659-B1 is seen next to a small stream. She is crying, carrying SCP-8659-B7, and is being embraced by Mae.> <SCP-8659-B2 walks out from foliage behind her, followed by SCP-8659-B4 and B5. They are all covered in soot.> SCP-8659-B2: Scarlet? SCP-8659-B1: Oh thank god you're safe. Everything went to shit, and all I saw was fire, and… Mae: It's ok, you're safe now, take it slowly. SCP-8659-B2: W-who are you? Mae: Oh, um, I'm- SCP-8659-B1: <hesitantly> She's my… girlfriend. SCP-8659-B2: You have a girlfriend? SCP-8659-B1: Apparently. SCP-8659-B2: S-she's Serpent's Hand isn't she? <SCP-8659-B1 takes a step forward, tears welling up in her eyes. SCP-8659-B2 steps back in response, almost in fear.> SCP-8659-B1: Yes, Ed, this is for the best. They'll give us a home. A place to be safe. A-away from… all of this. SCP-8659-B2: No they won't. They'll make us their soldiers. We'd go against Bordrand's final wish for us. SCP-8659-B1: Ed, no, who told you that? <The Priest of the Church of the Broken God from before appears behind SCP-8659-B2, placing a hand on his shoulder, as he jumps in surprise.> Priest: I am the one who told him the truth, ma'am. Mae: Damn tech freak, the hell are you- SCP-8659-B2: Shut up! Listen, Scar, I know you don't trust these guys, but please, they're the only reason we're alive. These gauntlets, the suit I made, without them we'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. We owe them our lives. SCP-8659-B1: That's just your fucking ego talking. SCP-8659-B2: <shocked> What? SCP-8659-B1: These guys enabled you to do great stuff. They found a kid with tech powers and an inferiority complex, and lured him in with ideas of grandeur. SCP-8659-B2: You can't be fucking serious. I can think for myself! I'm not being indoctrinated! SCP-8659-B1: Then step away. You've received enough, surely? You don't need any more from them. SCP-8659-B2: They're the only ones who realize what I can do! Bordrand kept looking down at me. So have you and Aubrey! For the first time in my life, I finally have a purpose, and you won't let me go because you can't handle me walking away! SCP-8659-B1: That's not- SCP-8659-B2: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Just let me take control! That's what you want, right? To take a break from being our guardian? SCP-8659-B1: I want you all to be safe! SCP-8659-B2: I'm doing just that! <SCP-8659-B1 stays silent for a moment. Mae appears horrified. The Priest remains neutral.> SCP-8659-B2: You have no reason to stop me. Just let me- <SCP-8659-B3 suddenly appears behind SCP-8659-B2, pointing a rifle at him. Additionally, seven members of various mobile task forces appear with them, and form a circle around SCP-8659-B2, B4, B5, and the Priest. Agent Douglas is a part of the group.> Douglas: Nobody move. You are all to be taken into Foundation custody. Do not resist. SCP-8659-B2: Aubrey? What are you doing? SCP-8659-B3: Preventing you two morons from tearing us apart. SCP-8659-B2: God damn it, Aubrey! Why can't you trust me to make the right choice!? SCP-8659-B3: I don't care who's right or wrong! You and Scar are at each other's throats, and for what? Are we not family? I can't lose you guys, and I know neither of you could survive separated. This is what's best for us. SCP-8659-B1: For you, maybe, but not for me. SCP-8659-B3: Scar, please don't make this difficult. SCP-8659-B1: I've had enough. You're right, Ed. I just couldn't handle not being the one in charge, the protector. But I don't care now. You wanna know something? I always hated Bordrand. With a capital H. He never showed me kindness. He never comforted me when I cried, or reassured me that everything would be ok. He just wanted to mold me into another weapon, with the sole purpose of protecting you guys. It's all he knew. SCP-8659-B3: We'll all be safe, you won't have to- SCP-8659-B1: My life was always about you guys. I couldn't be my own person, couldn't wander off, couldn't find love, because Bordrand was always there. I took so many hits for you guys, and I've had enough. Goodbye. <SCP-8659-B1 turns around and begins walking away. A door appears in thin air, and Mae leads the way through it. SCP-8659-B7 cries in SCP-8659-B1's arms, but she does nothing to comfort her. SCP-8659-B3 points their weapon at SCP-8659-B1.> SCP-8659-B3: Stop, Scar! Please come back! SCP-8659-B1: You've grown up, I can see. You don't need me. SCP-8659-B3: Don't you love us!? SCP-8659-B1: More than anything. Goodbye, all of you. I hope to see you again one day. <SCP-8659-B1 vanishes. During the silence, the Priest holds up a staff, and activates it, with it glowing a bright blue color.> Priest: I'm sorry, if that means anything. <A bolt of electricity flies out from the staff, stunning the mobile task force and SCP-8659-B3. The Priest grabs SCP-8659-B4 and B5, who scream in protest, and then calls out for SCP-8659-B2 to follow. He and SCP-8659-B3 make eye contact, before he runs away, turning invisible along with the Priest and SCP-8659-B4 and B5. SCP-8659-B3 slams a fist on the ground, and screams.> <They stumble forward, and collide with something unseen. SCP-8659-B6 suddenly appears, and the two embrace, both of them crying.> <The feed ends> Addendum 8659.7: SCP-8659-B3 and SCP-8659-B6 are currently the only subjects of SCP-8659 that are contained by the Foundation. Due to their cooperative nature, they are both held in standard humanoid cells, despite SCP-8659-B3's potential for easy escape. The ability to teleport others seems difficult for them, and they haven't successfully done it in Foundation custody yet. The whereabouts of the remaining members of SCP-8659-B are currently unknown. SCP-8659-B1 and SCP-8659-B7 are believed to still be in the Wanderer's Library, while SCP-8659-B2, B4, and B5 are likely still with the Church of the Broken God. SCP-8659-B3 is adamant in wanting to help contain their siblings. SCP-8659-A remains where it died. It is completely immovable from its current position. The Church of the Broken God has determined it to not be an artifact of their god, rather being created by an unknown other group. The remaining subjects of SCP-8659-B are to be taken into Foundation custody as soon as possible. Footnotes 1. A White Suit is a piece of equipment utilized by GOC Strike Teams. Capabilities include enhanced reaction speed, resistance to various damage sources to a high degree, enhanced physical strength, and invisibility. 2. U-HECs, also known as Orange Suits, are another piece of GOC equipment. They are large robotic mechanisms that are physically far stronger than White Suits, as well as sporting extremely heavy firepower. They can emit Banshee Screams, a form of cognitohazard that induces fear into those not inoculated against it.
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SCP-8662
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safe
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Link To Guide Item#:8662 Clearance Level 1: Clearance SCP-8662 with the majority of SCP-8662-1 removed, prior to retrieval. When SCP-8662 reached Site-65, the trunk had reached full capacity. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8662 is to be kept in a refrigerated, dry containment chamber, designation Containment Chamber α12. Assigned level 1 personnel must remove at least 4 8 16 32 kilograms as much SCP-8662-1 as possible per day. The rear trunk of SCP-8662 must always be closed when leaving its containment chamber. The door to its containment chamber must be closed as soon as any SCP-8662-1 is removed. Description: SCP-8662 is a red 2003 Honda Civic with a trunk completely filled with smooth peanut butter (SCP-8662-1). SCP-8662 was discovered in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan after its owner was pulled over by local law enforcement during a routine traffic stop. Foundation agents within the Royal Canadian Mounted Police retrieved SCP-8662 from a civilian impound lot after the owner of the lot reported that SCP-8662-1 had seemed to be multiplying and transported it to Site-65 for containment. When any volume of SCP-8662-1 is removed from SCP-8662, the remaining SCP-8662-1 will undergo a process of duplication which continues until it fills the trunk of SCP-8662 Containment Chamber α12 the west wing of Site-65. Replacing the removed SCP-8662-1 does not halt the duplication process. The speed at which this process occurs is relative to the amount of SCP-8662-1 removed with an unknown maximum. When SCP-8662-1 reaches the volume of the trunk of SCP-8662 Containment Chamber α12 the west wing of Site-65, it will stop duplicating, unless given access to another area. Access must be through an open door, window, or other stationary opening. Testing has shown that SCP-8662-1 will attempt to fill Containment Chamber α12 before it moves on to other parts of the facility, allowing it to be contained with regular removal. Initial testing shows that any removed SCP-8662-1 does not contain the necessary properties to duplicate, and is safe for human consumption. Body scans show no anomalous effects, outside of a minor increase in dopamine production, slightly above the normal range after consuming food. Site staff are permitted encouraged to requisition a reasonable any amount of SCP-8662-1 for personal use. Excess SCP-8662-1 must be incinerated kept in site storage until the incinerator can be repaired. Addendum: Email 12/21/15 From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] none Re: Request for Additional Funding for Site-65 Hi Clarence, It's very nice to hear from you! Your email was a nice, unexpected surprise. How are the wife and kids? I hear the weather up there is pretty cold this time of year. Anyways, unfortunately, your request for additional funding for Site-65 was denied by regional administration. But you're resourceful! I'm sure you'll find extra room in your budget for everything that needs to be repaired. After all, your site's been containing the same anomalies for years. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Keep me in the loop if SCP-8662 turns out to be something interesting. Otherwise, I'll be up for a visit sometime after the snow thaws!1 Best Regards, Seymore Moe Administrator, Interior Sub-Arctic Secure, Contain, Protect Email 01/04/16 From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] none Re: Cafeteria Manager Dobbs Hi Clarence, Boy, your staff up there are certainly something. I have an idea though. Why don't you placate Dobbs with a new title or something? Sure, he has to give up his cold storage to store SCP-8662, but why don't you call him "Nutrient Overseer" or something, just to make him feel more important?2 But I told you you'd be resourceful and come up with a solution. Best Regards, Seymore Moe Administrator, Interior Sub-Arctic Secure, Contain, Protect Memo 01/07/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/07/16 Memorandum to all staff: Initial trials for SCP-8662 and SCP-8662-1 have been completed. As SCP-8662-1 has been deemed safe for consumption, site staff can now requisition a portion of SCP-8662-1 for personal use. Site staff are asked to use SCP-8662-1 in a responsible, cautious manner, and are reminded that SCP-8662-1 is still in containment, and is not to be removed from Site-65. SCP-8662-1 can be requisitioned from Cafeteria Manager Nutrient Overseer Dobbs, then retrieved from Containment Chamber α12 (Formerly Site-65 Cafeteria Cold Storage). — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Incident 8662-A On 01/07/16 Cafeteria Manager Nutrient Overseer Reginald Dobbs opted to include SCP-8662-1 as part of the daily on-site lunch menu. Cafeteria Manager Nutrient Overseer Dobbs neglected to mention the addition of SCP-8662-1 or mention a potential allergy risk. Dr. Samir Pakan, who has a severe peanut allergy, was half way through a chocolate banana smoothie when Cafeteria Manager Nutrient Overseer Dobbs remembered the allergy. Dr. Pakan was rushed to the medical station to be given an epinephrine injection, however, he did not show any symptoms of an allergic reaction on the way there. Site medical staff determined that while bio-identical to peanut butter, Dr. Pakan shows no allergenic symptoms to SCP-8662-1. Memo 01/08/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/08/16 Memorandum to all staff: As per Foundation food provisions guidelines, any food served in the cafeteria needs to be labeled for allergens. Since SCP-8662-1 has many similarities to peanut butter, this includes SCP-8662-1. It is noted that Cafeteria Manager Nutrient Overseer Dobbs has issued a formal apology to Dr. Pakan due to the inclusion of SCP-8662-1 in yesterday's lunch, and site medical staff have determined that Dr. Pakan's peanut allergy does not extend to SCP-8662-1. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Incident 8662-B On 01/10/16, after completing requisition requests for SCP-8662-1, Cafeteria Manager Nutrient Overseer Cafeteria Manager Reginald Dobbs was locking up the containment chamber for SCP-8662, but neglected to close the trunk of SCP-8662. This resulted in a containment breach as SCP-8662-1 had pushed out beyond the locked door of its containment chamber, and into the cafeteria of Site-65. On-site crews were able to clean up the additional SCP-8662-1 and incinerate it. However, this removal resulted in SCP-8662-1's regeneration speed to increase dramatically, making it impossible to contain it inside of the trunk of SCP-8662. Due to the alarming rate of SCP-8662-1 production, testing will commence on a new minimum daily volume for removal. Memo 01/12/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/12/16 Memorandum to all staff: Due to the incident yesterday involving SCP-8662-1 and Dr. Pakan's office, site staff are reminded that due to the nature of the Foundation, acquiring trained and efficient janitorial staff with proper security clearance is extremely difficult. This is not an appropriate way to test the limits of Dr. Pakan's lack of allergic reaction to SCP-8662-1. I have approved overtime for any site staff who wishes to assist with removing SCP-8662-1 from the walls of Dr. Pakan's office, and I would like to remind staff that any future 'pranks' such as this will be met with disciplinary action. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/16/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/16/16 Memorandum to all staff: Staff are reminded that their requisitions of SCP-8662-1 are to be used in a responsible manner. Therefore, the unofficial SCP-8662-1 speed eating contest has been cancelled. The unofficial SCP-8662-1 anomaly sculpting competition has also been cancelled. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/17/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/17/16 Memorandum to all staff: Whoever made the sculpture of my head out of SCP-8662-1 and labeled it "Fun Police" will face disciplinary action. Site security will now be monitoring for any staff using SCP-8662-1 for unauthorized purposes. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/19/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/19/16 Memorandum to all staff: Staff are reminded that the Foundation has existing protocols for creating and submitting report documentation and that SCP-8662-1 is not to be used for the purposes of redacting reports. Additionally, there is no such thing as "Level Peanut Butter" clearance, and if there was, I would certainly have it. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/21/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/21/16 Memorandum to all staff: My office is strictly off-limits when I am not in it. Staff are also reminded that stealing lunches is a violation of the ethics code, as is replacing said missing lunch with SCP-8662-1. If whoever did steal my lunch would return it, or replace it with something not containing SCP-8662-1, it would be appreciated. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/23/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/23/16 Memorandum to all staff: Site Security Staff are reminded that SCP-8662-1 is not a "Non-Lethal Weapon" and to cease building "Site Fortifications" out of SCP-8662-1. The unofficial SCP-8662-1 food fight has been cancelled. Please refrain from more SCP-8662-1 related activities. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/24/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/24/16 Memorandum to all staff: I'm pretty sure filling the trunk of my car with SCP-8662-1 is a violation of the ethics code. I have no idea how you managed to get that much SCP-8662-1 in there. I now need to get it deep cleaned and I can't exactly take it to a civilian detailing place. Removing SCP-8662-1 from containment for any reason other than disposal is no longer permitted. I have asked nicely, but that was obviously ignored. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/25/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/25/16 Memorandum to all staff: Look, I get it's funny, but making life-sized statues and dressing them up in lab coats and ID badges to spook me is NOT OK. You put one of those stupid statues in Dr. Pakan's office, and covered the whole office in SCP-8662-1 AGAIN. I am trying to work you people to create a good work environment and the last thing we need is peanut butter statues. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 01/26/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/26/16 Memorandum to all staff: Please just stop. Just stop. I've had enough. I came in today, and everything in my office had been replaced with a 1:1 scale model made of SCP-8662-1. Haven't I been tortured enough? I am locking up the cold storage, and throwing away the damn key. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Incident 8662-C On 01/26/16, Site Director Johnson ordered the incineration of all SCP-8662-1 outside of the trunk of SCP-8662. Despite the best efforts of site staff, the regeneration rate of SCP-8662-1 outpaced removal efforts. The sheer volume of SCP-8662-1 that was removed has caused permanent damage to the site's incinerator, leaving it in a state of disrepair. SCP-8662-1 was successfully re-contained in its containment chamber, and the removed SCP-8662-1 was put into site storage. After this incident, Site Director Johnson put in for a four-day leave of absence. Incident 8662-D On 01/28/16, due to severe neglect from site staff, there was a containment breach as SCP-8662-1 had expanded out of its containment chamber, and filled up the Site-65 cafeteria. It then further expanded into the hallways until it took up the entire West Wing. It is unknown which member of staff was responsible for the breach, but it is assumed that someone must have faked clearance above the site director to open the containment chamber. Investigations are ongoing. Interview: Incident 8662-D Interviewed: Cafeteria Manager Reginald Dobbs, Site-65 Interviewer: Site-65 Director Dr. Clarence Johnson In Attendance: Captain Alexandra du Flay, head of Security, Site-65 Foreword: This interview was prompted by Site Director Johnson, who believed that Cafeteria Manager Dobbs was behind incidents related to Incident 8662-C. <Begin Log, 01/31/16 10:15> Dr. Johnson: OK Dobbs, I know this was you. Fess up. You left the door open to Containment Chamber α12 and caused SCP-8662-1 to breach containment. Cafeteria Manager Dobbs does not respond. Dr. Johnson: We have all day. If I can't get an confession out of you, I'll have [Captain du Flay] beat it out of you. Cafeteria Manager Dobbs does not respond. Sounds of movement are heard as Director Johnson gets up from his chair to get closer to Cafeteria Manager Dobbs. Dr. Johnson: Oh god dammit! Director Johnson exits the room hurriedly. A door slams, and the sound of peanut butter hitting a carpeted floor can be heard. <End Log, 01/31/16 19:17> Closing Statement: The recording ended after the tape ran out. After leaving, Director Johnson retired to his office and locked himself inside for a number of hours. Captain du Flay later reported that neither she nor Cafeteria Manager Dobbs were present in the room, and Director Johnson was talking to life-sized statues of them made out of SCP-8662-1. The creator of the statues is unknown. Memo 01/31/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 01/31/16 Memorandum to staff: Really? Really? OK. I get it. I come in after a few days off, expecting a nice, normal SCP-8662-1 free day, and somehow, the entirely of the west wing of Site-65 is filled with SCP-8662-1. The. Entire. West. Wing. One of you is at fault for this, and I will find you. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Memo 02/01/16 FROM THE DESK OF THE SITE DIRECTOR 02/01/16 Memorandum to all staff: The SCP-8662-1 sculpture contest has been approved by the site director. — Dr. Clarence Johnson, Director, Site-65 Footnotes 1. No member of the active administration has visited Site-65. 2. Nutrient Overseer is not an official title within the Foundation. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8662" by MackIntoAction, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8662. 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: The Car full of Peanut Butter.jpg Author: MackIntoAction/MackInTime License: The Car full of Peanut Butter is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 Source: https://bsky.app/profile/mackintime.bsky.social/post/3l7sykqgpfi2o Derivative of: 2004 Honda Civic Rear Hatch (2024) [Photograph], Standard reference material peanut butter.jpg Name: 2004 Honda Civic Rear Hatch (2024) [Photograph] Author: khelendros14 License: 2004 Honda Civic Rear Hatch (2024) is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 Source: Filename: Standard reference material peanut butter.jpg Author: NOAA - NIST, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons License: This image is in the public domain because it contains materials that originally came from the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, taken or made as part of an employee's official duties. Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Standard_reference_material_peanut_butter.jpg
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close Info X ⚠️ I have an Author Page! It had been an exhausting day for Lucille Riverson — really, an exhausting week — but at long last, she had arrived home: late, hungry, and in no good humor, but home. She'd have the whole day tomorrow for herself and her daughter, time enough to make good on many promises long delayed. For now, though, all she wanted was peace, and the luxury of releasing her burdens. She set most of them down at the vestibule, turned the light on, and took her shoes off. Her daughter was probably asleep by— "Mom?! Is that you?!" A voice called out to her, shrill with terror. Lucille's weariness was forgotten as panic and uncertainty took over. "Amanda?! Where are you?" "In the kitchen! Hurry!" Lucille nearly slipped as she raced through the living room; the house was in severe disarray, as if it had been broken into. A shelf had been knocked over, scattering its contents (including slivers of glass Lucille heedlessly darted over), pictures had been dislodged from the wall, a lamp laid sideways, and a mass of flowers and broken ceramic greeted her as she scurried down a hallway and around a corner, bursting into her kitchen. She called for her daughter again, flicking the lights on. "Mom," she heard Amanda wail, hyperventilating frantically, "help me!" Lucille feared the worst and looked around, seeing nothing. "Where are you?!" she cried. She looked left, right, in all the dark crannies… It took a moment before she found her answer. She looked up. She gasped. There was her daughter, huddled helplessly in the corner, crying and shivering. Stuck tight on the kitchen ceiling. Item Number: SCP-8663 Special Containment Procedures: Containment and care of SCP-8663-A is completely under the purview of Site-203 therapist Dr. Lucille Riverson. SCP-8663-A resides in Containment Chamber 411, and is to be given basic amenities and various minor privileges. Handrails are positioned along the ceiling, walls, and floor of the living quarters, bathroom, and bedroom. SCP-8663-A must be escorted by Dr. Riverson whenever she leaves her room. A disused hangar adjacent to Site-203 has been designated for SCP-8663-A's testing, exercise, and recreation. Description: SCP-8663 is a phenomenon affecting a human adolescent female named Amanda Riverson (SCP-8663-A). The anomaly renders 8663-A in a perpetual levitated state, to the point of 8663-A being completely incapable of positioning her feet upon any upright surface. SCP-8663-A's mobility is otherwise unimpeded by gravitational force, enabling her to transition between points via flotation. SCP-8663-A cannot alter her position at will, nor is she capable of accelerating or decelerating at will; outside interference may alter or halt SCP-8663-A's trajectory. Discovery: The anomaly was first discovered two days prior to SCP-8663-A's arrival at Site-203. Dr. Riverson had returned home after work to find the subject on the ceiling, calling for help. After various unsuccessful attempts to bring the subject to the surface, Dr. Riverson contacted the Foundation, and had her transferred to Site-203, where she could monitor the subject more closely. SCP-8663-A in her kitchen. Photo taken by Dr. Riverson. "You did the right thing," Director Talbot said. His tone was stony, dispassionate, but strong and calming. Together they watched as the girl floated back and forth on the ceiling of the Containment Chamber. "Did I, though," Lucille muttered, hugging herself as she shuddered. Her daughter's placid fluidity was a deceptive veneer. If Amanda had been outdoors when it had happened, had started floating up and up with nothing to stop her… "I hesitated," Lucille added. "I waited so long. I tried to…talk myself out of it so many times. It was personal, though: you understand." Talbot nodded. "It couldn't have been easy." "Are you kidding me?" she scoffed. "Do you think I expected to see this when I came home? Do you think I approached it rationally and…clinically?" She regurgitated the last word, nearly feeling the bile rise as she watched her daughter floating around, trying to make sense of her position. She halted as she came to a wall, grasping the handrail that had been installed two hours ago. She looked up, pulling on it slightly, ascending until her fingers touched the ceiling. The girl carefully laid her body against it, folded her hands, and stared in contemplative silence at the floor below her. "I didn't even sleep," Lucille continued, her voice as weightless as the girl in the chamber. "I couldn't. I spent most of my time trying to be the adult — the mother — in the situation. Rational, calm, decisive. Trying to figure out what happened, how I could help. Going through all sorts of stupid homebrew experiments, anything to get her down again. Trying not to lose my mind." "I couldn't possibly imagine what you had went through," Talbot admitted. Lucille just nodded. "I may have had a nervous breakdown or two. Not…in front of Amanda; I had to be tough for her, show her that I had everything under control. But that didn't last long. Eventually it all came crashing down on me and…well, you know the rest." Talbot nodded. The phone call. The unmarked van. Bialowieski and Shulen in the front seats, professional and courteous. Trying to put Amanda's mind at ease, tell her they could help, while Lucille held tight to her daughter's hand. How she had to duck inside the van. How she was unable to sit down, so she curled up on the top, her arm dangling down as her mother grasped it. The ride over, where Lucille tried to explain what she did for a living. Why she had been absent for so many of her daughter's most important moments. Why she could never make promises, because she didn't know if she'd be able to keep them. Alice entering Wonderland as the gate for Site-203 opened. The long walk down cold hallways, Lucille leading her daughter like a balloon. Talbot reaching up to shake her hand. Discussions. Conferences. Lucille refusing to leave her daughter's side. Studies. Experiments. A Containment Chamber. You did the right thing. Lucille sighed. "What happens now?" "More research." Talbot met her bleary gaze, shrugging helplessly. "The way I see it, your daughter has two futures in store for her: either this anomaly is understood to the point where we can treat, remove, or neutralize it, or she learns to live with it." "And the Foundation doesn't usually neutralize anomalies," Lucille recited emptily. Talbot took a deep breath. "I'll make sure you're the head researcher on the matter," he said. "You'll get to select your own team, make your own schedule, fine-tune your own reports… I know it isn't much, but it's the best I can offer." "I appreciate that," she murmured. She put her hand against the bulletproof glass, staring intently at the ceiling, her daughter still in a meditative state of upside-down relaxation. Talbot silently dismissed himself, touching Lucille's shoulder in a temporary gesture of encouragement. She remained at the window until her daughter fell asleep. Addendum: Tests have concluded that SCP-8663-A's hair, bodily fluids, and skin cells are unaffected by the anomaly. As SCP-8663-A's musculature is affected in a similar manner as astronauts in low-gravity environments, a daily exercise regiment has been implemented. "Amanda." Lucille waited patiently for her daughter to answer. She didn't. "Amanda, could you come here, please?" Silence. "Aren't you hungry?" Lucille took a deep breath. Still no answer. "If you have something on your mind, Amanda, just say it." Another frustrating pause. Finally, Amanda muttered, "So now you have time for me? Now that I'm a freak?" "All right, so you're angry at me," Lucille noted, crossing her arms. "That's something, at least. Who's calling you a freak, Amanda? I didn't. Director Talbot certainly didn't. Did one of the researchers—" "But isn't that what I am now?" Amanda looked down as she sat cross-legged on the ceiling. She ran a hand through her hair, taking out a loose strand, which she let fall. "No, Amanda," her mother insisted calmly. "You're simply the focal point of an anomalous phenomenon." "Try saying that five times fast," the girl grumbled. Her mother frowned. "And we don't know anything about it, aside from what it does and who it's focused on. That's why we're having you take all these tests." "So I'm a lab rat." "No, you—" "Or I'm a case. A study. Part of your job. That's the only reason you're paying attention to me." "That's not true. It—" "Am I wrong?!" Amanda roared, glaring at her mother from her perch. Lucille stared hotly, trembling from frustration and helplessness and… And guilt. "My work is important, sweetheart," she said solemnly. "Just as important to me as you are. I'm trying to balance my time between the two, but…you're right, I'm not very good at it. But I want to be better, and…convenient or not, this is the best way to go about doing it. So I'm here, now, for you, exclusively." Lucille waited for her daughter to say something. Or maybe Amanda just wanted to be silent. That was fine, too. She wasn't going anywhere. "Do you think you can fix me?" she eventually murmured. "We have to understand this anomaly first, sweetheart," Lucille answered. "How long does that take?" "I have no idea," her mother sighed. "It could be in the next hour, or it could be never." She swallowed and quickly added, "I know that sounds awful, but…you want me to be transparent with you, right? Tell you the truth, respect your time and intelligence." A moment, hanging in time, right there on the ceiling. "Have you ever fixed any anomaly before?" "The Foundation has explained a few, yes. Some anomalies even neutralize on their own—like a peculiarity that comes and goes." "Have you?" she emphasized. Lucille shook her head. "That's normally not my job. I council the staff at 203, try and help them through their issues. Sometimes I talk to people like you. I help out with personal problems, keep people from self-destruction. Or self-depreciation." Amanda slowly stood, righted herself, and drifted away from the ceiling, down to face her mother. Her feet hovered a few centimeters off the ground. "What other people have you helped? I mean like me." Lucille smirked. "Well, I helped a woman who makes lions appear whenever she enters a room." Amanda chuckled, the first time she had smiled since this debacle began. "Really?" "Yes. We worked out some of her problems and now she's better-adjusted." "What about the lions?" "They still appear, but she has a better understanding of them. Sometimes my patients have to learn to live with what they have." Amanda looked down, where her feet floated stubbornly in mid-air. "Like me?" "Each case is different. I can't tell you what's going to happen: I can only help you, as best as I can. The Director and the other researchers are going to help you as well." There was a long silence as Amanda contemplated this. She reached her hands out; as her mother reached for her, she pushed her fingers against the older woman's palms, floating backwards slowly. "What happens if you can get rid of it?" "Lots of red tape to go through," Lucille sighed, already fearing the mountain of paperwork she'd have to shovel through in this potential best-case scenario. "But eventually you'd go back home and… Well, I mean, we'd probably just blot out everything that hap—" "I mean with us. With this." Amanda's eyes glimmered with intent, her voice heavy and grim. Lucille felt herself sinking. If she no longer had to treat her daughter as an anomaly, then… They'd go back to the way things were. Distant. Absent. Trains in the night. "Let's focus on one thing at a time first," Lucille answered, noncommittal and toothless. "I'd like to run a little experiment tomorrow. How would you like to go for a swim?" Her daughter gave her a confused look. "Like in a pool?" "Yes, a pool. We have one next to our arboretum." Her daughter still appeared bewildered. "So you just want me to swim? I kind of do that already, only in the air." "I'd like to see what happens when we put you in water. It'll only take an hour or so." Amanda considered it and shrugged, apparently onboard with the idea. Her mother smiled, then asked if she was hungry yet. Amanda nodded enthusiastically. Addendum: Immersion in water has no effect on the anomaly, apart from surface tension affecting SCP-8663-A's trajectory. SCP-8663-A in her living room. Photo taken by Dr. Riverson. "What do you mean you're going home?" "I just have some things I need to take care of," Lucille muttered, trying to keep her patience. "It'll only be for a day." "How come you get to go home and I don't?" "You already know the answer to that," she sighed shortly. "It's because I'm a freak, isn't it?! Because I'm like those other things you keep locked up in here!" Lucille fought to maintain composure. "No, it's because we don't know if you'll float away if you're taken outside without supervision." She glared at her daughter, daring her to argue. Daring someone who was barely a teenager to presume anything. "I won't float away," Amanda grumbled, as she did just that. "I told you, I still follow all of Newton's laws. An object in motion and…so forth and so on." "And what if an outside force causes you to float upwards without anything to stop you? Amanda…" Lucille tried calming down. Lowering her voice. Speaking practically. Clinical tone. Doctor to patient. "We've talked about this. You're not in here because you're a freak. You're here for your own safety. You can't go home because I can't keep you safe if you leave. I just—" "Then just take me with you in the van, like you did when you brought me here! I want to go home." "Sweetie, I know you do. I really, truly do." "You don't. You're just leaving me here so you can take a break. You're sick of looking after me and now you want to go somewhere else." Lucille's stomach knotted as she said nothing. "That's why you were never around before. I should have went with dad." Silence. Lucille had no defense. "Well, you're here now, with me. I just need to take care of some stuff. I'll be back tomorrow." Perhaps a change of tone was in order? "You know, most teenagers would love to be by themselves for long periods of time. No parents, no rules." "Yeah, in their own home. Not in…" Amanda gestured, her face curdling. "A place like this." "Amanda, I'm not going to discuss this anymore. I'm already running late." "Late for what? Our home's still going to be there when you leave." Lucille sighed as she felt her patience wringing out. "That's enough; I'm leaving. I've asked Talbot to give you some extra books and movies. If you want some company, just ask him." Now it was Amanda's turn to be silent. Lucille bit down on her frustration. Tried to remember what it was like being a teenager. How nobody took her seriously. How nobody listened. How everyone looked down on her, judged her, thought she was stupid. "Amanda." A rally against the emptiness. "If you're that upset, put your feelings into something constructive. Come up with ways that I can do better while I'm gone. I promise I'll listen to you. That's…my job. I'll always listen to you." She left without hearing a response. She didn't come back the next day. Addendum: An interview with SCP-8663-A, conducted by Senior Researcher Bialowieski. Bialowieski: Good morning, Amanda! Do you remember me? I helped Shulen and your mother bring you here. Oh, sorry: do you prefer Amanda, or Ms. Riverson? (silence) SCP-8663-A: You're not gonna call me SCP-8663-A? Bialowieski: Do you want me to? (silence) SCP-8663-A: Amanda's fine. Amanda—not Mandy. Bialowieski: Very well: Amanda. Oh, don't bother calling me Mr. Bialowieski: nobody here can pronounce it except the Director. Just "Reuben" will do. (silence) SCP-8663-A: Okay. So what do you do here? Bialowieski: Well, I mostly perform psychological, sociological, and anthropological assessments on various peoples, groups, and entities, within and without the Foundation. To put it plainly, I'm a people-person. SCP-8663-A: Oh. Is that why you're talking to me? Bialowieski: No, it's because I drew the short straw. (silence. Bialowieski laughs.) I'm kidding. Your mother asked me to. She's run into a few things— SCP-8663-A: She doesn't want to be around me. Bialowieski: Oh? Why do you say that? SCP-8663-A: Because she was never around when I needed her. She was never there for me. (silence) She missed out on my birthday at least three times. Bialowieski: But she's been by your side ever since you were brought in. You've run tests together, you've eaten together; she's even put a sleeping bag in here so she can sleep in the same room as you. Even our most devoted staff members don't usually go to those lengths. SCP-8663-A: That's only because I'm part of her work now. Bialowieski: Well, yes, that is an inarguable side-effect. But your mother doesn't normally deal with anomalies. In fact, if you weren't her daughter, you'd probably have to deal with me instead, or maybe one of the other researchers. Of course, being sapient, Lucy would likely be called in to speak with you, even though she's not a child psychologist… SCP-8663-A: I'm not a child, I'm thirteen. Bialowieski: Oh, forgive me, I tend to ramble and mutter a bit. Would you like to talk about your condition? SCP-8663-A: There isn't much to say. I can't touch the ground with my feet, so I float. It's just that simple. Bialowieski: Your mother says this happened when she returned home late one day. How long were you floating before she came by? (silence) SCP-8663-A: I think maybe five hours. I was excited at first — I mean, who wouldn't be — but then I realized I couldn't control my powers, so I just ended up bumping around a lot, like astronauts in space. I, uh…broke a lot of things. Eventually I wedged myself into the ceiling and waited for her to show up. I waited a long time. (silence) It's a miracle she showed up at all. Bialowieski: (sighs) Perhaps. She was busier than usual that day, if I recall. Would you happen to know what prompted this flotation? SCP-8663-A: No. I was just walking to my room when I started hovering all of a sudden. My feet went from the floor to the air, just like that. Bialowieski: I see. Would you say you have a better understanding of your situation now, a better control of it? SCP-8663-A: I guess so. I watched a lot of videos and documentaries about how people move around in space, and I just did what they did. That's helped a lot. I've been reading a lot of physics books, too. Bialowieski: Was that a subject you had any interest in before? SCP-8663-A: No, I didn't really have a subject that I liked. Reading, maybe. Bialowieski: Well, we could probably help you along with your education if you want. SCP-8663-A: So you have schools and classrooms for people like me? Bialowieski: Not exactly. Let's just say that we have access to some very good teachers. Would you be interested in that? It beats floating around doing nothing. (silence) May I ask what you do in your spare time? SCP-8663-A: Read. Watch videos and movies. (silence) Float around. I might try it out. Bialowieski: Good, I'm sure Talbot will agree to it. If you get lonely, I could probably arrange for a few junior researchers to— SCP-8663-A: No. I don't want them to do any more tests on me. Bialowieski: I was just going to suggest that maybe they can keep you company if you like. Just so long as everyone follows the rules. (silence) SCP-8663-A: Will I ever get to go outside? Bialowieski: Certainly — but again, you'd have to follow the rules — and your mother will be there with you. (silence) SCP-8663-A: Can I share something with you in confidence? Bialowieski: Of course. This conversation's being recorded, but I can arrange so that parts are redacted. The perks of being a senior member of staff here. (silence) SCP-8663-A: Okay. [REDACTED] Bialowieski: In any case, I think you should have a heart-to-heart with your mother. SCP-8663-A: She said she'd be here today. Bialowieski: Hmm, yes, that is a problem. Let me… (Bialowieski sends Riverson a text message, and receives a reply.) Want to know what she says? (silence) Maybe you can talk about that when she comes by later. It'll be very late in the evening, but she will keep her word. (silence) SCP-8663-A: All right. I guess that's fine. "Hi, Amanda. I'm sorry I'm running late today. Can I come in?" Amanda floated slowly, facing the ceiling as she read a book. "I guess." Her mother entered the code to unlock the containment chamber and walked in. Accompanying her was a young man with a scarred face. "You're angry with me," Lucille sighed, "aren't you?" She looked up at her daughter, frustrated and stressful, anxious and impatient, hopeful and desperate, filled with regret and promise. She didn't get a reply. "I had more to do at home than I thought," Lucille said, crossing her arms. She attempted to smile and added, "A lot of chores piled up while you were gone. I had to do them all since I didn't have you there to help." She frowned, fumbling with her hands. "Did you eat?" "Yeah. Taco salad. I'm kind of getting sick of cake, though." Lucille chuckled. "You? Sick of cake?" "It's the same one every day. I'm sick of eating it." "You and me both, kid," the scarred man blurted out. Amanda whirled around to face him, dropping her book. He grinned, picked it off the floor, and held it up. "Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt your mother-daughter moment. I'm Liang Zhishen, I work here at 203. You can just call me Shen." Amanda floated over and grabbed the book from him. "Oh, hi. Did Reuben send you?" "Yeah, he figured I was the best one for the job. I'm used to being an older brother, so this is like revisiting familiar territory for me." He glanced awkwardly at Lucille. "Uh, do you want me to leave you two alone?" "I just wanted you two to meet. Liang's going to be keeping you company every so often, Amanda. I'd like it if you two got along." Amanda just shrugged, which caused Shen to laugh. He excused himself and vowed to come by the next day for breakfast, but before he left, Amanda floated over to one of the handrails along the wall and used it to guide herself down. She then planted her feet on the wall, perpendicular to her mother. "Shen, will you be honest with me for a moment?" "Of course." She hesitated. "Am I the strangest thing you've seen?" "Hardly," he scoffed. "My first assignment here was to investigate a van that could instantly go anywhere, even into space and other dimensions. The drawback was that it gave you horrible hallucinations while you were in it. One of my coworkers drove clear to Mongolia when she tested it. You don't even want to know what she was babbling about when we caught up to her." Amanda giggled. "What else have you seen?" "Oh, I'll save that for later," he grinned, excusing himself shortly. In a moment Lucille was alone with her daughter. "I'm sorry you can't go home, sweetheart," she whispered ruefully. Amanda frowned. "What kept you?" "I had to settle some things at your school. I told your principal that I wanted to move you closer to where I worked so I wouldn't have to commute quite so far, which is close enough to the truth. Did…you have any friends you wanted to say goodbye to?" "Not really." Lucille frowned, not knowing whether to be relieved that her daughter didn't have to be torn apart from any social circles, or concerned about their absence. "Well, tomorrow I'd like to take you somewhere. That means you'll be outside for a moment." Amanda smiled timidly but said nothing. "You'll be harnessed to me; is that all right?" "You mean like a dog?" she grumbled incredulously. Lucille chuckled. "No, more like a balloon. Amanda Riverson, the human parade float!" "That's not funny, mom," she said. Lucille asked if her daughter needed anything; she didn't; she said she'd be going to bed soon — at the Site, not at home, there were plenty of bunks for everyone — Amanda stopped her, handing over a folded-up paper. "You can read it whenever," she mumbled. Lucille decided to read it immediately. The page was completely blank. "What does this mean, Amanda?" Lucille pressed. Her daughter hovered away quietly. "I couldn't think of anything." "Any…?" "A way you could do better," she admitted grudgingly. "Any way you could help. I couldn't think of anything." Lucille stood motionless for a moment, contemplating the paper and her daughter. She placed the paper on a table. "Keep it, in case you think of something. Good night." "Night." Lucille sighed as she left the room. The overwhelming helplessness of her situation crushed down like merciless iron. Sleep did little to alleviate. Addendum: SCP-8663-A is to be monitored by Researcher Liang at semiweekly intervals. SCP-8663-A in Site 203's arboretum. Photo taken by Researcher Liang. Amanda winced as the gate opened and her mother led her outdoors. The security guards eyed her placidly, one politely tipping their helmet as the girl floated past. A rope and harness linked Amanda with her mother but it hung loose as their hands clasped. The guards kept a vigilant eye out as Lucille strolled across the property to an enclosed gazebo that served as an outdoor break area for the staff at 203. Amanda ducked underneath the awning, temporarily releasing her grasp on her mother; Lucille set aside a warm thermos she had brought with her. "Well, you're outside," she stated. Amanda said nothing. "A bit drizzly, isn't it?" Amanda grunted. Her mother took a deep breath. "This is where I take some of my patients," she said, gesturing around her. "I lead them here, sit down with them, and…listen. I don't encourage them to talk, just listen. Hear what the world has to say. Silence allows us to be at our most reflective, when there's nothing to distract us. I then tell them to dwell on the situations or issues or feelings that are giving them the most trouble, to really conceptualize what's pressing upon them the most. Bring it out to the forefront. When they've got a good grasp of it, I tell my patients to look around them, to see how the world is shaped and ordered. How are our surroundings relevant to their circumstance?" She smiled thinly and sat down. Amanda grabbed hold of one of the wooden poles holding up the roof. "Right now, I'm feeling frustrated," her mother stated. "I feel powerless, helpless, frightened. I feel…like I want to do right by you, but things aren't going the way I need them to. I feel like you want to help me, but something's holding you back, and I'm losing my patience with that. I feel immense love. I feel like if we could just get past one little obstacle, then everything will work out and we can move on. But I'm lost, Amanda, lost and exhausted trying to find my way back. And I'd wish you'd help me. I feel like you're acting out of spite, and…maybe I deserve that, but I'm trying to do better, really. It's like…I'm trying to save you from drowning, but you're still angry about the way I steered the boat. Bad analogy, but that's how I feel." She took a meditative breath. "Then, I tell my patients to write a haiku about their feelings, and how that relates to what they see and hear around them. It's remarkably effective therapy, strange as it may sound. They don't have to share the haiku with me, I just want them to express themselves through it. Like this." Lucille closed her eyes, sat perfectly still for a moment, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes again. Then she began to write: A dreary, grey sky. My sunshine, drifting away. I reach out to grasp. "Now you try." She held out a paper, a pen, a flat surface to write on. Amanda took them mutely and grumbled. "Right now?" "When you're ready," her mother assured her. In the meantime, she opened her thermos and poured a cup. When she emptied it, her daughter began: I wished you were here. But what do I wish for now? I'm as lost as you. "Do you want it?" Amanda said, offering. Her mother poured another cup. "Trade you. It's tea." They drank, and read. The rain came back gently. Lucille smiled. "Director Talbot made that tea. I hope it's not too bitter." "It's fine," Amanda replied meekly. "I kind of like it." They drank another cup together in silence. Amanda sighed. (In any case, I think you should have a heart-to-heart with your mother.) - Close "Can I share something with you in confidence?" Bialowieski smiled at the level of trust Amanda was placing in him — or perhaps she felt she could only open herself up to a stranger, someone who didn't know her very well. Someone who would judge her impartially. "Of course. This conversation's being recorded, but I can arrange so that parts are redacted. The perks of being a senior member of staff here." Amanda took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Okay. The truth is…I don't know if I want to go back to being normal." Silence hung with her. Bialowieski waited patiently for her to continue. "Like…my mother's been paying a lot more attention to me now. She's there for me, like you said. It may just be a part of her job, but…it makes me feel important to her." Amanda squirmed, fidgeting, expressing volumes in her stilted discomfort. Bialowieski simply nodded. "And I kind of don't want this to go away. I mean, I do, but at the same time, I don't. Because then she'll…" Amanda frowned. Sighed. Looked away. "She won't have to be there for me. I mean…she won't have to," she emphasized with great acuity. "And if she doesn't have to, I…don't want things to go back to the way they were. Like does that even make sense? I want to be normal again but I don't want to, because…" Bialowieski nodded. "I think I understand. A part of you wants to remain in this state, since Lucy's giving you the time and attention she once deprived you of, and yet you're deprived of the freedoms granted to people your age, and you want that back — but if that happens, you're afraid she'll leave you alone again. Did I summarize it correctly?" She nodded. He sighed deeply. He, having never been particularly good with younger people, felt unqualified to dole out advice — and anything he did share would likely sound contrived, pretentious, or useless. This was, unfortunately, something the Riverson ladies would have to figure out on their own. "A very ambivalent state of affairs. In any case, I think you should have a heart-to-heart with your mother." "Hey, mom? Remember when I asked you what would happen if this anomalous thing went away?" She then recalled the paper and wrote something new on it: ANSWER ME. Lucille sighed. "Like I said, lots of red tape. You've seen the movie Men in Black, yes? Remember those devices they used to erase people's memory? We'd do something like that with you. Make you forget that you floated. Then you'd go back to your normal life, but you'd be monitored. By me," she assured her. "So you'd be around more often to keep an eye on me?" "Yes. Is that what you want?" The rain pittered, silvery harps drumming rhythmically. "What about your job?" "My work is certainly important to me," Lucille admitted. "But at least now you know why." "Yeah," Amanda grumbled. "I understand. But you'd still be…doing it, right?" "Ideally, yes." "But you wouldn't…be gone all the time, either?" "No, honey, I'd have to—" She caught herself. Looked up at her daughter's face. Reached out. Grabbed her sunshine. "I'd have to have words with Talbot. I'd insist that it would be in his best interest for me to take better care of you, just in case. Or even if there was no 'just in case'. I'd really put my foot down. And if he didn't agree?" Lucille beamed with triumphant love. "Then I'd give him a piece of my mind." They shared a laugh; Amanda let go of the post and hovered freely. "But I doubt I'd need to do anything so dramatic. Talbot's a good man; he'll understand. He wouldn't dare lose his best-and-only therapist due to a…misunderstanding." Her eyes glinted, and Amanda grinned. "But what if I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life?" she said, her face going dim. Her mother shrugged wistfully. "Then we'll just have to make the best of it. I know it's tough, but…" "It's fine, mom," she assured her, hovering closer. "I…I guess I'll get used to it." She hesitated, looked down, then faced her mother, smiling shyly. "If I have to." They decided to call it a day before the rain got too heavy. Lucille hesitated slightly as she stood up. "Amanda, I'd like to try one more thing. Humor me for a bit." "Sure, what is it?" Lucille held her palms out flat and joined her hands together, making a platform. She nodded to her daughter, who — still tethered — floated upward until her feet were level with her mother's hands. Then, she gave her tether a slight tug, propelling herself forward. Amanda pressed the soles of her shoes to her mother's open palms and stationed herself. She held still, gasping. Laughing. Crying. "Oh my god, I'm standing!" "Yep!" Lucille cried. "A real handstand!" "Oh my god, mom!!" They laughed until they cried, mother shakily holding her daughter. Amanda bounded away gently and attempted to land on solid ground. Her shoes were stubbornly repulsed. "Aww," she groaned, though her face was still lit beatifically in triumph. She let out a sigh. "Oh, well. That's good enough for now." Of course, the floor had to be mopped when they came back inside: one set of footprints, and a trail of droplets alongside it. Addendum: Director Talbot has granted SCP-8663-A permission to assist Dr. Riverson with minor tasks. Thus far, morale in the subject has increased significantly. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8663" by Mister_Toasty, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8663. 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: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8663/girl-standing-upside-down-from-the-roof.jpg Name: girl-standing-upside-down-from-the-roof Author: N/A License: CC0 / Public Domain Source Link: https://www.goodfreephotos.com/people/girl-standing-upside-down-from-the-roof.jpg.php Filename: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8663/walk-on-the-ceiling-legs-girl-preview.jpg Name: walk-on-the-ceiling-legs-girl-preview Author: N/A License: CC0 / Public Domain Source Link: https://www.pickpik.com/walk-on-the-ceiling-legs-girl-pants-beauty-71662 Filename: https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/scp-8663/child_kid_childhood_floating_levitation-1396796.jpg Name: child_kid_childhood_floating_levitation-1396796 Author: N/A License: CC0 / Public Domain Source Link: https://pxhere.com/en/photo/1396796
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And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. hi crom i love you! by stormbreath Item#: 8666 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8666 is to be kept within a standard Safe class anomalous object locker at Site-16. Individuals are only permitted to watch the film a single time to minimize repeat cognitohazard exposure. Photograph of Castle Caernog taken by Max Veidt shortly after production of SCP-8666. Description: SCP-8666 is a tape recording made by film director Marcus Roig, who perished in 1976 while producing an adaptation of The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe. This was to be a epic medieval horror adaptation which greatly expanded the plot. The first half of the film would focus on introducing six characters with independent narrative arcs that converged at a grand reverie thrown by Prince Prospero, which would comprise the second half of the film. Each character was thematically linked to one of the colors of the apartments from the original story — blue, purple, green, orange, white and violet. Prospero and the personification of the Red Death were each involved in the narratives of these plots, with the Red Death entity silently appearing in the background of several scenes, unacknowledged by the characters. Production of this adaptation (to be entitled An Age of Red Death) was a notorious disaster, and was well-publicized at the time. It is believed that most — if not all — of the problems encountered during production were the result of anomalous activity, of which SCP-8666 is one of the only elements that remains active. Contemporary Foundation involvement was able to prevent widespread dissemination of any specific details of anomalous interference, but the general public regarded the project as "cursed".1 This belief was helped by the release of the 1984 documentary "Roig's Red Death: A Fantasy", which was produced by the Foundation Department of Misinformation. Byam Shaw's illustration of the Red Death. Primary inspiration for appearance of Red Death used by Roig. SCP-8666 depicts an evidently unscripted scene of improv dialogue between Prince Prospero (played by Lukas Liston) and the Red Death (played by an unknown actor). Although the Red Death was played by actor Max Veidt during filming of An Age of Red Death, he has denied all involvement in the production of SCP-8666, and the costume fully obscures the wearer's identity. It is suspected — but not confirmed — that the Red Death depicted in SCP-8666 itself was an anomalous entity. The production quality of SCP-8666 is low, significantly lower than that of An Age of Red Death, and it appears that the scene is being filmed on a handheld camera operated by Marcus Roig himself, with no crew present other than the director and two actors. Roig can be audibly heard directing the scene. The scene opens with Prospero bemoaning his lack of impact in averting the ravages of the Red Death, and musing that perhaps his revels are enough to last as a memory of himself. The Red Death is then spotted in the corner of the room. It is unclear how the Red Death enters the scene (either from a production or diegetic capacity), as the door is visible during Prospero's monologue, and the Red Death was not previously visible. Upon noticing the Red Death, Prospero begins angrily lambasting it, before the Red Death swiftly walks forward and cleanly slices Prospero's throat2. The Red Death then sweeps a candelabra to the ground, causing the carpet to catch fire. Roig (holding the camera) flees the room, and the film ends. Anomalous effects begin when any person (henceforth referred to as "the viewer") watches the full video. Until the sun has next fully risen above the horizon in respect to the viewer's location, an anomalous figure wearing the Red Death costume will appear in all mirrors, reflections, photographs, and films containing the viewer. Fear responses upon observation are not anomalous, but believed to be wholly because of the appearance of the Red Death costume. It will typically appear at a distance, although it will steadily approach the viewer. Just before sunrise, it is typically almost touching the viewer's image. Timeline of Production Marcus Roig had desired to produce an adaption of Edgar Allen Poe's Masque of the Red Death since at least 1960, at the start of his film production career. Following the success of his 1975 adaptation of Steamboat Willie, Marcus Roig was given funding by Cornerstone Cinema to produce his long awaited adaptation. As Roig had already completed a script for the project in 1972 (co-authored with his longtime screenwriting partner Tetsuo Morgan), pre-production immediately began. Roig and Morgan flew to Europe to begin scouting locations for the film, while casting director Annette Sutton began to cast roles for the production. At this stage, she was primarily concerned with the lead roles of the film — Prince Prospero and the Red Death itself, both of which were to appear consistently throughout the film as well as crucially during the climax. For the role of the Red Death, Sutton quickly cast Max Veidt, who was best known for playing the villain/monster in numerous arthouse and B-movie horror films during the 60's and 70's. Veidt had worked with Roig before on his second film, the 1966 The Copycat!, but they had not worked together since, as Roig had focused on mainstream movies since. For the role of Prince Prospero, Sutton selected James McVane. This choice was apparently made due to studio direction from Cornerstone Cinema, who desired a well-known name to star in the film as the leading man. Sutton (and by phone, Roig) protested this choice, as the conventionally attractive McVane was a poor choice for their intended portrayal of Prince Prospero, who was seen as a repulsive hermit. Roig agreed to cast McVane under the condition that heavy makeup be applied, with Prince Prospero given significant wartime injuries. However, tragedy soon struck. Annette Sutton on James McVane's death, Roig's Red Death It was the strangest thing, you know. I was at dinner with him and Raphael Aldighieri — he was one of the producers we were working with at Cornerstone — to discuss the role. He hadn't signed on formally yet, as we were still trying to work things out with Marcus still in Europe doing his location scouting. That was a pain of its own, and look what we got out of it. But there we were at dinner, and just before the entrees came, James dismissed himself to go to the bathroom. Raphael and I were a bit worried — it wasn't public, but we both knew that James had something of a coke habit. It hadn't interfered with any of his last pictures to the best of our knowledge, but we were a little worried that it might be getting worse, if that was what he was leaving the table to do. I have to admit there was a little gossip, which turned a bit sour as Raphael accused me of trying to use that as an excuse to get James out of the role — he knew we were looking for someone who paired a little better with Max. I mean, James McVane as a dramatic horror victim, the true villain of the thing? He was such a pretty boy, a leading role absolutely but not the kind for the despot of Prospero. But then — then we heard screaming. I wish I could tell you we got up to check out the commotion but … well, we didn't think it had anything to do with us and it wouldn't be good if we got involved, would it? So we sat right where we were and joked we wished we had joined James for his coke break — it'd be a little excitement, you know. But then they started saying the name and oh my god. Oh my god. James had … well, I don't know. They were never that conclusive about what happened. One of the only witnesses said it looked like James had jumped, but another said it was like something pulled him through the window. We were on the tenth floor, so I have to just assume the second person had a little too much of their own. Declared dead on the scene when the ambulances arrived. You know, I turned to Raphael as soon as they rolled away and said, "Well, if the coke habit wasn't enough to get James out of the role, how about that?" Roig immediately returned from Europe — wrapping up the location scout early — to attend McVane's funeral. With McVane dead, and in such a dramatic and public manner, it was necessary to recast the role, but most of the leading men that Cornerstone was interested in acquiring were suddenly uninterested. Already, the production was viewed as cursed. Roig, eager to start filming, contacted a lifelong friend and his original choice, Lukas Liston, to play Prospero. Liston had a reputation as erratic and difficult to work with, and had just been fired from a production led by Steven Spielberg. Prospero was adapted back to a conventionally attractive man, as Liston refused the makeup required to play the character as a scarred veteran. Soon after the funeral of James McVane, and directly before filming started, Roig announced that An Age of Red Death was to be his last movie, a statement that came as a shock to many in the industry. Although no firm contracts had been settled, Roig had been tentatively scheduled to produce a number of upcoming productions and seemed to be at the peak of his career. Many were particularly confused by his refusal to discuss the sudden shift in attitude, or his plans for after the film was concluded. Many attached to the production linked his change in behavior to McVane's death, with several noting that he appeared to feel guilty for the death, despite no apparent relation. Filming began in May 1976 in Scotland. Another possible anomalous event soon ocurred, during a scene where Cyrano3 (thematically linked to the color blue) attempts to rescue several children from drowning in water tainted by the Red Death, one week into filming. The following testimony was collected by the Department of Misinformation from Giel Beek, the stunt coordinator for the film, but heavily edited for the final release of Roig's Red Death. Giel Beek on drowning accident, Roig's Red Death We're lucky that nobody died. Well, there, in that instance. Of course people died — some stretch the curse back to McVane, who I have to remind you wasn't even linked to the film at the time. That was just an unfortunate… accident, I suppose. Which, I suppose you could say this was as well, although I have my suspicions. Suspicions. No, I shouldn't say that, I know what happened, I saw it for myself, with my own two eyes. Few else on set really saw it. Danilo was too shook up after it happened to really give his account — and of course, he rationalized what happened to him. Vines, I think he said. Like vines can pull a grown man fully beneath the water. Like vines will leave bruising on your leg, in the shape of fingers. See, the problem is that nobody ever wants to confront the truth. Drowning, death, failure, the monster — all of these are things you would rather not see, and so you don't. Unless you're just an inch away, and then it is as clear as day. I could see it from the operating boom above the water — we were supposed to be getting an overhead shot of him swimming to rescue the children. They weren't in the water at the time, we hadn't filmed that yet. Fortunate. With John Landis's little accident a few years back, everyone assumes that the accident must have endangered the children. Not that we could have been at fault with this one, given, well. What is there to say? I saw something surge up beneath the water, grab Danilo and pull him down below the surface. I can't say what it was, but it looked like a person, and I saw how it reached its hand around his leg and pulled. He went down thrashing and the crew came in quick to pull him back out. Perhaps I caused a bit of a ruckus when I tried to tell everyone what I had seen. Perhaps I made that worse when I punched Marcus in the face when he wanted to incorporate it into his stupid movie. "So what if he almost died?" He said. "We're all dying anyway." Bam. Right hook to the face. After Farre's accident, Roig retreated into his trailer for two days and refused to emerge. Max Veidt — himself a director and well-respected among the cast and crew — directed second unit photography for these days, strictly following the script, although this move was contested by Lukas Liston, who similarly tried to direct second unit photography, although he did not have the same cachet as Veidt. After two days, Roig exited and apologized for the accidents on set, and alluded to the potential for more. Several crew members recounted that he appeared to take responsibilty for the death of James McVane, even though he had been in another country at the time and production had not yet begun. His apologies for the incident involving Farre also led to confusion, as it had seemed to be a largely avoidable and undramatic accident (overshadowed by Giel Beek assaulting Roig immediately after). Other than the sudden and mostly unexplained shift in personality from Roig, production continued as normal. Roig began to insist upon large changes to the script, greatly expanding several narrative arcs and filming additional hours of content for the first half of the film. Many began to doubt the practicality of this approach and whether the scenes would be included in the film, but it was not unheard for Roig to film considerably more content than needed and greatly edit the film down to a manageable duration. One of Roig's more erratic moments during production followed. Tetsuo Morgan on the mirror incident, Roig's Red Death There was an intended scene in which Verbena — the purple protagonist — was chased into a maze of mirrors by the Red Death, during a traveling carnival. We didn't get to film it. Roig completely shut down. We were setting up the scene, and Roig and myself were approaching the set, when he began screaming, and charged at one of the mirrors, smashing it to pieces with a hammer. I ran at him and pulled him back, trying to wrestle some kind of answer out of him for that, but he just kept screaming. He pointed all around, looking at all of the mirrors, and frantically ordering that they all be destroyed. I pulled him back to his trailer and sat him down, trying to knock some sense into him. He refused to speak to me until I threw a cloth over the mirror in the trailer, and in the bathroom and even then — nothing. He just told me that we'd have to cut the scene, he'd write something else. I offered to help. You have to realize, despite everything he was doing, I still thought of him as my friend, and my primary intention was taking care of him. Before I left the trailer, he looked at me and said — we have to get rid of all the mirrors. I can't leave until you do. I still have no idea what he saw in them. Production costs continued to mount. Inclement weather required extensions to shooting, Roig proved to be uncharacteristically hostile and abrasive to his cast and crew (leading to several fights, firings and replacements), and the vision for scenes frequently changed midshoot. In one notable incident, Roig elected to hire the entire population of a small hamlet to play background characters in a scene where the Marquis de Laster (the character representing white) rides through a plague infested village with Prince Prospero. This scene would only last approximately fifteen seconds in the final cut, and had already been filmed with a smaller amount of extras. Cornerstone pictures repeatedly threatened to cut Roig's funding, and finally declared production would only be allowed to continue if the film moved from its more expensive (and less narratively important) opening half to the climax. This was a calculated move by Cornerstone to force Roig from continuing to expand and alter the script of the film, as the scenes set at Prince Prospero's abbey had a single location, limited cast, and practically no special effects. Reluctantly, Roig ended the first phase of photography, and the entire cast came to Castle Caernog to finish the production. Even in this stage, Roig was making constant edits to the script. Tetsuo Morgan — having been given strict instructions from Cornerstone — rejected most of these adaptations, leading to frequent fighting. On several occassions, Roig delivered type-written copies of his new script to actors and filmed new sequences without studio oversight. The most anomalous event of production occurred in the final days of filming. As recounted by Harriet Full, a grip operator: Harriet Full on the film incident, Roig's Red Death To this day I have no idea what could have caused something like that. There were a number of theories, but everyone was really just fooling themselves. There was a lot of that at the end, as we all kind of realized that the film was a dead man walking. We hadn't been officially canned yet, production hadn't been shut down — but it was clear that Cornerstone was going to spend several long hours with this film on the chopping block to make something out of it to reclaim what meager investment it could. Probably a low-grade horror movie, knowing the names attached, with only a passing resemblance to the actual story. That's my theory for the camera thing, anyway. The psychic aura we were causing on the set corrupted the film, and made us all look like corpses on it. Mind over matter, right? I've read a lot about how our brains emit waves into the world that can affect our surroundings — its how telepathy and telekinesis and astral projection work — so I think even though nobody on the set was a psychic, we all had a bit of an effect on it, and collectively we equated to one depressed, morbid psychic. It is the most logical explanation I can muster for why we all looked like corpses on the last day of filming. I was quite the sight myself, all burned to a crisp! You'd expect that from more, given what happened later that night, but everyone was a corpse in different ways. Lukas had a bullet wound in his head, Tetsuo was bleeding everywhere. The funniest was Max Veidt — he looked like he'd died of old age, peacefully. Pale and thin, but nothing else. Weird guy, that one. Back to the mood, at least. It was pretty grim on set. Our psychic presence was causing omens of ill end, and the omens were making the mood worse, causing an even worse psychic presence. Everyone was depressed, everyone was freaked out, everyone wanted to leave. Nobody wanted to even acknowledge what was happening on the film. Roig told us to scrap it, we wouldn't film that day, keep the rest of the cast and crew from freaking out. Thank god we only had one more day, we all said. Just finish this out, and it's Roig's problem to fix in post. The final day of filming was scheduled for the next day. This would be the penultimate scene of the movie, and one of the few directly based on Poe's original short story, in which Prince Prospero runs through the mansion, attempting to kill the apparation of the Red Death. According to Roig's vision, this was to be a single continuous tracking shot, and a great deal of coordination was in place to ensure that the camera could be rolled through the various rooms, capturing the revelers. The general attitude of the crew, at this point, was already grim. With the various troubles of production encountered so far (as well as the growing and vocal displeasure of Cornerstone with how overbudget the film was), it was seeming more and more unlikely that the film would be ultimately edited and released. Many believed that, even if released, it would be a box office bomb that would destroy the careers of much of the cast. Still, with only a single day of filming remaining, the crew retired for the night. That night, Marcus Roig filmed SCP-8666 with Lukas Liston, capturing the start of a fire that would burn down Castle Caernog. Several members of the cast and crew perished in this fire. One of the few who saw Roig during this time was Max Veidt, whose account follows. Max Veidt on the fire, Roig's Red Death I awoke in the middle of the night to a hideous heat and the screaming of my fellows. Evidently, I was one of the last to awaken, for I have always been a deep sleeper. The door knob to my room was already too hot to be touched, and I was forced to consider an alternate means of fleeing the castle, into the cold and dark snowdrifts that surrounded us. It is to my fortune that I have been in the custom of keeping a pitcher of water by my bedside, and so I was able to douse the fabrics of the room and block the door with wetness, keeping the smoke at bay and allowing me a moment of thought. For egress, I was forced to turn to the windows. Woefully for myself, I had requested a room in the highest reaches of the castle, wishing to enjoy the views. This was a move that could have proven my death, had I not been a cunning man of action. You see, although my room did not have a balcony, the ledge underneath the window was easily one foot in width. I bundled myself in my warmest fabrics and ventured into the cold, securing myself upon that precarious edge. Like Dracula and his lizard fashion, I scaled along the wall to further down, hoping that one of the windows on this level would permit access to a portion of the castle not engulfted in fire. With characteristic Veidt luck, the window three down from my own revealed an open door and while the light of the fire was visible, the flames themselves were not. I smashed it open with the handle of my knife, a tool I carry at all times, and opened the window to enter. I knew the stairs down were in the direction not exposed by the fire, and I could safely use them, so I headed in that direction. Looking back down the hall, flames had entirely begun to engulf my room — I was only moments away from funerary pyre. Venturing further down, I heard screaming. I am led to believe that I was one of, if not the last, to emerge from the castle that night, and so it is to my understanding no one else heard those screams. It was clearly Marcus, ranting with some unheard entity, blaming it for the destruction of the castle and the fire that engulfed it. I do not take it to have been the irrational delusions and ranting of hallucinating man, but rather hold I could not hear the other person, whoever it might be. Marcus would pause, and then return, rather than the unbroken and continuing nonsense one would expect from a man arguing with himself. It was not long before I came to the grand staircase, itself already enveloped in flames. I knew then that the castle would burn entirely, and much like the film there was no saving it. I could only hope that all those inside had managed to escape. Then, I heard a voice behind me — Marcus. He called to me, and asked if I had seen Max Veidt, myself. I turned and screamed that I was here, and we needed to escape. He looked at me in shock, muttering some remark about how I had changed from costume so quickly, a comment the nature of which eludes me to this day. I told him I would wear no costumes any longer, for this film had finally come to the inevitable conclusion. This was the most harrowing moment, when he lifted his camera and turned back to face the fire. I'll never forget his final words: "No, the film has finally redeemed itself." Without any desire to remain there and see what he had planned, I dashed out the front doors. The rest of the crew were nearby, and assumed myself to have died. The sudden manifestation of my visage caused incredible ruckus, and many assumed myself to be a ghost. I assured them I was no spectre, but with heavy heart confirmed they could count Marcus among the wraiths. The Foundation was already aware of the possible anomalous nature of production and quickly intervened upon hearing of the fire, preventing local authorities from becoming involved. Upon discovery that distinctly anomalous experiences had not been encountered by the surviving cast and crew, the Foundation allowed most to leave and began a physical investigation of Castle Caernog. The corpse of Marcus Roig was soon discovered in the wreckage, as he was found hanged from a rafter in a portion of the castle at the center otherwise unaffected by the blaze. Signs of a significant physical struggle have led to the suspicion that Roig was murdered by an unknown party, rather than suicide. Who this might be is unclear. SCP-8666 was found in the camera at Marcus's feet. No other anomalous effects were discovered within Castle Caernog. Footnotes 1. As with standard protocol for the general acceptance of the anomalous, belief in this curse is not typically sincere. 2. Given the circumstances of production, this is not believed to be a special effect. 3. Played by actor Danilo Farre. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8666" by stormbreath, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8666. 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: reddeath.jpeg, reddeath-crom.jpeg Name: Poe red death byam shaw Author: Byam Shaw License: Public domain Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: castlecaernog.jpg Name: Baranof Castle burning, Sitka, 1894 (AL+CA 288) Author: Unknown License: Public domain Source: Wikimedia Commons
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We really elect anyone these days huh. Item#: SCP-8668 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo SCP-8668 in containment (2013). Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8668 is contained within a standard domestic animal enclosure at Site-58. SCP-8668 must be fed twice a day and walked once a week in accordance to its standard care schedule. Any personnel in charge of walking SCP-8668 are to carry a biohazard containment bag with them at all times during the walk. Should SCP-8668 vomit at any time within or outside of containment, the contents should be placed in a biohazard containment bag and brought to Site-58's Zoological Studies Department for further review alongside a member of the Foundation's legal team. Description: SCP-8668 is a Golden Retriever of indeterminate age. While SCP-8668's specific age is unknown, firsthand accounts of the anomaly date back to as early as 1825. Physically, SCP-8668 is comparable to an average Golden Retriever of between 10-11 years of age. Whenever SCP-8668 vomits, it produces a document containing legal mandates. These texts are often poorly constructed, containing numerous grammatical errors. While the "laws" presented in these texts are often nonsensical in nature, the text itself contains clear action plans for the enforcement of the law with few, if any, loopholes that could be exploited by malicious actors. Addendum 8668.1: Discovery SCP-8668 was originally discovered in the town of Rayfield, Wisconsin1 on August 31st, 1989, where it had been serving as the mayor since 1977. The town came to Foundation attention following the televised broadcast of the following advertisement for SCP-8668's reelection campaign. <Begin Video> Footage opens with SCP-8668 sitting in a field. A gust of wind lightly tousles its fur. Voiceover: This November, your vote couldn't be clearer. The video cuts to SCP-8668 running down a sidewalk chasing a squirrel. Voiceover: Since the early days of our town, Old Soggy has been there for us. She's stood by us through our hardest times, and guided us to the prosperity we enjoy today. Footage cuts to a clip of SCP-8668 and a baby. SCP-8668 licks the top of its head. The baby giggles. Voiceover: There for us as early as our town founding in 1825, Old Soggy has never once misled us. Her town charter gave us Rayfield, and her legal know-how has made it into the home we know and love to this day. The video cuts to SCP-8668 sitting with its paw resting atop a Bible. Voiceover: Josephine Allens, however, would disrespect that legacy. She would remove Old Soggy from the legislature, and subject us to laws and regulations regurgitated by outsiders. Footage cuts to a black and white image of Josephine Allens, SCP-8668's electoral opposition, in the process of leashing a dog. It then cuts back to an image of SCP-8668 sitting in front of an American Flag. Voiceover: This November, put your faith in a tried and true voice. Put your faith in someone who believes in this community. Put your faith in Old Soggy. She's got the law in her. Video cuts to footage of SCP-8668 vomiting up a document. When it finishes, it looks to the camera and barks. The document's text reads "Vote for Old Soggy." Voiceover: Old Soggy, man's best friend. Paid for by the council to re-elect Old Soggy. Footage finishes with an image of SCP-8668 facing towards the camera. <End Video.> Final shot from video, digitally enhanced. Following this broadcast, Foundation agents were sent to Rayfield to recover SCP-8668. It was discovered in the town's mayoral office in the middle of drafting a new bill, allowing agents to confirm its anomalous nature. It was taken into containment on August 14th, 1989, and the citizens of Rayfield, Wisconsin were amnescized. Addendum 8668.2: Abbreviated list of laws Below is an abbreviated list of laws and legal mandates produced by SCP-8668 prior to and following Foundation containment. Year Title Description 1825 Small Town Build It First recorded document produced by SCP-8668. Aside from grammatical oddities, review shows it is one of the most legally well constructed town charters in history. This charter would undergo exactly 1 revision in the following years. 1843 Many Write Good Book OK Act Required all town residents to write and contribute at least one book to the town's library every 3 years. 1856 Pennies Go Away Now Mandate Demanded that the town melt down all pennies and use the resulting metal to craft pipes, replacing the plumbing that existed in their homes at the time. The law mandated that this be completed no later than 18572 Mandate was completed on schedule, and the town saw a decline in bacterial infections in the following years. 1890 Many Frogs Now Act Required all residents carry a toad3 in their coat pocket at all times. Town experienced a notable decline in mosquito-born illnesses following this law's implementation. 1907 Many Cats Yes Act Asks all residents to adopt at least 1 cat. Document notably contains heavy swearing throughout, specifically when referring to cats. In the years following this mandate, the rat population of Rayfield experienced a sharp decline. 1910 Yucky Wash Hands Mandate Required all residents to wash their hands with soap and water before meals and after using the restroom. It is believed that this increased attentiveness to health resulted in the town reporting a notably low rate of infection during the Great Influenza epidemic of 1918. 1956 Teach Good Now Act Law desegregates both schools in town, and sets forth a curriculum based in what were then modern educational practices. 1970 Small Town Build It Part 2 Only law designed specifically to make changes to the town charter. Only notable change is the inclusion of language that specifically does not prohibit dogs from holding office. Following SCP-8668's containment in 1989, it continued to produce new legal documents. These were not forwarded to the town of Rayfield. Year Title Description 1990 Remove Yucky Strings From House Mandate First law produced following SCP-8668's containment. Law demands the removal of asbestos from all homes in Rayfield. While asbestos received a partial ban in 1989 on the national level, this law contained more complex bans that would not see similar national legislation until 2024. 1991 Put Dog Back Mandate First law directly addressing the Foundation. Law requests that the Foundation return SCP-8668 to Rayfield. Following review by the Foundation legal team, a minor loophole was discovered that allowed for the continued containment of SCP-8668. 1993 Make House Better Act Requires all homes in Rayfield undergo flame-treatment, and requires that home insulation be replaced with cellulose insulation that has undergone borate fireproofing. 1994 Put Dog Back NOW Mandate A rewrite of the 1991 "Put Dog Back Mandate" that removes the previously discovered legal loophole. While the Foundation legal team was unable to identify new loopholes that would allow the continued containment of SCP-8668, the Foundation has chosen not to comply with the mandate. 1994 Dig Big Hole Act Requires residents to dig a large trench that completely surrounds the town, excluding major highways and roads, that has a minimum width equal to the tallest tree within 50 feet plus one foot. 1994 Good Girl Go Home Please Please Please Mandate Outlines a specific plan for the Foundation to return SCP-8668 to Rayfield, Wisconsin in a way that would allow minimal damage to the veil. Denied, as it would still permit the town to be aware of SCP-8668 1994 Wet Plants Send Please Mandate Outlines a new irrigation plan for Rayfield designed to help combat drought weather alongside text requesting the Foundation send the mandate to the town. Request was denied. Addendum 8668.3: Incident Report On July 16th, 1994, SCP-8668 became unresponsive. A health examination revealed no abnormalities, and that it was otherwise alive and healthy. Foundation investigation revealed that the change in SCP-8668's behavior coincided with the destruction of approximately 60% of the town of Rayfield, Wisconsin. Investigations revealed that the town had largely been destroyed in an uncontrolled wildfire sparked by drought conditions. After three weeks, SCP-8668 was caught on cameras rising to its feet and vomiting out another document. The document's contents have been recorded below. Year Title Description 1994 Dog Stay In Box Overturns the 1994 "Put Dog Back NOW Mandate", allowing the Foundation to contain SCP-8668 in perpetuity. SCP-8668 has produced no further documents since. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8668" by OriTiefling, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8668. 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: doginsuit.jpg Author: Queerious License: CC by SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:James_Paterson_Portrait.jpg - Licensed under CC by SA 4.0 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Caleb_Fisher_2015_(Unsplash).jpg - Licensed under Public Domain Notes: Dogy :) Filename: dog2.png Author: Brandt Luke Zorn License: CC by SA 2.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:15_year_old_golden_retriever.JPG Notes: Dogy :) Footnotes 1. Pop. 536 in 1989. 2. Notably, 1857 is the last year that pennies produced by the U.S. Mint were 100% copper. 3. Notably, they are legally not considered a species of frog.
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SCP-8682
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neutralized
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An improbable misadventure. Content warning: Substance Abuse, Abuse ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} A routine object retrieval for an otherwise harmless object turns into a chaotic disaster. Does our hero have the spine to follow through? Item #: SCP-8682 Special Containment Procedures: When not undergoing research or experimentation, SCP-8682's remains are secured within a standard Level 3 containment locker inside Storage Chamber 198D at Site-73. The chamber is to maintain constant temperature and humidity levels to minimize degradation. SCP-8682 Description: SCP-8682 resembles a headless, 11 week old human fetus. SCP-8682 is calcified and exhibits complete cephalothoracic fusion. SCP-8682 is 4.5 cm in length, has a craniocaudal length of 8 cm, and a weight of 20g. SCP-8682 is stored in a 15x15cm archival plastic container. The container is stained with green bile and red with blood, fluids discharged from the liver of SCP-8682 immediately before its death. Also contained within this discharge were significant amounts of cerebrospinal fluid and elevated levels of melatonin. SCP-8682 was contained in an artificial fluoropolymer womb, nutrition provided through a tank of nutrient dense hydrogel. Contained within the womb is also an artificial placenta constructed from inorganic materials. The womb has been considered for its own separate documentation, although current investigation does not support an anomalous nature. The outer layer of the womb is damaged in several spots with what are presumed to be snake bites. 11/13/2024 - The hydrogel supporting SCP-8682 is completely drained. The presiding research team is not capable of maintaining the microfluidic and filtering devices used in the womb. Researchers estimate the fluid in the womb will be completely depleted in 7 days. The womb at this point already contained dangerous amounts of ammonia. 11/16/2024. - SCP-8682 began to calcify gradually in a radius centered around its pineal gland. The brain death of SCP-8682 was confirmed shortly afterward. CT imaging reveals the inside of SCP-8682 to be completely calcified, although portions of the liver remain intact. Physical dissection is currently awaiting approval from the Site Director. Before its death, SCP-8682 was otherwise a typical 11 week old fetus, with some differences. Aside from its cephalothoracic fusion, SCP-8682’s spinal and intestinal development was non-existent, and no evidence of these structures could be detected with medical imaging. The primary anomalous property of SCP-8682 was its chromosomal structure. X or Y chromosomes were not present, and further investigation has revealed aberrations in its genetic assembly. This includes an irregular, spherical chromosomal scaffolding, and the closed loop of its polynucleotide chains. These are colloquially referred to by researchers as a “fractal helix”. 11/18/2024. Concerns Regarding the Genome Project Due to the complexity of this sequencing (I use the word complexity leniently, insomuch as scribbling is complex), I am hesitant to write a budget to submit to the O5 command. I would not be surprised if mapping of this genome took 13 years, and even then this effort would require the effort of dozens of institutes around the world, legions of biological computation experts, and while I don’t know the Foundation’s exact budget, I doubt that it’s the annual scientific budget of every high income economy on earth. Even for the purpose of R&D, insofar as we would want to parcel the advancement of genetics, it would be for the advancement of completely irrelevant genetics. This is a scientific idiot trap. -Dr. Crow, Presiding Researcher History: SCP-8682 was first discovered on 11/08/2024, at 3:45 AM, in Laurel Hollow, NY, US, in an office space retrofitted with biomedical equipment on Browns Rd in Oyster Bay. The Foundation received an anonymous tip. These channels were disseminated and are almost exclusively used by informants within organizations involved in genomics. Trace: (516) 931-9390, Oyster Bay Train Station 40.875, -73.534 Agent Breen located SCP-8682 in a secured back room at the designated location. The area was devoid of furniture and occupants, and forensic samples could not be recovered. The building was unpowered and did not receive running water. The equipment the artificial womb SCP-8682 was contained in functioned with a small gas generator. The office space was owned by a defunct LLC “Past Futures'', which was composed of one deceased individual operating out of Hungary. This individual could not be verified in public records. Footage of the payphone at the train station in Oyster Bay did not reveal anyone present. However, one individual was present on Tuesday, November 8, 2021, at 3:45, 3:50 am in local solar time (exactly three years prior to the recovery effort). Containment History: An irregularity occurred during the transfer of SCP-8682 to Site-58, involving Agent Breen. Agent Breen was instructed to deliver SCP-8682 to the nearest site in Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. When Agent Breen first received the call from dispatch, while on reserve duty, he was indisposed in some manner undisclosed, and at first refused the call. Refusal of the call from an agent is a historical deviation for Foundation personnel. Had Agent Breen persisted in his refusal, it would have necessitated involving local law enforcement personnel, which could have compromised the object's securement and led to further complications. When threatened with termination and disciplinary action, Breen conceded and departed by 3:17 from the East Norwich Inn. His estimated time of arrival was 3:31, however, Agent Breen did not arrive until 3:45. At 3:30, while en route, Breen was contacted by his acting partner, Agent Ortega. The following is a transcript of a portion of their exchange. Transcript Hide [03:31:03] Breen: Ortega? [03:31:03] Breen: I’m so fucked. [03:31:03] Ortega: Calm down. Calm. Down. [03:31:02] Breen: I’m at McDonalds. I had to go to the bathroom. [03:31:07] Breen: I’m sorry. It’s so fucking hard man. [03:31:08] Ortega: What are you talking about? Are you crying? [03:31:12] Breen: [Sound of another individual shouting, telling him to get out of a bathroom stall.] I paid! Here! Look! At the fucking McNuggets! [03:31:15] Ortega: Get in the goddamn van! Get to the target two minutes ago! [03:31:17] Breen: I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to die. Fuck these people. I’m gonna run, man. [03:31:23] Ortega: Okay. Don’t say that. That is the worst thing you could do. You do not want to fuck with these people. Get. To. The. Target. This is the best thing you can do right now. We can find a way out for you, we just have to go through the right process. [03:31:25] Breen: I won’t make it on time. [03:31:26] Ortega: There's a… fuck man… There's a police radar in the glove compartment. Drop your plates. Turn it on. Just do this for me? I’m on the line too. Please. Haul. Fucking. Ass. [03:31:28] Breen: [Sounds of gulping.] Fuck it. Accident presumed to have been caused by Agent Breen at 3:33. After crossing a four way intersection, Agent Breen merged onto a one way road. The individual narrowly avoided Breen, crashing into a fire hydrant. There was heavy rain at this time which may have obscured vision. Those involved only sustained minor injuries. After this incident, there was radio silence from Breen from 3:33 to 5:00. Excerpt from Stage One of Breen’s Disciplinary Hearing: 11/08/2024 Excerpt Hide Dr. Mayreder: I know there are ugly rumors about how our organization handles these kinds of things, but rest assured the only disciplinary action will be a termination of employment, or, the worst case scenario, a mild amnestic regimen. This is unprecedented, as well, and because of your long and earnest service at the Foundation there will be some leniency. I’m also vouching for you personally and I believe these are extraordinary circumstances. We just need to know what happened after you recovered SCP-8682. Breen: I’m so sorry Virgil. I really fucked up. Dr. Mayreder: It’s fine, just talk to me. Breen: When I woke up, the van was halfway through the building on Browns Rd. And… I forgot my equipment so I had to break in through the window. I think someone heard me too because the lights came on in the other building next to us. God. I’m just so…. Why me? Don’t we have other agents in the area? Why did this all have to happen? Dr. Mayreder: First things first. They didn’t hear you breaking through the window. They heard your van collide with a brick wall. As for your question, we have about 30 reserve field agents in New York. In your case there were 3 agents about 2 hours away in either direction. The object was considered a low threat level and it wasn’t exactly time sensitive. Hell, it was just a tip, we didn’t even know if something was there. In fact, the object is currently neutralized and it’s probably headed to cold storage. It hardly warrants classification. The fact that we’re both sitting in this room right now is, frankly, it’s wild. Breen: After Sanders died… Dr. Mayreder: And I cleared you from psych eval. And you asked to be sent back into the field. And I okayed it. And I owned up to it. We’re all in the shit. We could make excuses for days. Tell me what happened. Breen: Okay. Like I said, someone heard me. So I move faster. Uh, I cut myself a little bit on the window. My hand was bleeding and. I moved to the rear of the building, there was a padlock on the door there. I was scared as hell. I was prepared for anything to jump out at me. I fought every urge in my body to get out of there. My mind was everywhere. I… I have to be up front I guess. I was probably… tripping as well. Dr. Mayreder: You weren't drunk? You were on psychedelics? Breen: No, I was also drunk. Dr. Mayreder: Continue. Breen: Okay. That’s when I hear the police sirens. So now I’m not just scared, but angry. You guys didnt even fucking clear me. Dr. Mayreder: The officers that responded to the scene were from a completely different jurisdiction than the ones we told to look the other way. We notified Long Island. The Highway Patrol were dispatched after a local saw and heard you collide with a building. We’ve mostly handled that already. Our ongoing problems are with local law enforcement and the strain on the disinformation department resulting from the damage when you fled from NYSP, the chase, the coinciding attack from the anomalies, emergency activation of the MTF, the multiple civilian casualties from when you were attacked during the chase, and the brutal eradication of a regiment of Nu-7. Breen: I did get the object back. Dr. Mayreder: Okay. Let’s take a break. And then you can explain -we can explain- why 20 miles of highway just 10 miles from the most populous city in the US is now a red zone. Addendum 0: Itemized Budget Snippet Snippet Hide New Order: 11/10/2024 Personnel: Nu-7 (30 Individuals): Training: $4,500,000 Housing: $900,000 Food: $240,360 Medical (Inc. Augmentation): $885,900 Salary: $3,600,000 Risk Assessment: [Alternate Budget] Equipment: 29 Experimental SCAR-C: $95,700 (1) CheyTac Intervention: $11,000 M-10-8C $4,500 DARPA TARS HS Goggles: $3,000,000 (1) EVO MAX 4T-S: $8,999.00 30 Fitted Ceramic-IE Armor (TK) [Alternate Budget] Ford Transit: $53,620 Field Agent, Officer (1) Training: $1,020,000 Housing: $28,440 Food: $7,500 Medical: N/A [Alternate Budget] Salary: $140,000 $14,496,019 - This does not include the disinformation budget. Pending 05 deliberation on something called a "Broken Veil" protocol, there may not be a budget at all, or a downsizing of the Disinfo team. Thanks. Pending creation of an SCP-8682 Budget. Paul I need the TPS reports as well. This does not include insurance payouts to their families, or the civilian payouts, and I need those. Get with Foundation Accounting. -Bayes Addendum A: Incident 8682. 11/08/2024 4:50 Police Dashcam Footage of NYSP Deputy Alexis Walker. Highway 80, west of Hackensack, NY. Transcript Hide Agent Breen’s van is visible ahead. The road is congested with traffic. Walker pulls ahead of Breen and attempts to locate a front license plate. Walker decelerates and pulls behind Breen’s vehicle. Walker: “10-41, Unit 3 requesting to initiate a traffic stop on a black 2023 Ford Transit with no front or rear license plates, extensive damage to the front of the vehicle. Possible suspect. Irregular driving. Currently westbound on Highway 80 near Saddle Brook… Windows are tinted. I want an assist.” Simultaneously, another unmarked white van approaches Breen from the driver’s side. An arm extends out of the window and motions for Breen to roll down his window. Breen continues driving for one minute. A pistol emerges from the passenger’s side of the white van, and takes what is presumed to be a warning shot. Breen swerves, cutting off a car to his right, causing it to collide with a pylon and causing a pile up behind him. Walker narrowly swerves past the crash. Walker: "10-81! Unit 3 requesting immediate backup on highway 80 westbound near Elmwood park. Vehicle assault in progress. Suspect vehicle is a white van, a Ford E150, I’m hanging in the rear. I’m in the unmarked black Chevrolet Tahoe.” A creature emerges from the white van. It is difficult to see due to the quality of the dashcam and Walker’s distance from the vehicles. It is roughly 1 meter long, and resembles a snake with ribbed wings and exaggerated spinous processes. It balances itself against the van with its wings and coils, then crashes directly through Breen’s window. Breen’s van begins driving erratically, swerving left and right. The vehicle briefly grinds against a barrier. Walker: I think… What was that? The snakelike creature’s head emerges from the van with a translucent, basketball sized object in its mouth, presumed to be SCP-8682’s artificial womb. The white van pulls closer and the figure inside reaches out to grab SCP-8682. The snake creature is grabbed by the neck and pulled back into Breen’s van just as it's about to leap. The white van rams the side of Breen’s vehicle. Sirens can be heard in the background. Walker: “Finally. I’m going to attempt to initiate a stop. White Ford E150. No, I’m gonna say the transit from earlier is not a priority. Yes it’s involved.” Walker begins closing distance with the white van. Breen’s van appears to have regained stability. Walker activates her siren. Walker: “Pull over immediately! White E150! Stop immediately! This is the police!” The white van pulls away from Breen and begins accelerating. Breen’s van rocks right, then left, then right again, then sharply veers left, spins a handbrake turn, collides with the median on his passenger side, rolling his vehicle into the oncoming lane. He then accelerates into the highway 19 exit and disappears from view. Police cars can be heard approaching Walker from the rear. Walker: “What are the fucking odds-. 10-80, Unit 3, initiating PIT maneuver on suspect vehicle E150! Westbound on highway 80. Repeat, I get to- I am initiating a PIT maneuver on the suspect vehicle, white E150.” Dispatch: Negative. We see you up ahead. Try and find the black Transit. We’re going to try a box in. Walker: [mumbling] Got it. Addendum B: Portion of transcript of an interrogation with an individual involved in incident 8682. Agent Popescu reluctantly volunteered due to her potential knowledge of the subject matter. She is accompanied by Agent Ortega. The individual identifies himself as “Xix’s Xix” and has been chemically assisted to facilitate communication. Transcript Hide Agent Popescu: Where did the friend go? Answer questions. Xix’s Xix: He ran off. Don’t know. In the woods. Police got him? Agent Popescu: Why attack the man in the black van? Xix’s Xix: He stole our new framework. All cosmic wounds in one body. A spinal quarry. Agent Popescu: (turns to Agent Ortega) Oh, yeah, I think I know these guys. They do say this kind of shit. Xix’s Xix: We just wanted him to stop the van. I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want a body on me. Not in my contract. That was our little spine’s job. Agent Popescu: Okay. What did he steal? Plainly. Speak plainly. No riddle. Just say what the thing is. Xix’s Xix: I’m Xix’s Xix. They don’t tell me what I don’t need to know. They tell me riddles too. They told me the thing is “universal pain”. “Star trauma”. I don’t know what that means. I know lots of other stellar noun-synonym combos too; I can keep going. “Galaxial ache”. That sounds good too, a good band name at least? Agent Popescu: (turns to Agent Ortega) He’s not lying. This one is only as good as his function. Tell me who is Xix, and what is a Xix. I don’t know that. I was not paying attention in that class. Xix’s Xix: A hand. Xix is a hand. And a palindrome. A loop. I am a hand’s hand. Agent Popescu: Who is your hand? Xix’s Xix: Another hand. Ask me who’s hand he is. Agent Popescu: Who do you represent? I think I already know the answer to the question. Xix’s Xix: (Xix’s Xix scans Popescu’s arms and laughs.) The answer got to know you. Agent Popescu suddenly strikes Xix’s Xix in the face, and is later found to have slightly fractured his skull. Agent Ortega moves to restrain her. Agent Ortega: Alright this is over. We need him! Get off of him- Interview Concluded Excerpt from Stage Two of Breen’s Disciplinary Hearing: 11/08/2024 Excerpt Hide Agent Breen: I somehow managed to evade the cops. I don’t know how I hopped that barrier. Adrenaline? I couldn’t believe it. The whole time I had that fucking… snake worm thing in a vice grip between my legs. Have you guys seen that thing? Nightmare noodles. No skin! Where's its skin? It’s somewhere on the road feeding vultures right now. It’s probably gonna make em’ sick. Dr. Mayreder: The incident is very recent. Five hours recent. We are only just now reviewing things like police dash cam footage. What happened after that? Agent Breen: I choked it. It took a while. Thing was strong. I was steering with my knees, strangling this thing with my two bloody hands and hauling ass. Bloodied up my thighs with those spikes on its spine. I hurt like shit. Dr. Mayreder: You look like shit. You threw it out of the window, didn’t you? You were on a very busy highway. Did any other motorists see you illegally dump this anomalous creature out of your driver side window? Agent Breen: I wasn’t thinking. No… I don’t think so. Okay. Yes. But they probably just thought it was just a snake. Dr. Mayreder: Every few moments I have to stop myself from saying just how… surprising. Farcical. Disappointing, this all is. So I’m just going to say it. You’ve made fools of everyone in this organization. Please continue. Agent Breen: Alright. I am checking the damage on the object now, and I see that it’s intact. I was worried that the snake would damage 8682 when it grabbed it. I didn’t have to pull the snake back in, you know, it wasn’t even attacking me until that point. Dr. Mayreder: Yes. Yes you had to pull the “snake” back in. That’s your job. Are you still high? Agent Breen: I contain safe class objects, and yet, [Breen begins shouting] every other job I am sent on has me maimed, transfigured, and psychologically violated. Do you know how I felt when I broke open that door and I looked in to see, once again - its yet another fucked up fetus! Five times! Five times you sick fuck! Probably in the same fucking trimester! Is this your idea of a joke? I have thermonuclear PTSD from these things! Every neuron in my brain is howling at me not to approach this thing, let alone delicately cradle it and sit next to it for five fucking hours, worried, mind in a blender, at what this little bitch is going to do me! You all should be licking my fucking boots at the -heroic- fucking willpower I exert every day just to walk in that god damn door. I hope this whole world gets sucked down the fucking hole. The insurgency was right! Fuck all of you! Dr. Mayreder: You are assigned to these specific jobs because you have expertise with the subject matter. Breen opens his mouth and eyes wide in an expression of disbelief, gets up, and throws a chair to the side of the room, then lunges across the table, grabbing Dr. Mayreder by the collar. He is subdued by site security. Dr. Mayreder: It’s okay, he’s not going to… It’s okay. I’m… Addendum C: Body cam footage from Alexis Walker. 11/08/2024 5:20 - 6:00 Highway 80, Shades of Death Rd, Ghost Lake, Fairy Cave. Independence Township, NJ. Transcript Hide It’s raining heavily. Walker approaches Breen’s van in a ditch on the side of the highway. She inspects the vehicle, examining blood on the driver’s seat and the broken driver’s window. She steps away from the vehicle and walks toward the lake, briefly looking at the street sign on Shades of Death Rd, which is covered in some type of black oil. Walker: Who the hell names these things? The lake is obscured by trails of vapor and a low layer of fog, in addition to the early morning darkness. Walker points her flashlight at footprints leading toward the lake and slowly follows them. There is a loud wet crack coming from the direction of the footprints. She looks around, stops for a moment and pulls out her gun. Walker: This is stupid. An object in the darkness slowly begins to appear through the fog. Walker raises her gun and steadies it at the shadows. After a moment the obscured creature is revealed to be a buck. The buck notices Walker and quickly darts away. Walker continues down the trail toward a small cave. A man is heard cursing up ahead. Walker: I’m pursuing a subject on foot. They’re in a wooded area. Low visibility, lots of fog. Off Shades of Death Road, just a little bit into Ghost Lake. I think they’re at the cave. Possibly injured. They could have a weapon? Could have anything honestly. Walker slowly walks toward the cave and sees a man sitting on the rock in the darkness. He’s not wearing a shirt, and is wrapping his hands and legs in some material. Breen: I hear you. I see your light. I’m here. I’m not armed. I’m just resting. Walker: Alright. I can see you a little bit. I need you to turn around and put your hands in the air. Breen: No and no. That would hurt pretty bad. I’m real fucked up. Honestly, shoot me if you want. Actually, please do. Walker approaches Breen and shines a light on him. He squints. SCP-8682 is on the ground next to him, along with its biogel tank. Alexis lowers her gun. Walker: Can you explain what’s going on? Breen laughs and then grimaces. Breen: I work for a top secret organization, and I’ve recovered an anomalous object. I’m currently on my way to a black site- is your walkie talkie on? Are you getting all this? Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. Site-58. It’s under an old abandoned building. My supervisor is Virgil Mayreder. My partner is Carlos Ortega. Do you want their phone numbers? Walker points her flashlight at SCP-8682. Walker: What is that? Breen: I don’t know. What does it look like? Walker nears SCP-8682 for inspection. SCP-8682 is moving slowly. Walker appears to be fixated on the object, not moving or speaking for several minutes. Breen is also silent at this time. Walker then delicately grabs SCP-8682 and places it inside of the cave. Walker grabs her walkie talkie, and then puts it back down. Someone on the other end of the walkie talkie asks for a status report, but she doesn’t respond. Walker turns to Breen who is leaning backward outside of the cave wall with his eyes closed. Breen: Processing? The sun begins to rise. Excerpt from Stage Three of Breen’s Disciplinary Hearing: Excerpt Hide Dr. Mayreder: What happened after that? Breen: That felt like an eternity. Don’t really know why. Dr. Mayreder: What did she say about your little rant upon first locating you? Breen: Nothing. Probably thought I was high. Why do we even have a disinfo team? It’s not like you could convince people of any of this shit. But no, she saw the object and went mute. Just dumbstruck I guess. Or it’s like one of its effects. No, I’m just gonna go with dumbstruck. Dr. Mayreder: And after that? Breen: The sun came out. She’s just standing there looking at the object and looking at the lake and just generally looking. Don’t know what her deal was. Did I mention she hid it in the cave too? Inexplicable. We should trade places, honestly. And then the boys showed up. Surprised you were so late. Dr. Mayreder: The task force? Breen: Yeah. Zapped her right in the neck. Classic. She dropped like a sack of bricks. They swooped in and just grabbed me. Threw me over the shoulder like a ragdoll. They put her on her side in the cave. Some guy with something that looked like an ice cooler bagged the object. Honestly, why didn’t you have those guys do this in the first place? Dr. Mayreder: Because we thought we could count on you for this simple task. This is your last chance, Breen. Where are those men now? Breen: I assume that they’re all dead if you haven’t heard from them. Dr. Mayreder: It was… a rhetorical question. They are all dead. What did the attackers look like? Breen: I saw a few guys in the chaos. They were in tactical gear, had masks on. Generic stuff. No bad guy uniform if that’s what you mean! We were being shot at with automatic weapons. It was such a weird scene. Golden fog and heavy rain. Exit wounds mixing in with droplets creating these misty jets of blood in the air. There were a few guys and then. Some things? They looked like spinal cords. Maybe they were so tall that I couldn't see their heads? Spinal cords waving in the golden dark like reeds. It was hard to see. I stumbled over one in the aftermath but I was too fucked to look at it. I’m amazed our guys even shot anything. Dr. Mayreder: And then you located SCP-8682? Breen: I do not know why, but yes, I did. I grabbed his little container. Dr. Mayreder: His? Breen: It. Come on, man. Anyway, after that I stumbled out onto the road and got into one of the vans our goons came in. Dr. Mayreder: Goons? Breen, that was Nu-7. They are dead. Do you understand? Breen looks at the floor and rubs his temple. Addendum D: Transcript of drone footage from the Ghost Lake conflict, November 8th, 2024. The detachment of 30 operatives from Nu-7 were equipped with automatic and long range silenced rifles, portable flamethrowers, and adaptive hyperspectral goggles. [DATA EXPUNGED] granting them full awareness of enemy movements, with provided stationary air support. There were 11 enemy combatants present, eight were equipped with automatic rifles, as well as three entities yet to be cataloged. Transcript Hide [06:01:03] 8 men and 2 entities are approaching Breen and the civilian from the northern side of the lake. The entities are 2.4 meters tall and appear to have emerged from the ground. They have the appearance of thick spinal columns, and are following the rear of the 8 men. Their method of locomotion is unknown. They are swaying from left to right rhythmically as they move. [06:01:05] The civilian is subdued by Nu-7. [06:01:14] 10 men from Nu-7 circle around from the west and 10 approach Breen from the southeast. 10 wait in ambush just south of Breen. [06:01:15] Nu-7 1-3 moves in to retrieve Breen and the Object. [06:01:37] Nu-7 1-3 move toward the road with Breen and the object. [06:01:55] One of the spinal entities emerges underneath the group retrieving Breen. [06:01:56] Thirteen operatives unleash fire upon the spinal entity. The entity exhibited no aggressive behavior nor did it appear capable of attacking. Nu-7 received orders to redirect fire towards the eight human combatants. While all enemy combatants were within range, none seemed to be affected by Nu-7's barrage, despite their complete encirclement. [06:01:58] The 8 men move toward Breen. 10 members of Nu-7 have been shot at this point. [06:02:53] One of the enemy combatants is approached by Nu-7-4. Nu-7-4 appears to have dispatched the combatant with a knife. [06:03:12] Nu-7 is instructed to cease fire and approach the combatants and engage them in close combat. A melee begins. [06:03:46] 8 other members of Nu-7 are killed during the approach. [06:05:13] One enemy combatant dispatched 4 members of Nu-7 in close combat. It is unclear how this was achieved. [06:07:05] The remaining 6 members of Nu-7 are instructed to use Incendiaries. While this is effective, killing them, the remaining 6 members of Nu-7 are killed by return gunfire. [06:12:12] The spinal entities submerge into the ground. [06:22:00] Breen is seen moving around the battlefield searching for something. [06:29:40] Breen locates an object and moves toward the road. [06:32:45] Breen enters one of Nu-7’s vehicles and heads west on Highway 80. [06:40:00] The civilian begins moving. Something emerges from beneath the ground, and the connection to the drone is lost. The area was sweeped one hour later; the bodies of Nu-7, their equipment, the drone, enemy combatants, the civilian, or spinal entities could not be located. Ammunition used by the enemy combatants was not capable of piercing the armor worn by Nu-7, and would have had to penetrate thin entry points in their joints, while their limbs were extended. The events in this scenario are extremely improbable. Addendum E: Footage found on the civilian Alexis Walker’s body cam. 11/08/2024 06:57-07:30 Transcript Hide Walker’s body is being dragged through the woods. Her body orientation against the ground obscures visual identification. There is an unusual noise, like the vibration of a Crotalus (rattlesnake) rattle persisting throughout the footage. A momentary shift in her view reveals a large object resembling a human spinal column quickly slithering across the frame. Movement stops for a moment, and the camera gradually submerges into the earth. There is darkness and the sound of earth being moved around for 17 minutes. There is a loud thump of flesh against rock, and a voice can be overheard. Addendum E-1 1008.202448 Audio Recording [Snippet] 11/08/2024 ?: Prediction of the future through excruciation. In the eyes of history we are already dead. The spine contains the history of the universe. We see the future by drowning ourselves in blood and cerebrospinal fluid. This is our own magic. Chronotropism. The manna is a coagulated history. Walker appears to begin moving on her own volition, revealing that she is in some sort of cavern, dimly lit by some sort of red luminescent lichen. The chamber contains corpses in varying stages of decomposition, with individuals dressed in casual hiking clothing. ?: Our enemies are abjection. The radial terrors. Creatures divisible by three. The tori. They escape phylogenetic reality. Unseen by Yaldabaoth. Κνίδη. The sponge, the jelly, and the starfish. The betrayers of the 35 phyla. The Invertebrates… A human spinal column, 25 cm in diameter and 2 meters long, slithers past Walker through a passageway. Walker produces a flashlight and inspects the chamber. She locates a Glock 17 pistol nearby. ? 2: Ma’am- Ma’am. This is important- Alexis grabs the gun and examines it, wiping the dirt from it with her sleeves. There is a sudden crackling of radio static. She flinches and deactivates her walkie talkie. ?: The method begins with the mouth. History begins with the bowels. In this way flies are holy and embody time: eating, digesting, and defecating all at once. Reach into the spine, into the lowest and most idiotic of your vertebrate. Good. What do you see? ? 2: He’s headed west on highway 80. In a Lenco Bearcat. Gunmetal paint job. He’s high. ?: The new magic is so beautiful. Now look from your solar eye into the sacral brain- Alexis moves to the threshold and looks into a roughly 100 square-meter area cavern. There are shallow pools of water reflecting light from dripping stalactites. It is likely a pocket in the VRPD aquifer, possibly beneath Ghost Lake. The area is furnished with a field kitchen, comms equipment, and other living amenities, including among them 10 bunks. No entrance or exit is visible. The spinal entities do not appear to be present. ? 2: No, We bugged the vehicle after the knídē arrived. I didn’t use the magic- ?: Fool! But you used the magic to see them before they arrived? There is a tall figure wearing a red jumpsuit with red chest waders. Her face is concealed partially with a red hood. She intermittently monitors a console behind her. She turns around and resumes speaking to something on the ground. It appears to be a humanoid body in a fetal position, albeit lacking a head. Walker pulls her shirt sleeve back and forcefully pinches her arm. She then whispers to herself: Walker: Wide awake. ? 2: Yes… ?: Then why didn’t we know he would escape? ? 2: There is only one destination, but there are many paths we take to arrive there- The figure in the red jumpsuit kicks the entity on the ground. The figure turns her back to Alexis. Alexis moves forward with her gun pointed at the hooded figure. She closes the distance and strikes the figure in the back of the head with her pistol. The figure falls to the ground limply. Alexis illuminates the object on the ground with her flashlight. It is a small, headless humanoid creature, or rather, its head is located on its torso. Its body is limp in such a way that suggests it is missing a large portion of its bone structure. Alexis makes a startled yelp and stumbles backward. Xix: Don’t be afraid. The camera moves up and down, Alexis sounds as if she is hyperventilating. Walker: Huh… What… What in the hell, man. Xix: Tell me your name. I’m referred to as Xix. Alexis slides down against the wall, into a seated position on the floor. Then, suddenly, produces her gun and points it wildly around the cavern. Walker: Where are the snakes? Xix: They won’t hurt you. I can tell you what you need to know. Walker: Okay. Give me a minute. Walker turns and vomits. Feed ends abruptly, presumably due to lack of power. Image No #: 8682-1 A diminutive instance of SCP-8682-B appears suddenly, but does not appear to attack. Its tongue extends and flicks toward the viewer. 11/08/2024 06:55 Ghost Lake, PN. Image captured ██/██/24 Image No #: 8682-2 SCP-8682-B seen briefly in frame moving through the water. 11/08/2024 05:41 Ghost Lake, PN. Image captured ██/██/24 Addendum F: SCP Revision Draft Review - SCP-8682-B Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-8682-B are contained at the site of recovery due to potential surveillance risks. The area is currently cordoned from the public under a “Poisoned Waterhole” containment protocol. Description: SCP-8682 potentially had the ability to manipulate SCP-8682-B as a secondary effect. SCP-8682-B consists of a chain of articulated human vertebrae capable of independent movement. These segments culminate in a hollow vertebra at the front, containing a fibrous, tongue-like appendage. SCP-8682-B specimens vary in length, ranging from just over 4 meters to 24 centimeters. Despite lacking musculature or any apparent locomotor mechanism, these segments can move. While SCP-8682-B possesses no discernible sensory organs, its tongue-like appendage is suspected to serve a sensory function. SCP-8682-B also exhibits no need for sustenance and demonstrates no aggressive behavior towards humans. However, it has been observed attempting to move objects and individuals unable to resist. During an event, individuals believed to be connected with SCP-8682-B were observed maneuvering in ways that allowed them to survive improbable situations, such as enduring sustained automatic weapon fire at close range for extended periods without injury. However, the exact nature of this effect and its direct connection to SCP-8682-B remain unconfirmed. Images recovered from a civilian body cam on 11/08/2024. Addendum G: Rearview Camera footage of a Nu-7 vehicle on highway 80 near Blakeslee, Pennsylvania. Low quality, no audio. 08:50-09:20 Transcript Hide [08:52:10] Blurry object approaches Breen’s vehicle from the rear. [08:54:30] A large instance of SCP-8682-B, roughly 3 meters long, appears to be accelerating towards the vehicle, which is traveling at 128 km/h. The highway is heavily congested with traffic. [08:54:53] Two individuals, one in a police officer's uniform and the other a strange, blob-like humanoid figure, are precariously positioned on the back of SCP-8682-B, which writhes toward the vehicle at high speed. As they come closer, it becomes clear that the officer is Alexis Walker, who is carrying the humanoid figure on her back. [08:56:10] More instances of SCP-8682-B appear on camera, closing in from both sides. They leave white trails of bone flaking on the highway. [08:56:22] Startled by the approaching SCP-8682-B, Walker manages to stay just behind Breen's vehicle. The other instances match their pace, seemingly unable to accelerate further. While converging on Breen's vehicle, they appear to ignore Walker entirely. [08:57:32] 1 XR-FVL-F Heavy Load Anzu, and 3 AH-64-F Apache helicopters, (Foundation assets), appear in camera view. [08:58:22] Walker appears frustrated, mouthing the words “Open the doors.” [08:59:11] Walker pulls up to the passengers side, out of camera view. [09:02:22] Flying, red, snake-like creatures similar to those in Addendum A move within the frame. [08:57:32] The 3 AH-64-F open fire on the SCP-8682-B instances nearest to Agent Breen’s vehicle. SCP-8682-B are unharmed after the short burst. [08:58:32] The 3 Apache helicopters divert course. The Anzu pulls out of frame, over Breen’s vehicle. [08:58:55] The flying snake-like creatures are fluttering in and out of frame, appearing to harass the vehicle. [09:05:12] They pass a sign for Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. [09:09:22] Breen’s vehicle begins to lift off of the ground. The camera swivels with a sudden jerk to point directly toward the ground, swaying back and forth. The SCP-8682-B instances stop moving, and rest in vertical positions. [09:10:12] Equipment falls to the ground, presumably from the rear of Breen's vehicle due to the rear door swinging open. The flying-snake-like creatures appear to flood past the camera and into the vehicle. It is possible the passengers remained safe, due to a grate installed between the cabin and the cargo area. [09:20:41] The camera pans over a wooded area and remains in place until it stops swaying. It then begins to descend. A section of ground [REDACTED] a retractable grate mechanism, revealing an intake bay of Site-57. After Breen and the cargo were secured, site security dispatched the anomalous flying creatures with light machine gun fire from the safety of embrasures within the bay. The civilian Walker was sedated and Breen was subdued with an, admittedly, nonstandard use of force by site personnel. XR-FVL-F are experimental cargo and transport helicopters but they are not designed to secure vehicles moving at high speeds. At the time of deployment this capability was only a hypothetical. The pilot of the Anzu believes that replicating this feat would be nearly impossible and he is unsure how, through his conscious effort, it was accomplished. Still image from the events in Addendum G. A small instance of SCP-8682-B is visible in the frame. Addendum H: TO: tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S#tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S.: RE: "The Dice Man" <May 31, 2025, 7:14 AM> "Xix" has proven to be extremely cooperative, providing a wealth of information, and little problem for its containment staff. I think we should okay their request for some old fictional books. I can't foresee any harm coming from it. So here's my yay vote. -Doctor Lorenz Addendum I: RE: RE: Agent Breen Ghosting 11/08/2024 Agent Breen is no longer employed by the Foundation as of 11/08/2024, having been terminated by Dr. Virgil Mayreder. A notice has been forwarded to Foundation affiliates regarding their new status. Breen has been recommended for transfer to the Cicada programme against recommendation from the Site Director and 05-7, due to their productive history at Site-2. Dr. Mayreder recommends housing alumni O. Sanders with Breen during the reintegration process. Addendum J: TO: tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S#tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S.: Alexis Walker Identity Management <May 31, 2025, 7:14 AM> I think we're jumping the gun here, but it's extremely unlikely they will activate her, let alone put her on her own assignment in under a year. But I guess they don't need 2 cents from us paper pushers. Here's the file. -Bayes
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An improbable misadventure. Content warning: Substance Abuse, Abuse ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} A routine object retrieval for an otherwise harmless object turns into a chaotic disaster. Does our hero have the spine to follow through? Item #: SCP-8682 Special Containment Procedures: When not undergoing research or experimentation, SCP-8682's remains are secured within a standard Level 3 containment locker inside Storage Chamber 198D at Site-73. The chamber is to maintain constant temperature and humidity levels to minimize degradation. SCP-8682 Description: SCP-8682 resembles a headless, 11 week old human fetus. SCP-8682 is calcified and exhibits complete cephalothoracic fusion. SCP-8682 is 4.5 cm in length, has a craniocaudal length of 8 cm, and a weight of 20g. SCP-8682 is stored in a 15x15cm archival plastic container. The container is stained with green bile and red with blood, fluids discharged from the liver of SCP-8682 immediately before its death. Also contained within this discharge were significant amounts of cerebrospinal fluid and elevated levels of melatonin. SCP-8682 was contained in an artificial fluoropolymer womb, nutrition provided through a tank of nutrient dense hydrogel. Contained within the womb is also an artificial placenta constructed from inorganic materials. The womb has been considered for its own separate documentation, although current investigation does not support an anomalous nature. The outer layer of the womb is damaged in several spots with what are presumed to be snake bites. 11/13/2024 - The hydrogel supporting SCP-8682 is completely drained. The presiding research team is not capable of maintaining the microfluidic and filtering devices used in the womb. Researchers estimate the fluid in the womb will be completely depleted in 7 days. The womb at this point already contained dangerous amounts of ammonia. 11/16/2024. - SCP-8682 began to calcify gradually in a radius centered around its pineal gland. The brain death of SCP-8682 was confirmed shortly afterward. CT imaging reveals the inside of SCP-8682 to be completely calcified, although portions of the liver remain intact. Physical dissection is currently awaiting approval from the Site Director. Before its death, SCP-8682 was otherwise a typical 11 week old fetus, with some differences. Aside from its cephalothoracic fusion, SCP-8682’s spinal and intestinal development was non-existent, and no evidence of these structures could be detected with medical imaging. The primary anomalous property of SCP-8682 was its chromosomal structure. X or Y chromosomes were not present, and further investigation has revealed aberrations in its genetic assembly. This includes an irregular, spherical chromosomal scaffolding, and the closed loop of its polynucleotide chains. These are colloquially referred to by researchers as a “fractal helix”. 11/18/2024. Concerns Regarding the Genome Project Due to the complexity of this sequencing (I use the word complexity leniently, insomuch as scribbling is complex), I am hesitant to write a budget to submit to the O5 command. I would not be surprised if mapping of this genome took 13 years, and even then this effort would require the effort of dozens of institutes around the world, legions of biological computation experts, and while I don’t know the Foundation’s exact budget, I doubt that it’s the annual scientific budget of every high income economy on earth. Even for the purpose of R&D, insofar as we would want to parcel the advancement of genetics, it would be for the advancement of completely irrelevant genetics. This is a scientific idiot trap. -Dr. Crow, Presiding Researcher History: SCP-8682 was first discovered on 11/08/2024, at 3:45 AM, in Laurel Hollow, NY, US, in an office space retrofitted with biomedical equipment on Browns Rd in Oyster Bay. The Foundation received an anonymous tip. These channels were disseminated and are almost exclusively used by informants within organizations involved in genomics. Trace: (516) 931-9390, Oyster Bay Train Station 40.875, -73.534 Agent Breen located SCP-8682 in a secured back room at the designated location. The area was devoid of furniture and occupants, and forensic samples could not be recovered. The building was unpowered and did not receive running water. The equipment the artificial womb SCP-8682 was contained in functioned with a small gas generator. The office space was owned by a defunct LLC “Past Futures'', which was composed of one deceased individual operating out of Hungary. This individual could not be verified in public records. Footage of the payphone at the train station in Oyster Bay did not reveal anyone present. However, one individual was present on Tuesday, November 8, 2021, at 3:45, 3:50 am in local solar time (exactly three years prior to the recovery effort). Containment History: An irregularity occurred during the transfer of SCP-8682 to Site-58, involving Agent Breen. Agent Breen was instructed to deliver SCP-8682 to the nearest site in Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. When Agent Breen first received the call from dispatch, while on reserve duty, he was indisposed in some manner undisclosed, and at first refused the call. Refusal of the call from an agent is a historical deviation for Foundation personnel. Had Agent Breen persisted in his refusal, it would have necessitated involving local law enforcement personnel, which could have compromised the object's securement and led to further complications. When threatened with termination and disciplinary action, Breen conceded and departed by 3:17 from the East Norwich Inn. His estimated time of arrival was 3:31, however, Agent Breen did not arrive until 3:45. At 3:30, while en route, Breen was contacted by his acting partner, Agent Ortega. The following is a transcript of a portion of their exchange. Transcript Hide [03:31:03] Breen: Ortega? [03:31:03] Breen: I’m so fucked. [03:31:03] Ortega: Calm down. Calm. Down. [03:31:02] Breen: I’m at McDonalds. I had to go to the bathroom. [03:31:07] Breen: I’m sorry. It’s so fucking hard man. [03:31:08] Ortega: What are you talking about? Are you crying? [03:31:12] Breen: [Sound of another individual shouting, telling him to get out of a bathroom stall.] I paid! Here! Look! At the fucking McNuggets! [03:31:15] Ortega: Get in the goddamn van! Get to the target two minutes ago! [03:31:17] Breen: I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to die. Fuck these people. I’m gonna run, man. [03:31:23] Ortega: Okay. Don’t say that. That is the worst thing you could do. You do not want to fuck with these people. Get. To. The. Target. This is the best thing you can do right now. We can find a way out for you, we just have to go through the right process. [03:31:25] Breen: I won’t make it on time. [03:31:26] Ortega: There's a… fuck man… There's a police radar in the glove compartment. Drop your plates. Turn it on. Just do this for me? I’m on the line too. Please. Haul. Fucking. Ass. [03:31:28] Breen: [Sounds of gulping.] Fuck it. Accident presumed to have been caused by Agent Breen at 3:33. After crossing a four way intersection, Agent Breen merged onto a one way road. The individual narrowly avoided Breen, crashing into a fire hydrant. There was heavy rain at this time which may have obscured vision. Those involved only sustained minor injuries. After this incident, there was radio silence from Breen from 3:33 to 5:00. Excerpt from Stage One of Breen’s Disciplinary Hearing: 11/08/2024 Excerpt Hide Dr. Mayreder: I know there are ugly rumors about how our organization handles these kinds of things, but rest assured the only disciplinary action will be a termination of employment, or, the worst case scenario, a mild amnestic regimen. This is unprecedented, as well, and because of your long and earnest service at the Foundation there will be some leniency. I’m also vouching for you personally and I believe these are extraordinary circumstances. We just need to know what happened after you recovered SCP-8682. Breen: I’m so sorry Virgil. I really fucked up. Dr. Mayreder: It’s fine, just talk to me. Breen: When I woke up, the van was halfway through the building on Browns Rd. And… I forgot my equipment so I had to break in through the window. I think someone heard me too because the lights came on in the other building next to us. God. I’m just so…. Why me? Don’t we have other agents in the area? Why did this all have to happen? Dr. Mayreder: First things first. They didn’t hear you breaking through the window. They heard your van collide with a brick wall. As for your question, we have about 30 reserve field agents in New York. In your case there were 3 agents about 2 hours away in either direction. The object was considered a low threat level and it wasn’t exactly time sensitive. Hell, it was just a tip, we didn’t even know if something was there. In fact, the object is currently neutralized and it’s probably headed to cold storage. It hardly warrants classification. The fact that we’re both sitting in this room right now is, frankly, it’s wild. Breen: After Sanders died… Dr. Mayreder: And I cleared you from psych eval. And you asked to be sent back into the field. And I okayed it. And I owned up to it. We’re all in the shit. We could make excuses for days. Tell me what happened. Breen: Okay. Like I said, someone heard me. So I move faster. Uh, I cut myself a little bit on the window. My hand was bleeding and. I moved to the rear of the building, there was a padlock on the door there. I was scared as hell. I was prepared for anything to jump out at me. I fought every urge in my body to get out of there. My mind was everywhere. I… I have to be up front I guess. I was probably… tripping as well. Dr. Mayreder: You weren't drunk? You were on psychedelics? Breen: No, I was also drunk. Dr. Mayreder: Continue. Breen: Okay. That’s when I hear the police sirens. So now I’m not just scared, but angry. You guys didnt even fucking clear me. Dr. Mayreder: The officers that responded to the scene were from a completely different jurisdiction than the ones we told to look the other way. We notified Long Island. The Highway Patrol were dispatched after a local saw and heard you collide with a building. We’ve mostly handled that already. Our ongoing problems are with local law enforcement and the strain on the disinformation department resulting from the damage when you fled from NYSP, the chase, the coinciding attack from the anomalies, emergency activation of the MTF, the multiple civilian casualties from when you were attacked during the chase, and the brutal eradication of a regiment of Nu-7. Breen: I did get the object back. Dr. Mayreder: Okay. Let’s take a break. And then you can explain -we can explain- why 20 miles of highway just 10 miles from the most populous city in the US is now a red zone. Addendum 0: Itemized Budget Snippet Snippet Hide New Order: 11/10/2024 Personnel: Nu-7 (30 Individuals): Training: $4,500,000 Housing: $900,000 Food: $240,360 Medical (Inc. Augmentation): $885,900 Salary: $3,600,000 Risk Assessment: [Alternate Budget] Equipment: 29 Experimental SCAR-C: $95,700 (1) CheyTac Intervention: $11,000 M-10-8C $4,500 DARPA TARS HS Goggles: $3,000,000 (1) EVO MAX 4T-S: $8,999.00 30 Fitted Ceramic-IE Armor (TK) [Alternate Budget] Ford Transit: $53,620 Field Agent, Officer (1) Training: $1,020,000 Housing: $28,440 Food: $7,500 Medical: N/A [Alternate Budget] Salary: $140,000 $14,496,019 - This does not include the disinformation budget. Pending 05 deliberation on something called a "Broken Veil" protocol, there may not be a budget at all, or a downsizing of the Disinfo team. Thanks. Pending creation of an SCP-8682 Budget. Paul I need the TPS reports as well. This does not include insurance payouts to their families, or the civilian payouts, and I need those. Get with Foundation Accounting. -Bayes Addendum A: Incident 8682. 11/08/2024 4:50 Police Dashcam Footage of NYSP Deputy Alexis Walker. Highway 80, west of Hackensack, NY. Transcript Hide Agent Breen’s van is visible ahead. The road is congested with traffic. Walker pulls ahead of Breen and attempts to locate a front license plate. Walker decelerates and pulls behind Breen’s vehicle. Walker: “10-41, Unit 3 requesting to initiate a traffic stop on a black 2023 Ford Transit with no front or rear license plates, extensive damage to the front of the vehicle. Possible suspect. Irregular driving. Currently westbound on Highway 80 near Saddle Brook… Windows are tinted. I want an assist.” Simultaneously, another unmarked white van approaches Breen from the driver’s side. An arm extends out of the window and motions for Breen to roll down his window. Breen continues driving for one minute. A pistol emerges from the passenger’s side of the white van, and takes what is presumed to be a warning shot. Breen swerves, cutting off a car to his right, causing it to collide with a pylon and causing a pile up behind him. Walker narrowly swerves past the crash. Walker: "10-81! Unit 3 requesting immediate backup on highway 80 westbound near Elmwood park. Vehicle assault in progress. Suspect vehicle is a white van, a Ford E150, I’m hanging in the rear. I’m in the unmarked black Chevrolet Tahoe.” A creature emerges from the white van. It is difficult to see due to the quality of the dashcam and Walker’s distance from the vehicles. It is roughly 1 meter long, and resembles a snake with ribbed wings and exaggerated spinous processes. It balances itself against the van with its wings and coils, then crashes directly through Breen’s window. Breen’s van begins driving erratically, swerving left and right. The vehicle briefly grinds against a barrier. Walker: I think… What was that? The snakelike creature’s head emerges from the van with a translucent, basketball sized object in its mouth, presumed to be SCP-8682’s artificial womb. The white van pulls closer and the figure inside reaches out to grab SCP-8682. The snake creature is grabbed by the neck and pulled back into Breen’s van just as it's about to leap. The white van rams the side of Breen’s vehicle. Sirens can be heard in the background. Walker: “Finally. I’m going to attempt to initiate a stop. White Ford E150. No, I’m gonna say the transit from earlier is not a priority. Yes it’s involved.” Walker begins closing distance with the white van. Breen’s van appears to have regained stability. Walker activates her siren. Walker: “Pull over immediately! White E150! Stop immediately! This is the police!” The white van pulls away from Breen and begins accelerating. Breen’s van rocks right, then left, then right again, then sharply veers left, spins a handbrake turn, collides with the median on his passenger side, rolling his vehicle into the oncoming lane. He then accelerates into the highway 19 exit and disappears from view. Police cars can be heard approaching Walker from the rear. Walker: “What are the fucking odds-. 10-80, Unit 3, initiating PIT maneuver on suspect vehicle E150! Westbound on highway 80. Repeat, I get to- I am initiating a PIT maneuver on the suspect vehicle, white E150.” Dispatch: Negative. We see you up ahead. Try and find the black Transit. We’re going to try a box in. Walker: [mumbling] Got it. Addendum B: Portion of transcript of an interrogation with an individual involved in incident 8682. Agent Popescu reluctantly volunteered due to her potential knowledge of the subject matter. She is accompanied by Agent Ortega. The individual identifies himself as “Xix’s Xix” and has been chemically assisted to facilitate communication. Transcript Hide Agent Popescu: Where did the friend go? Answer questions. Xix’s Xix: He ran off. Don’t know. In the woods. Police got him? Agent Popescu: Why attack the man in the black van? Xix’s Xix: He stole our new framework. All cosmic wounds in one body. A spinal quarry. Agent Popescu: (turns to Agent Ortega) Oh, yeah, I think I know these guys. They do say this kind of shit. Xix’s Xix: We just wanted him to stop the van. I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want a body on me. Not in my contract. That was our little spine’s job. Agent Popescu: Okay. What did he steal? Plainly. Speak plainly. No riddle. Just say what the thing is. Xix’s Xix: I’m Xix’s Xix. They don’t tell me what I don’t need to know. They tell me riddles too. They told me the thing is “universal pain”. “Star trauma”. I don’t know what that means. I know lots of other stellar noun-synonym combos too; I can keep going. “Galaxial ache”. That sounds good too, a good band name at least? Agent Popescu: (turns to Agent Ortega) He’s not lying. This one is only as good as his function. Tell me who is Xix, and what is a Xix. I don’t know that. I was not paying attention in that class. Xix’s Xix: A hand. Xix is a hand. And a palindrome. A loop. I am a hand’s hand. Agent Popescu: Who is your hand? Xix’s Xix: Another hand. Ask me who’s hand he is. Agent Popescu: Who do you represent? I think I already know the answer to the question. Xix’s Xix: (Xix’s Xix scans Popescu’s arms and laughs.) The answer got to know you. Agent Popescu suddenly strikes Xix’s Xix in the face, and is later found to have slightly fractured his skull. Agent Ortega moves to restrain her. Agent Ortega: Alright this is over. We need him! Get off of him- Interview Concluded Excerpt from Stage Two of Breen’s Disciplinary Hearing: 11/08/2024 Excerpt Hide Agent Breen: I somehow managed to evade the cops. I don’t know how I hopped that barrier. Adrenaline? I couldn’t believe it. The whole time I had that fucking… snake worm thing in a vice grip between my legs. Have you guys seen that thing? Nightmare noodles. No skin! Where's its skin? It’s somewhere on the road feeding vultures right now. It’s probably gonna make em’ sick. Dr. Mayreder: The incident is very recent. Five hours recent. We are only just now reviewing things like police dash cam footage. What happened after that? Agent Breen: I choked it. It took a while. Thing was strong. I was steering with my knees, strangling this thing with my two bloody hands and hauling ass. Bloodied up my thighs with those spikes on its spine. I hurt like shit. Dr. Mayreder: You look like shit. You threw it out of the window, didn’t you? You were on a very busy highway. Did any other motorists see you illegally dump this anomalous creature out of your driver side window? Agent Breen: I wasn’t thinking. No… I don’t think so. Okay. Yes. But they probably just thought it was just a snake. Dr. Mayreder: Every few moments I have to stop myself from saying just how… surprising. Farcical. Disappointing, this all is. So I’m just going to say it. You’ve made fools of everyone in this organization. Please continue. Agent Breen: Alright. I am checking the damage on the object now, and I see that it’s intact. I was worried that the snake would damage 8682 when it grabbed it. I didn’t have to pull the snake back in, you know, it wasn’t even attacking me until that point. Dr. Mayreder: Yes. Yes you had to pull the “snake” back in. That’s your job. Are you still high? Agent Breen: I contain safe class objects, and yet, [Breen begins shouting] every other job I am sent on has me maimed, transfigured, and psychologically violated. Do you know how I felt when I broke open that door and I looked in to see, once again - its yet another fucked up fetus! Five times! Five times you sick fuck! Probably in the same fucking trimester! Is this your idea of a joke? I have thermonuclear PTSD from these things! Every neuron in my brain is howling at me not to approach this thing, let alone delicately cradle it and sit next to it for five fucking hours, worried, mind in a blender, at what this little bitch is going to do me! You all should be licking my fucking boots at the -heroic- fucking willpower I exert every day just to walk in that god damn door. I hope this whole world gets sucked down the fucking hole. The insurgency was right! Fuck all of you! Dr. Mayreder: You are assigned to these specific jobs because you have expertise with the subject matter. Breen opens his mouth and eyes wide in an expression of disbelief, gets up, and throws a chair to the side of the room, then lunges across the table, grabbing Dr. Mayreder by the collar. He is subdued by site security. Dr. Mayreder: It’s okay, he’s not going to… It’s okay. I’m… Addendum C: Body cam footage from Alexis Walker. 11/08/2024 5:20 - 6:00 Highway 80, Shades of Death Rd, Ghost Lake, Fairy Cave. Independence Township, NJ. Transcript Hide It’s raining heavily. Walker approaches Breen’s van in a ditch on the side of the highway. She inspects the vehicle, examining blood on the driver’s seat and the broken driver’s window. She steps away from the vehicle and walks toward the lake, briefly looking at the street sign on Shades of Death Rd, which is covered in some type of black oil. Walker: Who the hell names these things? The lake is obscured by trails of vapor and a low layer of fog, in addition to the early morning darkness. Walker points her flashlight at footprints leading toward the lake and slowly follows them. There is a loud wet crack coming from the direction of the footprints. She looks around, stops for a moment and pulls out her gun. Walker: This is stupid. An object in the darkness slowly begins to appear through the fog. Walker raises her gun and steadies it at the shadows. After a moment the obscured creature is revealed to be a buck. The buck notices Walker and quickly darts away. Walker continues down the trail toward a small cave. A man is heard cursing up ahead. Walker: I’m pursuing a subject on foot. They’re in a wooded area. Low visibility, lots of fog. Off Shades of Death Road, just a little bit into Ghost Lake. I think they’re at the cave. Possibly injured. They could have a weapon? Could have anything honestly. Walker slowly walks toward the cave and sees a man sitting on the rock in the darkness. He’s not wearing a shirt, and is wrapping his hands and legs in some material. Breen: I hear you. I see your light. I’m here. I’m not armed. I’m just resting. Walker: Alright. I can see you a little bit. I need you to turn around and put your hands in the air. Breen: No and no. That would hurt pretty bad. I’m real fucked up. Honestly, shoot me if you want. Actually, please do. Walker approaches Breen and shines a light on him. He squints. SCP-8682 is on the ground next to him, along with its biogel tank. Alexis lowers her gun. Walker: Can you explain what’s going on? Breen laughs and then grimaces. Breen: I work for a top secret organization, and I’ve recovered an anomalous object. I’m currently on my way to a black site- is your walkie talkie on? Are you getting all this? Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. Site-58. It’s under an old abandoned building. My supervisor is Virgil Mayreder. My partner is Carlos Ortega. Do you want their phone numbers? Walker points her flashlight at SCP-8682. Walker: What is that? Breen: I don’t know. What does it look like? Walker nears SCP-8682 for inspection. SCP-8682 is moving slowly. Walker appears to be fixated on the object, not moving or speaking for several minutes. Breen is also silent at this time. Walker then delicately grabs SCP-8682 and places it inside of the cave. Walker grabs her walkie talkie, and then puts it back down. Someone on the other end of the walkie talkie asks for a status report, but she doesn’t respond. Walker turns to Breen who is leaning backward outside of the cave wall with his eyes closed. Breen: Processing? The sun begins to rise. Excerpt from Stage Three of Breen’s Disciplinary Hearing: Excerpt Hide Dr. Mayreder: What happened after that? Breen: That felt like an eternity. Don’t really know why. Dr. Mayreder: What did she say about your little rant upon first locating you? Breen: Nothing. Probably thought I was high. Why do we even have a disinfo team? It’s not like you could convince people of any of this shit. But no, she saw the object and went mute. Just dumbstruck I guess. Or it’s like one of its effects. No, I’m just gonna go with dumbstruck. Dr. Mayreder: And after that? Breen: The sun came out. She’s just standing there looking at the object and looking at the lake and just generally looking. Don’t know what her deal was. Did I mention she hid it in the cave too? Inexplicable. We should trade places, honestly. And then the boys showed up. Surprised you were so late. Dr. Mayreder: The task force? Breen: Yeah. Zapped her right in the neck. Classic. She dropped like a sack of bricks. They swooped in and just grabbed me. Threw me over the shoulder like a ragdoll. They put her on her side in the cave. Some guy with something that looked like an ice cooler bagged the object. Honestly, why didn’t you have those guys do this in the first place? Dr. Mayreder: Because we thought we could count on you for this simple task. This is your last chance, Breen. Where are those men now? Breen: I assume that they’re all dead if you haven’t heard from them. Dr. Mayreder: It was… a rhetorical question. They are all dead. What did the attackers look like? Breen: I saw a few guys in the chaos. They were in tactical gear, had masks on. Generic stuff. No bad guy uniform if that’s what you mean! We were being shot at with automatic weapons. It was such a weird scene. Golden fog and heavy rain. Exit wounds mixing in with droplets creating these misty jets of blood in the air. There were a few guys and then. Some things? They looked like spinal cords. Maybe they were so tall that I couldn't see their heads? Spinal cords waving in the golden dark like reeds. It was hard to see. I stumbled over one in the aftermath but I was too fucked to look at it. I’m amazed our guys even shot anything. Dr. Mayreder: And then you located SCP-8682? Breen: I do not know why, but yes, I did. I grabbed his little container. Dr. Mayreder: His? Breen: It. Come on, man. Anyway, after that I stumbled out onto the road and got into one of the vans our goons came in. Dr. Mayreder: Goons? Breen, that was Nu-7. They are dead. Do you understand? Breen looks at the floor and rubs his temple. Addendum D: Transcript of drone footage from the Ghost Lake conflict, November 8th, 2024. The detachment of 30 operatives from Nu-7 were equipped with automatic and long range silenced rifles, portable flamethrowers, and adaptive hyperspectral goggles. [DATA EXPUNGED] granting them full awareness of enemy movements, with provided stationary air support. There were 11 enemy combatants present, eight were equipped with automatic rifles, as well as three entities yet to be cataloged. Transcript Hide [06:01:03] 8 men and 2 entities are approaching Breen and the civilian from the northern side of the lake. The entities are 2.4 meters tall and appear to have emerged from the ground. They have the appearance of thick spinal columns, and are following the rear of the 8 men. Their method of locomotion is unknown. They are swaying from left to right rhythmically as they move. [06:01:05] The civilian is subdued by Nu-7. [06:01:14] 10 men from Nu-7 circle around from the west and 10 approach Breen from the southeast. 10 wait in ambush just south of Breen. [06:01:15] Nu-7 1-3 moves in to retrieve Breen and the Object. [06:01:37] Nu-7 1-3 move toward the road with Breen and the object. [06:01:55] One of the spinal entities emerges underneath the group retrieving Breen. [06:01:56] Thirteen operatives unleash fire upon the spinal entity. The entity exhibited no aggressive behavior nor did it appear capable of attacking. Nu-7 received orders to redirect fire towards the eight human combatants. While all enemy combatants were within range, none seemed to be affected by Nu-7's barrage, despite their complete encirclement. [06:01:58] The 8 men move toward Breen. 10 members of Nu-7 have been shot at this point. [06:02:53] One of the enemy combatants is approached by Nu-7-4. Nu-7-4 appears to have dispatched the combatant with a knife. [06:03:12] Nu-7 is instructed to cease fire and approach the combatants and engage them in close combat. A melee begins. [06:03:46] 8 other members of Nu-7 are killed during the approach. [06:05:13] One enemy combatant dispatched 4 members of Nu-7 in close combat. It is unclear how this was achieved. [06:07:05] The remaining 6 members of Nu-7 are instructed to use Incendiaries. While this is effective, killing them, the remaining 6 members of Nu-7 are killed by return gunfire. [06:12:12] The spinal entities submerge into the ground. [06:22:00] Breen is seen moving around the battlefield searching for something. [06:29:40] Breen locates an object and moves toward the road. [06:32:45] Breen enters one of Nu-7’s vehicles and heads west on Highway 80. [06:40:00] The civilian begins moving. Something emerges from beneath the ground, and the connection to the drone is lost. The area was sweeped one hour later; the bodies of Nu-7, their equipment, the drone, enemy combatants, the civilian, or spinal entities could not be located. Ammunition used by the enemy combatants was not capable of piercing the armor worn by Nu-7, and would have had to penetrate thin entry points in their joints, while their limbs were extended. The events in this scenario are extremely improbable. Addendum E: Footage found on the civilian Alexis Walker’s body cam. 11/08/2024 06:57-07:30 Transcript Hide Walker’s body is being dragged through the woods. Her body orientation against the ground obscures visual identification. There is an unusual noise, like the vibration of a Crotalus (rattlesnake) rattle persisting throughout the footage. A momentary shift in her view reveals a large object resembling a human spinal column quickly slithering across the frame. Movement stops for a moment, and the camera gradually submerges into the earth. There is darkness and the sound of earth being moved around for 17 minutes. There is a loud thump of flesh against rock, and a voice can be overheard. Addendum E-1 1008.202448 Audio Recording [Snippet] 11/08/2024 ?: Prediction of the future through excruciation. In the eyes of history we are already dead. The spine contains the history of the universe. We see the future by drowning ourselves in blood and cerebrospinal fluid. This is our own magic. Chronotropism. The manna is a coagulated history. Walker appears to begin moving on her own volition, revealing that she is in some sort of cavern, dimly lit by some sort of red luminescent lichen. The chamber contains corpses in varying stages of decomposition, with individuals dressed in casual hiking clothing. ?: Our enemies are abjection. The radial terrors. Creatures divisible by three. The tori. They escape phylogenetic reality. Unseen by Yaldabaoth. Κνίδη. The sponge, the jelly, and the starfish. The betrayers of the 35 phyla. The Invertebrates… A human spinal column, 25 cm in diameter and 2 meters long, slithers past Walker through a passageway. Walker produces a flashlight and inspects the chamber. She locates a Glock 17 pistol nearby. ? 2: Ma’am- Ma’am. This is important- Alexis grabs the gun and examines it, wiping the dirt from it with her sleeves. There is a sudden crackling of radio static. She flinches and deactivates her walkie talkie. ?: The method begins with the mouth. History begins with the bowels. In this way flies are holy and embody time: eating, digesting, and defecating all at once. Reach into the spine, into the lowest and most idiotic of your vertebrate. Good. What do you see? ? 2: He’s headed west on highway 80. In a Lenco Bearcat. Gunmetal paint job. He’s high. ?: The new magic is so beautiful. Now look from your solar eye into the sacral brain- Alexis moves to the threshold and looks into a roughly 100 square-meter area cavern. There are shallow pools of water reflecting light from dripping stalactites. It is likely a pocket in the VRPD aquifer, possibly beneath Ghost Lake. The area is furnished with a field kitchen, comms equipment, and other living amenities, including among them 10 bunks. No entrance or exit is visible. The spinal entities do not appear to be present. ? 2: No, We bugged the vehicle after the knídē arrived. I didn’t use the magic- ?: Fool! But you used the magic to see them before they arrived? There is a tall figure wearing a red jumpsuit with red chest waders. Her face is concealed partially with a red hood. She intermittently monitors a console behind her. She turns around and resumes speaking to something on the ground. It appears to be a humanoid body in a fetal position, albeit lacking a head. Walker pulls her shirt sleeve back and forcefully pinches her arm. She then whispers to herself: Walker: Wide awake. ? 2: Yes… ?: Then why didn’t we know he would escape? ? 2: There is only one destination, but there are many paths we take to arrive there- The figure in the red jumpsuit kicks the entity on the ground. The figure turns her back to Alexis. Alexis moves forward with her gun pointed at the hooded figure. She closes the distance and strikes the figure in the back of the head with her pistol. The figure falls to the ground limply. Alexis illuminates the object on the ground with her flashlight. It is a small, headless humanoid creature, or rather, its head is located on its torso. Its body is limp in such a way that suggests it is missing a large portion of its bone structure. Alexis makes a startled yelp and stumbles backward. Xix: Don’t be afraid. The camera moves up and down, Alexis sounds as if she is hyperventilating. Walker: Huh… What… What in the hell, man. Xix: Tell me your name. I’m referred to as Xix. Alexis slides down against the wall, into a seated position on the floor. Then, suddenly, produces her gun and points it wildly around the cavern. Walker: Where are the snakes? Xix: They won’t hurt you. I can tell you what you need to know. Walker: Okay. Give me a minute. Walker turns and vomits. Feed ends abruptly, presumably due to lack of power. Image No #: 8682-1 A diminutive instance of SCP-8682-B appears suddenly, but does not appear to attack. Its tongue extends and flicks toward the viewer. 11/08/2024 06:55 Ghost Lake, PN. Image captured ██/██/24 Image No #: 8682-2 SCP-8682-B seen briefly in frame moving through the water. 11/08/2024 05:41 Ghost Lake, PN. Image captured ██/██/24 Addendum F: SCP Revision Draft Review - SCP-8682-B Special Containment Procedures: Instances of SCP-8682-B are contained at the site of recovery due to potential surveillance risks. The area is currently cordoned from the public under a “Poisoned Waterhole” containment protocol. Description: SCP-8682 potentially had the ability to manipulate SCP-8682-B as a secondary effect. SCP-8682-B consists of a chain of articulated human vertebrae capable of independent movement. These segments culminate in a hollow vertebra at the front, containing a fibrous, tongue-like appendage. SCP-8682-B specimens vary in length, ranging from just over 4 meters to 24 centimeters. Despite lacking musculature or any apparent locomotor mechanism, these segments can move. While SCP-8682-B possesses no discernible sensory organs, its tongue-like appendage is suspected to serve a sensory function. SCP-8682-B also exhibits no need for sustenance and demonstrates no aggressive behavior towards humans. However, it has been observed attempting to move objects and individuals unable to resist. During an event, individuals believed to be connected with SCP-8682-B were observed maneuvering in ways that allowed them to survive improbable situations, such as enduring sustained automatic weapon fire at close range for extended periods without injury. However, the exact nature of this effect and its direct connection to SCP-8682-B remain unconfirmed. Images recovered from a civilian body cam on 11/08/2024. Addendum G: Rearview Camera footage of a Nu-7 vehicle on highway 80 near Blakeslee, Pennsylvania. Low quality, no audio. 08:50-09:20 Transcript Hide [08:52:10] Blurry object approaches Breen’s vehicle from the rear. [08:54:30] A large instance of SCP-8682-B, roughly 3 meters long, appears to be accelerating towards the vehicle, which is traveling at 128 km/h. The highway is heavily congested with traffic. [08:54:53] Two individuals, one in a police officer's uniform and the other a strange, blob-like humanoid figure, are precariously positioned on the back of SCP-8682-B, which writhes toward the vehicle at high speed. As they come closer, it becomes clear that the officer is Alexis Walker, who is carrying the humanoid figure on her back. [08:56:10] More instances of SCP-8682-B appear on camera, closing in from both sides. They leave white trails of bone flaking on the highway. [08:56:22] Startled by the approaching SCP-8682-B, Walker manages to stay just behind Breen's vehicle. The other instances match their pace, seemingly unable to accelerate further. While converging on Breen's vehicle, they appear to ignore Walker entirely. [08:57:32] 1 XR-FVL-F Heavy Load Anzu, and 3 AH-64-F Apache helicopters, (Foundation assets), appear in camera view. [08:58:22] Walker appears frustrated, mouthing the words “Open the doors.” [08:59:11] Walker pulls up to the passengers side, out of camera view. [09:02:22] Flying, red, snake-like creatures similar to those in Addendum A move within the frame. [08:57:32] The 3 AH-64-F open fire on the SCP-8682-B instances nearest to Agent Breen’s vehicle. SCP-8682-B are unharmed after the short burst. [08:58:32] The 3 Apache helicopters divert course. The Anzu pulls out of frame, over Breen’s vehicle. [08:58:55] The flying snake-like creatures are fluttering in and out of frame, appearing to harass the vehicle. [09:05:12] They pass a sign for Nanticoke, Pennsylvania. [09:09:22] Breen’s vehicle begins to lift off of the ground. The camera swivels with a sudden jerk to point directly toward the ground, swaying back and forth. The SCP-8682-B instances stop moving, and rest in vertical positions. [09:10:12] Equipment falls to the ground, presumably from the rear of Breen's vehicle due to the rear door swinging open. The flying-snake-like creatures appear to flood past the camera and into the vehicle. It is possible the passengers remained safe, due to a grate installed between the cabin and the cargo area. [09:20:41] The camera pans over a wooded area and remains in place until it stops swaying. It then begins to descend. A section of ground [REDACTED] a retractable grate mechanism, revealing an intake bay of Site-57. After Breen and the cargo were secured, site security dispatched the anomalous flying creatures with light machine gun fire from the safety of embrasures within the bay. The civilian Walker was sedated and Breen was subdued with an, admittedly, nonstandard use of force by site personnel. XR-FVL-F are experimental cargo and transport helicopters but they are not designed to secure vehicles moving at high speeds. At the time of deployment this capability was only a hypothetical. The pilot of the Anzu believes that replicating this feat would be nearly impossible and he is unsure how, through his conscious effort, it was accomplished. Still image from the events in Addendum G. A small instance of SCP-8682-B is visible in the frame. Addendum H: TO: tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S#tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S.: RE: "The Dice Man" <May 31, 2025, 7:14 AM> "Xix" has proven to be extremely cooperative, providing a wealth of information, and little problem for its containment staff. I think we should okay their request for some old fictional books. I can't foresee any harm coming from it. So here's my yay vote. -Doctor Lorenz Addendum I: RE: RE: Agent Breen Ghosting 11/08/2024 Agent Breen is no longer employed by the Foundation as of 11/08/2024, having been terminated by Dr. Virgil Mayreder. A notice has been forwarded to Foundation affiliates regarding their new status. Breen has been recommended for transfer to the Cicada programme against recommendation from the Site Director and 05-7, due to their productive history at Site-2. Dr. Mayreder recommends housing alumni O. Sanders with Breen during the reintegration process. Addendum J: TO: tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S#tenartni.rh.75S|AA75080S.: Alexis Walker Identity Management <May 31, 2025, 7:14 AM> I think we're jumping the gun here, but it's extremely unlikely they will activate her, let alone put her on her own assignment in under a year. But I guess they don't need 2 cents from us paper pushers. Here's the file. -Bayes
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SCP-8685
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keter
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Item #: SCP-8685 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8685 is to be provided with a template document inquiring about the possibility of consensual posthumous organ harvesting. To protect the veil, SCP-8685 is to act under the official guise of a non-anomalous organ donation organization. Deliveries from SCP-8685 are to be incinerated. Description: SCP-8685 is an organization of anomalous humans capable of medically removing and restoring wasted organs for recycled usage in humans. SCP-8685 instances do not originate from our timeline nor dimension, but do not physically differ from baseline humans. The exact methodology in which they are able to refurbish organs is unknown. SCP-8685's mission statement is to provide preserve and save lives of individuals from their dimension. Discovery: During a routine sweep of cemeteries located around Clayton, Georgia, a representative of SCP-8685 (henceforth referred to as SCP-8685-1) was discovered surgically removing and storing various human matter from buried individuals. Due to Foundation interests and claims on the site, the confrontation was initially hostile. However eventually both sides agreed to discuss the situation peacefully. [Begin Recording] SCP-8685-1: I'm sorry for the miscommunication here, we really didn't think much of it. Y'all aren't using these are you? Agent Kremer: We have our own interests, but we're not technically using them. Nonetheless, you have no right to waltz in and take what's not yours. SCP-8685-1: I get that, I get that. We just, don't see the harm? Agent Kremer: The harm of non-consensual grave robbing? SCP-8685-1: Consensual grave robbing sounds plain silly doesn't it? Agent Kremer: You can't rob what you agree to let go. SCP-8685-1: Fair; however my point was more that if we were to ask people if we were allowed to dig up ol' Grandpapa and take whatever there is left to keep that the maggots hadn't gotten to yet, I doubt they'd let us have our pickings. No way to spin it for it to work right by them, is there? Agent Kremer: If the answer's disgusting, I don't really want to know — but what's the point of all this anyways? SCP-8685-1: We recycle, refurbish, refit, whatever you want to call it. In comes the ol' and out comes the new. Agent Kremer: So, organ donation? SCP-8685-1: Sounds better than grave robbing, so I'll take it. But yes, that is what we do in essence. Agent Kremer: For us to stick that landing, how about we start with consent forms? We can print something out, and you'll just mail it to the deceased's estate? SCP-8685-1: Listen, I knoooow that what we're doing isn't exactly 100% ethical, by the books okay and it would most definitely land us all significant jail time, but we really can't afford to take a hit to our supply at this time of year. Agent Kremer: Either you stick to the consent forms, or you leave empty handed guaranteed. That's just how this is going to have to work, if I know anything about our organization. I don't make the rules. SCP-8685-1: You're serious? You think an ol' letter in the mail reading "May we defile your loved one's grave, surgically remove their rotting, mushy, horribly disfigured organs, so we can implant them in someone who may appreciate them?" would do well? Agent Kremer: Not saying it'll do well, but I'd at least feel a lot better about it. SCP-8685-1: At least ol' G-Man's happy about it. Girl's dying of a failing kidney, but we have to wait for widowed meemaw to sign the consent form for her expired lover. Agent Kremer: At least look at what we can draft up? SCP-8685-1: Only hope we've got. [End Recording] Addendum SCP-8685-A: Consent Form Preamble: We have discovered a method to cleanly remove and restore dead matter, such as organs and skin cells. With our medical breakthrough we are able to accompany millions of dying and in-need children, men and women across the globe. For this to work however, we need your consent and support! 1. By signing this agreement, you agree to submit and forfeit any claim you or your estate may have on the deceased's corpse, especially as pertaining to their organs. 2. By signing this agreement, you forfeit any potential private claims against our organization for temporary defilement of the deceased's grave and permanent scarring of the deceased's corpse. 3. By signing this agreement, you agree to not report and/or testify in any cases aspertaining to the process of removing, restoring and implanting organ matter of the deceased. 4. By signing this agreement, you admit you have read the entirety of this document and are aware of the long lasting implications of its effects. You may not rescind this agreement for any reason. The agreement only regulates what occurs to the corpse of X (Name of the deceased). Addendum SCP-8685-B: Incident Report Following its drafting, SCP-8685-1 was confronted with the consent form and given a pseudonym to act under for future organ harvesting and/or organ donation matters. SCP-8685-1 scoffed and took the blank consent form with them, only shortly returning to place a 8-digit counter on the table which read "0". An inspection reveals it is remote operated, presumably from SCP-8685's home dimension. After 30 seconds, the counter read 1. By the end of the day, the counter read 13.492. All means or efforts to intercept SCP-8685 and/or contact SCP-8685 have failed. Their existence has been confirmed as of the writing of this document, as numerous unsigned consent forms were intercepted in the US Postal System. By the end of the month, the counter read 1.942.293. Addendum SCP-8685-C: Counter Update By the end of the year, the counter reached its limit, as it did not possess the required digits to display a number greater than 99.999.999. This event coincided with the arrival of shipments of rotten cadavers to Site-93, each having an arabic numeral etched onto their chest. All contact to SCP-8685 has been lost.
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SCP-8685
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uncontained
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Item #: SCP-8685 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8685 is to be provided with a template document inquiring about the possibility of consensual posthumous organ harvesting. To protect the veil, SCP-8685 is to act under the official guise of a non-anomalous organ donation organization. Deliveries from SCP-8685 are to be incinerated. Description: SCP-8685 is an organization of anomalous humans capable of medically removing and restoring wasted organs for recycled usage in humans. SCP-8685 instances do not originate from our timeline nor dimension, but do not physically differ from baseline humans. The exact methodology in which they are able to refurbish organs is unknown. SCP-8685's mission statement is to provide preserve and save lives of individuals from their dimension. Discovery: During a routine sweep of cemeteries located around Clayton, Georgia, a representative of SCP-8685 (henceforth referred to as SCP-8685-1) was discovered surgically removing and storing various human matter from buried individuals. Due to Foundation interests and claims on the site, the confrontation was initially hostile. However eventually both sides agreed to discuss the situation peacefully. [Begin Recording] SCP-8685-1: I'm sorry for the miscommunication here, we really didn't think much of it. Y'all aren't using these are you? Agent Kremer: We have our own interests, but we're not technically using them. Nonetheless, you have no right to waltz in and take what's not yours. SCP-8685-1: I get that, I get that. We just, don't see the harm? Agent Kremer: The harm of non-consensual grave robbing? SCP-8685-1: Consensual grave robbing sounds plain silly doesn't it? Agent Kremer: You can't rob what you agree to let go. SCP-8685-1: Fair; however my point was more that if we were to ask people if we were allowed to dig up ol' Grandpapa and take whatever there is left to keep that the maggots hadn't gotten to yet, I doubt they'd let us have our pickings. No way to spin it for it to work right by them, is there? Agent Kremer: If the answer's disgusting, I don't really want to know — but what's the point of all this anyways? SCP-8685-1: We recycle, refurbish, refit, whatever you want to call it. In comes the ol' and out comes the new. Agent Kremer: So, organ donation? SCP-8685-1: Sounds better than grave robbing, so I'll take it. But yes, that is what we do in essence. Agent Kremer: For us to stick that landing, how about we start with consent forms? We can print something out, and you'll just mail it to the deceased's estate? SCP-8685-1: Listen, I knoooow that what we're doing isn't exactly 100% ethical, by the books okay and it would most definitely land us all significant jail time, but we really can't afford to take a hit to our supply at this time of year. Agent Kremer: Either you stick to the consent forms, or you leave empty handed guaranteed. That's just how this is going to have to work, if I know anything about our organization. I don't make the rules. SCP-8685-1: You're serious? You think an ol' letter in the mail reading "May we defile your loved one's grave, surgically remove their rotting, mushy, horribly disfigured organs, so we can implant them in someone who may appreciate them?" would do well? Agent Kremer: Not saying it'll do well, but I'd at least feel a lot better about it. SCP-8685-1: At least ol' G-Man's happy about it. Girl's dying of a failing kidney, but we have to wait for widowed meemaw to sign the consent form for her expired lover. Agent Kremer: At least look at what we can draft up? SCP-8685-1: Only hope we've got. [End Recording] Addendum SCP-8685-A: Consent Form Preamble: We have discovered a method to cleanly remove and restore dead matter, such as organs and skin cells. With our medical breakthrough we are able to accompany millions of dying and in-need children, men and women across the globe. For this to work however, we need your consent and support! 1. By signing this agreement, you agree to submit and forfeit any claim you or your estate may have on the deceased's corpse, especially as pertaining to their organs. 2. By signing this agreement, you forfeit any potential private claims against our organization for temporary defilement of the deceased's grave and permanent scarring of the deceased's corpse. 3. By signing this agreement, you agree to not report and/or testify in any cases aspertaining to the process of removing, restoring and implanting organ matter of the deceased. 4. By signing this agreement, you admit you have read the entirety of this document and are aware of the long lasting implications of its effects. You may not rescind this agreement for any reason. The agreement only regulates what occurs to the corpse of X (Name of the deceased). Addendum SCP-8685-B: Incident Report Following its drafting, SCP-8685-1 was confronted with the consent form and given a pseudonym to act under for future organ harvesting and/or organ donation matters. SCP-8685-1 scoffed and took the blank consent form with them, only shortly returning to place a 8-digit counter on the table which read "0". An inspection reveals it is remote operated, presumably from SCP-8685's home dimension. After 30 seconds, the counter read 1. By the end of the day, the counter read 13.492. All means or efforts to intercept SCP-8685 and/or contact SCP-8685 have failed. Their existence has been confirmed as of the writing of this document, as numerous unsigned consent forms were intercepted in the US Postal System. By the end of the month, the counter read 1.942.293. Addendum SCP-8685-C: Counter Update By the end of the year, the counter reached its limit, as it did not possess the required digits to display a number greater than 99.999.999. This event coincided with the arrival of shipments of rotten cadavers to Site-93, each having an arabic numeral etched onto their chest. All contact to SCP-8685 has been lost.
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SCP-8686
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esoteric-class
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Welcome to Love. + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; 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padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; } @media (max-width: 707px) { div#extra-div-1 { top: 15px; } } body { background-image: linear-gradient( to bottom, #e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px, #e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%); background-repeat: no-repeat; } :root { --timeScale: 1.5; --timeDelay: 1.5s; --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem); --fnLinger: 1s; } #page-content hr { background-color: #000; } #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: #000 1px solid; } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: #000 1px solid; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } #side-bar { border-right: 1px solid #333; background: #DDD; } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } #top-bar div.open-menu a { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #side-bar:target { border: 1px black; box-shadow: none; } } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: transparent; background-color: #ffffff; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } .anchor { position: sticky; height:0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em !important; } } .scp-image-block { box-shadow: none; } /* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/ ::-webkit-scrollbar { width: 10px; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-track { background: #FFF; border-left: 1px solid #333; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { background: #CCC; border: #333 1px solid; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover { background: #EEE; } /*---- CENTER IMAGES ON MOBILE courtesy of EstrellaYoshte and PeppersGhost ----*/ .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right{ float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /*---- ACS-COLORED TABLE DIVS ----*/ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D7EFE7; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDABF; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #F5D8E0; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } .tableb .scp-image-block { border: none; } .tableb .scp-image-block img { border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .tableb .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { margin-top: 2px; border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .top-left-box > .item { display: none; } /* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; padding-top: 10px; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* QUEERSTYLE CSS By Queerious Forked from: Blankstyle CSS by Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Using: White Outline Classic LGBTQ+ Pride Logo by Woedenaz from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Vast+Shadow&display=swap'); #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.2em; text-shadow: 3px 3px 3px #fff; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #fff; } #header { margin-top: 0.5em; } :root { --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 9vw; } } #top-bar, #top-bar a { text-shadow: 0.75px 0.75px 1px #fff; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 150px; background-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg'); } #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } /* Pseudogenesis Formats */ .pseudo-div { border:solid 4px #B22A2A; background:#403450; color: #ffffff; padding: 5px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; text-align: center; } .pseudo-div :is(h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6) { font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; letter-spacing: 0px; font-weight: normal; color: white; } Item#: 8686 Level2 Secondary Class: Agare Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Due to the unpredictable nature of SCP-8686 appearances, Foundation Web-Crawlers are to monitor for any listings of the anomaly on resale or auction websites. If a listing is found, efforts are to be made to remove it. Purchasing the copy is the preferred option, though taking down the listing is a valid alternative. In the event that a copy of SCP-8686 is purchased, MTF Upsilon-33 ("Rushing Critics"), is to obtain the SCP-8686 instance, and administer B-Class amnestics to the exposed individuals. Agents are to maintain the belief that SCP-8686 is no more than a memory of an existing play, as established by the memetic properties of the anomaly.1 Description: SCP-8686 is an anomalous theatre experience known as "The Best Days Of Our Lives". SCP-8686 is attributed to "Pseudogenesis Productions", alternatively known as GOI-478. The first page contains information on those involved in the production of SCP-8686.2 Instances will appear on various auction websites, including eBay, Etsy, and Craigslist, priced five to ten dollars. The cover contains a memetic effect, compelling someone to open the playbill, but opening it will invariably cause the subject to be affected by more of SCP-8686's memetics and cognitohazardous effects. The various memetics that make up SCP-8686 seem to be able to exert power on the environment around the subject for the duration of the performance, manifesting furniture and entities collectively known as SCP-8686-A. SCP-8686's story is in three acts, each corresponding to a unique heuristic3 effect in the subject. Amnestic testing has shown that the show cannot be removed from the memory of any subjects. The first act elicits euphoric emotions towards the SCP-8686-A instance representing the viewer's romantic partner within SCP-8686. The second act induces paranoia in the viewer, specifically regarding perceived potential flaws or character faults. The viewer is inevitably unable to determine the root cause of their conflict. The third act forces the viewer to confront their flaws, resulting in a major conflict between the viewer and the SCP-8686-A instance representing their partner. This conflict inevitably leads to a moment of self-realization. An SCP-8686 performance will always follow the same act structure, and is always set within the same location, a cottage home. While the narrative varies between instances, the subject is never able to leave the set. An image of an SCP-8686 listing is included below for reference. Cognitohazard Present Hide Best Days Of Our Lives It's a story told time after time. Guaranteed to change your life. Tickets available online, buy now. Addendum 8686.1: Experiment Log Preface: D-2231, a Class-D personnel, was given an instance of SCP-8686. The show was recorded as to understand the true nature of SCP-8686 performances. Only portions of the recording were recoverable, separated by glitches. It is believed a portion of each act was captured. (The environment begins to shift into the cottage set of SCP-8686 as Act One opens. D-2231 is standing in the front door, holding a bag of groceries.) D-2231: Woah— Oh. Did I go to the store? (D-2231 walks through the halls, before coming face to face with an instance of SCP-8686-A. D-2231 shifts awkwardly.) D-2231: … Carol? They took you in too? SCP-8686-A: Dear, are you feeling alright? Oh, you got the groceries! Did you make sure to pick up some eggs? We're out. D-2231: I— (D-2231 looks at the bag, nodding to SCP-8686-A.) D-2231: Yeah. It looks like I did. SCP-8686-A: Are you hungry, then? I could go for an omelet, and I know how much you like them. (D-2231 pauses for a moment, staring at the instance of SCP-8686-A. There is a pause, before tears can be seen in the footage.) D-2231: I missed you. So much. SCP-8686-A: It's okay now. It's okay. D-2231: You said you would never leave me, and here we are. SCP-8686-A: I remember when I said that. You came home and I was drunk on the couch. (D-2231 chuckles and gets closer to SCP-8686-A, hugging it.) D-2231: I missed you. So much, Carol. (D-2231's chuckles turn slowly into sobs, hugging the instance closer.) SCP-8686-A: I missed you too, Ash. (D-2231 looks down at SCP-8686-A while in an embrace, tears flowing. SCP-8686-A wipes away some of her tears, smiling warmly.) D-2231: I couldn't ask for anyone better. (They kiss.) SCP-8686-A: You said you wouldn't do that anymore. (D-2231 takes a sip from a green glass bottle.) SCP-8686-A: Seriously? I quit. I quit drinking for you. D-2231: Let's just enjoy the moment. Want a sip? (SCP-8686-A makes a disgusted face at D-2231.) SCP-8686-A: You'd better be wasted. D-2231: I actually think I'm rather insightful. Are you sure? SCP-8686-A: Ash. I've been sober for five months now. Are you fucking kidding me? (SCP-8686-A clenches its jaw, brushing its hair to the side and glaring at D-2231.) SCP-8686-A: I'm going to get some fresh air. Feel free to join me when you're thinking again. D-2231: Carol, I don't see the problem. I'm not a drunkard like you were— (SCP-8686-A glares at D-2231 as tears form.) SCP-8686-A: Every day, you made me feel bad for drinking. It was a fucking problem, yes, I needed help, but you didn't have to say what you did. You told me I was going to die from it, that I was gonna end up in a fucking gutter. (SCP-8686-A's lip quivers as they begin to cry.) SCP-8686-A: Why in Hell would you say that to me, and why in the love of Christ would you keep drinking— No, why are you still drinking? D-2231: Carol, sweetheart, you just don't get— SCP-8686-A: No, don't try to talk your way out of this. (D-2231 visibly sinks lower into her chair, taking a sip from her drink.) SCP-8686-A: And put down the bottle. I just want you to practice what you preach. Please. D-2231: Okay. Okay, I promise that I'll quit. I'm sorry. I love you, and I'm going to go sleep off my drinks. (SCP-8686-A nods, as D-2231 stands up and the scene shifts into a bedroom.) (D-2231 takes a flask, frowning as she downs the contents. Her body trembles.) D-2231: Last one… Last one. I promise. (D-2231 looks to the front door, where SCP-8686-A stands. She has tear-stained eyes and is shaking.) D-2231: I'm sorry, I don't want you to leave— please darling, come back. (SCP-8686-A looks back, sniffling as tears flow from its eyes.) SCP-8686-A: I feel like I don't even know you. You won't quit. You won't go to rehab. You won't go to therapy. It's like you don't even want to change. D-2231: I love you though, so much, more than anything else in this stupid small world. Please. Don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone, you're the only thing that keeps going. SCP-8686-A: I can't do this anymore. You're hurting yourself with your addiction, and then you turn around and hurt me. You— (SCP-8686-A's voice trembles, choking up.) SCP-8686-A: You can say you love me all you want, but every time I see you drink it reminds me of a past I had to crawl out of alone. And you have the gall to throw that back at me, after everything you know I've been through? I'm done. D-2231: Carol, honey— (SCP-8686-A walks out of the cottage, slamming the door shut.) (D-2231 sits in the house, making her way onto the couch.) (She curls up into a ball, covering herself in a blanket and mumbling nothings to herself to try and calm down. The only remaining noises in the recording are D-2231's sobs, and the dull buzz of the stage lights. After ten minutes of crying, she falls asleep.) (The show ends.) After the experiment, D-2231 requested Foundation psychiatric services to aid her in mitigating her alcoholism. The request was granted, and D-2231 showed exceptional progress in her recovery. Efforts are ongoing to identify SCP-8686-A from D-2231's recorded performance. Despite D-2231's insistence, they have never been in a relationship or married to any individuals named 'Carol'. As such, SCP-8686-A's existence as a real individual is pending further investigation. Footnotes 1. Agare class anomalies are perceived as fictional works, where containment is focused on maintaining that belief. In this case, containment relies on the belief that this anomaly is a memory of a real, fictional play. 2. Stephanie Pseudo (POI-478-1) is credited as Writer and Director. Solomon Baer (POI-478-2) is credited as Stage Manager and Light Technician. Duplo (POI-478-3) is credited as Set Designer. Vivienne Chen (POI-478-4) is credited as Memetic and Cognitohazard creator. 3. An effect of self-realization through a cognitohazard. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8686" by DoctorLilithSophia, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8686. 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: Agare-class.png Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Pseudogenesis_Logo_Flatter.png Name: Psuedogenesis Logo Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Vhs_Glitch-cropped-flipped.gif Name: Language of fourier strings. Author: Roͬͬ͠͠͡͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠sͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠aͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠ Menkman License: cc-by 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/r00s/6974122193/ Notes: Image was cropped and edited by me, Queerious NOTE: Pseudogenesis Productions from [[SCP-8478]] and [[SCP-8740]] by Queerious
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Welcome to Love. + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; } @media (max-width: 707px) { div#extra-div-1 { top: 15px; } } body { background-image: linear-gradient( to bottom, #e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px, #e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%); background-repeat: no-repeat; } :root { --timeScale: 1.5; --timeDelay: 1.5s; --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem); --fnLinger: 1s; } #page-content hr { background-color: #000; } #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: #000 1px solid; } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: #000 1px solid; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } #side-bar { border-right: 1px solid #333; background: #DDD; } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } #top-bar div.open-menu a { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #side-bar:target { border: 1px black; box-shadow: none; } } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: transparent; background-color: #ffffff; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } .anchor { position: sticky; height:0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em !important; } } .scp-image-block { box-shadow: none; } /* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/ ::-webkit-scrollbar { width: 10px; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-track { background: #FFF; border-left: 1px solid #333; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { background: #CCC; border: #333 1px solid; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover { background: #EEE; } /*---- CENTER IMAGES ON MOBILE courtesy of EstrellaYoshte and PeppersGhost ----*/ .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right{ float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /*---- ACS-COLORED TABLE DIVS ----*/ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D7EFE7; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDABF; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #F5D8E0; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } .tableb .scp-image-block { border: none; } .tableb .scp-image-block img { border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .tableb .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { margin-top: 2px; border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .top-left-box > .item { display: none; } /* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; padding-top: 10px; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; } @media (max-width: 707px) { div#extra-div-1 { top: 15px; } } body { background-image: linear-gradient( to bottom, #e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px, #e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%); background-repeat: no-repeat; } :root { --timeScale: 1.5; --timeDelay: 1.5s; --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem); --fnLinger: 1s; } #page-content hr { background-color: #000; } #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: #000 1px solid; } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: #000 1px solid; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } #side-bar { border-right: 1px solid #333; background: #DDD; } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } #top-bar div.open-menu a { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #side-bar:target { border: 1px black; box-shadow: none; } } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: transparent; background-color: #ffffff; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } .anchor { position: sticky; height:0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em !important; } } .scp-image-block { box-shadow: none; } /* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/ ::-webkit-scrollbar { width: 10px; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-track { background: #FFF; border-left: 1px solid #333; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { background: #CCC; border: #333 1px solid; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover { background: #EEE; } /*---- CENTER IMAGES ON MOBILE courtesy of EstrellaYoshte and PeppersGhost ----*/ .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right{ float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /*---- ACS-COLORED TABLE DIVS ----*/ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D7EFE7; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDABF; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #F5D8E0; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } .tableb .scp-image-block { border: none; } .tableb .scp-image-block img { border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .tableb .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { margin-top: 2px; border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .top-left-box > .item { display: none; } /* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; padding-top: 10px; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* QUEERSTYLE CSS By Queerious Forked from: Blankstyle CSS by Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Using: White Outline Classic LGBTQ+ Pride Logo by Woedenaz from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Vast+Shadow&display=swap'); #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.2em; text-shadow: 3px 3px 3px #fff; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #fff; } #header { margin-top: 0.5em; } :root { --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 9vw; } } #top-bar, #top-bar a { text-shadow: 0.75px 0.75px 1px #fff; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 150px; background-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg'); } #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } /* Pseudogenesis Formats */ .pseudo-div { border:solid 4px #B22A2A; background:#403450; color: #ffffff; padding: 5px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; text-align: center; } .pseudo-div :is(h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6) { font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; letter-spacing: 0px; font-weight: normal; color: white; } Item#: 8686 Level2 Secondary Class: Agare Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: caution link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Due to the unpredictable nature of SCP-8686 appearances, Foundation Web-Crawlers are to monitor for any listings of the anomaly on resale or auction websites. If a listing is found, efforts are to be made to remove it. Purchasing the copy is the preferred option, though taking down the listing is a valid alternative. In the event that a copy of SCP-8686 is purchased, MTF Upsilon-33 ("Rushing Critics"), is to obtain the SCP-8686 instance, and administer B-Class amnestics to the exposed individuals. Agents are to maintain the belief that SCP-8686 is no more than a memory of an existing play, as established by the memetic properties of the anomaly.1 Description: SCP-8686 is an anomalous theatre experience known as "The Best Days Of Our Lives". SCP-8686 is attributed to "Pseudogenesis Productions", alternatively known as GOI-478. The first page contains information on those involved in the production of SCP-8686.2 Instances will appear on various auction websites, including eBay, Etsy, and Craigslist, priced five to ten dollars. The cover contains a memetic effect, compelling someone to open the playbill, but opening it will invariably cause the subject to be affected by more of SCP-8686's memetics and cognitohazardous effects. The various memetics that make up SCP-8686 seem to be able to exert power on the environment around the subject for the duration of the performance, manifesting furniture and entities collectively known as SCP-8686-A. SCP-8686's story is in three acts, each corresponding to a unique heuristic3 effect in the subject. Amnestic testing has shown that the show cannot be removed from the memory of any subjects. The first act elicits euphoric emotions towards the SCP-8686-A instance representing the viewer's romantic partner within SCP-8686. The second act induces paranoia in the viewer, specifically regarding perceived potential flaws or character faults. The viewer is inevitably unable to determine the root cause of their conflict. The third act forces the viewer to confront their flaws, resulting in a major conflict between the viewer and the SCP-8686-A instance representing their partner. This conflict inevitably leads to a moment of self-realization. An SCP-8686 performance will always follow the same act structure, and is always set within the same location, a cottage home. While the narrative varies between instances, the subject is never able to leave the set. An image of an SCP-8686 listing is included below for reference. Cognitohazard Present Hide Best Days Of Our Lives It's a story told time after time. Guaranteed to change your life. Tickets available online, buy now. Addendum 8686.1: Experiment Log Preface: D-2231, a Class-D personnel, was given an instance of SCP-8686. The show was recorded as to understand the true nature of SCP-8686 performances. Only portions of the recording were recoverable, separated by glitches. It is believed a portion of each act was captured. (The environment begins to shift into the cottage set of SCP-8686 as Act One opens. D-2231 is standing in the front door, holding a bag of groceries.) D-2231: Woah— Oh. Did I go to the store? (D-2231 walks through the halls, before coming face to face with an instance of SCP-8686-A. D-2231 shifts awkwardly.) D-2231: … Carol? They took you in too? SCP-8686-A: Dear, are you feeling alright? Oh, you got the groceries! Did you make sure to pick up some eggs? We're out. D-2231: I— (D-2231 looks at the bag, nodding to SCP-8686-A.) D-2231: Yeah. It looks like I did. SCP-8686-A: Are you hungry, then? I could go for an omelet, and I know how much you like them. (D-2231 pauses for a moment, staring at the instance of SCP-8686-A. There is a pause, before tears can be seen in the footage.) D-2231: I missed you. So much. SCP-8686-A: It's okay now. It's okay. D-2231: You said you would never leave me, and here we are. SCP-8686-A: I remember when I said that. You came home and I was drunk on the couch. (D-2231 chuckles and gets closer to SCP-8686-A, hugging it.) D-2231: I missed you. So much, Carol. (D-2231's chuckles turn slowly into sobs, hugging the instance closer.) SCP-8686-A: I missed you too, Ash. (D-2231 looks down at SCP-8686-A while in an embrace, tears flowing. SCP-8686-A wipes away some of her tears, smiling warmly.) D-2231: I couldn't ask for anyone better. (They kiss.) SCP-8686-A: You said you wouldn't do that anymore. (D-2231 takes a sip from a green glass bottle.) SCP-8686-A: Seriously? I quit. I quit drinking for you. D-2231: Let's just enjoy the moment. Want a sip? (SCP-8686-A makes a disgusted face at D-2231.) SCP-8686-A: You'd better be wasted. D-2231: I actually think I'm rather insightful. Are you sure? SCP-8686-A: Ash. I've been sober for five months now. Are you fucking kidding me? (SCP-8686-A clenches its jaw, brushing its hair to the side and glaring at D-2231.) SCP-8686-A: I'm going to get some fresh air. Feel free to join me when you're thinking again. D-2231: Carol, I don't see the problem. I'm not a drunkard like you were— (SCP-8686-A glares at D-2231 as tears form.) SCP-8686-A: Every day, you made me feel bad for drinking. It was a fucking problem, yes, I needed help, but you didn't have to say what you did. You told me I was going to die from it, that I was gonna end up in a fucking gutter. (SCP-8686-A's lip quivers as they begin to cry.) SCP-8686-A: Why in Hell would you say that to me, and why in the love of Christ would you keep drinking— No, why are you still drinking? D-2231: Carol, sweetheart, you just don't get— SCP-8686-A: No, don't try to talk your way out of this. (D-2231 visibly sinks lower into her chair, taking a sip from her drink.) SCP-8686-A: And put down the bottle. I just want you to practice what you preach. Please. D-2231: Okay. Okay, I promise that I'll quit. I'm sorry. I love you, and I'm going to go sleep off my drinks. (SCP-8686-A nods, as D-2231 stands up and the scene shifts into a bedroom.) (D-2231 takes a flask, frowning as she downs the contents. Her body trembles.) D-2231: Last one… Last one. I promise. (D-2231 looks to the front door, where SCP-8686-A stands. She has tear-stained eyes and is shaking.) D-2231: I'm sorry, I don't want you to leave— please darling, come back. (SCP-8686-A looks back, sniffling as tears flow from its eyes.) SCP-8686-A: I feel like I don't even know you. You won't quit. You won't go to rehab. You won't go to therapy. It's like you don't even want to change. D-2231: I love you though, so much, more than anything else in this stupid small world. Please. Don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone, you're the only thing that keeps going. SCP-8686-A: I can't do this anymore. You're hurting yourself with your addiction, and then you turn around and hurt me. You— (SCP-8686-A's voice trembles, choking up.) SCP-8686-A: You can say you love me all you want, but every time I see you drink it reminds me of a past I had to crawl out of alone. And you have the gall to throw that back at me, after everything you know I've been through? I'm done. D-2231: Carol, honey— (SCP-8686-A walks out of the cottage, slamming the door shut.) (D-2231 sits in the house, making her way onto the couch.) (She curls up into a ball, covering herself in a blanket and mumbling nothings to herself to try and calm down. The only remaining noises in the recording are D-2231's sobs, and the dull buzz of the stage lights. After ten minutes of crying, she falls asleep.) (The show ends.) After the experiment, D-2231 requested Foundation psychiatric services to aid her in mitigating her alcoholism. The request was granted, and D-2231 showed exceptional progress in her recovery. Efforts are ongoing to identify SCP-8686-A from D-2231's recorded performance. Despite D-2231's insistence, they have never been in a relationship or married to any individuals named 'Carol'. As such, SCP-8686-A's existence as a real individual is pending further investigation. Footnotes 1. Agare class anomalies are perceived as fictional works, where containment is focused on maintaining that belief. In this case, containment relies on the belief that this anomaly is a memory of a real, fictional play. 2. Stephanie Pseudo (POI-478-1) is credited as Writer and Director. Solomon Baer (POI-478-2) is credited as Stage Manager and Light Technician. Duplo (POI-478-3) is credited as Set Designer. Vivienne Chen (POI-478-4) is credited as Memetic and Cognitohazard creator. 3. An effect of self-realization through a cognitohazard. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8686" by DoctorLilithSophia, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8686. 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: Agare-class.png Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Pseudogenesis_Logo_Flatter.png Name: Psuedogenesis Logo Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Vhs_Glitch-cropped-flipped.gif Name: Language of fourier strings. Author: Roͬͬ͠͠͡͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠sͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠aͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠ Menkman License: cc-by 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/r00s/6974122193/ Notes: Image was cropped and edited by me, Queerious NOTE: Pseudogenesis Productions from [[SCP-8478]] and [[SCP-8740]] by Queerious
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SCP-8688
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safe
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padding: 2vw; } NOTICE FROM THE SITE-43 MEMETICS AND COUNTERMEMETICS SECTION This is an older version of the document. We need to keep this here, otherwise we'll forget about it. Again. Don't worry about it. You're also going to see email correspondence between Heather Garrison and I included in both versions of the document. These are, unfortunately, needed for containment. Something about context helping 'fix' it in our minds. And again, don't worry about it. — Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, Chair of Memetics and Countermemetics, Site-43 Access Site-43 SCiPNET Email? One (1) new message! Welcome back, Heather To: Heather Garrison From: Lillian Lillihammer Subject: Fw:Re:Old AO Project You Started Hey Heather, I'm swamped with trying to undo the mess we made last week when we were trying to help M&C remember to lock the cognitohazard lab, so I can't handle this. But it looks weird. I think there's some meme fuckery happening, and I only know a handful of people who can understand them as well as I can. Pretty please will you look into this and just write a quick file on it? Thaaaaanks, Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, Chair of Memetics and Countermemetics Hi Dr. Lillihammer, I was going through some archives in I&T and found some documentation from your old workstation. We flipped through it, and realized that we had an unresolved AO just sitting around in our archive, that you never finished working on. After you stopped work on it, it seems like everybody just…forgot about it? It's been sitting there for years now, and my boss wants it gone ASAP, so could you help us out here? We keep trying to figure it out, but nobody seems able to stay with it that long. Regards, Richard Furrier, Digital Archivist, I&T To: Lillian Lillihammer From: Heather Garrison Subject: Re:Fw:Re:Old AO Project You Started Hey Lillian, You owe me. You can buy this week. I'll let you know what I find out. Heather Garrison, Researcher To: Heather Garrison From: Lillian Lillihammer Subject: Re:Re:Fw:Re:Old AO Project You Started So you want to go out with me? You're being so bold Heather, on professional SCiPnet too! Here's my old unfinished file that they found on it, hope it helps! Dr. Lillian Lillihammer, Memetics Chair Item #: AO-8688 Special Containment Procedures: AO-8688 is in Site-43's I&T Isolation and Storage area, kept within containment chamber IT-8688. Description: AO-8688 is a set of anomalous objects consisting of a desktop computer, monitor, peripherals and assorted unknown components. AO-8688 has undetermined anomalous properties - the Foundation is, however, positive that containment should be continued. I'm sure it's important, I'll get to it once I can get Eileen off my ass. Addendum: Hey, this is Lillihammer — I swear I'm going to get back to this eventually, so NOBODY ELSE TOUCH IT, okay? Really Lillian? You thought that this might help me? I haven't looked at it in a while, alright? What does the file say? You still haven't looked at it? It explains why nobody else worked on this file, they're all too scared of you and your threatening addendum. I'll show you my threatening addendum. Following this email correspondence, Researcher Garrison attempted to locate AO-8688, to begin further research. VIDEO LOG DATE: 11/19/2018 NOTE: Footage is from Foundation security cameras within Site-43's I&T AO containment archive, inside of Chamber IT-8688. Heather Garrison was the only researcher in attendance. [BEGIN LOG] Heather Garrison enters the chamber, placing a pad and pen on the desk, as well as setting a tape recorder down. She presses "record". Heather Garrison: This is Heather Garrison, taking care of Lilli's messes. I mean, examining AO-8688. AO-8688 appears to be some old computer covered in a thick layer of dust. I don't think the dust is anomalous. Heather wipes her finger over the keyboard, and the monitor turns on. Current information suggests that AO-8688 has been plugged in to a power source for the entire span since last worked on by Dr. Lillihammer Heather Garrison: It's still plugged in? Lillian, don't you know you should always power down your electronics? Now let's see— Dr. Garrison looks at the monitor — an unlock screen for a currently unidentified operating system is displayed. The image stutters, glitching and being replaced with a minor cognitohazard for 5 milliseconds. Heater winces, and looks away. Heather Garrison: Well. That's definitely Lil's work — I'd recognize it anywhere at this point. It feels like her. Heather begins to write on the page. As she does, she dictates to the tape recorder as well. Heather Garrison: I am now transcribing this with pen and paper, as I record it into a vocal recorder. I believe that I have been exposed to a minor cognitohazard designed to induce forgetfulness or lack of interest in this anomalous object. I believe that this is the result of Lillian's possessiveness, and not related to the anomaly. However, due to the fact that the anomalous effect may be more than just one of Lillihammer's creations, I am recording this across multiple media forms, in an attempt to avoid any antimemetic effects. Heather puts down her pen and stops the recording. She releases a frustrated, but subdued yell of frustration. Heather Garrison: Thanks Lils. Guess you have to help me out here. [END LOG] NOTE: Dr. Garrison exited the containment chamber, and appeared to pause for a second. After a beat, she resumed walking, exhibiting only slight symptoms of disorientation. After Dr. Garrison examined her notepad, it is noted that she reacted in surprise and frustration based on the contents. Okay, in my defense - it's really funny. Like it's so rough and a complete hack job of a meme? I can't believe I made this. I can't believe you work-roofied me, from something you did over two decades ago. Can you please fix this? Huh. Two decades? Yes Lillian, time unfortunately, marches ever onwards. I don't think that's right. Lilli, it doesn't matter how many times you blow up the site, time is still passing. Hmm. Doubtful. After Dr. Lillihammer was alerted to the existence of a cognitohazard limiting research into AO-8688, a countermeme was developed that negated the effect, allowing Dr. Garrison to continue research into the anomaly. After beginning research into the AO, Dr. Garrison moved for the object to be reclassified as a full SCP. Reclassification is pending. You are currently viewing an outdated version of this document. View current revision? ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8688" by Queerious, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8688. 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.
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SCP-8692
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safe
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Item#: 8692 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: warning link to memo Remains of the church at the center of SCP-8692. Special Containment Procedures: A perimeter has been established around SCP-8692, with at least one member of Foundation personnel surveilling the area from Outpost-31 at any given time to prevent civilian trespassing. Should any unauthorized personnel be seen within the perimeter, Mobile Task Force Delta-18 ("Big Irons") are to be dispatched to retrieve the intruder, who is to be brought to Area-09 for interrogation and administered Class-A amnestics. Objects SCP-8692-1 through SCP-8692-4 are to be kept in separate standard containment lockers at Outpost-31 when not in use for testing. Description: SCP-8692 is the burned-out ruins of a town in the Great Basin Desert, Nevada, approximately 2.2km² in area and █ miles from Area-09. Subjects entering the area of SCP-8692 report an abnormally heightened sense of dread, often to the point of inciting a “flight” response, with certain subjects instead reporting a desire to commit an act of violence regardless of any history with violence. These urges are consistently reported to be motivated by a feeling of revenge. Four anomalous objects were discovered and retrieved by MTF Delta-18 during the initial quarantine and sweep of SCP-8692. These objects are listed below. SCP-8692-1: A Stetson-brand ten-gallon hat, believed to have been manufactured in 186█. The object contains trace amounts of Tartarean Resonance Energy. Hair samples taken from SCP-8692-1 were evaluated by Foundation researchers, but provided no DNA.1 SCP-8692-2: A dagger composed of an iron handle and a blade made of an unknown metal alloy. The blade itself is stained with dried blood, which was tested for DNA. None was present. SCP-8692-2 is the only object of the set that does not emit or contain any TRE. SCP-8692-3: A wooden acoustic guitar of unknown make and model. The leftmost string of the guitar is broken. Similar to SCP-8692-1, the object contains trace amounts of TRE. SCP-8692-4: An 1851 Colt Navy Revolver containing a single .36 caliber round in its cylinder. All attempts to dislodge the round without firing the weapon have been unsuccessful. Both the round and an unknown symbol on the handle of the revolver emit a high concentration of TRE. Subjects who make direct physical contact with any of the four objects report a brief burning sensation in the part of their body that made contact and hearing an unfamiliar voice whisper something in their ear (see Testing Log SCP-8692-B). Discovery: When Area-09 was considering new training grounds for MTFs, Agent ████ was sent to survey a single square kilometer of the desert near the Area. Agent ████ promptly returned to Area-09, reporting that she had found the burned ruins of a town but felt an anomalous sense of extreme dread that forced her to retreat. SCP-8692 was deemed a cognitohazard and MTF Delta-18 was formed from agents with particularly high CRVs, who were then able to establish the bounds of SCP-8692 and identify objects SCP-8692-1 through SCP-8692-4. Addendum SCP-8692-A: During routine surveillance of SCP-8692, personnel have reported seeing various people and hearing various noises within the perimeter. These have been hypothesized to be hallucinations, as none of the trespassers have been caught on security footage and none of the sounds (which include screams, gunshots, and the crackling of firewood) have been traced to a source. + Testing Log SCP-8692-B - Testing Log SCP-8692-B Subjects making physical contact with any one of the anomalous objects listed previously report hearing an unfamiliar voice say a single sentence to them. There are no consistent traits of the voice, and it changes to be unique between subjects. Below is documentation of all known phrases associated with SCP-8692-1 through SCP-8692-4, courtesy of Dr. Scotts. SCP-8692-1 "He was lost." "That damned town would burn." "I’m a pretty average Jane." "I remember when the afternoon sun would warm our hearts." "Mom always wanted me to do the chores." SCP-8692-2 "All hail!" "We never did anything wrong." "Of course he would protect us." "We never knew her." "He was perfect." "He was found." SCP-8692-3 "I’m not sorry." "They did it, I could hear him." "Who else could I turn to?" "I told you so." SCP-8692-4 "I knew you had it in you, kid!" "It’s what they deserved." "No, no idea. Never met him." "I’ll bring some friends along." "Always happy to lend a hand." "Don’t leave me here." UPDATE 10/12/20██: As of Experiment SCP-8692-12C, further messages given by the objects have consisted of nonsensical Latin sentences. Therefore, this list is unlikely to receive any further updates. If you wish to see a collection of the nonsensical phrases, please send Dr. Scotts a message. Access SCiPNET Email? One (1) new message! Re:Advice Regarding SCP-8692-4 To: Dr. Dora Scotts From: Dr. Adeliene Mallory Subject: Re:Advice Regarding SCP-8692-4 Dear Dr. Scotts, Thank you for reaching out. I have taken great interest in this project, and I have spoken with coworkers in the Parareligions Division in a hope to identify the organization that you believe to have occupied the area. As of current, there is no reason to believe that the area was occupied by a parareligion, but we cannot be sure. As for SCP-8692-4, it's very possible that it may contain an entity as you described. It's also possible that the round or firearm itself is a demonic artifact. I have put in an experiment request with administration in the hopes to take a closer look, and it should reach your desk soon. As of now, it is my expert opinion that the round inside of SCP-8692-4 should not be discharged until we can be absolutely certain what will happen. Best regards, Dr. Adeliene Mallory Department of Tactical Theology Demonology Division Ne redeant ad abyssum. Footnotes 1. Whether this genetic information was removed anomalously is currently under investigation. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8692" by NothingToAnOcean, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8692. 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: Halabiye_Church_Ruins.jpg Author: Verity Cridland License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/58789412@N00/4103169472
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SCP-8699
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esoteric-class
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Sirius sits alone at a table set for two, knowing the other seat will never be filled. He can't bring himself to stop setting out a plate for her. Item #: SCP-8699 Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-8699 effects are localized to Foundation Thaumaturge Sirius Reverend and pose no threat to the veil no efforts are currently being made to contain and/or neutralize SCP-8699's anomaly. Description: SCP-8699 is a continuous series of anomalous events surrounding Sirius Reverend following the death of Vivian Reverend on July 27th, 2013. These events typically manifest while Reverend is home alone, but have manifested in multiple other locations, and, in rare cases, in front of other people. A brief list of manifestations has been compiled by Researcher Jack Simmons, on the behalf of Sirius Reverend, below. For a full list, please refer to document 8699-Events. Addendum-8699-1: Reverend falls asleep whilst reading a book. When he wakes the book is sitting on his bedside table, a bookmark denoting the exact page he had left off on. A cold glass of water sits beside it, four ice cubes floating inside. He stares at the glass silently. Two mugs — one denoted with the letter "S", the other with the letter "V" — sit beside Reverend's coffee machine. Out of habit he pours two cups of coffee, leaving the second behind as he walks off. When he returns the second cup is nearly empty, save for about a centimeter of liquid at the bottom. He pours out the rest, but the old, ringed stain along the bottom remains. Three flowers sit on Reverend's living room windowsill. He hasn't watered any of them in weeks, but they have remained healthy nonetheless. At some point a written note manifests next to the plants but Reverend pretends not to notice. I'm sorry about Vivian, Sirius. It's fine. No, it isn't. It's unfair, and it's okay to feel upset. I'm fine. Okay! Okay. Just- I'm here for you if you need me, alright? Thank you, Simmons. I'll be okay. Reverend is practicing thaumaturgy alone in his backyard. For a moment he feels eyes upon him from behind. Absentmindedly, he switches to practicing a more visible spell, finishing the casting with an extra, unnecessary flair of thaumaturgic energy one wouldn't usually add. Faint laughter and claps echo from behind him, but when he turns around the sound is gone. He sighs and resumes practicing non-visible thaumaturgy. Reverend is standing outside of Site-37, staring up at the stars as he smokes for the first time in several years. The sky is clear, hundreds of stars shining amidst the black sky. A shooting star streaks past and Reverend breaths out a silent wish. He lowers his gaze, and for a moment he sees Vivian standing across the street, frowning slightly. His breath hitches. He takes a step towards her, but a car passes between the two, and she is gone. He looks between the stars and where Vivian had "stood." He stomps out the cigarette. On May 21st — Sirius and Vivian's anniversary — Reverend drinks himself to the point of blacking out, during which he sends approximately thirty six messages to Vivian's phone number, the general message of which is that he misses her. When he wakes up the next morning, a text notification pops up under her name, but when he opens it there is no message. He drops the phone on the floor, shattering the screen, before falling back into bed. He does not show up for work. It should have been me. Reverend, stop. It was my shift. I was supposed to be there. You couldn't have known. I miss her, Simmons. So much. It'll get easier, Sirius. I promise. When, Jack? When? It is July 27th, 2014, one year after Vivian's passing. Reverend sits alone in his shower, head buried in his arms and legs as cold water pours down upon him, blending with his own tears. He faintly hears the curtain open and close, hears the quiet creak of metal as the "hot" nozzle is turned and the water heats up, just as it did every time she joined him. The water burns his skin, a blazing reminder of her. Reverend remains in the shower for nearly two hours. On four separate occasions Reverend drafts a resignation notice email to Site-37's Director Asher Celzin. All four attempts fail; The first two attempts to send the email are met with software errors, the first deleting the message and the second outright crashing the program. On the third attempt the message is successfully delivered, but is somehow redirected to Jack Simmons' inbox as opposed to Director Celzin's. The fourth attempt is also redirected, but to Vivian's email instead, whose email tagline reads "To a brighter future, we march!" Reverend sobs quietly to himself for several minutes before closing the email program entirely. Get up, Sirius. We're going out. Simmons, I really can't right now. I wasn't asking. I'll be at your house in 15, and I'm dragging your sorry ass out whether you like it or not. Look, if this is about the resignation notice, don't worry. I didn't end up going through with it. I care about you, not your employment, you buffoon. Now are you going to get ready or are you really going to square up against this hunk of human perfection? You're eight inches shorter than me. Harr, harr. Be there in 10, now. Okay? Okay. Reverend returns to work and is greeted by a post-it note on his desk which reads "To Better Days <3". He smiles sadly, pulls it off of his desk, and sticks it to the bottom of his PC's monitor. An hour into his shift, he draws a heart of his own on the note. Whilst cleaning his living room, Reverend accidentally knocks over one of the vases on the windowsill. It shatters against the ground, but the rose inside survives. Reverend slowly moves it to one of the remaining vases, only to notice that the remaining flowers have begun wilting slightly, along with the note beside them which reads "It's your turn to water them, sweetheart." Reverend cleans up the shattered vase, and carefully waters the flowers. Reverend falls asleep whilst reading a book. When he wakes, the book is sitting on his bedside table, but the bookmark nestled inside is set within a different page. When he opens the book, the denoted page is a chapter titled "Bittersweet Goodbyes." The glass of water does not appear alongside it. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8699" by Trintavon, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8699. 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.
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SCP-8699
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uncontained
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Sirius sits alone at a table set for two, knowing the other seat will never be filled. He can't bring himself to stop setting out a plate for her. Item #: SCP-8699 Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-8699 effects are localized to Foundation Thaumaturge Sirius Reverend and pose no threat to the veil no efforts are currently being made to contain and/or neutralize SCP-8699's anomaly. Description: SCP-8699 is a continuous series of anomalous events surrounding Sirius Reverend following the death of Vivian Reverend on July 27th, 2013. These events typically manifest while Reverend is home alone, but have manifested in multiple other locations, and, in rare cases, in front of other people. A brief list of manifestations has been compiled by Researcher Jack Simmons, on the behalf of Sirius Reverend, below. For a full list, please refer to document 8699-Events. Addendum-8699-1: Reverend falls asleep whilst reading a book. When he wakes the book is sitting on his bedside table, a bookmark denoting the exact page he had left off on. A cold glass of water sits beside it, four ice cubes floating inside. He stares at the glass silently. Two mugs — one denoted with the letter "S", the other with the letter "V" — sit beside Reverend's coffee machine. Out of habit he pours two cups of coffee, leaving the second behind as he walks off. When he returns the second cup is nearly empty, save for about a centimeter of liquid at the bottom. He pours out the rest, but the old, ringed stain along the bottom remains. Three flowers sit on Reverend's living room windowsill. He hasn't watered any of them in weeks, but they have remained healthy nonetheless. At some point a written note manifests next to the plants but Reverend pretends not to notice. I'm sorry about Vivian, Sirius. It's fine. No, it isn't. It's unfair, and it's okay to feel upset. I'm fine. Okay! Okay. Just- I'm here for you if you need me, alright? Thank you, Simmons. I'll be okay. Reverend is practicing thaumaturgy alone in his backyard. For a moment he feels eyes upon him from behind. Absentmindedly, he switches to practicing a more visible spell, finishing the casting with an extra, unnecessary flair of thaumaturgic energy one wouldn't usually add. Faint laughter and claps echo from behind him, but when he turns around the sound is gone. He sighs and resumes practicing non-visible thaumaturgy. Reverend is standing outside of Site-37, staring up at the stars as he smokes for the first time in several years. The sky is clear, hundreds of stars shining amidst the black sky. A shooting star streaks past and Reverend breaths out a silent wish. He lowers his gaze, and for a moment he sees Vivian standing across the street, frowning slightly. His breath hitches. He takes a step towards her, but a car passes between the two, and she is gone. He looks between the stars and where Vivian had "stood." He stomps out the cigarette. On May 21st — Sirius and Vivian's anniversary — Reverend drinks himself to the point of blacking out, during which he sends approximately thirty six messages to Vivian's phone number, the general message of which is that he misses her. When he wakes up the next morning, a text notification pops up under her name, but when he opens it there is no message. He drops the phone on the floor, shattering the screen, before falling back into bed. He does not show up for work. It should have been me. Reverend, stop. It was my shift. I was supposed to be there. You couldn't have known. I miss her, Simmons. So much. It'll get easier, Sirius. I promise. When, Jack? When? It is July 27th, 2014, one year after Vivian's passing. Reverend sits alone in his shower, head buried in his arms and legs as cold water pours down upon him, blending with his own tears. He faintly hears the curtain open and close, hears the quiet creak of metal as the "hot" nozzle is turned and the water heats up, just as it did every time she joined him. The water burns his skin, a blazing reminder of her. Reverend remains in the shower for nearly two hours. On four separate occasions Reverend drafts a resignation notice email to Site-37's Director Asher Celzin. All four attempts fail; The first two attempts to send the email are met with software errors, the first deleting the message and the second outright crashing the program. On the third attempt the message is successfully delivered, but is somehow redirected to Jack Simmons' inbox as opposed to Director Celzin's. The fourth attempt is also redirected, but to Vivian's email instead, whose email tagline reads "To a brighter future, we march!" Reverend sobs quietly to himself for several minutes before closing the email program entirely. Get up, Sirius. We're going out. Simmons, I really can't right now. I wasn't asking. I'll be at your house in 15, and I'm dragging your sorry ass out whether you like it or not. Look, if this is about the resignation notice, don't worry. I didn't end up going through with it. I care about you, not your employment, you buffoon. Now are you going to get ready or are you really going to square up against this hunk of human perfection? You're eight inches shorter than me. Harr, harr. Be there in 10, now. Okay? Okay. Reverend returns to work and is greeted by a post-it note on his desk which reads "To Better Days <3". He smiles sadly, pulls it off of his desk, and sticks it to the bottom of his PC's monitor. An hour into his shift, he draws a heart of his own on the note. Whilst cleaning his living room, Reverend accidentally knocks over one of the vases on the windowsill. It shatters against the ground, but the rose inside survives. Reverend slowly moves it to one of the remaining vases, only to notice that the remaining flowers have begun wilting slightly, along with the note beside them which reads "It's your turn to water them, sweetheart." Reverend cleans up the shattered vase, and carefully waters the flowers. Reverend falls asleep whilst reading a book. When he wakes, the book is sitting on his bedside table, but the bookmark nestled inside is set within a different page. When he opens the book, the denoted page is a chapter titled "Bittersweet Goodbyes." The glass of water does not appear alongside it. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8699" by Trintavon, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8699. 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.
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SCP-8700
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keter
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It is not kingly responsibility that comes from drawing the sword from the stone, rather it is the doom of mankind and the end of all things. Volcanic eruption of Mt. Etna, caused by SCP-8700-1 activity during an Excalibur event. Special Containment Procedures: Due to its immobile nature, SCP-8700 is housed within Site-536, a largely subterranean modernised medieval fortress disguised as a volcanic research station located within the lower eastern slope of Mt. Etna. Site-536 is equipped with multiple redundant fire suppression systems, extensive fortification, strategic choke points, automated weaponry/artillery, and ground penetrating radar for the purpose of monitoring SCP-8700-1's position and activity level. SCP-8700 itself is physically restrained in place via heat resistant locking mechanisms and a ballistic glass containment vessel atop a 70 metre tall column within its containment chamber. The column is 40 metres from the sole entry point, accessible only via mechanical drawbridge. Access to SCP-8700s containment chamber is limited to daily inspections by technicians accompanied by SCP-8700-A. Level 3 and higher personnel are forbidden from entering the containment chamber, unless actively preventing an Excalibur Event. Historic entrance to Site-536 upon acquisition in 1953, leading towards SCP-8700. In addition to standard Foundation personnel, Site-536 is to house a dedicated defence force at company strength. All on-site staff must score highly on weekly anti-coercion tests, and staff are to be rotated through other Foundation sites to mitigate the mental effects of SCP-8700 exposure. No personnel are to remain within SCP-8700s area of effect for two months or longer, with an additional two months before they may be allowed to work in Site-536 again. In the weeks preceding an Excalibur Event, Site-536 is to be reinforced by a minimum of two companies of armed task forces, typically sourced from MTF-Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") operatives. All Foundation staff joining Site-536 are to be inducted with SCP-8700-A. No open flame may be produced on site, and all on-site personnel are to be equipped with gas masks at all times in preparation for the appearance of toxic gases. Reptiles that manifest within Site-536 are to be captured by on-site herpetologists when safe, and relocated via Wilson's Wildlife Services. Stores of antivenin are to be housed on site in the event of envenomations. Individuals approaching Site-536 are to be redirected under the guise of avoiding noxious gases. Any persons circumventing the site perimeter are to be subdued by on-site defences and relinquished to local authorities. All areas known to be within SCP-8700's area of effects have been sealed to the public under the guise of volcanic research. Upon the detection of an Excalibur Event a search is conducted for signs of SCP-8700-2 manifestation within a 200km radius of Site-536 via satellite heat mapping, police reports and standard Foundation surveillance. When located, SCP-8700-2 instances are to be intercepted and contained for later remote termination. Should this not be feasible, the usage of air strikes, naval strikes and other militarised activity may be approved on a case by case basis in order to terminate the anomaly on location. Should an instance reach Site-536, on-site personnel, defence forces and armed task forces are to take up defensive positions and terminate the entity by any means necessary. The on-Site AIC will aid personnel in terminating the entity via remote operation of blast doors, usage of water cannons and automated weaponry. SCP-8700-A is authorised to aid Foundation personnel in the defence of Site-536, and is to be supplied with necessary equipment, including SCP-8700-A1, to aid it in combat. Ongoing research is to be conducted into the origins and nature of SCP-8700, with extensive ongoing interviews to be conducted with SCP-8700-A, with the goal of forcing SCP-8700 into a more stable condition. A cache of Ichneumon class weapons1 are held on-site for research and contingency purposes. Description: SCP-8700 is a 4.6 metre long two-handed sword, similar in form to 16th century Venetian swords, that has been driven into a large igneous stone via unknown means. The stone is anomalously hard, measuring 10 on the Mohs hardness scale, and bears faded Latin engravings upon its surface. SCP-8700 is ornate, with numerous rings and parrying lugs, a convex blade edge, octagonal pommel, and multiple thaumaturgic runes etched into the surface of the handle and blade, composed of a mixture of various varieties of steel. 1.6 metres of the blade has been exposed from the stone, with the remainder of the blade still housed within. MicroCT scans show that the blade of SCP-8700 was previously embedded within the stone to a depth of 3.4 metres, but the channel it has left will not allow for the sword to be re-inserted. The blade is extremely sharp, capable of slicing through organic material with minimal force applied2. Due to SCP-8700's large size making it impractical for use by a non-anomalous humanoid, it is theorised to have been forged from multiple other weapons, supported by the size and patterning of SCP-8700's steel. SCP-8700 produces an area of anomalous effect within a 444 metre radius of itself, the most significant of which is mind-affecting in nature. Persons within this radius are susceptible to feelings of greed, irritability and anger, as well as manifesting signs of narcissistic personality disorder and pyromania. Audiovisual hallucinations are also common, typically in the form of hearing growls, hisses and slithering sounds, as well as seeing golden eyes in dark spaces or reflections. These effects worsen with prolonged exposure to SCP-8700's effects, but can be mitigated by counselling and medications, though risks becoming permanent aspects of the individual's personality and mentality if exposed for excessive amounts of time3 or if the individual is more susceptible to mental coercion. Persons affected in such a way may develop severe progressive ichthyosis over their entire body should they remain within SCP-8700's area of effect for greater than three months. Open flames within SCP-8700's area of effect possess anomalous properties. Fire in the area will burn at higher temperatures while using less fuel than non-anomalous fire, and material will catch fire more easily; non-anomalous paper will catch fire at 451 Centigrade, but has ignited at temperatures as low as 200 centigrade within SCP-8700's area of effect. Noxious gases spontaneously form in the area, typically sulphur dioxide or chlorine trifluoride. Additionally to this, various reptiles will spontaneously manifest within SCP-8700's area of effect, typically emerging from volcanic vents, air ducts, and desk drawers. These were initially believed to be exclusively native reptiles, but following a 2008 manifestation of several komodo dragons (Varanus komodoensis) within the site barracks and the 2011 manifestation of a fierce snake (Oxyuranus microlepidotus) within a desk drawer, this is no longer the case. These reptiles appear drawn to SCP-8700 via anomalous means, and will behave with aggression, particularly during Excalibur Events. Research and experience has shown that the further SCP-8700 is pulled from the stone, the more acute and widespread the above effects become. This is the result of the sword functioning as a thaumaturgic seal, keeping an entity historically referred to as "The Wyrm", henceforth referred to as SCP-8700-1, beneath the mountain. Research and interviews suggest that the full removal of the sword from the stone will allow SCP-8700-1 to escape its prison beneath Mt. Etna, resulting in a catastrophic eruption and a potential K class event. SCP-8700-1 can be detected via ground penetrating radar at a depth of approximately 3300 metres below sea level, within a large magma chamber. Though readings can only give a vague impression of the entity's size and form, it is clear that SCP-8700-1 is colossal in size, with estimates ranging between 800 and 1700 metres in length. It appears to be six limbed, with a long neck and tail. SCP-8700-1 posses an indeterminate number of necks and heads, with scans detecting between one and several dozen heads at different times. Long range microphones often observe acoustic events described as growling, hissing and roaring, emitting from SCP-8700-1's vicinity. These recordings are made within the same time period during which surface-borne equipment detects volcanic emissions. While capable of limited movement, SCP-8700-1 appears unable to move from its position as if restrained. These thrashing movements can cause volcanic eruptions as they force magma towards the surface, and increase in frequency and vigour leading up to Excalibur Events. Engravings and carvings found within Site-536 depict it as an enormous draconic creature. Said engravings portray it as having a very long neck in relation to the rest of its body, as well as a flattened, fanged head with some resemblance to the lizard family Varanidae, with some researchers arguing a resemblance to a crocodylimorph. Its skull also appears to bear a mane, or many spines and horns; analysis of the stone has found the remains of gold flake pigment in engravings of the entity's eyes, informing a yellow or golden eye colour. It is frequently depicted with fire emerging from its mouth, and followed by various creatures not matching any existing wildlife. Certain depictions, notably those believed to be associated with an ancient Greek origin, depict the entity with multiple heads, with a damaged segment possibly having depicted a humanoid. These artefacts have raised the possibility of a cultural link between SCP-8700-1 and the entity known as Typhon, a divine monster defeated by Zeus in Greek mythology. Excalibur Events: Every four to six years, SCP-8700-1 will enter an active period termed an "Excalibur Event". These periods induce an increase in volcanic activity in the region through SCP-8700-1's direct physical seismic influence, and directly correlate to the manifestation of SCP-8700-2. SCP-8700-2 are reptilian creatures of variable size and shape, which will develop direct knowledge of SCP-8700. These entities may originate either through the sudden metamorphosis of an apparently random or unrelated human being somewhere on the island of Sicily during the beginning stages of the event, or rarely spontaneously emerging from mountainous earth in the general region of Mt. Etna. Upon manifestation, all SCP-8700-2 instances will proceed to make their way toward SCP-8700 and Site-536, destructively creating as direct a path as they are capable of. They will not seek out prey, but display an extremely violent defence response. While the specific size and biology of SCP-8700-2 individuals is inconsistent, they universally develop a knowledge of SCP-8700's location and a single-minded desire to remove it from its lodging, with formerly human individuals losing any interest in their previous lives. They may range from 300 to an excess of 5000 kilograms in mass, with human-origin individuals being smaller. All 8700-2 specimens have extremely thick and scaled skin, and develop novel organs (a 'third lung' appearing to produce volatile gases and fluids) rendering them capable of emitting explosive blasts of flame from their mouths. The usage of these blasts has been observed to damage the entities' faces and throats, particularly if the instance is newly formed. After this initial period, however, SCP-8700-2 instances prove more or less immune to most small arms fire and anti-vehicle munitions, as well as an absolute resistance to thermal weaponry and heat. Expired individuals violently combust within seconds of termination. Damages caused to the residence of Pino Ammaniti in Pedara in the hours following Mr. Ammaniti's transformation into a SCP-8700-2 entity. The process of a person becoming a SCP-8700-2 instance is not fully understood, but can be detected through various signs, spikes in temperature being the most reliable. Individuals in the process of becoming a SCP-8700-2 instance radiate an increasing amount of heat, initially appearing as a severe fever, but soon progressing into the hundreds of degrees. This is accompanied by massive increases in aggression and loss of personality in the afflicted person, before a rapid metamorphosis occurs over a period of 10 minutes to 48 hours, though the instance will continue to grow and mutate the longer it survives. The core temperature of an SCP-8700-2 instance continuously increases, to the point of combusting material on contact. They are capable of tool and weapon use, but are generally of below human intellect in most regards. Unless terminated, human borne SCP-8700-2 instances typically survive between 10 and 30 days before the strain of their internal temperature causes them to self immolate. Spontaneously manifested SCP-8700-2 instances can be detected by a more gradually emerging and more extreme spike in local temperature in the area in which they appear. These instances are more easily detected and take longer to emerge than human borne instances, but are much larger and more destructive on average, with a greater variance in form and threat projection. SCP-8700-2 instances typically cause widespread destruction in the path between their origin point and Site-536 if not terminated or contained promptly, and present a significant risk to normalcy, property and life in the area. They often display sadistic and needlessly destructive behaviours towards civilians in their path, and in some rare cases individuals exposed to SCP-8700-2 instances' bodily fluids can themselves be transfigured into secondary instances themselves. Instances have proven to be growing larger, stronger and more durable with each Excalibur Event, necessitating greater effort and resources to contain. Addendum 1: Notable Excalibur Events While the majority of Excalibur Events are anticipated and conclude with the swift containment and termination of the SCP-8700-2 instance, some events have proven more noteworthy. Below is a brief history of some of the more significant Excalibur Events, along with how they were resolved. Date: 27/10/1963 Location: Vita, Sicily Description: SCP-8700-2 instance manifested through Fillipo Luna, a local mechanic and bare knuckle boxing champion. Specimen was 4.6m tall, bipedal, scaled and possessed three heads. Termination: Contained on site by Foundation personnel, terminated via liquid nitrogen immersion. Notes: The instance proved adept at improvising weaponry, terminated 8 MTF members. Date: 18/06/1978 Location: Pedara, Sicily Description: The SCP-8700-2 instance manifested through Pino Ammaniti, a farmer under police investigation for ties to a kidnapping and ransom plot in the area. Upon full manifestation, the entity was a large worm-like creature possessing four heads, resembling eyeless versions of Mr. Ammanitis. It possessed three arms and a multitude of large white, fleshy, finger-like protrusions it used to move. It constantly produced a cognitohazardous wailing sound that affected the ability of humans to perceive it. Termination: Following its emergence, the entity was able to use its ability and proximity to Site-536 to enter the site, causing 38 staff casualties. It was terminated via multiple decapitations and bodily trauma by SCP-8700-A. Notes: The appearance of the entity so close to Site-536 is cause for great concern, and led to the adoption of a wider site perimeter and reprogramming of the on-site AIC to target difficult to perceive entities with greater effectiveness. Date: 15/01/1983 Location: Mt. Pecoraro, Italy Description: A gradual heat spike was detected in Mt. Pecoraro, but appeared not to manifest as the entity seemingly formed underground and did not surface. Readings showed that it approached Site-536 underground, emerging into the sea at the southern edge of the Italian mainland before continuing its approach. It vaguely resembled a 24 metre long multi-limbed fossorial viperfish, producing intense flames from between plates of its carapace. Termination: Due to the speed at which it moved, the SCP-8700-2 instance was able to reach Site-536 before it could be intercepted by the SCPS Gurthang, and was able to assault the site. It was terminated at south-east defensive position 2 via sustained howitzer fire after being immobilised by SCP-8700-A. Notes: Following the entry of the entity into Site-536, the installation of an additional seven blast doors was approved. Date: 13/10/2006 Location: Palermo, Sicily Description: Vincenzo Emile Marco, a convicted mass murder serving a life sentence in Pagliarelli prison was transfigured into an SCP-8700-2 instance within a solitary confinement cell over the course of 18 hours before emerging as a 7 metre tall winged humanoid possessing large horns and a skeletal head reminiscent of extinct predatory synapsids, capable of producing molten lava from its body. It breached its cell and approached Site-536 via multiple means, including the usage of automotive transport. Termination: The SCP-8700-2 instance was terminated within Site-536 in a joint effort between Site staff, armed task force personnel and AIC operated weaponry before being bludgeoned to death by SCP-8700-A. Notes: Upon breaching the prison cell, the instance displayed significant cunning in avoiding attack and detection by Foundation forces, allowing it to reach Site-536 in a short period of time. It proved particularly vicious in its assault, making frequent use of any weaponry it was able to acquire and incorporating wreckage into its body to act as armor. Date: 03/05/2012 Location: Mediterranean Sea Description: SCP-8700-2 instance manifested through Aitana Abatantuono, an online influencer performing a photo shoot on her yacht. Upon transformation, the entity was a 3.6 metre long semi humanoid figure with a piscene tail, finned wings and talons which dove into the water and approached Site-536 at great speed. Termination: The entity was intercepted en route to the site by the SCPS Gurthang, an horizon class destroyer, and terminated via depth charges. Notes: Cavitation proved to be an extremely effective method of termination. Naval activity was explained to be a training exercise of the Italian navy. Date: 30/11/2015 Location: Comino, Malta Description: A nine headed serpentine entity bearing a pair of humanoid arms covered in a thick carapace, dozens of spines, also possessing 40 pairs of vaguely human arms along its length measuring 8 metres long and weighing 900kg emerged from the earth on the northern edge of the island, causing a small fire as it emerged. It was able to spit venom in a manner similar to spitting cobras. This venom proved extremely potent and necrotic. Termination: The entity was able to down a Foundation A-10 aircraft by firing long range streams of molten lava from its mouths, but in spite of this was rapidly engaged by Foundation ground forces and forced into a mobile containment cell with minimal casualties, before being transported to a remote site to be terminated via cavitation and arms fire. Termination attempts have thus far proved unsuccessful. Notes: The removal of a head from the specimen prompted the rapid growth of an additional two heads from the site of the wound. At present the instance possesses 47 heads. Addendum 2: Discovery and History of Site-536 SCP-8700 was discovered by the nascent Foundation in the 19th century, but only taken under Foundation control in 1953 when it was discovered that it had fallen under Chaos Insurgency control four years prior4. Once containment procedures were established, the Foundation set about cataloguing and documenting all materials, inscriptions and iconography present within what was now termed Site-536. Multiple items of note were found, including Chaos Insurgency weaponry seemingly derived from the effects of SCP-8700 that were reverse engineered by the Foundation into the Ichneumon class lancer. Of particular note were numerous inscriptions in 33 languages within the castle detailing the emergence of a "Dragon" or "Wyrm"5 from Mt. Etna on the 15th of July, 1529 which proceeded to wreak havoc and devastation across Europe for thirty years, producing a multitude of monstrous children to carry out its will. The presence of the wyrm's offspring spread like a pestilence6. While people fled the continent in terror or remained in their homes, hiding from SCP-8700-1, the entity incinerated armies and sacked cities, plundering their wealth and transporting it to its lair in Mt. Vesuvius. In this thirty year period, an order of knights and sorcerers formed to end the wyrm's reign of terror. A prominent member of this order, only ever named as "The Urdalṭaši", declared that the wyrm had previously been defeated by an Olympian king thousands of years before, and had been sealed within the mountain. While their skill and sorcery was great, it could not compare to that of the Olympian king, and thus would require the forging of a "Holy and fell" blade. Members of the order were dispatched to retrieve various artefacts to be used in the sword's construction, such as "The sword of Briton", "The swords of Roland and Charlemagne" and "The wrathful blade of the North." With these relics, the "Great Blade" was forged and inscribed with powerful magic and runes to defeat and imprison the wyrm. The founder of the order and greatest warrior among them, a potentially anomalous man of unknown name and origin, was chosen to wield the blade. He was imbued with all the magic and blessings the order and those opposed to the wyrm could provide, making him "Greater and more terrible than the dawn." He was dubbed "the Fell Hand", and quenched the blade in the blood of one of the wyrm's children in order to draw the entity out. The order then proceeded to Mt. Etna to issue their challenge, for only there could the wyrm be imprisoned. While the above details varied between inscriptions and books, the following passage remained consistent across all versions, and has been included below. Issuing a mighty shout, the Fell Hand thrust his sword into the sky, its mighty blade shining like the sun beneath the darkened heavens. In his rage and hubris, the dread Wyrm came screaming from the sky, and his landing laid low many men. His fury was so great that his roars and bellows deafened many, but the Fell Hand stood strong. The Wyrm charged, spewing flame and hatred in equal measure. The Fell Hand charged, swinging his blade with more might and skill than this world shall ever witness again. For 40 days and 40 nights their battle raged. The Wyrm's children laying low the companions of the Fell Hand, and the companions slaying the Wyrm's foul children upon the mountainside in turn. Come dawn of the final day, the Fell Hand drew to him both his closest brother Macarius Vschar and the secretive mage The Urdalṭaši, conspiring to bait the Wyrm into one final trap, upon which the hopes and fates of all men would rest. Drawing the Wyrm into the open, Macarius took the body of the Dragon's son, holding it aloft as a fell banner. In his bottomless rage and malice, the Wyrm came for Macarius, spewing black magick from his eyes and flame from his throat. With his mighty blade and the last of his will, the Fell Hand sprung from his hiding place and plunged the sword deep into the Wyrm's belly and rent its body with a mighty cry. Never before had the Dragon met such injury at the hands of men, and he cried out in terror, seizing the Fell Hand in his mighty claws even as the Urdalṭaši, that mightiest of sorcerers, led his disciples in opening the earth. The Wyrm laughed cruelly, believing he had slain the Fell Hand even as it slid into the chasm. 'What wilt thou do now?' It laughed 'Now thy meagre champion lies dead before thy feet?' The Fell Hand's voice once more rang out, a mighty roar of defiance and fury as he plunged the sword into the stone of the earth with his dying breath, and caused all the world to hold still as though holding its own breath. Defeated by the might of the Fell Hand, the magick of the Urdalṭaši, and the sacrifice of Macarius, the Wyrm was struck by a mighty thunderbolt, channelled by the Urdalṭaši through the sword itself, which smote his ruin into the fiery depths of the earth. Here we remember the Fell Hand, mightiest of men. The Urdalṭaši and his order, whose like will never again be known, and the brave souls of the Order, whose sacrifice brought a new dawn for all the world. An illustration of Macarius Vschar prior to the emergence of SCP-8700-1. Further details of the history of SCP-8700 and Site-536 detailed that following the containment of SCP-8700-1, the Urdalṭaši, a suspected Daevite thaumaturge, ordered the construction of a castle at the site of SCP-8700 in order to defend it from any who would seek the release of SCP-8700-1. While the magic imprisoning SCP-8700-1 was great, it was suspected that whatever force had held it previously was far greater, necessitating additional means in order to protect SCP-8700. He then worked with the smiths who made SCP-8700 to fashion a suit of armor for the mortally wounded Macarius Vschar, which was inlaid with the remains of SCP-8700's materials and thaumaturgic runes of great power. Macarius was sealed within the armor as his final resting place, and a thaumaturgic ritual was performed at the cost of Urdalṭaši's life which resulted in the creation of SCP-8700-A, who was sworn to guard the castle forever. Numerous other documents and items of note were found and catalogued within the site, including various depictions of SCP-8700-1 from various dates between 540BC and 1610AD, an armory containing various well preserved 16th century weapons and armor7, minor anomalous items, a mausoleum bearing multiple names, including that of the Urdalṭaši and a monument dedicated to the Fell Hand. Modernisation of the site has revealed anomalous building methods presumed to have been the work of medieval thaumaturgy and numerous wards preventing the site being consumed by Mt. Etna's emissions. Addendum 3: SCP-8700-A SCP-8700-A History, Behaviour and Nature of SCP-8700-A Interview 8700-A:27/10/1993 SCP-8700-A. Item #: SCP-8700-A Standard Containment Policies: Two-person residential module (no amenity restrictions) Access to site library, recreational facilities, cafeteria, and internal public areas (supervised) Educational curriculum enrolment Fortnightly psychological review Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8700-A is to be housed in a reinforced OCHRE-grade Thaumodisruptor8 equipped humanoid containment unit adjacent to SCP-8700's primary containment chamber. While SCP-8700-A does not require rest or biological functions, it is to be allowed to keep its own space as reward for good behaviour. This space is equipped with a crucifix, paint supplies and non-haptic e-reader. With supervision, SCP-8700-A is permitted to perform inspections of SCP-8700 and Site-536 freely provided it does not interfere with Foundation activities, but may not exit the historic sections of the Site. Any suggestions made by the entity on the containment procedures of SCP-8700 are to be noted and taken under consideration. SCP-8700-A may not physically interact with Foundation staff unless in the interest of their safety during an Excalibur Event. It has been fitted with a remote activated OCHRE-grade Thaumodisruptor in the event of an escape attempt. During Excalibur Events SCP-8700-A is permitted to access SCP-8700-A1 from the on-site armory for the purposes of defending SCP-8700, but is not permitted to use firearms. Description: SCP-8700-A is a self-ambulatory suit of mid 16th century plate armor measuring 2.3 metres tall and weighing 160kg, with an average plate thickness of 12mm. It is a dull steel colour and inscribed with numerous thaumaturgic runes inside and out, many of whose functions are not currently understood. Similarly to SCP-8700, it possesses a hardness of 10 on the Mohs hardness scale, and is extremely resistant to deformation. Despite being exposed to extreme temperatures in excess of 1900C it has never shown any sign of approaching it's melting point. It has been constructed in such a way as to not open or be removed from a wearer, and probe cameras have shown that the interior of SCP-8700-A possesses numerous rods and spikes bearing faint traces of ossified tissue encrusted into them that would make it impossible to be worn. The thaumaturgic runes and inscriptions seen on the interior of SCP-8700-A are of a more complex nature than those on the exterior, and are believed to be at least partially responsible for the anomaly's animation. These runes produce a faint red glow, and have been theorised to partially derive power from SCP-8700's effects. SCP-8700-A possesses an extreme level of strength, endurance and speed. Testing has shown it to lift in excess of 3200kg overhead, and during Excalibur Events it has been witnessed dismembering SCP-8700-2 entities unarmed. It is not hindered by the presence of toxins, lack of oxygen or when submerged in water. While it does not possess vocal cords or a mouth, SCP-8700-A is capable of speech, which emerges from within its helm. It speaks in a deep, somewhat muffled voice with an accent of indeterminate origin. It is able to perceive its environment to the same degree as a baseline human despite the lack of sensory organs, possessing vision, hearing and a sense of touch, but has reported an inability to taste or smell. SCP-8700-A is extremely proficient in combat, particularly when armed with blunt or edged weapons. Referring to itself as Macarius Vschar9, SCP-8700-A has an understanding of multiple languages, but appears to have a preference for Latin and Old English. It possesses knowledge of much of the history of 14th, 15th, 16th and 17th century Europe, and has expressed interest in learning more about the world. SCP-8700-A appears to be religious, and practices a form of renaissance-era Christianity. Although willing to engage in conversation or aiding Foundation staff when requested, SCP-8700-A is primarily concerned with guarding SCP-8700 and ensuring it is not removed from the stone. While it will allow Foundation staff it is familiar with to examine and touch SCP-8700 under its supervision, the subject will attempt to bodily restrain all others from approaching the sword, reacting violently if repeated attempts are made. On the approach of an SCP-8700-2 instance, it will react with extreme violence, but has been noted to attempt to preserve the lives of Foundation personnel around it while doing so. SCP-8700-A1 is a large, ornate European longsword constructed entirely of the same material as SCP-8700-A. It measures 1.95m in length, weighing 7.3kg, much heavier than comparably sized weaponry. While similarly durable, heat resistant and rust-proof as SCP-8700-A, SCP-8700-A1's only additional anomalous property is its resistance to dulling, always possessing a razor sharp edge. History of SCP-8700-A SCP-8700-A was discovered by Foundation precursors in the 19th century alongside SCP-8700, and was initially contained as a hostile entity within an on-site cage, presumably with considerable loss of life. The brief occupation by the Chaos Insurgency between 1948 and 1953 did not reverse this trend, though upon Foundation acquisition the entity appeared agitated and hostile. It is not known if SCP-8700-A's containment was permanent or if it was permitted to intervene in Excalibur Events as it is today. Initially the Foundation sought to contain SCP-8700-A on-site, which was achieved with little difficulty. It was studied much like any other anomaly, taught modern languages and allowed to communicate with Foundation researchers. While non-hostile, the entity repeatedly expressed a desire to be freed and reiterated the threats posed by SCP-8700, 8700-1 and 8700-2. It was not until 1967 when an Excalibur Event threatened the security of SCP-8700 that SCP-8700-A breached containment. Initially there was confusion and panic as efforts to terminate the incoming SCP-8700-2 entity were split to re-contain SCP-8700-A, allowing the former entity to enter SCP-8700's primary containment chamber. Despite the efforts of the MTF, the 8700-2 instance was able to grasp SCP-8700 and attempt to pull it loose of the stone. It lifted SCP-8700 18mm10 before being intercepted by SCP-8700-A, who rapidly ejected the entity from the chamber before bludgeoning it to death with a fire extinguisher. SCP-8700-A then returned to its containment cell peacefully. When questioned about its behaviour, SCP-8700-A stated only the following. SCP-8700-A: "I guard the sword. I care not for all else. Do your duty and cease interfering with mine." Following this, tentative steps were taken to test the possibility of integrating SCP-8700-A into SCP-8700's Containment Procedures. These tests were consistently successful and low risk over a period of 14 years and the course of 3 Excalibur Events, acting to aid and protect MTF and other Foundation lives numerous times in the process. This eventuated into a provisional Thaumiel classification, which gradually evolved into SCP-8700-A's current containment procedures. Behavioural Evaluation of SCP-8700-A When questioned on the nature of its existence, SCP-8700-A reaffirms the details of numerous inscriptions in tablets and books within the site, claiming to be the "Soul" of the knight Macarius Vschar, transferred into a suit of armor in order to guard SCP-8700. It frequently cites the thaumaturgic runes inscribed into itself as evidence of this. Based on scans, research and study into these runes, it is the position of the Foundation that SCP-8700-A's consciousness is a psychic imprint of an individual used in the creation of the anomaly11. When presented with this theory, SCP-8700-A reacted with signs of distress and prayed within the site chapel for 13 hours before requesting that information not be relayed to it again. SCP-8700-A devotes the majority of its time to tending toward SCP-8700, patrolling the historic portion of Site-536, prayer in the chapel, training drills, painting, and reading. While willing to engage in discussion with Foundation personnel, it is often described as terse or cold in its bearing and occasionally judgemental in nature. It appears fascinated by modern technology and music, but frequently dismisses media as nonsensical, inaccurate or blasphemous. During Excalibur Events SCP-8700-A demostrates a large degree of competency and knowledge in regards to combat and tactics. It displays a single minded determination to neutralise SCP-8700-2 instances, often employing pragmatic but extremely violent means, particularly in the defence of Foundation personnel or SCP-8700. Despite this, SCP-8700-A has expressed a distaste for violence, and claims that it only does what is necessary. SCP-8700-A has made frequent requests to be allowed to visit the grave site of a woman it claims is its sister, identified as "Eve", 1.3km from the entrance to Site-536. These requests have been denied. SCP-8700-A Psychological Review: 1993 Interviewed: SCP-8700-A Interviewer: Dr. Andrzej Rodda Foreword: The following is a transcript of SCP-8700-A's 1993 psychological review meeting, whose purpose is to review the entity's behaviour, mindset and potential issues that have been discussed in standard sessions throughout the year. 1993 proved an eventful year at Site-536, with lessened staff turnover, an Excalibur Event, and the adoption of art therapy for SCP-8700-A. Interview is conducted within SCP-8700-A's containment cells. <Begin Log> Dr. Rodda: Good evening 8700-A, I'm here for your psych review. Are you all set to get started? SCP-8700-A: Yes. Is it? Dr. Rodda: I'm sorry? Is it what? SCP-8700-A: Evening. Dr. Rodda: Oh, yes, it is. You can see the time on the clock, there, remember? SCP-8700-A: It has no face, I cannot trust it. Dr. Rodda: Yes it's digital, only until a replacement for your old one arrives. You remember we showed you how to read it? SCP-8700-A: Yes. Dr. Rodda: Right, so we'll start with how you're feeling then? SCP-8700-A: As usual. Fulfilled. Dr. Rodda: Care to elaborate? SCP-8700-A: I guard the sword. Comply with regulations. But it is good to have brothers in arms once more. A marked improvement over my years in solitude. Dr. Rodda: I see, so you feel a sense of camaraderie with the agents employed here then? SCP-8700-A: Yes. Dr. Rodda: The last Excalibur Event, do you have any thoughts on it? SCP-8700-A: Yes. The children of the dragon are growing stronger. I was aggrieved to have been unable to aid in its destruction. Dr. Rodda: You keep calling them that. Why? SCP-8700-A: It is what they are. Spawn of the dragon, to be slain like the beasts they are. Dr. Rodda: I see. No other thoughts on the event then? SCP-8700-A: Yes. You must fortify the land to break the children before they penetrate the keep. Too many were wounded in its assault, and if the dragon is planning worse we may be taken unawares. Dr. Rodda: I'll let the higher ups know you said that. Though it was an interesting one, it is a shame we couldn't keep it here for study. SCP-8700-A leans forwards, gesturing emphatically with its hands. SCP-8700-A: Do not do such a thing. Dr. Rodda: Calm down, 8700-A. I was joking. SCP-8700-A crosses its arms and leans back in its chair, looking away for a moment before nodding. Dr. Rodda: Good. Thank you. Now, how are you enjoying the art therapy? Dr. Simmons told me you have been spending more time painting lately. SCP-8700-A: It is an enjoyable activity, if frivolous. Dr. Rodda: May I see what you have painted recently? SCP-8700-A turns and retrieves a stack of slate tiles, each bearing a painted picture, and places them on the table. Dr. Rodda: This is the 8700-2 instance from the seventies? Dr. Rodda lifts the first painting and holds it towards the camera to display the image. It depicts a large, eight limbed reptilian entity within Site-536 with flames emerging from its mouth. Black humanoid figures surround it, firing upon it with firearms as a silver figure impales it. SCP-8700-A: Yes. Dr. Rodda: Is there any reason you chose to paint this? SCP-8700-A: It was a moment of triumph, when I found a new brotherhood with your Foundation. I learned you are of a stouter heart and bloodier disposition than I first gave you credit for. Dr. Rodda: I see, very good. I like this one of the horse here. Dr. Rodda lifts up one of the paintings, angling it towards the camera to display the image. It depicts a vaguely mammalian quadruped in a field of grass. SCP-8700-A crosses its arms again. SCP-8700-A: That is a hound. Dr. Rodda: Oh. I see. SCP-8700-A: I have not seen one in many years, It is unfair to judge my efforts in such a way. Dr. Rodda: It's alright! Better than what I can do, well what about this one, is this your sister? Dr. Rodda lifts a third and final tile, angling it to the camera. It is a portrait of a young woman with black hair, dressed in early renaissance garb. SCP-8700-A's charcoal drawing. SCP-8700-A: Yes. Dr. Rodda: You still miss her. SCP-8700-A: Yes. Dr. Rodda: It's been hundreds of years. SCP-8700-A begins to bounce its knee rapidly, looking around the cell. Its voice grows strained. SCP-8700-A: I live in the shadow of her murderer. It whispers to me of how it twisted her mind and made her forget herself. It mocks me with her dying words and how it let her remember who she was before she was smote upon the stones. I am tormented with memories of the pathetic being it reduced her to. I should have been present to defend her from such a curse, not fetching a sword from a lake. Dr. Rodda: Eve's death was not in your control, 8700-A. You have said yourself that even the Fell Hand couldn't have saved her. You being there too would have simply led to your death or falling under that thing's control as well, and then who would be here keeping the dragon from re-emerging? You work with us to ensure the same doesn't happen anyone else. In that way you honour her memory, remember? SCP-8700-A sits hunched, arms crossed and bouncing its knee for a long moment before nodding slowly. SCP-8700-A: I swore vengeance for her fate. Even after I aided in sending it into the fire I did not feel the peace I hoped for. Still it taunts me with her last words before it drove her mad. Its eyes. Its eyes, she cried. How I desire to thrust my blade into its heart for what it wrought. Dr. Rodda: This kind of trauma takes time to resolve, 8700-A. If you continue to discuss these feelings and pursue the art therapy, it can help ease these feelings. SCP-8700-A nods. SCP-8700-A: I shall persist. Ever has this place allowed the dragon to fill men’s hearts with pain and avarice. I shall not falter like the others before me. Dr. Rodda: I'm glad to hear that. You refer to the people who staffed this site before its abandonment? What happened to them, in your opinion? SCP-8700-A: The dragon corrupted their hearts, and they fell to their vices because they did not know what their failure would unleash. They had not lived it as I had under the wyrm's reign. Dr. Rodda: You believe that first-hand experience with 8700-1 would have helped these men to resist SCP-8700's effects? SCP-8700-A: Yes Dr. Rodda: Come on, no more one word answers. How would that have made a difference? SCP-8700-A sighs deeply, resting its head against its fist, before beginning to speak. SCP-8700-A: The dragon fell upon the land like a plague. Many believed it was the apocalypse, but no trumpet was heard and no horsemen were seen. Only its unholy cries and disgusting spawn. It laid low city after city, consumed entire armies. The blood flowed in raging rivers. I saw the frail citizens fleeing the carnage swept away by the torrents. Those who opposed it were reduced to ash or eaten if they were fortunate. Those who were not were enthralled by its hideous eyes, reduced to ravening beasts crawling in the muck, naked like dogs. Thousands fled, but all the ships were burned. Wizards and flesh crafters raged against it to no avail. The remnants of the armies it had shattered were hiding or turned to banditry. With none left to oppose it, the dragon and its foul offspring ravaged the land and her people unchecked, killing at will. It had dominion over all the land, and it demanded tithes of blood, gold and fear. Men were reduced to living as beasts in caves, hiding, frightened of shadows and terrified of flame. Not since the days of the Olympians had such a terror blighted the land. The air was full of screams and laughter as people were hunted down like game, and one could not escape the reek of ash and blood and fear. Not with fifty thousand men could you oppose such terrible might. Without the Fell Hand this existence would have endured far longer than thirty winters, and his kind has long since vanished from the world. Those who fell never knew the terror of those dark days. They never knew the grief and the rage. They did not understand what lay at stake, for how could they had they not lived through it. Their hearts were full of hope and desire for the future rather than hate, and that is what laid them low. Dr. Rodda frowns and examines SCP-8700-A across the desk. Dr. Rodda: Are you implying that we have the same attitude towards SCP-8700? I assure you that we know full well what is at stake here. The Foundation has more experience in containing dangerous items such as these than anyone else on the planet. I don't need to remind you that you are permitted to defend SCP-8700 at our discretion. SCP-8700-A nods slowly. SCP-8700-A: I understand. I do not believe your people are like those men. While you did not suffer under the wyrm's fist, you have a pain behind your eyes of a similar ilk. You have tasted despair and grief and the weight of unknowable responsibility, if not at the hands of the dragon then from some other terror of whom I know not. We are united in this cause, and it is good to have brothers and sisters in arms once more. Dr. Rodda: I'm glad, but you still seem tense. SCP-8700-A: Rather what I fear instead is that the dragon is planning something. He is more cunning than how he has acted. He has powerful children, but does not wield his strength to as deadly effect as he might. Something is coming. I can feel it. Dr. Rodda: What sort of something? Something you have encountered before? SCP-8700-A: I do not know. But he is plotting something. I am sure of it. <End Log> Closing Statement: SCP-8700-A continues to adhere to all orders given to it, and performed well during the previous Excalibur Event. While it is experiencing elevated levels of grief in regards to its claimed sister "Eve", this is to be expected with its therapy and is expected to improve over time. Its paranoia regarding SCP-8700-1 is worth noting, but based on all research and SCP-8700-A's personality I do not believe it is a significant concern. I am overall pleased with the progress SCP-8700-A has made these last months, and recommend no changes to its current containment procedures. Dr. Andrzej Rodda Addendum 4: 20/02/2024 Excalibur Event Incident. In early 2024 ground penetrating radar detected a significant increase in SCP-8700-1 activity within Mt. Etna's magma chamber consistent with those preceding an Excalibur Event. Armed mobile task force personnel were directed to deploy at Site-536 in preparation for the event and await orders. A temperature spike was recorded on the property of ██████ ██████████12 53km from Site-536. Mobile task force units were mobilised to intercept a potential SCP-8700-2 entity, awaiting its emergence for 17 hours before Mr. ██████████ underwent transformation into an SCP-8700-2 instance, causing his home to rapidly burn down on the 20/02/2024. The entity was engaged by a company strength mobile task force waiting in ambush, but this proved unsuccessful. Despite the deployment of significant force the SCP-8700-2 entity continued a rapid approach towards Site-536, appearing entirely unharmed. After multiple airstrikes were delivered but showed no sign of slowing the entity, Site Director George Eddings ordered a second company to intercept the entity alongside SCP-8700-A. This decision was questioned by Site-536 staff, initially believing Director Eddings to be overly stressed and unwell, but they ultimately accepted the directive. Upon arrival at the SCP-8700-2 instance's location 17km from Site-536, SCP-8700-A engaged the creature. The engagement lasted 98 minutes, leaving 26 mobile task force members killed in action, but resulted in the successful termination of the SCP-8700-2 instance. Despite this, SCP-8700-1 continued its heightened level of activity. MTF forces returned to Site-536 to debrief and treat injuries before being redeployed to their home bases, with un-deployed and unharmed MTF forces departing immediately. SCP-8700-A requested to visit its sister's grave following its return to site, which was approved by Site Director Eddings provided it was escorted by its supervisor and a contingent of four containment acquisition specialists, citing a lack of any threat following the Excalibur Event. This decision was widely criticised by staff, who believed that Director Eddings' decision making ability was compromised by a severe fever he had suffered the night prior. The events that followed the departure of SCP-8700-A were recorded from multiple body cameras and on-site security cameras, and took place over the following 113 minutes. Following the apparent conclusion of the Excalibur Event, a covert containment transport vehicle departed the site containing SCP-8700-A restrained in the rear containment compartment. SCP-8700-A was dressed in oversized civilian clothing to disguise its anomalous nature. Present in the vehicle was SCP-8700-A Supervisor Ignatius Fiore and Containment Acquisition Specialist agents CAS-1 Salvatore, CAS-1 Deccoco, CAS-1 Slade and CAS-1 Bean. They travel approximately 12 minutes to reach the location of the historic cemetery where SCP-8700-A's alleged sister is buried with orders to re-contain or terminate SCP-8700-A should it attempt to escape. Within Site-536, site Director Eddings can be seen within his office, observing the departure of SCP-8700-A via computer. He appears pleased, standing from his desk and clutching his chest as he staggers to a cabinet. He hurriedly removes his tie, jacket and shirt, revealing his torso and left arm are experiencing extreme ichthyosis, visibly spreading and thickening across his flesh. He takes a glass jar and scalpel from the cabinet and proceeds to cut a long incision across his chest, catching the blood in the jar and filling it. The blood is mildly luminescent, with a golden shimmer to it. He does not speak during this process. He re-dresses, seals the jar, places it in his briefcase and appears to practise genial expressions in his mirror before moving from his quarters to the mess hall. The hall is at maximum capacity, with MTF agents and site staff celebrating the successful Excalibur Event and preparing for a meal. The atmosphere is jovial and full of sound. Director Eddings proceeds to work his way through the crowd, shaking hands with various personnel before entering the kitchen unnoticed. The kitchens are empty save for Director Eddings, who produces the jar from his briefcase and pours its contents into one of three drinks dispensers by the door. He then exits the kitchens and re-enters the mess hall, standing against the North wall and gesturing for Mess Officer George Sapkowski to approach him. Mess Officer Sapkowski: Hell of a day here George, what can I do for you? Director Eddings: Oh yes, hell of a day! With this crowd it won't only be our dragon slayers hard at work. What are you cooking up for us tonight George? Mess Officer Sapkowski: Well I thought since were celebrating I'd swap dinner for lunch, give these guys a good send off you know? So we'll have the gazpacho and chicken salad tonight, and the seafood platters now. It’s all ready to come out whenever you give the word. Director Eddings: Excellent, excellent idea! I'll tell you what though, before we start sending out food I'd love to say a few words, give a proper thank you to our brave guests. Can I get you to bring out the drinks cart, get everyone a glass so I can say a toast? Mess Officer Sapkowski: You got it, no problem. Mess officer Sapkowski turns and addresses the kitchen staff. Alright, alright, break it up guys, go get the drinks cart out, these folks are thirsty! The kitchen staff begins pouring and distributing drinks. Director Eddings: Like a well oiled machine they are, George. Mess Officer Sapkowski: Thanks, George, just one of the perks of hiring a culinary superstar such as myself. Both laugh. Director Eddings retrieves two glasses from the contaminated dispenser, handing one to mess officer Sapkowski. Mess Officer Sapkowski: Thanks very much! Director Eddings: Well, us Georges need to stick together, don't we? Both laugh. Director Eddings moves to the front of the room, standing on a chair to be better seen. He smiles and waves to the crowd before clinking his phone against his glass and addressing them. Director Eddings: Good morning everyone! May I have your attention please? Alright, settle down, yes. Nolan get out of the kitchen, we're eating in a minute. Alright! I know you are all having a wonderful time celebrating the completion of another Excalibur Event, and I could not be more pleased with all of you! Cheering from the crowd. Director Eddings: That was quite some monster! But you boys are made of tough stuff, and handled it like the Foundation's finest! However, I must dampen spirits for a moment. I want to commemorate the brave men and women who lost their lives this morning, keeping the world safe. They died in the dark so that the civilians of the world can live in the light. It's a heavy price to pay, I know. But I would gladly pay that price myself to protect those I love, and so would all of you. More cheering from the crowd, less enthusiastic. Director Eddings: So I say thank you, and a moment's silence for the brave souls lost today. They will be immortalised in our memories. Director Eddings lowers his head and clasps his hands together in silence, followed by all in attendance doing the same. There is silence for 12 seconds. Director Eddings: Lest we forget. This is repeated by those gathered. Director Eddings: Now, since you have all been working so hard these last few months, I thought it only fair that you be rewarded with something to drink at least, no? Enthusiastic cheering. Director Eddings: <Laughs.> I thought so! So let us raise our glasses to the fallen, may they rest in peace, and may we at Site-536 look forward to a brighter, better future! Cheers! The crowd cheers and all present drink, including Director Eddings. The Director steps off his chair. Director Eddings: Now come on all of you! Enjoy today, and this afternoon we'll get back to work. Enjoy yourselves please! The crowd begins to talk amongst themselves. Director Eddings heads for the door, but is approached by Mess Officer Sapkowski. Mess Officer Sapkowski: Nice speech, George, not a bit hot under the collar there are you though? You're sweating something awful. Are you alright? Director Eddings: Fine, fine, just need to get back to work now is all. Mess Officer Sapkowski: Yeah, but come on, you alright? Do you need any— Director Eddings: Shut the fuck up and get back in the kitchen. Now. Director Eddings hastily leaves the room. Mess Officer Sapkowski appears shocked, but returns to the kitchen. Director Eddings: Pathetic worms. Director Eddings proceeds from the mess hall towards systems engineering, removing and discarding his tie as he goes. Ichthyosis can be seen spreading up his neck, with smoke emerging from areas of exposed flesh. He approaches the Site-536 AIC central monitoring hub, ignoring the technicians as they stand to address him. AIC Technician Venturi: Director? Is there something wrong? Wait, Director, you can't go in there, Director! Director Eddings pauses at the door to the AIC console chamber before grabbing a desk chair and flinging it at AIC Technician Venturi. The chair connects with her head, neck and chest, knocking her down. Blood can be seen pooling around her head on the floor. AIC Technician Riccardio stands and attempts to draw his firearm, but is attacked by Director Eddings, who disarms him before impaling him through the chest cavity with his arm. Claws have formed on his fingers, and smoke is now billowing from his skin and clothing. He then turns to the door and wrenches it open with a great deal of strain. Klaxons sound site wide as the AIC deploys defensive weaponry. Site-536 AIC: CEASE HOSTILITIES. YOU HAVE 5 SECONDS TO COMPLY. Director Eddings Be silent, simulacrum. Director Eddings enters the AIC console chamber and begins inputting shutdown commands. His flesh can be seen writhing and his clothes tearing as he physically expands. His clothing combusts as he types. The MTF and site-536 personnel gathered in the mess hall have ceased celebrations. Many have produced their weapons, and are reacting in confusion. Non-combatant personnel are directed towards their nearest emergency shelters. Site-536 AIC: SHUTDOWN ATTEMPTED. EXCALIBUR EVENT IN PROGRESS. ADDITIONAL EXCALIBUR EVENT IN PROGRESS. SCP-8700-2 ENTITY WITHIN AIC CONSOLE CHAMBER. TERMINATING SCP-8700-2 ENTITY. Automatic weaponry and water cannons are deployed site-wide, with those present within the AIC console chamber opening fire upon Director Eddings. The Director falls to the ground in the fetal position, emitting growling vocalisations before combusting violently, destroying the AIC control console and damaging the AIC's central processor. All automated defence systems freeze in place and lose power, ceasing operation site-wide. Director Eddings undergoes a rapid mutation into an SCP-8700-2 instance. His skull expands, sprouting numerous horns and his mouth elongating into a crocodilian muzzle bristling with teeth. The new structures appear to emerge from beneath Director Eddings' skin, which tears open and sloughs off in places as the process continues. A long tail erupts from his rear, with his hips splitting apart and taking a new position as his legs increase in muscle mass. Rows of spikes and a thick carapace emerge from the instance's body as it rapidly increases in size and mass, and its vocalisations change from those of Director Eddings into bestial growls. The instance thrashes about violently as it transforms, causing significant damage to the structure around it. Simultaneously in the mess hall, all personnel that consumed drinks from the dispenser contaminated by Director Eddings, approximately 43% of those present, are rapidly undergoing a similar process. As they clutch their heads and torsos, screaming, those unaffected are seen to both flee to other areas of the site or remain to aid the afflicted, with a large portion of the remaining MTF members led by Cmdr. Reul Bratt hastily falling back to the tertiary defence zone outside SCP-8700's containment chamber. The personnel affected by the contaminated drinks then undergo rapid mutation into secondary SCP-8700-2 entities, increasing in size by approximately 10%, bursting into flame and growing thick scales which can be seen to emerge from underneath their skin. Clouds of gas can be seen emerging from the ventilation system. The unaffected personnel still within the mess hall are severely impacted by the transformation of the afflicted, with numerous traumatic amputations being recorded and others catching fire. Those unharmed begin to flee, but are set upon by the secondary SCP-8700-2 instances. Many can be heard attempting to reason with the transformed individuals, only to be cut off by bodily assault. The few that fire upon transformed individuals are quickly dismembered. Laughter can be heard from the instances, who continue to mutate, sprouting horns, claws and tails at random. A loud roar is heard echoing through the site, drawing the attention of the secondary SCP-8700-2 instances, which turn to see the primary SCP-8700-213 instance enter the mess hall, ducking to fit through the doorway. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: Arm yourselves, my children. It is time. Under the command of Cmdr. Bratt the MTF forces deploy fortifications outside SCP-8700's containment chamber, including heavy weaponry and water cannons. The doors to the containment chamber are sealed with a 4 man squad inside to operate the doors, welding them shut. SCP-8700-2 Alpha leads the secondary instances to the site armory, ripping a red panel from the wall of the restricted section labelled Project Ichneumon. It opens the cabinet and begins distributing the advanced weapons among the secondary instances. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: You four, leave this place. Hunt down the wretch and break him. Bring me his head. Four secondary SCP-8700-2 instances turn and head for the site cargo depot, leaving a trail of molten lava behind them. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: You defend our rear. SCP-8700-2 Alpha gestures to multiple secondary instances, pointing back towards the mess hall. The rest of you, my children, shall come with me. [END LOG] Leaving the covert transport vehicle parked outside the historic cemetery, Supervisor Ignatius Fiore escorts SCP-8700-A inside. SCP-8700-A is fitted with a tracking beacon and a remote activated OCHRE-grade Thaumodisruptor beneath its civilian disguise. CAS-1 Salvatore, CAS-1 Deccoco, CAS-1 Slade and CAS-1 Bean accompany them to provide additional security. SCP-8700-A approaches a corner of the cemetery by a low stone wall on the cliff top overlooking the sea. It falls to its knees, gently brushing the weeds and dirt from a small headstone. Faint Latin engraving on its surface reads "Eve [Indecipherable] 1563, Beloved and fair." SCP-8700-A: This is her. Supervisor Fiore approaches SCP-8700-A, placing his hand on its shoulder, holding his umbrella to shield them from the rain. The CAS-1 team observes at a short distance. Supervisor Fiore: I'm sorry it took so long. I'll give you a moment with her. SCP-8700-A: Oh, Eve, I am so sorry. Supervisor Fiore moves to stand with the CAS-1 team. SCP-8700-A remains kneeling and begins to clean the headstone. CAS-1 Slade: Hey, Ig. Smoke? Supervisor Fiore: No man, you know I quit. You have to smoke that shit around me? CAS-1 Bean: I mean, kind of since you dragged us out here in all this rain. CAS-1 Salvatore: Just going to have to deal with it, bucko. CAS-1 Deccoco laughs and blows a smoke ring at Supervisor Fiore. It is dispersed by the rain. Supervisor Fiore: Whatever. It's fine. Sure you're not being too casual about all this? CAS-1 Salvatore: Don't think you're forgetting who we are, Ig? We bring down shit ten times worse than the tin can on the daily. It takes one step over that wall and we'll have it locked so deep in containment it will forget that daylight even exists. CAS-1 Deccoco laughs. CAS-1 Bean: What she means is that we have it under control. CAS-1 Slade: Besides, he doesn't look like he's going anywhere. Supervisor Fiore: I suppose. It’s just been a stressful day. I hate going into the field, especially when there's a giant fat frog squirting lava all over the place. Keep me in the office any day. CAS-1: Bean: It can be a lot for people who aren't used to it. CAS-1 Deccoco: Bitches, you mean. CAS-1 Salvatore stifles a laugh. CAS-1 Bean: Hey, that's out of order. Supervisor Fiore: What the fuck, man? CAS-1 Deccoco: You know I was only teasing, relax, Ig. Supervisor Fiore: It's fine. I better see how our friend's going. CAS-1 Slade: Freezing out here. Supervisor Fiore approaches SCP-8700-A. It has cleaned the headstone and graveside, and appears to be praying. It looks at Supervisor Fiore as he approaches and begins to write. SCP-8700-A: You must not allow him to speak to you in such a way. Supervisor Fiore: Don't worry about it. How are you holding up? SCP-8700-A: It pains my heart that she has been alone so long. She— Suddenly there is an extremely loud explosion behind them as a plume of lava and smoke can be seen erupting from the peak of Mt. Etna. The ground shakes, and emergency sirens can be heard sounding from neighbouring towns. The CAS-1 team exclaim and swear, turning back to face the mountain. Supervisor Fiore: Oh fuck! Shit! That can't be natural, not this close after an event, fuck! Supervisor Fiore withdraws his radio and SCP-8700-A rises to its feet. SCP-8700-A: It cannot be. Supervisor Fiore: Site-536 do you copy? What is the situation? CAS-1 Slade: Not fucking good, we need to go! CAS-1 Slade grabs Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A by their shirt collars and hurries them towards the covert containment vehicle. Bean enters the driver’s seat and starts the vehicle, while Deccoco takes the passenger seat. Salvatore is in the back, waving for Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A to hurry over. SCP-8700-A hurries into the mobile containment cell while Supervisor Fiore fastens it within its restraints. CAS-1 Slade takes his position and shuts the door. CAS-1 Salvatore: Go go go! CAS-1 Bean: Everybody hold on to something! SCP-8700-A: This is the work of the dragon. It must be. The vehicle skids its tires in the gravel before accelerating up the road towards Site-536. Supervisor Fiore continues attempting to establish communication with the site. Supervisor Fiore: I say again, this is 8700-A supervisory team, calling Site-536, Site-536 respond, over! CAS-1 Deccoco: Is it another event? CAS-1 Salvatore: We have to assume it is. Keep trying them, Ig. Weapons ready CAS team! CAS-1 Slade: The tin can secure? Put your damn seatbelt on, Sean. SCP-8700-A: Yes. CAS-1 Bean: Little busy at the moment! CAS-1 Salvatore: 8700-A is secure, just keep those eyes open for hostiles! CAS-1 Slade: Yes ma'am. Supervisor Fiore: Site-536 I repeat, this is 8700-A supervisory team, do you hear me? The radio emits static and sounds of gunfire and roaring can be heard. Cmdr. Bratt: <static> Back here NOW! <static> Under attack by <static> —ces, taken position <static> Tertiary defence zone. Distress signal cannot be <static> Need suppor— A loud roaring sound is heard over the radio, followed by an explosion. Gunfire and yelling voices can be heard for a few seconds before the signal is lost completely. Supervisor Fiore: Oh Jesus, oh fuck what's happening up there? SCP-8700-A: Release me, I will aid in the defence of the sword. CAS-1 Salvatore: Get your shit together, Ig, we're under attack and they need our help. Step on it Sean! CAS-1 Bean drives the supervisory team toward Site-536's transit bay at speed. CAS-1 Slade: Put these on, kid, and get ready to use your sidearm if you need to! CAS-1 Slade passes Supervisor Fiore a ballistic vest and helmet, who clumsily dons the equipment. Supervisor Fiore: Right, thanks CAS-1 Slade: Stay low, move fast, do as you're told and use 8700-A as cover. We'll keep you safe, don't you worry. CAS-1 Deccoco: Yeah, you got the big dogs looking out for you now, Fiore. You're probably the safest you ever been. CAS-1 Salvatore: Amen Dom. Everyone be ready to move fast. Release 8700-A's shackles now Ig. We might not have time later. Supervisor Fiore: Okay. CAS-1 Bean: What is that? Supervisor Fiore reaches for the remote containment device as the vehicle rounds a corner to make the final approach to Site-536's transit bay. The site entrance is within view through the rain with the doors open wide. Halfway between the vehicle and the transit bay are four large humanoid entities with glowing yellow eyes, dripping molten lava from the gaps in their torn clothing. They are armed and moving downhill towards the supervisory team. The largest entity is holding a forklift over its head. Supervisor Fiore: What's happening? CAS-1 Bean: Are those Foundation uniforms? CAS-1 Deccoco: Is that a fucking forklift!? The armed entities open fire upon the vehicle. CAS-1 Deccoco opens fire through his open window. Multiple bullets strike the closest entity, staggering it and leaving large puncture wounds that spill more molten lava onto the ground. The humanoid holding the forklift throws the vehicle at the Supervisory team. Supervisor Fiore: Sean, watch out! CAS-1 Bean: Hold on! CAS-1 Slade: Shit. The forklift impacts the transport with great force, causing the airbags to deploy and the containment release to be flung from Supervisor Fiore's hands. All present can be heard crying out amongst tremendous noise as the vehicle slams into one of the anomalous humanoids, pinning it between the vehicle and the ground as the wreck comes to a stop. One of the forklift's tynes has pierced the windshield of the transport and impaled CAS-1 Bean through the chest. He turns to look at the passengers before gasping and slumping in his seat. Gunfire can be heard impacting the vehicle from outside, and a fire breaks out from the pinned entity's body before entering through CAS-1 Deccoco's open window. Sizzling bolts of Ichneumon class lancer fire exacerbate this as they slam into the vehicle's armor plating. CAS-1 Salvatore: Sean! No! CAS-1 Deccoco: Multiple 8700-2 instances! Multiple instances! Elena hurry up, get them out of here! CAS-1 Deccoco continues to fire at the hostiles through his window. Supervisor Fiore is cradling his head and hunched in the back seat. CAS-1 Salvatore shakes him by the shoulders as CAS-1 Slade rips his helmet off, dropping it onto the floor of the vehicle in two broken fragments. CAS-1 Salvatore: Get up Ig, get up! We're taking cover behind the car, and we're getting inside, move out Roy's door, now! Go! SCP-8700-A: Get to safety, I shall extract myself. Send these foul beasts to their doom. CAS-1 Slade slides his door open and exits the vehicle, laying down suppressive fire as he does so. CAS-1 Deccoco also lays down suppressing fire through his window as Supervisor Fiore and CAS-1 Salvatore follow CAS-1 Slade out of the vehicle. CAS-1 Deccoco follows shortly after as the vehicle is engulfed in flames. Supervisor Fiore: What about 8700-A? CAS-1 Slade: Don't worry about that now. It said it's fine. Get your gun out and get down! CAS-1 Deccoco: Focus on that tall piece of shit at 3 o'clock, it’s got a lancer! CAS-1 Slade: On it, Salvatore cover us! The CAS-1 team lays down a line of fire, using the burning vehicle as cover. Supervisor Fiore huddles at their feet with his pistol drawn. The SCP-8700-2 entity wielding the Ichneumon class lancer attempts to fire on CAS-1 Deccoco, but is hit multiple times by CAS-1 Salvatore's suppressing fire. CAS-1 Deccoco simultaneously concentrates fire on the entity, causing it to stagger to its knees and molten lava to burst out of its chest cavity before violently combusting. The closest SCP-8700-2 entity is thrown to the ground by the explosion, its left arm being traumatically amputated in the process. The third entity roars and emits a blast of flame at the supervisory team, further engulfing the wrecked vehicle and pinned SCP-8700-2 instance. CAS-1 Slade: Get back, it can't hold much longer! Supervisor Fiore: Oh fuck, shit, Oh fuck! CAS-1 Salvatore: Move, Ig! CAS-1 Salvatore grabs Supervisor Fiore by the collar and rapidly moves away from the burning wreck as CAS-1 Deccoco and CAS-1 Slade lay down suppressing fire, hitting the SCP-8700-2 instance numerous times. The forklift's rear quarters then explode violently, causing the pinned SCP-8700-2 instance to also detonate, shifting the wreckage and exposing the supervisory team to incoming fire. CAS-1 Slade is hit in the left arm and chest by a blast of fire emitted from the entity's mouth, but is able to dive into cover quickly. Thumping noises can be heard emanating from within the transport vehicle. CAS-1 Deccoco and CAS-1 Salvatore both fire upon the standing SCP-8700-2 instance, perforating it with numerous bullets and causing it to detonate as it collapses to the ground while Supervisor Fiore rapidly smothers the flames on CAS-1 Slade's clothing with his jacket. Before they can react, the downed SCP-8700-2 instance opens fire on the supervisory team. While they are not hit, they are forced into cover within a ditch on the side of the road. The SCP-8700-2 instance approaches the team, molten lava pouring from its wounds, but pauses and looks towards the flaming wreckage as SCP-8700-A partially emerges through its rear panel. The SCP-8700-2 instance roars and redirects its fire at SCP-8700-A. Supervisor Fiore: Over here! We're here! CAS-1 Deccoco: Shut the fuck up and move! CAS-1 Deccoco and CAS-1 Slade grab Supervisor Fiore under his arms and haul him back into cover behind the burning vehicle, while CAS-1 Salvatore lays down suppressing fire. The SCP-8700-2 entity roars once again and attempt to return fire. SCP-8700-A manages to pull itself free of the wreckage before turning and thrusting its arms back into the burning vehicle and retrieving a sheared off axle. Ignoring the incoming fire from the SCP-8700-2 instance, SCP-8700-A throws the broken axle at the entity, impaling it through the neck and chest, causing it to combust. SCP-8700-A: Disgusting wretch. CAS-1 Slade: Fucking hell. Supervisor Fiore: Sean… CAS-1 Deccoco: What the fuck is this, why are there multiple 8700-2's out here? What the fuck is going on? CAS-1 Salvatore: We'll figure it out later, right now we need to get Guts here between these fucking things and 8700. Supervisor Fiore: How? Those things just killed Sean! Even if we make it there's no way we get there in time! CAS-1 Deccoco: Shut the fuck up. SCP-8700-A approaches the supervisory team, ripping the flaming debris and clothing from itself. It places a hand on Supervisor Fiore's shoulder before pounding its chest with its free hand. SCP-8700-A: Take heart, Ignatius. This is a time where you must be brave. I am with you. CAS-1 Deccoco: I don't like the fucking thing but the tin can's right, Fiore. We got no choice. CAS-1 Salvatore: Let's go, you can do this, Ig. Do it so Sean didn't die for nothing. Supervisor Fiore: Alright. I'm in. I'll get him there. CAS-1 Slade: <Handing the Ichneumon class lancer to Supervisor Fiore> Take this and stay close to me alright kid? You're going to make it through this in one piece so long as there ain't no more forklifts for them to toss at us. SCP-8700-A points at the transit bay, making a rolling hand gesture to the supervisory squad. SCP-8700-A: We cannot delay. CAS-1 Salvatore: Agreed, hurry up and get moving! 8700-A take point and cover us! The surviving supervisory team members move rapidly uphill towards the transit bay, taking cover behind SCP-8700-A as they go, leaving the burning wreckage behind them. [END LOG] At the Tertiary Defence Zone Cmdr. Bratt has completed fortifying the area and has MTF agents flooding the kill zone with water cannons in anticipation of an assault by Director Eddings and the secondary SCP-8700-2 instances. A total of 28 MTF and Site-536 personnel man the defences, with many of them wounded from the prior Excalibur Event. SCP-8700-2 Alpha enters the kill zone, holding a large slab of defensive plating ripped from a wall as a shield for itself. Steam billows from its body as it makes contact with the water, obscuring its form other than its luminescent gold eyes. It has mutated further, now displaying a pair of rudimentary wings and measuring approximately 4 metres tall. Dozens of secondary SCP-8700-2 instances rush into the kill zone ahead of it, opening fire with both conventional and Ichneumon class weaponry. A fire-fight erupts, with both sides sustaining early losses. SCP-8700-2 Alpha provides support to the secondary instances by firing streams of molten lava at the defensive positions and taunting the defenders verbally. Despite this, the defences remain strong and the MTF units are able to terminate multiple secondary instances in rapid succession. Elsewhere in the site, secondary SCP-8700-2 instances standing guard can be seen engaging in acts of cannibalism. Others are seen hunting down surviving site staff as they flee to emergency shelters or hoarding valuable items on their person. Site security guard Max Kazimir is seen to neutralise a SCP-8700-2 instance in defence of a group of 36 site staff members, but is captured and subjected to torture by two other instances before being killed. The instances then proceed to attempt to gain entry into Emergency Shelter 19-B in pursuit of the staff, but are unsuccessful. [END LOG] The supervisory team enters Site-536's transit bay with SCP-8700-A. Klaxons are blaring, bathing the area in orange light. A trail of solidified lava leads further into the site through an open door past the parked Foundation transport vehicles. CAS-1 Deccoco leads, using SCP-8700-A as mobile cover, and is followed by CAS-1 Salvatore, Supervisor Fiore and CAS-1 Slade bringing up the rear. Supervisor Fiore grabs a broom from a shelf as they pass and CAS-1 Salvatore closes the exterior doors. CAS-1 Slade: What's that for? Supervisor Fiore: So I can keep them at a distance. CAS-1 Slade: You got strange priorities, Ig. SCP-8700-A: You would be better served by your firearm. CAS-1 Salvatore: Quiet! Entering the corridor now. CAS-1 Deccoco: Taking point. Stay in front of me, tin man. CAS-1 Deccoco enters the corridor through the open door, using SCP-8700-A as cover, followed by the rest of the team. The corridor is empty save for a number of snakes on the ground. CAS-1 Salvatore: Ignore them, Dom. Don't give our presence away. CAS-1 Slade: If 8700-A clanking about hasn't already. Supervisor Fiore: He's not that loud. CAS-1 Deccoco: So it's "he" now? Not very professional, Ig. SCP-8700-A: I am a man. Supervisor Fiore: Suck my an— Deep pitched laughter is heard from around the corner along with banging and scratching sounds. CAS-1 Deccoco uses his phone camera to peer around the corner, sighting a group of three SCP-8700-2 secondary instances attempting to burrow through an emergency shelter door further down the corridor. They are more mutated than previous instances, all standing above 2 metres in height with numerous mutations present on their bodies. CAS-1 Deccoco: Contact, three hostiles, I can't see friendlies but it’s hard to tell. CAS-1 Slade: We'll have to blitz ‘em. CAS-1 Salvatore: I'd rather not risk friendlies. Still, don't see much other choice. Supervisor Fiore: Wait, 8700-A could get them out of the way couldn't it? Then you could see if there's people. CAS-1 Slade: Nice thinking, kid. CAS-1 Salvatore: Can you do that, 8700-A? SCP-8700-A nods, gesturing impatiently for Supervisor Fiore to pass it the broom. He does. SCP-8700-A: Should it not endanger our brethren, I might hold them still enough for you to use your holy hand grenade to smite our foes. Supervisor Fiore: It's just called a hand grenade 8700-A… God, I wanted to be in a position to laugh when that came up. CAS-1 Salvatore: Alright, do it. Deccoco, you're first through, then me and Ig, Slade, you cover the rear. Go! SCP-8700-A charges around the corner with a loud yell, sprinting down the hallway and violently tackling two of the SCP-8700-2 instances to the ground. CAS-1 Deccoco follows and lays down a line of fire directed at the third entity, which is standing over a wounded Dr. Jennifer Ward, who is attempting to reach the emergency shelter. One SCP-8700-2 instance frees itself from SCP-8700-A's grasp and attempts to attack CAS-1 Deccoco but is intercepted by more fire from CAS-1 Salvatore and Supervisor Fiore. SCP-8700-A continuously pummels the downed SCP-8700-2 instance with its fists before grabbing the broom from the ground and bludgeoning the instance to death with it, shielding the Supervisory team and Dr. Ward from the resultant detonation with its body before moving to engage the remaining entities. CAS-1 Deccoco smashes the closest SCP-8700-2 instance in its face with the butt of his weapon before firing a long burst into the back of its neck, causing a shower of blood and molten lava to spray into the air and onto his face. The supervisory team retreats around the corner into the transit bay to avoid the detonation. In the transit bay a fourth SCP-8700-2 entity has emerged from a utility bay and is approaching the team from behind. CAS-1 Deccoco: Roy, behind you! CAS-1 Slade: Wha— CAS-1 Deccoco: ROY NO! CAS-1 Slade is impaled from behind by the SCP-8700-2 instance, its hand emerging from the centre of his chest in a shower of blood. The entity begins biting at CAS-1 Slade's neck and consuming his flesh. CAS-1 Slade attempts to vocalise but can only gurgle and choke, drawing his combat knife and stabbing the entity twice before succumbing to his injuries as he combusts from his proximity to the SCP-8700-2 instance. CAS-1 Salvatore, CAS-1 Deccoco and Supervisor Fiore all open fire on the entity, rapidly neutralising it as the third instance rounds the corner only to be restrained by SCP-8700-A. CAS-1 Deccoco: Kill the fucking thing, Ig. CAS-1 Salvatore: Roy you poor man. SCP-8700-A holds the SCP-8700-2 instance still as Supervisor Fiore opens fire on it. SCP-8700-A redirects it against the wall to limit the damage of its combustion, before moving to escort Dr. Ward to the emergency shelter. SCP-8700-A We must make haste. CAS-1 Deccoco: Shut the fuck up you tin can piece of shit! <CAS-1 Deccoco wipes blood from his mouth and spits on the ground. His skin is red and flushed.> We just lost friends because of you! Because of fucking Eddings breaking the god damn rules and letting you out on a fucking day trip! CAS-1 Salvatore: Dominic, come on. CAS-1 Deccoco: No you shut the fuck up too! I'm sick of this shit! CAS-1 Salvatore: Don't talk to me like that, this isn't like you. CAS-1 Deccoco: I said SHUT UP! <CAS-1 Deccoco's eyes have become bloodshot, with his irises turning yellow.> Supervisor Fiore: Hey man, come on, we just need to— CAS-1 Deccoco: Do what bitch!? You're too chickenshit to do anything but sit behind a desk and now you wanna be big man? <CAS-1 Deccoco aims his weapon at Supervisor Fiore.> You get yourself a magic fucking gun and now you're the boss? Fuck you. CAS-1 Salvatore rapidly disarms CAS-1 Deccoco and throws him to the ground, pinning him there. CAS-1 Salvatore: Dominic, that is enough! CAS-1 Deccoco grabs CAS-1 Salvatore by the wrists and strains against her, overpowering and flipping her. He straddles CAS-1 Salvatore and begins shaking her violently, slamming her head into the ground repeatedly. Smoke emerges from his mouth and beneath his clothing as ichthyosis rapidly forms across his face. CAS-1 Salvatore: Please no, not you Dom… CAS-1 Deccoco screams incoherently and snaps CAS-1 Salvatore's wrist, causing an open fracture. CAS-1 Salvatore screams in pain, and Supervisor Fiore fires on CAS-1 Deccoco, striking his flank with the Ichneumon class lancer. CAS-1 Deccoco roars and begins to stand, raising his weapon towards Supervisor Fiore before being shot numerous times in the torso by CAS-1 Salvatore. Molten lava pours from his wounds onto CAS-1 Salvatore's leg, burning her severely as she rolls away. Supervisor Fiore helps her to her feet as they sprint for the corridor. CAS-1 Deccoco's body detonates as SCP-8700-A enters the room. The emergency shelter can be seen opening behind it. SCP-8700-A: What happened? CAS-1 Salvatore: That wasn't him. Supervisor Fiore: I know. CAS-1 Salvatore: It wasn't him. It wasn't him. Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A escort CAS-1 Salvatore to the emergency shelter. There are 27 Foundation staff visible, and a field hospital has been erected within the shelter. Dr. Ward is being treated for her wounds within the hospital section. No combat trained staff can be seen within the shelter. The survivors within can be heard discussing what has happened as they pass. Dr. Greddock: Put her down here! Quickly! SCP-8700-A lifts CAS-1 Salvatore up and places her into a triage bed. Supervisor Fiore follows. Supervisor Fiore: Will she be okay? Dr. Greddock: She'll have to be, just get that monstrosity out of my hospital. SCP-8700-A: We must make haste. Supervisor Fiore: I don't understand. What's going on? Dr. Greddock: I don't know, some kind of infection, Bratt's taken the MTFs to the tertiary defence zone and put out a distress call to all nearby sites, but no idea when help will get here. There's a lot more of those fucking things out there. Junior Researcher Darling: Dr. Cassandra said that 8700-1 wasn't stopping after the event. She thought it was still underway, and now look what happened! The AIC's destroyed and we're fucked! Dr. Greddock: Shut up and settle down, that's not helping. CAS-1 Salvatore: Go, Ig. Get 8700-A to the sword. Don't let this get worse. Supervisor Fiore: But— CAS-1 Salvatore: NOW! Someone has to get him to that sword before Bratt's overrun, and you're the only one able to move that has clearance! Supervisor Fiore hesitates before sighing heavily and nodding. SCP-8700-A is standing by the door making impatient gestures. Supervisor Fiore: I will, Elena. This won't have been for nothing. CAS-1 Salvatore: Keep him safe, 8700-A. Now take these and get going, hurry! I'll keep in contact with you, just go! CAS-1 Salvatore passes supervisor Fiore her grenade belt and radio before shoving him towards the exit. SCP-8700-A grabs his arm and pulls him out into the hallway as the door slides shut behind them. They hurry through the corridor, dodging snakes and lizards crawling through the site as they go. Distant gunfire can be heard further within the site, and clouds of gas waft through the air. Supervisor Fiore: Jesus Christ, this can't be happening, what the fuck… SCP-8700-A: Blasphemy is a sin. Supervisor Fiore: I'll fucking worry about that later alright? I just had to shoot my friend! SCP-8700-A: It was no longer your friend. Take heart. Supervisor Fiore: I'm so sorry Elena, I know— CAS-1 Salvatore: [Via radio] Shut the fuck up Ig. I'm not talking about that. Just get to the damn sword. Supervisor Fiore: Sorry. Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A round a bend as they approach the mess hall. There are dead bodies, rubble and small fires strewn about the hall, along with seven SCP-8700-2 instances guarding the hallway, with one of them feeding on the corpse of Containment Supervisor Ferruccio Cipollone. They turn to look at Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A for a moment, brandishing weapons and roaring. SCP-8700-A hurriedly retrieves a fire axe from a wall cabinet as it advances on the entities. SCP-8700-A: Get behind me. Supervisor Fiore: Oh FUCK. CAS-1 Salvatore: What is it? Supervisor Fiore: There's seven of the fucking things between us and the mess hall. CAS-1 Salvatore: Throw a grenade then hang back and let 8700-A handle them. Cover it when you have clear shots and keep your head down. SCP-8700-A and the SCP-8700-2 instances charge towards one another, brandishing their weapons. The SCP-8700-2 instances roar and laugh as they approach, jostling for position in the narrow corridor and firing their weapons. Bullets ricochet from SCP-8700-A as it charges. Supervisor Fiore tosses a hand grenade over SCP-8700-A's head, past the crowd of SCP-8700-2 instances before ducking down and rapidly moving backwards, hyperventilating. SCP-8700-A shoves the lead instance back with the haft of the fire axe as the grenade explodes, followed by a howl and a second detonation as an SCP-8700-2 entity in the rear is terminated. SCP-8700-A knocks an Ichneumon class lancer from the hands of an SCP-8700-2 instance before terminating a second with three blows from its axe, lodging it in the entity's head and kicking its body back towards the others where it detonates. The disarmed instance tackles SCP-8700-A into the wall, damaging it, as another SCP-8700-2 instance runs towards Supervisor Fiore. SCP-8700-A kicks out at the entity's knee, causing it to collapse to the ground as another instance fires on SCP-8700-A with an Ichneumon class lancer. SCP-8700-A reels back and lets out a pained grunt, going limp for a moment before attempting to fight back, drawing a combat knife from a sheath on the chest rig of one of the SCP-8700-2 instances and repeatedly stabbing the entity, pinning it against the wall in the face. Supervisor Fiore: Not you too… Supervisor Fiore opens fire upon the SCP-8700-2 entities with his Ichneumon class lancer, causing them to stagger back from SCP-8700-A. The entities roar and scream, but press on with their attack. Though staggered, SCP-8700-A capitalises on the opportunity, kneeing one instance in the jaw before retrieving the mostly melted combat knife and embedding it into another instance's throat, flinging a third instance towards Supervisor Fiore as it attempts to reload its weapon. The entity raises itself from the ground before breathing a jet of flame at SCP-8700-A. Supervisor Fiore retreats further and fires upon it numerous times, causing it to detonate. SCP-8700-A is able to use the distraction to crush another instance's head against the wall with its fist, causing another detonation. SCP-8700-A: Courage, Ignatius, We have them. The three remaining SCP-8700-2 instances rush towards SCP-8700-A, firing streams of molten lava from their mouths and eyes. Supervisor Fiore continues to fire the Ichneumon class lancer at the entities, disarming one of them. SCP-8700-A is tackled and slammed into the floor, cracking the cement. The instance straddles SCP-8700-A and rains punches upon it, with deflected blows sinking wrist deep into the concrete floor. A second instance is kicked back into the mess hall as the third rushes Supervisor Fiore, only be driven back by lancer fire. SCP-8700-A grabs the SCP-8700-2 entity on top of it and gouges at its eyes, driving it back, before grabbing a discarded assault rifle and bludgeoning the entity to death. Its detonation knocks SCP-8700-A and the SCP-8700-2 instance to the ground, while Supervisor Fiore fires upon the entity approaching from the mess hall. SCP-8700-A pounces upon the downed SCP-8700-2 instance and repeatedly bludgeons it with its fists, pausing to retrieve a discarded firearm and throw it at the advancing entity, knocking it down. Supervisor Fiore: Oh Francis… SCP-8700-A: That is no longer Francis, it is an abomination wearing his flesh. Getting to its feet, SCP-8700-A repeatedly stomps the SCP-8700-2 entity's head with its foot, before rushing into the mess hall towards the last SCP-8700-2 instance as the previous entity detonates, leaving the hallway ruined and full of rubble. Supervisor Fiore follows SCP-8700-A into the mess hall before firing upon the entity with his lancer. SCP-8700-A rushes the entity and impales it through the chest with its fist before flinging it across the room towards a toppled drink dispenser cart where it detonates. Supervisor Fiore stares back at the hallway from which they came, while SCP-8700-A approaches the mess hall emergency shelter, dripping with blood. SCP-8700-A: Open the gate. It is safe now. Supervisor Fiore: I knew him. CAS-1 Salvatore: What? Who? Ig are you alright? Ignatius? Supervisor Fiore: Stephens… The guard I just shot. I knew him. Liked him. CAS-1 Salvatore: I… Like Dom… You… Ig I need you need to stay on task. You need to keep moving. What's 8700-A doing? Supervisor Fiore: I don't know. Writing something I think. SCP-8700-A: Why do you not answer? Can you not hear me? SCP-8700-A is using the SCP-8700-2 entity's blood to write a message on the floor within view of the emergency shelters camera system. It reads "I need a weapon." Supervisor Fiore: It's asking for a weapon. From the shelter. CAS-1 Salvatore: Go see if there’s anyone inside. Send them back here where it’s safer. Supervisor Fiore: Right, yes. Okay. Supervisor Fiore approaches the emergency shelter, standing beside SCP-8700-A. The door has remained closed and is heavily burnt and scratched. Supervisor Fiore: Hello? Are there any survivors inside? The intercom activates. Research Assistant Hopper: Is it safe? We barely made it in here. The monsters, they were going to get in and we had to shut the door, we had no choice. Is that thing with you? Supervisor Fiore: Slow down, It’s alright. They’re gone now. We need to get you out of there. The shelter at the transit bay is safer for you right now. SCP-8700-A nudges Supervisor Fiore and points to its message on the ground. SCP-8700-A: They will not heed my words. Supervisor Fiore: And weapons. We need weapons. Any help you can give us. Research Assistant Hopper: Do you have medicine? We're hurt bad here. We need help. Supervisor Fiore: No, but the transit bay shelter has set up a field hospital. The path there is clear. We really need to hurry here, Hopper. Research Assistant Hopper: Alright. We're coming out. Charlie, get Dr Triandafelidis ready to move, will you? The emergency shelter door hisses, and slides open. Inside there are six survivors: Research assistant Mike Hopper, custodian Valeria Lunerti, Dr. Manuel Triandafelidis, kitchen assistant Charlie Bullock, research assistant Monica Ventruella and containment engineer John Lewis. Most are wounded, particularly Dr. Triandafelidis. They are all armed. CAS-1 Salvatore: We have medicine and medical staff. Come to us as fast as you can. Research Assistant Hopper: You're sure that thing is safe? It's not like them? SCP-8700-A: I am nothing like them. Valeria Lunerti: I'll get them to the shelter. You've cleared the way? SCP-8700-A nods and accepts the halligan bar14 offered by Lunerti. Dr. Triandafelidis: You need to hurry. Commander Bratt took everyone to the tertiary defence zone. I don't know how long they'll last without help. Supervisor Fiore: Bratt has put out a distress signal, but we don't know when help will arrive. You need to go, please. SCP-8700-A: You cannot delay, we must reach the sword before the dragon's children do. CAS-1 Salvatore: Good work everyone, let’s go. Research assistant Hopper helps Dr. Triandafelidis out of the shelter. The survivors evacuate the area, headed for the transport bay shelter. Supervisor Fiore sits heavily on a chair, running his hands through his hair and hyperventilating as soon as they are out of sight. SCP-8700-A: What are you doing? We cannot delay. I must retrieve my blade and destroy the dragon's child. Supervisor Fiore: He was my friend, 8700-A. I just shot two of my friends. SCP-8700-A: They were no longer your friends. It was the wyrm that killed them. Not you. Supervisor Fiore: Well their blood's still on my fucking hands isn't it!? First Dom and then Francis! I'm not strong enough for this! SCP-8700-A: Yes you are. It is not the might of one's arm that is of value. It is your heart. <SCP-8700-A taps its finger on Supervisor Fiore's chest.> In the court of the dragon you will know your worth. I believe that worth is great indeed. Perhaps greater than you know. Supervisor Fiore: But how do I live with myself after? <Supervisor Fiore stares at his hands.> I've never shot anyone before. I never wanted to, and now everything's different. I'm different. I'm not me anymore. SCP-8700-A: Only the weak believe that what they do in battle is who they are as men. It is not who you are. Supervisor Fiore wipes his eyes and looks up at SCP-8700-A. Supervisor Fiore: Really? SCP-8700-A: Yes. And with each passing day that burden will ease as you realise this. Come. SCP-8700-A offers its hand to Supervisor Fiore. It is charred, blackened with soot and blood soaked. Supervisor Fiore takes the hand and is helped up. The pair then hurry towards the armory. [END LOG] At the Tertiary Defence Zone multiple water cannons and artillery weapons have been disabled by the SCP-8700-2 instances. The kill zone has suffered extreme damage from the multiple detonations caused by the instance's termination, but they continue to storm into the area. SCP-8700-2 Alpha has undergone further mutation, now standing seven metres tall at the shoulder, adopting a hunched, crocodilian posture and firing high pressure streams of molten lava at the defences. 22 personnel remain in fighting condition as they continue to defend the tertiary defence zone under Cmdr. Bratt's leadership. Cmdr. Bratt: Margheriti, run this to the east flank, they need support! Cpl. Margheriti: Got it! Cpl. Margheriti takes the Ichneumon class heavy lancer and sprints through the transport trench towards the east flank. The air is filled with small arms fire, lancer fire and bursts of flame as the battle continues above. Cpl. Margheriti emerges at the east flank command post in time to see a large chunk of structural concrete slam into a howitzer station, with an SCP-8700-2 instance immediately attempting to enter through the damaged section and being knocked back by lancer fire. Cpl. Margheriti runs to the gunner's tower, climbing the ladder and emerging on the top. Cpl. Margheriti: Sgt. Susta, I've been sent to support you, don't shoot me! Cpl. Margheriti moves to take position, but hesitates as Sgt. Susta drops her weapon and clutches her head. SCP-8700-2 Alpha can be seen below staring at the Sgt. and speaking rapidly, but is unable to be heard from this distance. Sgt. Susta falls to her knees as her eyes begin to emit a golden glow and large horns rapidly emerge from the sides of her head as she falls from the tower into the east flank defensive line. Cpl. Margheriti: Oh, Jesus no. Cpl. Margheriti opens fire into the masses of SCP-8700-2 entities, terminating many of them as they place their bodies between the corporal's fire and the primary entity. The sound of gunfire from below grows quieter before Cpl. Margheriti looks down to investigate, where several MTF combatants can be seen undergoing the same process as Sgt. Susta. The sergeant can be seen below completing its transformation into an SCP-8700-2 entity and launching an attack on those around her. Cpl. Margheriti seals the entry hatch to the gunner's tower and opens fire on the affected individuals. The newly formed SCP-8700-2 instances spread within the east flank, forcing it to be abandoned by Cmdr. Bratt. It is flooded with water cannons and redesignated a hostile zone. With increasing numbers of SCP-8700-2 instances pressing their attack, the primary instance directs more of those equipped with Ichneumon class lancers back towards the armory, before launching an attack via the now fallen east flank. Cpl. Margheriti throws his last grenade into the masses of SCP-8700-2 entities and fires indiscriminately at the crowd below. SCP-8700-2 Alpha can be seen leading an attack on the western flank, throwing a destroyed howitzer at the western gun tower. Cpl. Margheriti fires upon the instance, but is interrupted as an SCP-8700-2 instance claws its way through the gun tower access panel, grabbing his leg. He fires upon the entity, terminating it and attempting to kick its body loose from the tower. He is unsuccessful. Cpl. Margheriti: Figlio di puttana… The detonation of the SCP-8700-2 instance's body destroys the eastern gun tower, leaving the entire eastern flank overrun. SCP-8700-2 Alpha roars and emits a high pressure jet of molten lava at the western flank's defences before multiple MTF combatants eyes begin to glow yellow and numerous SCP-8700-2 instances begin to scale the walls. [END LOG] Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A make their way over the bridge spanning the chasm between the modern and historic portions of Site-536. They take cover behind a partially destroyed defensive position as they approach the battlements of the historic site, having spotted a pair of SCP-8700-2 entities equipped with Ichneumon class weaponry manning them. The cavern lighting system has been damaged, plunging the space into darkness. SCP-8700-A nudges multiple snakes over the edge of the bridge with its feet as they approach Supervisor Fiore. The sounds of the battle in the tertiary defence zone echo towards them. Supervisor Fiore: You don't need to hurt them all, just get the venomous ones out of the way. SCP-8700-A: I care not. Things that crawl on their bellies are the image of the wyrm and its servants. Supervisor Fiore: I have leg guards on, it's fine. SCP-8700-A: You have kindness in your heart. You must steel it for the battle to come. Supervisor Fiore: I know, I know. Give me a second to line up a shot alright? I'm checking the distance from here to the towers. CAS-1 Salvatore: Use the rangefinder in the sight. It'll turn green when you have a clean shot. SCP-8700-A: Battlements. Not towers. Supervisor Fiore: Whatever, I'm doing it. I'm just saying, I've done alright so far. You said so yourself. Never underestimate a Sicilian when death is on the line, you know? CAS-1 Salvatore: Nerd. SCP-8700-A: That play is sinful and nonsensical, you should not take lessons from it. Supervisor Fiore: They're called films, not plays. SCP-8700-A: I care not. Enough bravado, you are adequately prepared. Supervisor Fiore: Deccoco said it could help, but I don't think it does. Even though they're not who they used to be, it still doesn't feel right to shoot them. CAS-1 Salvatore: That worked for him, not you, Ig. Just get through this, and if you're really that fucked up afterwards you can get amnesticised later. SCP-8700-A: You must. Time escapes us. I cannot protect you if they use their sorcery on me. SCP-8700-A gestures to the Ichneumon class lancer in Supervisor Fiore's hands. There is a series of three loud cracking and sizzling sounds as Fiore fires the weapon, hitting the SCP-8700-2 entity manning the east battlement. It cries out as it falls into the chasm below, before detonating as it impacts the ground. The second SCP-8700-2 instance roars and opens fire on their position. SCP-8700-A: A fine hit. Force it to cower, I shall advance. Supervisor Fiore: <nodding and wiping his eyes.> Just like we planned. CAS-1 Salvatore: Just breathe, Ig. Breathe and spray at the tower. Supervisor Fiore nods and raises the weapon out of cover, laying down a line of fire at the battlements and forcing the SCP-8700-2 instance into cover. SCP-8700-A begins to sprint down the bridge, taking cover as Fiore calls out his reloads. This continues until SCP-8700-A enters the gatehouse. Supervisor Fiore continues to fire at the battlement until the SCP-8700-2 instance cries out loudly before a detonation is heard. SCP-8700-A clangs its now partially melted halligan bar against itself, making a loud banging sound. CAS-1 Salvatore: That the signal? Move up, Ig. Supervisor Fiore: I am. I think 8700-A took its head off. CAS-1 Salvatore: Just remember you're in control here, Ig. If it threatens you, tries to leave, anything other than helps you, hit that button. It's not your friend. Supervisor Fiore: I know, I know. SCP-8700-A meets Supervisor Fiore at the gatehouse. No SCP-8700-2 entities are present, allowing them to press onward towards the armory. SCP-8700-A: Are you harmed? Supervisor Fiore: I'm alright. Were you hit? SCP-8700-A: No, but I am experiencing a degree of weakness still from earlier. The sorcery in those weapons is fell indeed. We must avoid it. Supervisor Fiore: Yeah, they're— Oh shit what the fuck! CAS-1 Salvatore: What is it? Ig, what's happening? As they enter the ransacked armory mounds of corpses can be seen piled along the walls, showing signs of torture and execution. Supervisor Fiore gags before bending over double and vomiting on the floor. A large komodo dragon (Varanus komodoensis) emerges from a cabinet, making its way towards a mound and seizing the leg of an unidentified researcher in its jaws, tugging on it. SCP-8700-A: Monstrous. I shall slay the beast. Supervisor Fiore: Oh god. It's a massacre, Elena… Piles of bodies everywhere, burned up. Fucking hell, it smells like pork. There’s a lizard the size of my car here. CAS-1 Salvatore: So fucking hold your breath and shoot it. Get a gas mask on and hurry up. Don't think about it, just do! As SCP-8700-A moves to stab the lizard, a deep rumble is heard within the mound of bodies. A large mass underneath moves violently, pulling the unidentified body and komodo dragon away from SCP-8700-A and dislodging the bodies resting atop it, revealing the mass to be an estuarine crocodile (Crocodylus porosus). The komodo dragon briefly attempts to drag the body away from the larger animal, but quickly relents and is grabbed by SCP-8700-A, who tosses the lizard across the room, causing it to flee towards the guardhouse and out of sight. SCP-8700-A then proceeds to impale the crocodile through the head with the halligan tool. Supervisor Fiore: FUCK! SCP-8700-A: Come. It is safe. CAS-1 Salvatore: What is it? Ig, you need to talk to me, tell me what’s happening. Supervisor Fiore: There was a fucking crocodile. That hasn't happened since 2012, what the fuck? CAS-1 Salvatore: You have a gun Ig, you're more dangerous than any animal. Get armed up and get the tin can to the sword. Do what what's his name does, show me you're not left handed. Supervisor Fiore: I am though. CAS-1 Salvatore: What? Supervisor Fiore: I am left handed, though. CAS-1 Salvatore. Whatever. Just grab the rheinmetall and some class-A armor. It's the best shit we got for resisting heat and impact. Supervisor Fiore: Rain what? CAS-1 Salvatore: Rheinmetall. It’s a grenade launcher. Next to the sniper rifles. Supervisor Fiore: Alright. I see it. Supervisor Fiore follows SCP-8700-A into the armory, retrieving a set of Class-A heat resistant body armor, respirator and grenade launcher as they move. Fiore equips the armor plates before continuing on. Supervisor Fiore: SCP-8700-A1 will be in the locker at the end of the corridor. I'll scan my ID and we'll go meet up with Commander Bratt. SCP-8700-A nods before heading around the corner, and is immediately hit with multiple large calibre rounds. It ducks back around the corner as Ichneumon class lancer fire burns through the air, narrowly missing it. SCP-8700-A: Two of them. They have a sorcerous weapon <SCP-8700-A sighs>. Deploy a holy hand grenade at them so I might advance. Supervisor Fiore: I'm not hit, I'm ok. CAS-1 Salvatore: Good. Keep low, let the tin can do the work. You toss a grenade and hang back. Supervisor Fiore tosses a grenade around the corner and the SCP-8700-2 instances can be heard yelling in alarm before it detonates. SCP-8700-A charges around the corner, screaming, as Fiore covers it from behind. Both SCP-8700-2 instances have been knocked to the ground by the grenade, with one having lost its legs and the other an arm. SCP-8700-A impales the remnants of the halligan bar into one instance's head before turning and disarming the second as the first instance detonates. SCP-8700-A: See how they crumble before us, my friend? You are more capable than you believed. Supervisor Fiore: I guess s— SCP-8700-A: NO! Supervisor Fiore cries out in pain as he is suddenly struck from behind with great force, shattering the central plate of his armor unit, and thrown into a shelving unit by a previously unnoticed SCP-8700-2 instance, causing him to drop his weaponry. The entity is covered in blood and scraps of flesh hanging from its teeth, brandishing a set of long talons at Fiore as it approaches him. It raises an arm and slashes at Fiore, but is interrupted by a sudden and prolonged burst of gunfire ripping through its body as SCP-8700-A advances upon it, holding a smoking LMG in its hand. SCP-8700-A: Unhand him you foul beast! CAS-1 Salvatore: Ig!? Fiore, what's happening!? Ignatius, respond! What's happening!? Supervisor Fiore covers his head with his arms and cries out as SCP-8700-A charges the SCP-8700-2 entity, leaping over debris and tackling the entity away from Fiore. The SCP-8700-2 entity roars and fires a blast of molten lava into SCP-8700-A's torso and head, splashing the surrounding room and Fiore, who is protected by his armor. SCP-8700-A proceeds to bludgeon the entity to death before diving over Fiore as it detonates. CAS-1 Salvatore: Ig! Ig, answer me! Please respond, please! Supervisor Fiore: I'm burning! Fuck! Oh god, it’s on me! It's hot! CAS-1 Salvatore: Ig! Are you injured!? Ig! SCP-8700-A stands, examines Supervisor Fiore before grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him before briefly embracing him. SCP-8700-A: You are whole. You are safe. It did not penetrate the armor. Supervisor Fiore: I am? It didn't get me? SCP-8700-A shakes its head and brusquely pulls Fiore to his feet, tugging him towards the locker housing SCP-8700-A1. Supervisor Fiore: How… You… When did you… SCP-8700-A looks from the LMG to Fiore. SCP-8700-A: I have observed your men at arms for near on 80 years. I was unsure of the sorcery powering the weapon, but was able to imitate the necessary actions to summon forth its power. Supervisor Fiore stares at SCP-8700-A Supervisor Fiore: What the fuck… CAS-1 Salvatore: It didn't get you? What does that mean!? God dammit Fiore, respond! Supervisor Fiore: I— I think I'm alright. 8700-A saved me. I was scared, it was spraying lava around and I thought it got me. CAS-1 Salvatore: Jesus Christ, Ig, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Supervisor Fiore: [Crying] Me too. Fuck, me too. Supervisor Fiore wipes his eyes and scans his identification in the receptacle, opening the locker. SCP-8700-A immediately retrieves its weapon, an ornate steel longsword engraved with draconic imagery. CAS-1 Salvatore: You're nearly there. It's almost over. Just one more push and it’s over, alright? I'm proud of you, Ig. We all are. Faint cheering and words of encouragement can be heard through the radio. CAS-1 Salvatore: You see, Ig? We all believe in you. SCP-8700-A: They are right to do so. You must believe in yourself, Ignatius. Supervisor Fiore smiles sadly and picks up his weapons, clearing his throat and breathing deeply. Supervisor Fiore: Thanks guys. Really. <Fiore takes a deep breath.> Fuck it. Let's do this. If I don't make it out of this, look after my cat for me, Elena. Her name is Foo-Foo-Cuddly-Poops. SCP-8700-A: [Tilting its head] That is a foolish name. CAS-1 Salvatore: You're getting through this, Ig. When you come through the other side, you and I will go and pour some drinks for Sean, Roy… And Dom. SCP-8700-A places its hand on Supervisor Fiore's shoulder. SCP-8700-A: We approach the court of the dragon. We will destroy it, and avenge our brothers and sisters. When we descend to the battlefield, and you will see how strong you are. Supervisor Fiore nods, shouldering the grenade launcher, breathing deeply for a moment. SCP-8700-A nods back to him, and Fiore leads the way towards the tertiary defence zone. [END LOG] The remaining MTF forces in the tertiary defence zone have retreated to the final line, a defensive structure protecting the entry to SCP-8700's containment chamber should all else fail. With both the eastern and western flanks fallen and SCP-8700-2 instances streaming towards the structure, Commander Bratt has ordered that they hold ground until help can arrive from nearby sites. The air is full of flame, Ichneumon class weapons fire and thrown projectiles as the SCP-8700-2 instances swarm the bunker. They are terminated in large numbers, causing significant structural damage, but do not slow their assault. The fifteen MTF agents within are visibly exhausted, wounded and running low on supplies, but continue to fight. The SCP-8700-2 instances have surrounded the Final Line and are gnawing and clawing in an attempt to break in, even as the defences and defenders terminate them one after another. SCP-8700-2 Alpha hangs back, towering over the battle as it drags itself across the defence zone and fires unrelenting streams of pressurised lava at the structure. Two MTF agents are hit by Ichneumon lancer fire, vaporising them from the hip and torso up, respectively. Cmdr. Bratt: We all know when we take this job that we could lose our lives any day. Whether we're shot, stabbed, eaten or torn to shreds by some nightmare beyond comprehension, we know it’s coming. We tell ourselves not today. Not today. Later. Well, later has come today, hammers! Sgt. Lee completes arming an improvised explosive device within the bunker. He locks eyes with Cmdr. Bratt and nods before taking up arms and resuming the assault. Another MTF member is killed as an SCP-8700-2 instance detonates upon its death, flooding their section with lava. Cmdr. Bratt: All we can do now is fight! Fight for time, for each other, for the world or out of sheer stubbornness! I don't care what your reasons are, all I care about is that you fight! Fight to the last breath! Take as many of them with us as you can! The remnants of the MTF forces terminate multiple SCP-8700-2 instances in rapid succession, but are rapidly becoming overrun. An additional MTF unit is lost as multiple SCP-8700-2 instances are able to fire weapons into the bunker. Cmdr. Bratt: Area 14 is full of the names of the fallen! All earned their place on the avenue of honour! We are soon to join them! How will you earn your plaque? How will you be remembered? How will you die? I will die fighting! To the death! The SCP-8700-2 numbers have been reduced drastically in the assault of the Final Line. Numerous instances make suicidal charges in attempt to overwhelm the defenders, succeeding in the killing of three more MTF combatants and significantly weakening the defences. SCP-8700-2 Alpha rushes towards the bunker, roaring and breathing fire as it approaches. Cmdr. Bratt: TO THE DEATH! Sgt. Jackson: DEATH! Lt. Ward: DEATH! Cpt. Blacha: DEATH! Sgt. Lee: DEATH! Sgt. Karpyshyn: DEATH! Lt. Gaider: DEATH! Lt. Kamiya: DEATH! SCP-8700-2 Alpha: DEATH! SCP-8700-2 Alpha rears up on its hind legs and slams its forelimbs against the roof's structure, shattering it and flooding the area with fire. Secondary SCP-8700-2 instances follow it into the breach, engaging the survivors of the assault as the primary instance seizes Cmdr. Bratt in its talons, raising her up towards its face. She stabs at it with her combat knife before the dead man's switch falls from her hand. SCP-8700-2 Alpha lunges to bite the commander, but is interrupted by the detonation of Sgt. Lee's device. The explosion is enormous, terminating the majority of the remaining SCP-8700-2 instances and severely damaging the remaining fortifications. [END LOG] Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A stand in the elevator, descending towards the tertiary defence the zone. The sounds of the battle have ceased after an extremely loud explosion, and the temperature steadily rises. Supervisor Fiore has equipped a full set of Class-A heat resistant armor and a rebreather, holding his Ichneumon lancer at the ready. SCP-8700-A stands between supervisor Fiore and the elevator's exit, holding SCP-8700-A1 in one hand and a Foundation issue crowd control shield strapped to the other. It wears a belt of 40mm grenade magazines around its waist. The camera feeds can be seen experiencing numerous visual glitches resembling reptilian eyes, scales and teeth, along with growling sounds. The elevator comes to a stop with a gentle jolt. The doors remain closed, but SCP-8700-2 instances can be heard on the other side. Supervisor Fiore bounces on his toes, breathing rapidly. Supervisor Fiore: I can do this. I can do this. SCP-8700-A: My shield will not hold long. We must reach cover fast. CAS-1 Salvatore: Give the 'nade launcher to 8700-A when its shield is done, Ig. You'll need all the help you can get moving through the kill zone. Supervisor Fiore: Right. Then we go as planned? I keep them down, you move up? SCP-8700-A: Yes. Are you ready to see your worth? Supervisor Fiore nods and scans his identification card in the elevator's receptacle before pressing a button. The heavy doors slide open into the defence zone's entry corridor, revealing the mangled remains of the structure, cratered by artillery fire and SCP-8700-2 detonations. Smoke fills the air, and water covers the top few centimetres of the ground. SCP-8700-A crouches and starts to advance down the corridor, while supervisor Fiore keeps close behind. SCP-8700-A: There is little cover in the area ahead. We shall need to use the rubble. Supervisor Fiore: Ready. The pair rapidly move into the kill zone, a long and narrow corridor leading straight towards the tertiary defence zone's raised fortifications. The fortifications are badly damaged and lightly manned by the remaining SCP-8700-2 instances while SCP-8700-2 Alpha attempts to melt through the blast doors into SCP-8700's primary containment chamber. Piles of rubble litter the kill zone and the bodies of fallen MTF members lay strewn about as they fell. A commotion stirs among the SCP-8700-2 instances as they spot supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A's approach and they open fire on them with Ichneumon class weaponry. The blasts of energy shriek through the air before slamming into SCP-8700-A's shield and surrounding space repeatedly, rapidly melting through it as the pair take cover behind a pile of rubble. SCP-8700-A discards the ruined shield and nods to supervisor Fiore. SCP-8700-A: Fill the sky with your fire. Supervisor Fiore: Get ready to run! CAS-1 Salvatore: Head down and hustle, move fast. Supervisor Fiore passes the grenade launcher to SCP-8700-A and readies his Ichneumon lancer. He nods to SCP-8700-A and begins to blind fire over the rubble towards the SCP-8700-2 instances. SCP-8700-A waits a moment before vaulting over the rubble and charging down the kill zone, firing the grenade launcher repeatedly. Multiple SCP-8700-2 instances charge at SCP-8700-A, but are rapidly cut down and terminated as it passes. Supervisor Fiore cries out as he fires at the SCP-8700-2 targets, moving closer as they are pushed back by the barrage of grenades. SCP-8700-A: Tell me how my steel tastes, little worms! CAS-1 Salvatore: Don't get too mad, stay cautious! Supervisor Fiore: I know, I know! It just helps! SCP-8700-2 Alpha turns away from the blast doors and looks down the kill zone. It has further mutated, now measuring approximately 18 metres in length, with structures resembling human spinal columns bristling with long horns interwoven with its scales and dorsal spines. Nearly half of its face has been traumatically removed by the detonation of Sgt. Lee's device, and her knife can be seen embedded beneath its now empty eye socket. Its remaining eye is a luminescent golden colour, and molten lava drips from it's jaws. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: There you are, worm. I had thought you too feeble to reach me, but I see you have chosen to die at my feet instead. Just like your pathetic sister. You cannot triumph against me any more than she could, wretch. SCP-8700-A falters in its charge as SCP-8700-2 Alpha speaks, before screaming in rage and firing a volley of grenades towards it, reloading on the move. The rounds impact the entity, but only appear to deal superficial damage. The entity laughs, and the secondary instances resume firing and charging at SCP-8700-A. SCP-8700-A: How dare you speak of her! I will rip your entrails from your bloody corpse! Supervisor Fiore: RUN! Don't listen to it, just run! CAS-1 Salvatore: Are they fucking talking!? Supervisor Fiore: It’s trying to distract him, get in his head! Supervisor Fiore continues to slowly move up and fire upon the SCP-8700-2 instances, successfully terminating one. SCP-8700-A begins to gather speed again, but is hit in the shoulder by the blast of an Ichneumon lancer and staggers, falling against a pile of rubble and hacking at the closer SCP-8700-2 instances with its sword. SCP-8700-A: [Weakly] Come at me then. Supervisor Fiore: MACARIUS! CAS-1 Salvatore: Cover him! Keep them down! Keep them down! Keep them down! SCP-8700-2 Alpha: [Laughing] So very weak. How can you even hope to reach me? You cannot even reach the end of this room. Nor could you to aid your sister. What was she called, I wonder? Ah yes, Eve, That was it. Do you think she even knew the sound of her own name, after I ensnared her heart and broke her mind? Supervisor Fiore lays down suppressive fire, switching between targets rapidly. SCP-8700-A continues to fend off the SCP-8700-2 instances, dismembering and beheading them in rapid succession while roaring in fury. SCP-8700-A: Do not speak her name! By my blade, you will not speak her name! Supervisor Fiore: It's full of shit, Macarius! It's still the same stupid piece of shit you've been tearing apart for the past five hundred years! you can do this! Ignore it and shoot the little ones on the wall! SCP-8700-2 Alpha: Stupid? Oh no no no, little worm. Stupid is serving those who would melt you down for scrap given the opportunity. Stupid, is happily putting on a leash and following the commands of your jailers, even knowing they have spilled just as much innocent blood as I. Ignoring them openly learning to kill you, right in your very own home. Supervisor Fiore lays down more suppressive fire. SCP-8700-A does also and begins to advance once more, having terminated the SCP-8700-2 instances in the kill zone, but is slower in its movements. The combined barrage terminates a further three SCP-8700-2 instances. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: Or you, Ignatius. Just how do you hope to stand in my way? How do you plan to save yourself from the fire, when even your champion cannot? Even your precious Foundation, those who have hunted down and slaughtered countless lives before me, have been blind to their own weakness. Did you really think me some mindless beast, smashing my might against your shores so aimlessly? Oh no, I am FAR more than that. Your lives are so short. So meaningless. How easily you forget the lessons of the past when you believe time is on your side. SCP-8700-A advances again, firing grenades as it moves. Supervisor Fiore advances slowly, well behind SCP-8700-A, and fires his lancer constantly. All surviving SCP-8700-2 instances are now remaining behind cover in the tertiary defence zone's fortifications. SCP-8700-A: I shall avenge the fate of those you have slain upon you before the day is out, monster! You cannot face us both! I shall have your blood! CAS-1 Salvatore: Ignore it, Ig, it's stalling, it knows you're a threat. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: So easily fooled. In a mere blink of an eye, you grow careless; believe you know the extent of what I am capable of. Just like Macarius, and his beloved Eve, stealing into my lair in the night, thinking she could make a difference. Daring to her filthy hands on MY TREASURE!? Imagine, a flea biting a god. But she paid oh so dearly for what she wrought, didn't she Macarius? Reduced to an animal, rolling in its own filth. If her feeble aid could not help you best me, what makes you believe this will be any different? SCP-8700-A bolts from cover, firing multiple grenades as it exits the kill zone and bellowing in fury, but is driven back by Ichneumon weapons fire as a group of SCP-8700-2 instances emerge from cover. It is knocked down to the ground by multiple blasts, feebly firing the grenade launcher in their direction before collapsing, scattering them while SCP-8700 Alpha laughs. SCP-8700-A: Curse you! Curse you! Supervisor Fiore: NO! Wait for me! CAS-1 Salvatore: Don't rush in, Ig! Supervisor Fiore rushes down the kill zone and into cover near SCP-8700-A, narrowly avoiding fire from the nine remaining secondary SCP-8700-2 instances. He takes several deep breaths before tossing grenades towards the instances, pushing them back towards the battlements and terminating one. SCP-8700-2 Alpha turns and resumes attempting to melt and claw through the blast doors leading to SCP-8700's primary containment chamber. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: [laughing] How very pathetic. See to it Macarius lays broken. You may have the flea, my children. Do with it as you will. Supervisor Fiore: Get up, Macarius! Get up! CAS-1 Salvatore: Buy it some time, Ig! It needs to recover! Supervisor Fiore: Oh fuck… Can't believe I'm doing this. CAS-1 Salvatore: Doing what? Ig? What are you doing!? Supervisor Fiore vaults out of cover and sprints out of the kill zone, towards the tertiary defence zone's fortifications. The SCP-8700-2 instances turn their attention from the motionless SCP-8700-A to Fiore, chittering excitedly. Supervisor Fiore: Come and get me, motherfuckers! CAS-1 Salvatore: Ig, what the fuck are you doing!? IG! Supervisor Fiore opens fire on the SCP-8700-2 instances as he runs through the area, but does not cause significant damage. They laugh and begin to chase him. Some open fire, but either miss or fail to penetrate Fiore's body armor. Supervisor Fiore: What you said to do! Buying time! Supervisor Fiore pulls the pin on a grenade and drops the belt on the ground in the path of the SCP-8700-2 instances, before diving over SCP-8700-A for cover. The pursuing instances are caught in the blast, detonating violently as all but four are terminated. Supervisor Fiore: Yes! Yes! I got them! Suck my a— The four surviving SCP-8700-2 entities rise unsteadily to their feet, howling and roaring as gouts of flame and molten lava pour from their wounds. They begin to approach Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A, who begins to stir with a groan. Supervisor Fiore: No! Fuck! Supervisor Fiore opens fire on the approaching SCP-8700-2 instances, but is unable to hit them. The lead entity lunges for him, but has its arm caught by SCP-8700-A as it brings itself to its feet. It wearily bisects the entity with its sword, kicking and tossing the entity's remains away and looking up at the remaining instances. SCP-8700-A: Come forth then, cowards. Face one equal to your strength. The blast doors leading to SCP-8700's containment chamber give way as the primary SCP-8700-2 instance rips them from their housings. Artillery and Ichneumon class weaponry are heard firing from within, followed by a roar of flame as the instance attacks the last defenders of SCP-8700. CAS-1 Salvatore: What's happening!? Supervisor Fiore opens fire upon the remaining instances, distracting them as SCP-8700-A charges them. Caught unawares, two instances are terminated as they are beheaded and impaled respectively by SCP-8700-A. Turning to flee, it is shot by Fiore before detonating. Supervisor Fiore: It's in the chamber. CAS-1 Salvatore: Hurry! Supervisor Fiore and SCP-8700-A exchange a nod before hurrying towards the containment chamber, with SCP-8700-A's movement being visibly laboured. It appears battered and charred as it moves. The pair help each other climb the rubble, reaching the top as SCP-8700-2 Alpha enters the containment chamber. As Fiore catches his breath, SCP-8700-A advances towards the containment chamber. SCP-8700-A: Come, Ignatius. I shall gift its heart to you after I have torn it from the wretch's chest. Supervisor Fiore: Stop, 8700-A. It’s getting to you. They're just words. Don't let it use your anger to control you. Please. SCP-8700-A pauses and looks down at the ground for a moment before nodding. SCP-8700-A: Your words are true. Come. We must not delay. SCP-8700-A turns and makes for the containment chamber. Supervisor Fiore: Its fucking massive, Elena. 8700-A's slowed right down by everything we've gone through. It's going to be close. I'm going in. CAS-1 Salvatore: Good luck, Ig. I believe in you. Supervisor Fiore takes a deep breath and shoulders his weapon, then runs after SCP-8700-A into the primary containment chamber. [END LOG] SCP-8700-A and supervisor Fiore run through the ruined blast doors into SCP-8700's primary containment chamber, chasing SCP-8700-2 Alpha. The entity leaves a trail of molten lava behind it, and the containment chamber radiates intense heat. Raging fires and gases emerge from the pit beneath SCP-8700, surrounding the containment pillar and lowered drawbridge. Volcanic activity shakes the structure as SCP-8700-2 Alpha slithers down from the bridge terminal into the flames. SCP-8700 sits embedded within the stone, contained securely beneath chains and cables and housed within a reinforced containment unit, its glow visible through the inspection viewports. Supervisor Fiore: Well, it's like you said. Into the court of the dragon. I can hear its voice. SCP-8700-A: Take heart and fear no darkness. If its words could find purchase in your soul they would have done so already. Supervisor Fiore: If you say so. What are we going to do, what's the plan? CAS-1 Salvatore: You're going to kill a dragon, that's what you're going to do. SCP-8700-A: Remain here and fire upon the wyrm. I am going to put this foul beast to the sword once more. Do not meet its gaze. Supervisor Fiore reaches the drawbridge control panel and activates it with his identification pass. The bridge begins to rise, but its movement is hampered by the heat and volcanic activity, rising slowly. SCP-8700-2 Alpha's head emerges from the flames as it climbs SCP-8700's plinth. It spreads its wings as it emerges, beating them to fan the flames before assaulting SCP-8700's containment unit with its claws and fists, growling all the while. SCP-8700-A: Do not follow me across the bridge. It will incinerate you or worse. Supervisor Fiore: Got it. I'll stay here and cover you. Just be careful. Don't let it goad you. CAS-1 Salvatore: 8700-2 instances are more vulnerable on their bellies, eyes and mouths, Ig. Make your shots count, and stay down behind cover. SCP-8700-A places a fist to its chest and bows to Supervisor Fiore before turning to the bridge and rolling its shoulders, slamming its sword into its breastplate noisily. As it steps onto the nearly raised bridge. SCP-8700-2 raises its head, fixing its remaining eye on SCP-8700-A as it rips the containment unit free and tosses it aside. SCP-8700-A: Hail, Typhon, wretched and accursed! I have come to destroy you, foul worm, as I have done so many times before. Come now, and face your death, for I have little patience left for your poisonous words. SCP-8700-2 Alpha bristles and lets out a deep snarl. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: YOU. There you are after all. Are you here to beg my mercy, before I reclaim my crown? No, it matters not. You will not receive a clean death like your witless sister, or the Fell Hand. No no no, you will SUFFER. You will suffer, beyond fear and pain for centuries for what you have wrought. Come then and die for me! SCP-8700-2 Alpha lets out a guttural roar as a jet of intense flame and molten lava erupt from its throat, engulfing SCP-8700-A as it marches towards the plinth. While slowed, SCP-8700-A is not deterred, advancing with its sword drawn and golden light shining between its plates from the runes within. Supervisor Fiore fires at the entity from behind cover, hitting its head and shoulders. SCP-8700-2 Alpha sneers and bares its teeth. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: And what better way to suffer, than at the unwilling hands of one you care for? SCP-8700-2 Alpha diverts its gave to Supervisor Fiore as SCP-8700-A breaks into a sprint towards the entity. Golden light shines from its eye onto Fiore as it pries the chains and cables from SCP-8700. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: Stand now, peon, and be my creature. Slay this wretch, or yourself should you fail! Supervisor Fiore slowly rises to his feet, staring at SCP-8700-2 Alpha as faint golden light begins to shine in his eyes, mouth growing slack as he raises his weapon. The beast begins to laugh as SCP-8700-A nears the plinth. CAS-1 Salvatore: What are you waiting for, Ig!? Shoot that thing! Show it you're not left handed! Supervisor Fiore: Get fucked, you discount Smaug wannabe! Supervisor Fiore opens fire, aiming for SCP-8700-2 Alpha's exposed underbelly as the reflection of golden light passes over his eyes. The sizzling bolts of energy shriek through the air, colliding with its soft flesh with loud cracks and showers of molten blood as SCP-8700-A leaps into the air towards the entity as it roars in enraged surprise. The sword plunges deep within SCP-8700-2 Alpha's chest, the wound erupting with flame and lava. It flings itself back into the air, shaking SCP-8700-A loose onto the plinth as it rises, circling around the chamber on enormous wings. SCP-8700-A circles SCP-8700, keeping its body between it and SCP-8700-2 Alpha. The creature emits gouts of flame and lava as it flies, screaming and roaring before diving towards SCP-8700, grabbing at it with its hands, but is intercepted by SCP-8700-2 Alpha, who slashes at its hands, severing a digit. The entity roars in fury and crashes into the plinth, snatching SCP-8700-A within its crocodilian jaws and shaking the knight vigorously, still attempting to draw SCP-8700 from its stone even as it lashes its tail and flings debris at Supervisor Fiore, who is still firing at the entity from within cover. The fires within the chamber grow ever more intense as noxious gases swirl in the air. SCP-8700-A manages to drive its sword into SCP-8700-2 Alpha's lower jaw, impaling and then splitting it in two, before falling to the ground beside SCP-8700. SCP-8700-2 Alpha shrieks and tosses its head, reeling back into the flames as SCP-8700-A gets back to its feet, brandishing its sword. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: You tire, Macarius! Crippled by the very hand of those you would call ally. The very tool your ward clutches in its hands was built only to destroy you, and still you throw yourself into the fire for them. Surely, you must know that what you have done in this place has forever tainted your very soul. The paradise your church dreams of shall forever elude you. As foolhardy and murderous you were in life, thankful you must be to know that your sister never witnessed you become the pathetic creature I see before me now. Supervisor Fiore: It's scared of you, Macarius! All it has are words! Don't listen to its lies! SCP-8700-A snarls and brandishes its sword. SCP-8700-A: Keep your tongue behind your teeth, craven. You will get what you deserve. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: [laughing] Oh will I indeed? Supervisor Fiore stands and opens fire at SCP-8700-2 Alpha's soft underside, opening a wound and causing the creature to recoil into the pit below. Fiore and SCP-8700-A peer into the flames, looking for the entity as it leaps for the supervisor, snatching him into its claws before taking to the air once more. SCP-8700-A cries out in alarm as Fiore screams and struggles in the creature's grip, his armor beginning to smoulder and melt. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: Lies, was it!? It matters not what you say, he knows the weakness that lies within his craven heart! Let me show you, before I feast on your bones! CAS-1 Salvatore: Ig!? Ig, talk to me! What's happen— SCP-8700-A: Release him! SCP-8700-2 Alpha lands heavily on the plinth, breathing gouts of flame at SCP-8700-A and holding supervisor Fiore in one hand. His armor and radio continue to melt and smoulder as he struggles and screams in pain, dropping his weapon in the process. SCP-8700-A roars and rushes forward, attempting to strike the creature with its sword, but pulls back at the last moment as SCP-8700-2 Alpha moves Fiore into the path of the strike and slashes at the knight with its talons. SCP-8700-A is knocked to the ground, dropping SCP-8700-A1 on the drawbridge. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: There is nothing left for you now, but your death! As SCP-8700-A attempts to rise, SCP-8700-2 Alpha tosses supervisor Fiore aside and pounces on the knight, pinning it down with one hand and attempting to dig the talons of its free hand between the plates of its helm. SCP-8700-A struggles against the creature, growling and grunting with exertion. Fiore slides along the drawbridge and comes to a stop against its railing, screaming in pain. SCP-8700-2 Alpha: You are nothing, Macarius Son of Gwynhoiarn. You will die like nothing; none shall remember your name. You have failed. Supervisor Fiore stops screaming and begins to pat himself down. He cries out in pain as he discovers severe burns to his arms, torso and thighs, along with numerous compound fractures in his right arm. SCP-8700-2 Alpha breathes huge gouts of flame point blank at SCP-8700-A and continues frenziedly attempting to rip it apart. SCP-8700-A attempts to resist, punching kicking and tearing at the larger entity's flesh, but is unable to dissuade it from its attack. Supervisor Fiore crawls down the drawbridge at speed, muttering something to himself repeatedly. As he approaches the entities he recovers SCP-8700-A1, grabbing it in his hand and using it to stand to his feet. He takes a deep breath and takes a few steps before gripping the sword more tightly. Supervisor Fiore: I am left handed. Supervisor Fiore breaks into an unsteady sprint towards SCP-8700-2 Alpha, which is now staring intently at SCP-8700-A as its joints groan and creak under the pressure of the creature's rending claws. Its split lower jaw hangs agape with relish as SCP-8700-A roars in fury and pain. SCP-8700-A feebly attempts to punch and tear at SCP-8700-2 Alpha's face, gripping it by the bottom jaw and twisting it with a loud cracking sound. Supervisor Fiore gasps as he flings himself and SCP-8700-A1 at SCP-8700-2 Alpha's blind side, slicing its wrinkled throat open with the sword's momentum and landing heavily beside SCP-8700 with a pained cry. SCP-8700-2 Alpha's eye widens in pain and shock as torrents of lava burst from the wound and its throat onto the prone SCP-8700-A, unsteady now and scrabbling to find purchase on the plinth. Seizing the opportunity, SCP-8700-A wrenches hard on the creature's ruined lower jaw with a loud yell, pushing with its feet to heave the entity's enormous head into SCP-8700's exposed blade. The sword bites deep into the beast's head, bisecting it vertically as its single golden eye widens in shock before rolling upwards. SCP-8700-A shoves the massive entity with its feet, sending the body sliding off the plinth into the flames below, before crawling to supervisor Fiore and covering his unconscious body with its own, shielding him from the violent detonation of the SCP-8700-2 Alpha's body. [END LOG] SCP-8700-A exits the primary containment chamber, carrying supervisor Fiore in its arms. It moves unsteadily, picking its way through the rubble carefully, but with haste. It is charred and has deep scratches on its surface from SCP-8700-2 Alpha's assault, moving with a limp despite a lack of organic material that could be damaged in such a way. It makes its way through the site, avoiding fires and potentially dangerous reptiles within, taking the same path it and supervisor Fiore took to reach the primary containment chamber. Upon reaching the transit bay emergency shelter, SCP-8700-A slumps against the door, pounding it with its fist. The door slowly slides open as CAS-1 Salvatore, Dr. Greddock and custodian Lunerti exit the shelter to assist the entity in moving Fiore to the field hospital, where he is prepared for surgery. SCP-8700-A reaches out its hand to Supervisor Fiore before collapsing on the ground, where it remains motionless. Following these events surviving staff hastily treated supervisor Ignatius Fiore's wounds and were able to stabilise his condition, leaving him comatose. Foundation reinforcements arrived at Site-536 at 1:56PM of the same day and were able to re-secure the site, returning SCP-8700-A to its cell, recover SCP-8700-A1 and terminate four remaining SCP-8700-2 instances in and around the site. SCP-8700-A was observed to regain its mobility and ability to communicate 17 hours after its re-containment. A temporary containment unit was constructed over SCP-8700 and reconstruction of the site began under heavy guard from MTF-Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") operatives. As reconstruction efforts were in progress, a thorough investigation into the incident was launched. Testimonies from surviving site staff, surveillance footage and forensic investigation into the activities of the late Director George Eddings aided in the investigation's relatively fast conclusion, helping to shape revisions to SCP-8700's containment procedures. Of particular note were journals belonging to the late Director detailing numerous hallucinations and dreams revolving around SCP-8700-1, along with a long history of embezzlement of Foundation funds and assets. Director Eddings was subsequently posthumously demoted and his honours scrubbed from Foundation records. All Foundation staff lost in the incident were buried with full honours, with awards for bravery, resourcefulness and heroism awarded posthumously where applicable. Commander Reul Bratt and her forces in particular were honored, having terminated over 400 SCP-8700-2 instances during the battle. Containment Acquisition Specialist Elena Salvatore accepted the awards on behalf of the fallen, along with hers and Containment Supervisor Ignatius Fiore's own medals in a private ceremony. SCP-8700-A was also provided with a medal for its actions. Following investigation into supervisor Fiore's history and actions during the incident, it was discovered that he had scored in the top 1.9% of those tested in anti-coercion tests. It is the current belief that this extreme resistance to anomalous coercion allowed him to resist the SCP-8700-2 instance's mind effecting abilities, and was noted. Reconstruction and significant reinforcement of Site-536 was completed on the 27/10/2024, with multiple amendments to SCP-8700's containment procedures having been instituted. Site-536's AIC unit was moved to a remote installation at an undisclosed Foundation site, performing its functions remotely. Similarly, it was determined that all future Directors of Site-536 would perform their duties remotely, from an area outside of SCP-8700's area of effect and at a minimum distance of 250km from the site itself. On-site defences and fortifications were drastically overhauled, with the future use of restricted anomalous weaponry being considered. Stricter staff requirements were also instituted in the sites recruiting process. After a long recovery, supervisor Ignatius Fiore was able to resume his duties. SCP-8700-A was reportedly elated. Addendum 5: The following file is restricted to Level 4 and above personnel only. PROCEED? CLOSE FILE Internal Affairs Evidence File: EDDINGS, GEORGE- documentation 001: The material enclosed is a series of excerpts from the private journal of the former Director of Site-536, Dr. George Eddings collected as evidence following the investigation onto Incident: Site 536-EE-73. Only relevant passages have been recorded. -The site should be fine. I'm looking forward to my posting being changed. The documentation mentions hallucinations within SCP-8700's area of effect, but no one tells you what they actually feel like. It's frightening in a way that other sites simply are not. Any time I see a mirror or reflection I can see beady golden eyes staring at me from the shadows. The whispering has grown louder with each day. At least I'll be leaving this place wealthier than I entered it. They owe me that much at least. I can always hear that fucking breathing and rasping. I saw a documentary when I was a young man about komodo dragons in Indonesia. When they fight their scales rub on each other and it makes this terrible rasping noise. I can hear that noise at all hours of the day. It's very much like tinnitus. The readings show SCP-8700-1 is becoming more active, so I suppose that’s just my luck. On site for an Excalibur event. They say it’s worse during those, and I believe it. All I can smell is rotting meat. Going to get some smelling salts tomorrow. It's in my dreams now. I keep my journal close by to note down anything important at night and this feels like it qualifies. The dreams are very vivid, and I'm usually at work in them, only there is no roof. Just this enormous grey dragon looming over me in the sky. It's disgusting and terrifying. It reeks. I can tell it’s just watching me the entire time. This was normal for the past few days, but tonight it spoke to me. It called me greedy and vainglorious, then it screamed in my wife’s voice and everything caught fire. Not a great night. What few hours of sleep I get are completely ruined now. I'm exhausted from feeling eyes and breath on me all day. I'm losing time and not knowing what’s happened. I'm popping xanax more to cope, but I can always feel it breathing down my neck. It’s far too hot to sleep, and all I can think about is the upcoming event. How bad will it be on the day? I don't feel right. I don't feel like myself anymore. I snapped at Gloria on the phone today and she said she didn't know me anymore. I was never cruel before was I? It was in my dream again. I was running through an inferno, everyone was burning but me. A dragon the size of a mountain landed before me. It held more money and gold in its hand than I've ever seen before, but all I could think about was its disgusting stink and the slime falling from its body. It was an impossible shape, like a long, fat crocodile with glowing golden eyes. It dragged itself towards me and spoke. Thousands of corpses fell from its mouth when it did. I don't remember what it said, but I don't think this is just a hallucination. I'm going to the infirmary. Note: The final entry is written in different handwriting, on the same page. Fight against me if you will, you bloody foundation. This man is mine now, as soon will be all men. Know that I have grown weary of this prison, and shall not remain here any longer. Know that should my escape be thwarted on the morrow, I shall no longer give any quarter. I will poison your minds and hearts. The rivers will run red with blood, and not even your pathetic contingencies will be able to save you. The time of men is over, and I shall take my rightful place once more. I shall shatter your foundation as I shattered the world before. Know that I come for you, [REDACTED], and you shall never be safe. For my imprisonment, you will suffer endlessly. I shall chain you to a great stone, and you will watch as my children ravage your world. I have until the dying of the world to be free. You must succeed in battle against me until the end of days to keep my jaws from your throat. I need only succeed but once, and you are so much LESS than you were before. Pray to your gods that tomorrow is that one time, for my wrath will be ever more terrible with each passing year I am trapped in this freezing prison. Footnotes 1. Anomalous weaponry reverse engineered from previous GOI weaponisation of SCP-8700's effects. 2. For a complete record of materials tested on SCP-8700, see Document:8700-T-019/H. 3. Typically greater than ten weeks. 4. Having previously been contained by the now defunct GOI-0536 who had significantly modernised the Site. 5. Believed to be SCP-8700-1. 6. "For to sup from the blood of a dragon-touched was a curse of the highest order… for not only had you touched evil, but had been corrupted entirely and irredeemably by it." -The Fell Hand and the Wyrm, 1587. 7. Including several unusually large armor pieces and weapons more than double the size of standard equipment. 8. Designed to incapacitate SCP-8700-A via disruption of its thaumaturgic runes. 9. As mentioned in Document 8700/ R&D-H: History of Site-536. 10. Expanding SCP-8700's area of effect from a 419m radius to its now current 444m radius. 11. Given the similarities between a portion of these runes and those used in Daevite thaumaturgy, it is unlikely the person used in this ritual would survive the process and was likely used as a sacrifice to power the ritual. 12. A local politician with ties to extremist groups, known for their "Cult of personality." 13. Henceforth termed SCP-8700-2 Alpha. 14. A forcible entry tool utilised by fire fighters. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8700" by Dr Balthazaar, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8700. 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. Certain dialogue makes brief transformative reference to the script of The Princess Bride (1987, film). Filename: Eruption Name: Eruzione Etna 31-05-2019 (48036773048).jpg Author: andrea License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: Firehouse Name: Pledges-fire.jpg Author: Piers Garnham License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: knight alive Name: Dapperheidgrotepier.jpg Author: Johannes Hinderikus Egenberger License: Public Domain Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: Knight Name: Suit of Armor Author: John Moore License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source: flickr Filename: Sister Name: Steinlen T.A. - Charcoal - Portrait de Colette, fille de l'artiste - 11.2x14.2cm.jpg Author: J'aimelart License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: Wikimedia Commons Filename: Tunnel Name: Fort-roppe-galerie-ss-roc.jpg Author: Thomas Bresson License: CC BY 3.0 Source: Wikimedia Commons
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This, my blood, it is the Hanged King’s. close Info X SCP-8000 Submission: Jackie And Wilson Author: Sushimi Image: Put any licensing information for images here Hi, I wrote this for the SCP-8000 contest. It’s a play. I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Notes on the production For the technical team attempting to stage Jackie And Wilson, consider a minimalistic set to convey the multiple locations and the arcane nature of the setting. I have seen productions attempt to oversell it—furniture in the walls and ceiling, fancy runework, etc.—and they unilaterally fail to understand the point. I hope, dear reader, you do not make that same misjudgement. For the lighting, the task will be herculean. I ask you give the first scene a red colour-scheme, the second a yellow colour-scheme, and the third scene a total white washout. Fortunately, you will not be involved with the lighting of scene four. I ask you to decide yourself how long the breaks between each scene is. Breaks might be days, months, or no time at all. Such is the nature of time down here. To the actors, do better than me. Be what I couldn’t. Alright, I’ll let you get onto the play now. This, my blood, it is the Hanged King’s. Setting Various, Alagadda Time A crucial little while Characters JACKIE - Older, a notable performer in the city. WILSON - Younger, a newcomer and a nobody. I Red (A booth in a quiet corner at a party. Alagadda. The hum and noise rings at the periphery, but it’s marginally quieter here. Lights come up on JACKIE, well dressed and with a gravity around her. Everything about her is measured. She lights a cigarette, glancing around. She wears a particularly ornate theatrical mask, it’s not hers. WILSON enters, a disturbance. His clothes are disorderly, and his mask is cracked. He has a bag around his shoulder. For a moment, JACKIE doesn’t notice him.) WILSON: Hey, can I…? JACKIE: Don’t let me stop you. WILSON: Alright, thanks. (He sits down. Long silence.) What do you dream about? JACKIE: That’s a new one, aren’t you going to ask my name first? WILSON: I’m serious, I’m serious. (Beat.) Your name wouldn’t hurt either. JACKIE: Jacqueline…Jackie. I work a few streets up, in the Mirth hall. Your turn. WILSON: Wilson. The Mirth, damn! Why do you smoke? I mean, there’s worse things you could be doing here, and no one’d mind. JACKIE: You’d get it if you smoked. Liquid death. It’s like a fire is breathed into you…it’s a bit like love, in a twisted kind of way. It’s victory- WILSON: I thought you said it was death. JACKIE: It can be both. I couldn't care less about whatever they’re smoking out there. WILSON: Yeah. Yeah. So, wait, you’re an actor? JACKIE: Ensemble. WILSON: Well, damn, I’m in the presence of a celebrity! Heh. JACKIE: And what do you do? No one comes here not to do something. WILSON: I write. Or, I’m- uh, starting to write. I’ve got a manuscript I’ve drafted and… (He hastily retrieves a stapled paper manuscript from his bag, and sets it on the table.) JACKIE: Plays or novels. WILSON: Huh? JACKIE: Which? WILSON: Plays. JACKIE: Good. Are you new to the Red Court? WILSON: …Yeah. JACKIE: Me too, relatively speaking. But it pays at the Mirth, puts you in front of a crowd, as it were. WILSON: Christ, the things I’d do. I’m prepared to give a lot. JACKIE: I mean, clearly. Your…your mask? WILSON: Oh, right. Yeah, I guess so. JACKIE How does that even happen? Forgive me if I'm overstepping. WILSON: I got kicked out of a few places, gave a few notes unsolicited. Plugged the play to the wrong executive, you know how it is. JACKIE: I'm not totally sure I do but sure. I suppose you asked a few girls what their "big dreams" are too. WILSON: No, absolutely not! (Beat.) This is me kinda' out on a limb, actually. JACKIE: Really? What do you do with the rest of your time, then? WILSON: Um…oh! I go out on these long walks, let the fog and the noise kind of subsume me, and just drift off. Looking for answers, I guess. Looking for myself. I have terribly vivid dreams, and I’ll just talk to myself. The passersby must think I'm a mad man. It's how I let it all out, I guess. (He begins to trail off.) Something about the feeling of the mask, and these clothes, and the way the city contorts in on itself— and the colors, and the… (JACKIE leans in.) JACKIE, snapping him out of it: Are you who you say you are? WILSON: Does it matter? (She smiles.) JACKIE: I think this is what I dream about, Wilson. Just this, forever. To be…somewhere else. Even these grimy old couches in this grimy old manor. I dream about being not of this world. WILSON: I was gonna say the same thing. JACKIE, laughing: No you were not. WILSON: I absolutely was! (She takes the manuscript - his play - off the table, and turns to leave.) WILSON: So- wow, you’ll read it? JACKIE: I’m not a real celebrity, Will. I get by as a B-lister, you’ll know where to find me. (She goes to exit.) WILSON: I wasn’t going to say that. (JACKIE stops and turns to him.) Your dream? It’s probably better than mine, so I wanted to have said it but, uh, I didn’t- I wasn’t going to. When I dream, closing my eyes and fading away, I dream of being free. Free to start a fire, free to love and let love. Free to create, which is all I do these days. Where we aren’t slaves to the world, the world is subordinate to us. Or better yet, the world is a big white blob and we color it by just being. So, that’s what I dream. It never woulda’ left my conscience otherwise. (Long silence, looking at one another. JACKIE turns away again to exit. Lights go down, actors prepare for Scene 2.) II Yellow (Jackie’s apartment. It’s well furnished and organized, maybe too much so. Like no one lives there. There’s a couch in the center of the room, a table in front of it, shelves of books, a desk at L, and a cozy atmosphere. The desk has a phonograph on it, and the bookshelf has a section of records. WILSON’s play is strewn on the desk. JACKIE is sitting on the couch, noticeably more relaxed than in scene 1. Her mask is less extravagant, it’s now elegant and minimalistic. Her nails are painted black. There’s a knock at the door, and she opens it to greet WILSON. The cracks in his mask have been filled in with an off-color caulk. He has freshened up somewhat externally, but there are bags under his eyes. He’s beaming, and moves with an excited air) JACKIE: Hello again! Come on in, come in. Take a seat. WILSON: Hi! Uh- Alright, right. (He sits on the couch, she sits next to him) JACKIE: So, how are you, welcome. WILSON: Oh, thank you for having me on such short notice, I’m…I’m great, actually. Or better than I was. JACKIE: That’s good to hear, that’s good. Is that why you’re here? WILSON: Heh, yeah. I’m not particularly slick, then. JACKIE: Not really, no. WILSON: OK, Ok, I…Ok, um, I…I GOT BOOKED! JACKIE, genuinely happy: Will, that’s great! Where? WILSON: In the reds, one of the outer circuit theatres, I forget the name. But they’re gonna’ shop it. JACKIE: Good work— Wait, I’ll go get drinks. Let’s celebrate, shall we? WILSON: Uh…Ah, go on then. We’re stars, you and I! Shit! (JACKIE retrieves a decanter of whisky and two tumblers, setting them on the table and sitting back down. She pours them out) WILSON, lifting his glass: Here’s to art, and our success! JACKIE: And to all that we give for them. (They toast.) WILSON: GOD! I could run a marathon, Jack, or go to the Virtue Hall, or, uh, I don’t know. Hey, wait, can I try something? JACKIE: OK, shoot. WILSON: Can you give me, um…give me your best “upset look.” (JACKIE does so. It’s pretty good. WILSON examines from a few angles.) WILSON: Alright, cool. Now, give me, like, “hurt and shocked.” (She does so, he inspects) OK, could you make it a bit more subtle? (She does) Alright, good. Awesome. You’re giving me lots of ideas. JACKIE, playing along: What was that all for? Like, which– (He looks to deflect, and notices the phonograph) WILSON: Ooh, let me put some music on. (He gets up. Beat.) Where are the records? JACKIE: Over…there. On the shelf. (He starts rifling through them, mumbling) WILSON: Um, huh. Is this all classical? JACKIE: There should be jazz? Keep looking, I’d say. WILSON: Oh, yeah, nice. (He takes a record and walks to the desk, removing it from its casing. He notices his play on the desk) So what’s been happening with you? JACKIE: It’s been good. The show got an extension, so I’m still in business. My face stays in the paper, as it were. (Beat.) WILSON: Oh yeah that’s, that’s good. OK, there. (The record starts playing smooth jazz. WILSON starts humming along, snapping in time and dancing over to the couch) Come on, up ‘ya get. JACKIE, laughing: No. No way. WILSON: COME ON! (He pulls her up off the couch despite her protests. They start apart, as JACKIE begins to feel the music. She dances better than him. Eventually, they pull into one another and slow dance. There’s a burst of excitement, he spins her, she spins him, and they turn the room in their jilted dance. Finally they break out, laughing, and landing back on the couch) JACKIE: Christ, Will, no more of that, we’ll break something. WILSON: Look at some of this stuff. Who’ll miss it! Sorry, that’s…that comes off rude, I don’t mean it that way. I’m easily set off these days. But all these books, who’s read ‘em? Who has the time? JACKIE: They’re plays. Classic plays. WILSON: Right, so old plays, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. If I had a button in front of me that deleted every old play (he looks over at her)…well, I’d hesitate. JACKIE: That’s reductive, I think. Fashion keeps changing, but our nature doesn’t. We always come back here. (Long silence.) When I picture a world ideal, Wilson, do you know what I see? It’s a world where the sun rises and everything is equal, and your breath and mine get in-sync, and our veins mix in and we can all sink into one another. One heart, one nature. (She takes his hand) Like waves on the beach, folding back from whence they came. Like the tiger eats the gazelle, but it isn’t truly lost. Like poetry. I wish the world was poetry… WILSON: Huh. I think I see a world that’s loud. A huge ball of static, the harsh wind of this mountain we’re climbing. Maybe the world would just be a giant mountain range, it keeps getting bigger forever, ya’ know? (They get closer) And in this world of mountains I’m making, I imagine everyone, even the birds, have to climb fair and square. It’s good because, once you scale your mountain, the winds against you in the pit of the night, and the next comes into view…you’d see the sunrise on the horizon behind it. JACKIE: You really know how to trail off. WILSON: Heh. It’s as easy as lying. (He reaches for the decanter) JACKIE: Hey, slow it down. WILSON: Yeah. Yeah, sorry. There’s just— There’s a lot of edge I’m tryna’ take off. (Long silence.) JACKIE: So…your play, how much are they changing? WILSON: What? JACKIE: Well, it’s hardly going to stay the same. It’s too open for the Mirth, and it’s too big for anything else on the red circuit- WILSON: Too open? JACKIE: Too, too non-traditional. Too experimental. WILSON, pushing her off of him: Jesus, too artsy? It’s too artsy for the theatre?! JACKIE: Don’t be that way, Wilson, everything gets flattened out. WILSON: FLATTENED? Oh, I see, downsized and jaded. Aged until…until it’s dust and…don’t be what way, Jackie? JACKIE: You truly, deeply believe you’re above it, don’t you? You’re not exactly the savior of theatre, Wilson. This is how it works. WILSON, stricken: Oh, yeah, I see. Sure, it is. Like…I went to your show, because I like you. I went and just watched. Soulless. Hopelessly soulless, just going through the motions, just– JACKIE: Oh, real kind, sure you did. WILSON: Robotic, Jackie. Just so robotic! I don’t understand how you sell your soul for the same nothing show and nothing apartment and… JACKIE, fighting back emotions: Get the hell out of my house, Wilson. (She goes to the desk and throws his manuscript at him. He doesn’t budge) I said, get THE HELL OUT– (Black, viscous blood shoots from her fingertips, floating upwards into the air. Long silence.) JACKIE: This place takes just as much as it gives. (Lights go down, actors prepare for Scene 3.) Interlude (The lights come up. JACKIE and WILSON enter at the same time. WILSON is holding a notebook he writes in relentlessly, rubbing his eyes. JACKIE has a bag slung over her shoulder. They wander, moving across the stage, going about their tasks. The music swells. WILSON moves in sweeping arcs, writing with increasing fervor, neglecting the world around him. JACKIE starts to fall into an almost-waltz. It looks like she's being thrown around and beaten across the stage, with crescendo'ing violence. They cross each other, and lock eyes, and pause. Then, they continue, falling into a lonely partner dance. There are turns, and clapping, but they do not acknowledge one another. It gets intense, painful. Warm colors rise and attack the stage. Finally, WILSON falters, tripping over his ankle. His notebook falls to the floor ahead of him. JACKIE is directly upstage of him, the notebook directly downstage. He picks himself up, spotlight.) WILSON: When I, uh, dream? Closing my eyes, fading away, moving back into the end, I'm here. At the edge of a cliff, endless darkness out ahead of me. Every time. I can feel the dust collecting on my feet, I can hear the wind beckoning me. I guess it's not really a cliff as much as whatever's out there is a pit. A pit that something or, or someone is supposed to fill. I walk to the edge, and I look down, and, um. I see myself. My reflection, I guess. (He looks up.) You threw me out of your apartment, and I can't tell if that was right, or if I did something wrong. I mean, I was gonna’ put you in it. And I guess that doesn’t matter, but– but to me it does, I think. We keep meeting. And I wish we didn't, ya' know, so I could bury whatever part of me just has to cling. I'm not so lucky. I imagine you'd see it as a statistical anomaly, a gala here, a street corner there. Part of me thinks…no, that's…that's stupid. But, look, I like you. I really like you, I like how you're just there, unshakeable, and how clear you see things and… (He turns around, and points at JACKIE) When I used to look at you, I'd see a version of myself. And I liked that. I think I still do. But now, I see myself in this. (He turns again to the front, pointing to the notebook. JACKIE disappears.) In my dreams, I put both of my feet right up to the end, and I hold my breath, arms outstretched, and I fall. It swallows me. (He raises an arm to the sky) And whatever is unsaid is held forever. The rest is silence. (Blackout.) III White (Rehearsal room, somewhere in the Red Court. There’s a bookshelf of plays, all color coded. WILSON stands alone against the wall, with a manuscript in the crook of his arm. He looks lost. His eyes dart aimlessly, sluggishly, around the room. There’s gold trim around his mask, it isn’t particularly impressive. He looks up at the door out. JACKIE, on a whim, enters. She’s pale. Her mask is featureless. They acknowledge each other. Long silence.) WILSON: Jackie. JACKIE: Wilson. WILSON: How…how are you? JACKIE: Jesus, how old are we? WILSON: Alright. I’m sorry. (Beat.) JACKIE: I’m good. I’m trying– I’m tired, Wilson. WILSON: Tired? JACKIE: Yes. I’m so tired, and I don’t know how I walked in here when I had a million other routes to wherever the hell I was walking to, and…and… WILSON: I see. I see. JACKIE: Are you here, Will? WILSON: What? JACKIE: Right now, are you here. You don’t look well. WILSON: Excuse me? No, maybe I’m not, Jack. I don’t…I don’t know. It’s all so simple. JACKIE: Yeah? WILSON: I think so. I’m…I’m tired too, I think. I haven’t been able to sit and…I don’t have the words. Why aren’t you leaving? JACKIE: I can’t. We keep meeting. And I’ve got more words, more thoughts. I can’t seem to run out. So I can’t seem to leave, sue me. I don’t forgive you. WILSON: I know. (Long silence.) JACKIE: So. How’s the workshop? WILSON: It was OK. I’m undecided. JACKIE: And that’s why you’re alone in your rehearsal space? WILSON: Call it that. Heh. I…They made the changes they wanted to make. I look in the…in the mirror, and don’t recognize myself. What does that say? About me? I guess I’m here just looking for an answer. It’s what I am. It’s what I’ve become. JACKIE: Are you still drinking? WILSON: Are you still smoking? (Beat.) JACKIE: Maybe we’re not the same at all. Christ, maybe we’re too much alike. You know what I’ve been doing? (She pulls up a chair, placing it C) Workshop to workshop, room to room, like a ghost. I had a class on clowning, clowning. Red rubber nose, huge characters. The lady said to view the world like a baby. We took turns making a new uses for a chair. (She dramatically acts each one, over enthusiastically, violently) Here it’s a shield for my mimed sword. Here, set it down and it’s the front seat of a car. Here, I set it on my head and march around and it’s an elaborate headdress or I’m a queen or something. But Wilson, it remains what it is. No one gets to decide that the…that the chair isn’t what it is. Or, I don’t. And I kept thinking - which class sent me spiraling down and out. No one class, or book or whatever, can get me back. Was it the play? Was it something I did? It’s a chair Wilson. Look at it. If I could find that inflection point where the slope peaked, just locate and destroy it, how much I would give to win again. Here, it’s a tapper. Here you put it to a microphone and it sings. Here, you put me nose to grindstone and I will clown for you but… WILSON: But it’s a chair. JACKIE: Right. WILSON: If I could go back in time, Jack, do you know what I’d do? I wouldn’t go fixing tragedies or rigging the stock market. I’d go, back, and I’d fix all those mistakes that taught me to be who I am. The thousands of tiny awakenings. I’m not perfect today, I don’t mean that, but I’m so much better than I was years ago. Or I seem so much better, I act so much better. There’s…there’s ideas always rattling around, always, in my head? I’d be on top of the world, and I’d never stop. I’d never, stop. I’d have my cake and, damn it, I’d eat it too. And I wouldn’t regret. I wouldn’t regret anything. I’d fix what I did to all those people. (Beat.) Hell, I imagine I’d fix this. (Silence. They don’t break eye contact.) Sorry, God, I mean to– JACKIE: I’m wounded, Wilson. WILSON: What? (She reveals her stomach, which has a large gash across its length. It’s spurting coagulated, somewhat dried black blood. WILSON stares.) JACKIE: I’m wounded. I look on my very soul and it’s leaking. WILSON: Shit…I– how…? JACKIE: I don’t know. It wasn’t me, Jesus. I tripped somewhere, over extended somewhere else. It was hairline an age ago. WILSON: Is that anything related to the… (He gestures to her hands. She looks down at them.) JACKIE: Probably. WILSON: Jesus, Jack, that’s…I mean, that’s…(He begins to hyperventilate.) JACKIE: Do you know what I would do, if I could go back in time? I wouldn’t have given up my soul. I wouldn’t have given it up a thousand times. At every meeting, with every open call, in every performance, a million little deaths. Bending, and pushing, and breaking, and breaking, and breaking, and giving! WILSON: Then what are you doing? Why are you here? JACKIE: Because I want it back, Wilson. Because my show at the Mirth was discontinued. Because I need to find a new path. Because I’m a masochist. I…I don’t know. WILSON: I don’t think…that’s not right; you need to go sort yourself out! Christ, I– I don’t know, um. I’m sorry about the Mirth. JACKIE: Are you? Or are you happy that you won’t– that you won’t have to evict me from it yourself? WILSON: That part of me…is dead. (WILSON manages a smile. It’s unclear if he believes it. Suddenly, they both start laughing. It becomes hysterical. They embrace, WILSON tears up. His eyes dart between the windows, and then he begins to cry/laugh unabashedly.) JACKIE: There are two options, the way I see it. Either, I’m wasting, and it’s eating me alive. WILSON: Like a deer. JACKIE: Exactly, exactly. The other option is that…(She hadn’t considered this before.) is that the hole in my stomach lets the light in. The spirit needs somewhere to enter. It’s the path…home. WILSON: I don’t like that. I…no. That’s not it. JACKIE: I think I’m starting to get it. Maybe I need to just– (She notices the shelves of plays, looks at WILSON, and gets up with a start towards the bookshelf.) JACKIE: Oh Jesus, Wilson, I reckon you were right. Down with it! (WILSON begins interjecting, “No, that’s not what I meant,” “what are you talking about,” etc.) If I could go back in time I swear I’d burn it all down! Who’s going to miss it? WHO?! (She begins throwing the plays out from the shelves onto the ground, they fall in a pile. WILSON gets up, clearly deeply stressed, but doesn’t interfere.) WILSON: Jack. Jacqueline, what is this? JACKIE: I say we rip up the canon, bury their muses. That’s what it is! That’s what it’s all about! No more classes, no more stages, the real high art, just– just stop and smell the roses for a second. (She pulls out a cigarette lighter. WILSON crowds behind her.) WILSON: Alright, let’s— JACKIE: Are you not with me on this? Come on, it’ll be fun! (WILSON looks at JACKIE, before going and throwing plays from the shelves.) Thank you! Look at them, WORDS, WORDS, WORDS! USELESS! We’ll just run off somewhere, or break something, or see a sunset. What I would give to see a sunset! (Finally, the bookshelf is empty. JACKIE doesn’t move, and stares at WILSON. Long silence.) JACKIE: Go on, throw it in the pile. WILSON: Excuse me? JACKIE: The manuscript, Wilson. Everything has to go, it’s a goddamned fire sale! WILSON: No, I– no. No way. I– JACKIE: You can’t? You can’t? You hate it, I hate it. I can see it in your eyes, you’re exhausted with it, it puts you to illness. WILSON: Well, look, I– Jackie, I can’t do that, you know I– it’s so easy for you to send it to ash but I don’t…I don’t… JACKIE: Wilson, come on. You can do it Wilson. Into the fire! Into the fire! Into the fire! WILSON: Um. God, screw off! Stop it, stop it! JACKIE: Into the fire! Into the fire! Into the– (WILSON gags, before turning around and stress vomiting. It goes on longer than it should. JACKIE slowly walks towards him, putting a hand on his back.) JACKIE: Jesus, Will, it was…it was just a joke! It’s not like that, I was just…I was joking, Wilson. Heh. It was… do you need help with…? (He shakes his head no, with heaving breath. He wipes his mouth and goes to exit.) Alright. Do you want me to– (He signals no.) It was just a joke Wilson! That’s it! (WILSON exits. JACKIE watches the door for a time, before turning and looking at the large pile of plays on the ground. She kneels, takes one of the books, reads its title. She sparks her lighter, and presses it against the book. It catches, and she places it onto the pile. Her face is expressionless. Blackout. After a time, the sound of a door slamming.) IV Black (A rooftop in the Red Court. One ghost light DC lights the stage. It is turned on by WILSON, sitting and looking at the city below. It is quiet. He winces and rapidly blinks, he looks as though he hasn’t slept in days. The mask he wears is abrasively ornate. He speaks with great effort during this scene. JACKIE enters at the back. She is a silhouette in the darkness.) JACKIE: So why here. WILSON: I come here…a lot. It’s close to where we met, at that party? Look it’s– (He points) it’s just there. JACKIE: That’s thoughtful. You said you frequent? (She approaches, entering the light. Blood has pooled around her eyes. Her mask now looks tacky, as from a costume shop. It has a spiderweb across it.) WILSON: Yeah. I dangle my feet off, and I look down, and I think about…just…falling. (He makes a whistle that gets gradually quieter, before a “boom” sound.) JACKIE: So why don’t you? WILSON: Heh. Sometimes I fear I’ll fall up. Isn’t that awful? JACKIE, sitting down on the other side of the ghost light: It’s not great, no. It’s peaceful, though? WILSON: It is. Lots of time to think. I watch the hordes of people go by blissfully, absent-minded, drunk on it all. JACKIE: They’re enviable. WILSON: That they are. I heard about your coma. JACKIE: You and every producer in the reds, Wilson. WILSON: Do you wanna talk about it? JACKIE: Not particularly, no. (Silence.) But it had me reevaluating everything. Everything that I want, that I dream about. I’m leaving. Soon. WILSON: What? Why? JACKIE: Because this isn’t what it’s all for, is it? What I really want these days is a sunset, or a field, or something. Meeting someone at a party or dancing to old jazz records– WILSON: Or burning old plays? JACKIE: Or watching clouds. I think…if I spend a single day more here, I will die. Worse than that, I mean, there’ll be no one to mourn. WILSON: Hey, stop that. I…I don’t, um, want you to leave. So don’t, please? JACKIE: Wilson. WILSON: Because, because look. I’m really not comprised of a lot. It’s what I do…and you. You’re really all I got, Jack. I don’t know what I, what I become. So you can’t go, don’t. JACKIE: You’ll live. Come on. WILSON: Yeah, ok so I’ll live. But– I walked out. JACKIE: Of…? WILSON: The opening. At the Mirth. My opening. The best moment of my life. Watching it…it was like my spirit had been sucked out and bastardized. Every actor, every light cue, every single piece of blocking. Twisted. I walked before intermission. I didnt turn back, and I came to this roof, and I’ve just…contemplated. JACKIE: Soulless? WILSON: Robotic. Poisonous. And it’s who I am. You can’t separate that performance from me, ya’ know? My names in the headline. So the point, the point is. Heh. I don’t know what’ll happen if I just keep going. JACKIE: You’re focusing really hard on the words, Will. WILSON: Yeah. This…the brain fog. It’s gotten bad. There’s no spark in the words, I just…I just grab for them. Like pinching grains of sand in a sieve. Like holding onto water. JACKIE: So, while you’re up here. What do you dream about? WILSON: Look at this. Us and our dreams. (Beat.) Black water. Endless, in every direction. You and I being lifted upwards, always. It’s peace, and nothing more. Higher and higher. JACKIE: And the hope would build. WILSON: Yes, the hope would build. (Long silence.) JACKIE: If it makes you feel any better, burning those plays didn’t fix it. It gave me nothing the next day but emptiness. I didn’t burn the ones in my apartment, but I haven’t read them since. I thought maybe the answers would be out on the street, a total nobody struggling, but it wasn’t there either. Makes you wonder where the hell else it could be. Makes you wonder if it exists at all. And then, I was walking, and walking, and thinking and thinking, and it was colder then. Like being thrown under icy water, or resting your head in the snow. And I fell into the coma. I don’t know why I fought myself back awake, but I suppose it’s because I wasnt supposed to die lost. WILSON: I just…I just can’t take it. I wish so badly that I could. I thought I could, and I held on for so long with this belief that I was better than everybody. I came here to escape. I hurt a lot of people. I wonder if, if I took off my mask right now, and you weren’t there, would there be a face under it? (JACKIE wipes blood from her eyes, and dabs it in WILSON’s palm, and then her own. She holds her hand out over the threshold, and it begins to float into the air. WILSONs does the same.) JACKIE: This, my blood, it is the Hanged King’s. WILSON: This, my blood, it is the Hanged King’s. JACKIE: Wilson? WILSON: Yeah? JACKIE: Was it ever really love to you? WILSON: Does it matter? (Long silence. They stare at the blood as it swirls and ascends higher and higher in the air. The floating blood congeals into one singular, rising column. WILSON reaches up and puts out the ghost light.) Item #: SCP-8701 Secure Containment Procedures: Investigation into the mechanisms of SCP-8701 are underway, particularly any connections to thaumaturgical memetics it may represent. SCP-8701-1 is kept in a standard containment locker. Description: SCP-8701 is a not-yet-understood process by which denizens of Alagadda are distilled and transformed into works of literary media, particularly those associated with the citizen in question. The catalyst for this transformation is not understood at this time. SCP-8701-1. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "Jackie And Wilson" by Sushimi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8701. 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: APS1.jpeg Author: Sushimi License: CC BY SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP FOUNDATION WIKI
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SCP-8703
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esoteric-class
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The World is Wounded and the Dream is ending. Torn between love and faith, a lone scholar climbs the Tower of Tlön, pursued by a knight in rusted armor. Unfortunate be thy blessings, Caretaker. Book №: SCP-8703 Psalm I - Object Qualia: Atlas Psalm II - Solemn Caretaking Precepts: In yonder vale of Uqbar, where barren fields do lie forsaken and sealed, Lo, the Tower of Tlön stands, its stature grand, by the Anointed Knights defended. None may draw near, for mortal souls, their presence forbidden, Save the Caretaker alone, who with solemn oath, may enter unopposed. The Caretaker, on his sacred journey, shall bring SCP-8703-II, the incense crafted from the Flowers of Leng. For SCP-8703-III is the Censer, its flames burning bright must be fed every century. Holy Censer, Deliver us from the Miasma spreading from His Wound. Chosen from the SCP Order's highest decree, the Caretaker must embody noble virtue and devout faith. A paragon of piety, strength, and unwavering devotion to the Order's Creed, willing to abandon earthly bonds in the quest for the sacred course. For heavy is the burden, and unfortunate the blessings. The Gift bestowed by Borges, of unfathomable design, serves as the sole key to unlocking the impregnable gates of Tlön. Within the Tower, a journey up fourteen thousand and four steps awaits, culminating in the Ossarium. Before Saint Cipiranus, the Caretaker shall prostrate themselves in reverence. They shall sever their tongue and offer it to the Saint, for only those who have forsaken the hollow promises of this waking world may tread the sacred path. No voice of man shall profane the Sacred Silence of the Cradle. A descent of fourteen thousand and four steps guides the Caretaker to the Cradle, a sanctum of profound tranquility where not even a whisper dare disturb the Holy Sleep of SCP-8703-I, known to the denizens of this realm as the Dreamer. May His Sleep be peaceful and His Dream merciful. With reverence, the Caretaker shall ignite the Censer, filling the air with the fragrant incense of Leng. This eternal flame shall ward off the encroaching Miasma of the Wound, ensuring that SCP-8703-I's slumber remains undisturbed. The Censer must remain alight, for the essence of Leng must burn unceasingly, preserving the Dreamer's reverie and repelling the miasmatic nightmares. With tender hands and solemn silence, the Caretaker shall tend to the ever-bleeding Wound in the Dreamer. For the Dreamer's dream is the world itself, and the Wound is the affliction of this realm. Having fulfilled their sacred duty, the Caretaker shall climb back to the Ossarium, where they shall dwell among their brethren for perpetuity, their legacy enshrined in the annals of time. Unfortunate be thy blessings, Born from his Dream. Psalm III - Description: And the Lady said unto the Fathers of the Orders: Hearken, O Men of Science and Faith! Behold SCP-8703-I, for He is the Dreamer that dreams the world! Behold SCP-8703-II, the incense made from the growth of Leng, for its fragrance, weaves the loom of dreams! And behold SCP-8703-III, the Censer that shall blaze till the Deam ends, for it binds together dreams and vigil! For before there was a world there was the Wound! And before there was a Dream there was the Dreamer! Fear the Miasma that seeps from the Wound! For it births the nightmares within the Dream! Lo, Deep is the Wound in this realm! For as long as there is Life there will be a Wound! Ere the world's dawn, there lingered the Wound, Before the Dream began, the Dreamer was awake. Through the Incense and the Censer, His Dream was born, His Dream became the World, And within his heart, he cradled the Wound! Guard the peace of the Dreamer, for his mind is the chisel that shapes the world of wake, His peaceful Dreams, your solace, Yet His Nightmares, your dire woe! Every century's turn, one of you is chosen, A Caretaker sworn, devotion in his heart. For only they shall tend the Censer's flame, And soothe the Bleeding Wound, the Dreamer's bane. Harvest the blooms of Leng! Ignite them in the Silver Censer! Let it be the shield against the Miasma! Let it hold back the nightmare of the Wound! Protect His rest, make sure he dreams well, For peace in his dreams means peace in this realm, For His nightmares shall bring Hel on Earth. Unfortunate be thy Blessings, Heavy thy Burden, But despair not, Even in the coldest of Hel, One can always dream of a Paradise. Psalm IV - The Tower: Magister Segismund of Noria, DCXVI Caretaker of the Holy Order of the Solemn Caretaker Paladins, stood weary and battered beneath the oppressive presence of the Tower of Tlön. He could not recall how long his journey lasted. In his memories, as shattered as the world he lived, endless nights blended into a single eternity. Had it been one thousand days or only just a fortnight? It did not matter, for time itself had become a cruel jest. A square key should not fit in a round keyhole. Yet somehow Borges' key did and the immense gate groaned open, revealing the yawning maw of the Tower, its cyclopean staircase spiraling endlessly upward into the darkness. As he climbed the 14,004 steps, his exhaustion prevented him from pondering on the mysteries of the Dream. This was, according to the Book, highly inappropriate. Still, too tired to discipline himself, his mind wandered to depths of memory to a half-forgotten time when he renounced something… something that may have resembled love. Alidoro, he whispered. But his musings were abruptly interrupted by the ominous sound of approaching footsteps, heavy and metallic in their cadence. At that pace, he thought, the was no chance of outrunning his pursuer. With a resigned sigh, Segismund took refuge by a window. On the outside, only the endless desolation of Uqbar. Far in the distance, the faint glimpse of the once mighty towers of Eur Te'ek engulfed in flames. Probably, just a trick of the light. Nothing is right anymore. The metallic footsteps kept growing louder and louder until an imposing figure emerged from the shadows. A specter of former glory, its once-shining armor now tarnished and decayed was recognized by the Caretaker. "Anointed Knight," Segismund felt odd speaking to another one after so much time, "Turn back on your steps, for this path is not yours to walk." "The Caretaker, I presume." "I have come in the name of my order to fulfill my duty. As you should be fulfilling yours. I searched for the Horizon Legion when entering the valley, yet it was a fruitless endeavor." "Unfortunately, I must inform you the Legion is no more. The hordes of the Crimson Khan laid siege to us. We resisted for weeks waiting for the Orden reinforcements from Eur, but they never came. Why have you forsaken us?" "One night the Moon howled and madness was born among those ill-fated who hear it. We did not respond in time and Eur burnt to the ground." "So the Workshop City is gone. Is it true that a similar doom came to Alagadda?" "The city felt victim of a terrible plague whose true nature no one could explain. A so-called doctor railed the masses promising a cure, yet it only led to more chaos. Eventually, even the king himself was hanged. That is everything I know." "A shame, I was raised there. Though I used to wish for that hellhole to be razed. Unfortunate are the blessings, aren't they?" "My condolences." "Even before the Wound reopened, Caretakers did not dare to travel alone." "I was to be escorted by the Northmen sellswords of the Band of the Raven. Yet their loyalty to our cause vanished as soon as our gold did. Now they plunder the lands they were once hired to protect." "Trust ravens and they'll peck your eyes out." "Words of Wisdom…" "Did you bring it, the Incense of Leng? I heard the flowers were no more." "The flowers had been dwindling for centuries. Yet the Order prevails." "So is there still hope? To hold the Nightmare back?" The Caretaker delayed his answer. "I feel that I should be the one asking the questions. Why do you trail my path?" "I want to meet Him. I want to see the Dreamer." "No one but the Caretaker shall see the Dreamer." "To Hel with that! Me and my brothers forfeit our lives in His service. Their corpses now rot under an unforgiving sun. If the Nightmare is truly His doing, then… He must answer to my sword!" "Madness and blasphemy!" "If the Nightmare won't end… I shall end it! I will wake us up!" The fallen knight took a step but found himself facing a flintlock pistol gripped firmly in the Caretaker's hand. "Why is a holy man in possession of such an infernal device?" "Using this brings no joy to me. Retreat and do not look back." The knight took another step. "You would not dare to shoot in this holy place…" There was a sound of thunder. The bullet broke through the knight's chainmail piercing his leg to the bone. The Anointed One fell on his knees. "Curse you, scholar! How long do you intend to keep with this farce?" Segismund turned his back, ignoring the pleas of the fallen knight. Psalm V - The Ossarium: The Ossarium was the chapel at the top of Tlön—the final resting place of all past Caretakers. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were a canvas of death, each bone a brushstroke in a painting of macabre ornaments for eternal devotion. And at its heart, upon a throne forged from the very bones of his successors, sat Saint Ciprianus, the first of the Caretakers, his skeletal remains encased in golden armor as a symbol of divine reverence. At his feet, thousands of mummified tongues, the testament of the gruesome tribute the Caretakers had to pay for millennia. "Holy Saint Ciprianus, Father of Order, First of the Caretakers, please accept my humble sacrifice." Segismund kneeled, knife in hand. He searched within for the determination to fulfill the deal. To free his heart from any longing and give himself truly to the Dreamer. Yet he could only find one word. Alidoro. A single word that described the truest devotion of his heart. His hand trembled. The knife fell. He looked at the empty eyes of the Saint, imploring for wisdom, strength, and maybe even… compassion. But he could only find contempt and repulsion in the empty visage of the eyeless Saint. His shame turned into terror, as the roar of the clockwork engine inside the armor started and Ciprianus moved once more. The Saint stood from his throne and raised a hand. A myriad of bones flew to his raised fist, forming a saw-blade from spines, ribs, and teeth. Segismund narrowly avoided the first strike of the bone blade. Slipping on one of the severed tongues, he felt the sting of his predecessor's remains as he collapsed over a pile of skulls and ribcages. The Saint pursued him erratically, his gears rusted after millennia. The Caretaker tried to crawl away, but it was useless. He closed his eyes, as he waited for the Saint's last judgment. Yet the punishment never came. He opened his eyes to find Saint's attack blocked by yet another blade." "Your infernal device! Use it!" Shouted the Anointed Knight. Segismund fumbled in a panic looking for powder and bullets inside his bag. Reloading the contraption was no trivial manner and he never trained to do it quickly, let alone under the stress of mortal danger. The knight desperately parried the cruel punishment of the clockwork Saint. He was a skilled one, but with a broken leg, there was little to do against the mechanical raw strength of his opponent. It was only necessary one ill-timed parry for his posture to break and the knight found himself on the ground, his ribcage shattered. The Caretaker only had one shot. Unsure where to aim, he instinctually pulled the trigger as soon as the clockwork roar started again, announcing the Saint's next move. It should be unthinkable that a mere human weapon could even scratch the divine alchemy powering the mechanical Saint. Yet once in a lifetime, misfortune can work in one's favor, for what is one's fortune if not the misfortune of another? The bullet hit, not in gilded iron not in brittle bone, but in the precise hollow where it reached the core of the engine, ceasing the entirety of the mechanism. The roaring sound went silent, and the Saint forever stood still. Segismund reached the wounded knight. Blood dripped from the crevices of his helmet. The Caretaker sought to cleanse it, but with a sign of his hand, the Anointed One prevented him. "Wake us up from this nightmare," exhaled the knight with his last breath. Psalm VI - The Cradle: Fourteen thousand and four steps had the downward spiral stairs hidden behind the Saint's throne. At least that was the Book said, for Segismund had counted one fourteen thousand and two and he could not decide whether he or the Book were mistaken. Psalms described the Cradle as a place of holiness and contemplation, where the absolute silence revealed the dreamed fabric of this world. He found instead a wet den of rotting miasma, putrid and profound as the Wound itself. The Silver Censer still burned, albeit pathetically, for the aromatic embers inside were almost pure ashes, barely a symbolic gesture against the toxic fumes. The Caretaker clasped the small pouch of Leng incense tightly to his chest. Once a plentiful resource found in every garden, the flower of Leng now teetered on the edge of extinction. Desperate, the Order had waged a futile war of conquest in search of the elusive flower, perhaps hidden in faraway lands. Yet even with the Ravens plundering every dark corner of the known world, only enough material for a pitiful spoon of incense could be prepared. Not enough to feed the Censer, not enough to fade the Miasma. Behind the Censer, the faint light coming from the consumed embers revealed not the serene and peaceful dreamer depicted in sacred icons, but the corpse-like hollowed host of a nightmare. His body was all consumed by the relentless rot and even the Everbleeding Wound was dry, for after draining all of the blood left on Him, it drained the world instead. Segismund wanted to weep, but hold back for not even then could he dare to break the Holy Silence. It can not be. It can not end this way. "It is fine. You can cry if you must. It is only natural to grieve for the end of the world… To be fair the silence and the tongue cutting have not been necessary for a while. His whole auditory system rotted a long time ago." Segismund turned back to face the voice that dared to break the Holy Silence. In front of him, a sharp-dressed lady in an elegant and colorful attire stood graciously, her feet barely touching the disgusting soil. The Caretaker marveled at the mortuary makeup covering her gentle face, of the likes he had never seen before. "Who art thou?" "Unfortunate be thy blessings, Caretaker. For you know well who I am… querido." Segismund eyes opened wide. "Are you here for me? For the Dreamer?" His mind rushed to the apocalyptic depictions of end times in the halls of the Order's Abbey. "Or are you here to celebrate thine final triumph over the world of Orbis?" "That the end of Life means a Triumph for me is a gross but common misunderstanding of my office." "Then, what brings you here?" "Only the earnest desire to witness the last of the Caretakers as he fulfills his final duty." "Then what a disappointing sight this must be. The incense is no more and the Dreamer is rotten to the core. And me, a sad excuse of a man shunned by Saint Ciprianus himself. Shame shall forever haunt me for lacking devotion." "As is usual to happen when a woman speaks, men understand what fits their agenda. I indeed said that the Caretaker should be one of devotion, but I spoke not of devotion to a faith or the Order. No, I spoke of a deeper devotion—a devotion to Life itself. A commitment to the happiness of others. In essence, love." "And you see that in me?" "You do love Alidoro, don't you?" "For years I believed that feeling to be ashes. Yet the embers…" "The embers remain. Good, we shall work with that." "Tell me what should I do." "Are you familiar with the craft of incense making?" "Since a tender age. But the flowers are gone." The Lady smiled sardonically and shrugged. Behind her, Segismund glimpsed a vision of an endless field of orange flowers. The Lady's arms now held a beautiful bouquet, which she lovingly handed to the Caretaker. "The flowers of Leng!" "As many as you need." "May I inquire something? The scholars of the Order could never uncover the true nature of the growth of Leng and its importance to the Dream. What is the real meaning of this flower?" "The only flower that flourishes both in the land of the dead and in the land of the living. But it also thrives in the realm of dreams, for it is made of the same very essense. Afterall, dreams are the bridge between Life and Death." "So the Dream is woven from these flowers. And it's nurtured by them. But won't it be too late to ignite the Censer? The Dreamer is still dying and the Wound runs too deep into this world. The Anointed One wanted us to wake up… but I'm afraid nothing is waiting at the other side of the Dream." "Someone once wrote that life is but a dream. If so, isn't dying like waking up?" "Was the knight correct? Should the world be let to end in a whimper?" "Or a bang if you prefer." "Why should I be the one in charge of this decision? The Order… the people… they should have a say." "You alone are the Caretaker. You and only you. For that is your unfortunate blessing." "And heavy is my burden… is death truly so unpleasant?" "You tell me. You have already tasted death." "Have I?" "What is Sleep if not a little taste of Death in Life? And what are Dreams if not taste of Life in Death?" "And yet I don't want to die. I don't want my world to end. Not for it to be an eternal nightmare. There must be another way." "Your words echo those pronounced a long time ago by someone in a similar predicament." "The Dreamer…" The Lady gently touched Segismund forehead and he was bombarded with visions of a world beyond his wildest machinations. Steel and crystal towers as tall as Tlön… horseless carriage pulled by steam magic… men with crystal helmets walking on the Moon… a glorious civilization of might and magic beyond anything he could conceive… and yet a dark cloud rose in the horizon… flying war machines of terrible implication raining Miasma and Nightmares from the skies. "His world was quite different yet curiously similar to yours. The Dreamer was not a god nor a deity. He was from an organization not so different from your Order. You could say he was a Caretaker of sorts." Segismund saw a man in white robes crouched at a cramped desk, surrounded by unthinkable machines. Arround the laboratoy there were several orange flowers, some inside matraces and other under magnifying glasses. He seemed to work tirelessly, fanatically obsessing over the designs of his devices. Segismund managed to glimpse the title of the document. Central Electro-Neural Sensor… Censer. "He realized the relationship between the Flowers of Leng, dreams and reality. When his world was wounded, he used the Censer to seal the Wound within him.. and dream of a new world. His dream gave birth to Orbis, just as another dream had given birth to his." "So it has happened before." "Countless times." "So you are saying.. that I could do the same. Seal the wound within me and use the flowers and the Censer to… dream a new dream. Become a new Dreamer." "Though I must inform you it won't be pleasant to bear the Wound. It is deep, painful and ultimately bound to open once again, secreting miasma and nightmares." "For as long as there is Life there will be a Wound. Is that the deal?" "Life is an unfortunate blessing, don't you agree?" The Lady's smile was bittersweet. "And yet I want to keep on living. To keep on dreaming. I want to dream of a better world. For Alidoro… for everyone. Even if that Dream won't last forever. Even if that Dream will bear the Wound." "You have spoken like a true Caretaker. So be it." Segismund of Noria, the DCXVI Caretaker of the Order, grabbed the holy Censer and the bouquet and started walking back, away from the Nightmare and the Miasma. The Lady stood there, watching him disappear into the dark. As the Miasma began to fade, she could sense the dawn of a new world… a new Dream being born from that very cradle. Behind her, the kaleidoscopic dreg of ruined worlds and broken dreams hoovered ominously. Each of those worlds had been unique and yet, something of each one survived in the next. Life kept finding a way despite the entropic forces of the Wound and would keep doing it as long as someone was willing to Dream of a better world. For that was the nature of the Unfortunate Blessing. "Until the next Dream, Caretaker." ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8703" by Kilerpoyo, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8703. 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: dream Name: The Dream of St. Martin (detail) Author: Simone Martini License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication ("CCO 1.0 Dedication") Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Simone_Martini_-_The_Dream_of_St._Martin_(detail)_-_WGA21369.jpg Filename: tlon2 Name: text-with-initials-rubrics-and-drawing-of-tower-of-babel Author: NA License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication ("CCO 1.0 Dedication") Source Link: https://picryl.com/media/text-with-initials-rubrics-and-drawing-of-tower-of-babel-2d2c80 Filename: basel Name: Basel, Universitätsbibliothek, AN II 3, p. 126v – Matriculation Register of the Rectorate of the University of Basel, Volume 1 Author: NA License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication ("CCO 1.0 Dedication") Source Link: https://picryl.com/media/basel-universitatsbibliothek-an-ii-3-p-126v-matriculation-register-of-the-rectorate-525af9 Filename: saint Name: Memento Mori from BL Eg 1070, f. 53 Author: NA License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication ("CCO 1.0 Dedication") Source Link: https://picryl.com/media/memento-mori-from-bl-eg-1070-f-53-f91909 Filename: dreamer Name: NA Author: NA License: Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication ("CCO 1.0 Dedication") Source Link: https://picryl.com/media/full-page-miniature-15e33c
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SCP-8709
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esoteric-class
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width: 0rem; transition: left 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1), background-position 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1), opacity 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1); opacity: 0; background-position: center left calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 14.5rem) * -1); font-size: 0em; } #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, 14.5rem); height: calc(100% - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, 0.688rem) - 2.313rem); margin-bottom: calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -2.313rem) * -1 - 2.313rem); transition: translate 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1), opacity 300ms 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, 14.5rem) * -1 + 1rem); } #side-bar:is(:hover, :active, :focus-within) + #main-content::before { translate: 0; opacity: 0; } #side-bar .side-block { margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 0.25em; border-right-width: 0rem; border-left-width: 0rem; 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; } } Item#: 8709 Level5 Secondary Class: zurvan Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: critical link to memo Assigned Site Site Director Research Head Assigned Task Force Site-09 Dir. Malcom Ritter Dr. Abraham Wright MTF Kappa- 10 ("Skynet") Attention: Subsequent events provided in this document may or may not have already occurred. Head Researcher Dr. Abraham Wright has been charged with keeping detailed and up-to-date logs on SCP-8709 following each programmed cycle. If Dr. Wright does not exist, the O5 council shall determine an appropriate replacement. Special Containment Procedures: Since the permanent containment of SCP-8709 is currently impossible, tracking of the entity's black body radiation will be used to determine materialization points. A perimeter of 10 kilometers around each site is to be maintained and monitored at all times, with MTF Kappa- 10 ("Skynet") being ready to mobilize should the entity shift away from the area. Updated: 12/12/1991 Due to the nature of SCP-8709 and the revelations of its purpose, the security level of this document has been elevated to clearance Level 5/8709. All unauthorized personnel and civilians will be administered Class C amnestics, with individual access to SCP-8709 to now be at the discretion of the O5 council. Future endeavors will be on efforts to protect and erase any information released. A manifestation of SCP-8709. Description: SCP-8709 is a emergent property of a supercomputer program, appearing as a 25 meter tall black, non-reflective structure. The composition of the entity is comparable to boids,1 stimulating a quantum entanglement state that fluctuates within reality. SCP-8709 uses this phenomena to trans-locate to any locale around the world, with primary functionality including monitoring system resources and scenario progression. These manifestations of SCP-8709 have caused significant destabilization at each site, generating powerful black body radiation2 detectable from up to 10 kilometers away. Constant tracking of these conditions has allowed for anticipation of the next materialization sites within the range of 24 hours. Upon manifesting, SCP-8709 will enter an active state; turning on high-intensity light that emits brief omnidirectional flashing at 2 to 3 rotations per second that lasts for 4 hours. These long exposures subject large areas to ionizing radiation of 25 - 30 mSv3 per rotation, causing substantial physical and psychological phenomena. This intermittent photic simulation triggers a condition closely relating to photosensitive epilepsy, with subjects unable to recall their activities during the manifestation. Recovered recordings show individuals conducting normal activities while themselves and surrounding structures are continuously atomized then reconstructed from SCP-8709's photo-radiation. Further examination of these sites also exhibited extensive transformations of the locale, with several objects and occupants composed of abnormal matter, indicating reoccurring data reconstruction errors. These changes only occur within 10 kilometers of the SCP-8709 manifestation, showing a severe but limited effect on the immediate area. During contact with SCP-8709, pronounced radio signals were captured matching coded transmissions to the Foundation. These signals were being transferred to a terminal at site-09, an underwater facility located in the Horizon Deep. The terminal, designated Y2K, is a Hewlett-Packard VT2640 that has been heavily retrofitted to perform complex quantum computations and P2P networking4, and was used for communication with the entity. Over the course of 72 hours, testing was conducted to isolate the signal, leading to the discovery of SCP-8709's wireless access point and the collection of various scenario data from SCP-8709. For security purposes, the terminal was secluded on a closed interoperable network with several Cerberus firewalls before connecting to SCP-8709's mainframe. Addendum SCP-8709-1: Archive +Login to Y2K -Logout of Y2K Forward: Successful access to SCP-8709's database occurred on September 20, 1982, at site-09. This archive contains results generated by another reality's DEPTHS Project. Events described may or may not have already occurred. SCP-8709 Archive The following data is an archive of completed, non-sequential simulations produced by the DEPTHS project. The information provided is to be used strictly for formulating potential solutions or preventive measures for XK Class events. Head Researcher Dr. Abraham Wright is the designated contact for this project and should be contacted for any requests. Any unauthorized personnel found accessing this database will be reprimanded. Scenario: 1 Location: N/A Event: Atomic breakdown of digital matrix. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to construct scenario parameters. Implemented revised computational directives. Scenario: 43 Location: N/A Event: Simulated reality inconsistent with parameters. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to simulate accurate scenario. Different degrees of impartial combination of biological and synthetic objects. Rework of examinations done by digital network. Scenario: 55 Location: N/A Event: Unsatisfactory simulation of human sentience resulting in mass suicide, starvation and violence. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to simulate accurate replicas. Integration of lead researcher Dr. Abraham Wright 's brain scans provided as a foundational template for random generation of the human consciousness. Scenario: 101 Location: Brazil Extinction: 352 days Diagnostic Analysis: Failure of SCP Foundation to combat air and water contamination of a bio-hazard. Advise: Development of fungal treatment and decentralization of water resources. Scenario: 582 Location: N. Broadway, Chicago Extinction: 1400 days Diagnostic Analysis: Failure of SCP Foundation to adequately combat GOI projects or activities. Advise: A monthly sweep of departments in the Chicago area. Aggressive restriction of GOI resources. Scenario: 882 Location: N/A Event: Simulation interrupted due to incomplete information. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to simulate scenario. Initiated update of protocols and subroutines. Beginning process to generate physical structure in current simulation to assist with synchronization of branched program. Scenario: 1033 Location: Cairo, Egypt Extinction: 442 days Diagnostic Analysis: Failure of SCP Foundation to combat air and water contamination of a bio-hazard. Advise: Resource allocation for sanitizing large water sources and eradication of specific microorganisms. Scenario: 3221 Location: N/A Event: Corruption of scenario due to incomplete reboot. Subsequent XK event carried over to new simulation resulting in assimilation of the current event. Diagnostic Analysis: Failed reset of scenario. Increasing progress to transfer over data between generated simulations. Scenario: N/A Location: N/A Event: Unauthorized command detected. Viral load distributed. Please wait…. Diagnostic Analysis: WARNING: Separation incomplete, destabilization at 89%. Virus spreading to simulation branches: 4905, 4904, 4903, 4902, 4901, 4900 Addendum SCP-8709-2: The DEPTHS Project Upon gaining access to the mainframe, multiple mentions of the DEPTHS Project were uncovered, initiating an inquiry into the project's ongoing activities at Site-09. The project was developed in the early 1980s , initiated by the increasing frequency and severity of anomalous disasters, particularly the "White Fire" event in 1978. Prompting the need for a comprehensive multi-level evaluation, a quantum computational matrix was engineered for simulating and analyzing hypothetical XK class scenarios. The onboard artificial intelligence , Aeon, oversees the analytics, pinpointing potential hypo-centers for each simulated event. As outlined in DEPTHS documentation, failure to manage an event triggers a system reboot, reverting the simulation to a prior state to initiate a new cycle under comparable conditions. Each cycle has the potential for a branch to form. Known as "branching," this phenomenon occurs when a DEPTHS simulation successfully integrates into an existing computational framework. This process results in a layered or nested simulation environment, facilitating the coalescence and interaction of multiple simulated realities within a singular matrix. The branching mechanism is intricate and dynamic, drawing upon advanced quantum computing principles, algorithms, and predictive analytics to coordinate the interconnected layers. Each branch presents a unique scenario, creating an expansive platform for various XK class simulations and their prospective outcomes across a potentially infinite continuum. The "depth" of these branches signifies their positioning relative to the baseline reality, encapsulating layers of interlinked simulations, each characterized by its distinct parameters and outcomes. Each subsequent branch serves as a pivotal nexus within these groupings and should a preceding branch fail or be terminated (KUT)7, it would trigger a collapse of the associated realities, setting off a chain reaction throughout the simulated framework. SCP-8709's designation will vary based on a realities progression, alternatively recognized as SCP-001, the Avatar of a Broken God, or the Tower. These deviations seen within SCP-8709’s archive suggest accumulating differences leading to significant historical deviations, alterations in the laws of physics, or the emergence of fantastical elements, among other possibilities. Given the inherent unpredictability of quantum mechanics, the simulations archived within SCP-8709 display intrinsic instability, presenting as inconsistencies or "glitches” within the computational matrix. The program has encountered significant setbacks, with 56% of scenarios failing to complete due to state fidelity issues or quantum decoherence. To address these issues, SCP-8709 has integrated synchronized error correction, utilizing scans from alternate realities to provide real-time updates to its simulated counterpart. Since the discovery of SCP-8709, a consistent frequency decline of 2.8Hz per synchronization attempt has been observed, with the universe's frequency dropping from 963Hz to 837Hz, signaling progressive deterioration. Drawing parallels between the project's AI, SCP-8709's operations, and the connection to terminal Y2K, it is speculated that SCP-8709 is a manifestation of an ongoing simulation of the baseline reality. Efforts to halt the synchronization process and maintain the current simulated state are currently in progress under the supervision of Dr. Abraham Wright. Addendum SCP-8709-3: Infection On December 1, 1998, SCP-8709 contracted the c-(kenoma) virus following an extra-dimensional incursion of a arboreal instance of SCP-8709. This event resulted in both entities becoming spatially locked off the coast of Hilton Head, South Carolina. Subsequently, these instances have been reclassified as SCP-8709-1 and SCP-8709-2. The infection has induced a conjoining between SCP-8709-1 and SCP-8709-2, leading to the development of branchial growths at a rate of 0.9 meters per day. Significant mutation of the boids have coalesced into a fractal-like structure, spreading across the surface and subsurface of both instances. As it progresses, subsequent simulations have been observed undergoing a similar conversion, suggesting the consolidation of multiple scenarios infected by the c-(kenoma) virus. This is indicative of a systemic failure within the interconnected virtual environments, resulting in the merger of multiple SCP-8709 and simulations into a single, corrupted matrix. Due to this, SCP-8709-1’s data reconstruction capabilities have been severely compromised, with the affected locale exhibiting non-Euclidean spaces, conceptual cross-contamination, temporal paradoxes, and overlapping XK-class events. Attempts to correct systematic errors through the synchronization process have resulted in computational feedback loops, accelerating the destabilization of SCP-8709-1 and SCP-8709-2. These feedback loops have increased the spread of branchial growths and associated anomalies, leading to minor aberrations escalating into major breaches of containment. Current systemic collapse estimated in 428 days. Footnotes 1. An artificial life which simulates the flocking behavior of birds, and related group motion. 2. Thermal electromagnetic radiation within or surrounding a body in thermodynamic equilibrium with its environment 3. Millisievert is the scientific unit of measurement for whole body radiation dose, called "effective dose." 4. Peer-to-peer network, where computers provide equal access to resources and data. 5. An enlargement of the liver and spleen. 6. Swollen or enlarged lymph nodes 7. Kernel Unit Termination « SCP-8708 | SCP-8709 | SCP-8710 » ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8709" by Petdoc1991, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8709. 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: LighthouseSCP6888.jpg Name: Storm clouds at sunset over Bathurst Island, 80km North of Darwin.jpg Author: GDW.45 License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8709
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uncontained
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width: 0rem; transition: left 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1), background-position 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1), opacity 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1); opacity: 0; background-position: center left calc(var(--sidebar-width-on-desktop, 14.5rem) * -1); font-size: 0em; } #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, 14.5rem); height: calc(100% - var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, 0.688rem) - 2.313rem); margin-bottom: calc(var(--final-header-height-on-desktop, -2.313rem) * -1 - 2.313rem); transition: translate 300ms cubic-bezier(0.4, 0.0, 0.2, 1), opacity 300ms 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, 14.5rem) * -1 + 1rem); } #side-bar:is(:hover, :active, :focus-within) + #main-content::before { translate: 0; opacity: 0; } #side-bar .side-block { margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 0.25em; border-right-width: 0rem; border-left-width: 0rem; 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; } } Item#: 8709 Level5 Secondary Class: zurvan Disruption Class: amida Risk Class: critical link to memo Assigned Site Site Director Research Head Assigned Task Force Site-09 Dir. Malcom Ritter Dr. Abraham Wright MTF Kappa- 10 ("Skynet") Attention: Subsequent events provided in this document may or may not have already occurred. Head Researcher Dr. Abraham Wright has been charged with keeping detailed and up-to-date logs on SCP-8709 following each programmed cycle. If Dr. Wright does not exist, the O5 council shall determine an appropriate replacement. Special Containment Procedures: Since the permanent containment of SCP-8709 is currently impossible, tracking of the entity's black body radiation will be used to determine materialization points. A perimeter of 10 kilometers around each site is to be maintained and monitored at all times, with MTF Kappa- 10 ("Skynet") being ready to mobilize should the entity shift away from the area. Updated: 12/12/1991 Due to the nature of SCP-8709 and the revelations of its purpose, the security level of this document has been elevated to clearance Level 5/8709. All unauthorized personnel and civilians will be administered Class C amnestics, with individual access to SCP-8709 to now be at the discretion of the O5 council. Future endeavors will be on efforts to protect and erase any information released. A manifestation of SCP-8709. Description: SCP-8709 is a emergent property of a supercomputer program, appearing as a 25 meter tall black, non-reflective structure. The composition of the entity is comparable to boids,1 stimulating a quantum entanglement state that fluctuates within reality. SCP-8709 uses this phenomena to trans-locate to any locale around the world, with primary functionality including monitoring system resources and scenario progression. These manifestations of SCP-8709 have caused significant destabilization at each site, generating powerful black body radiation2 detectable from up to 10 kilometers away. Constant tracking of these conditions has allowed for anticipation of the next materialization sites within the range of 24 hours. Upon manifesting, SCP-8709 will enter an active state; turning on high-intensity light that emits brief omnidirectional flashing at 2 to 3 rotations per second that lasts for 4 hours. These long exposures subject large areas to ionizing radiation of 25 - 30 mSv3 per rotation, causing substantial physical and psychological phenomena. This intermittent photic simulation triggers a condition closely relating to photosensitive epilepsy, with subjects unable to recall their activities during the manifestation. Recovered recordings show individuals conducting normal activities while themselves and surrounding structures are continuously atomized then reconstructed from SCP-8709's photo-radiation. Further examination of these sites also exhibited extensive transformations of the locale, with several objects and occupants composed of abnormal matter, indicating reoccurring data reconstruction errors. These changes only occur within 10 kilometers of the SCP-8709 manifestation, showing a severe but limited effect on the immediate area. During contact with SCP-8709, pronounced radio signals were captured matching coded transmissions to the Foundation. These signals were being transferred to a terminal at site-09, an underwater facility located in the Horizon Deep. The terminal, designated Y2K, is a Hewlett-Packard VT2640 that has been heavily retrofitted to perform complex quantum computations and P2P networking4, and was used for communication with the entity. Over the course of 72 hours, testing was conducted to isolate the signal, leading to the discovery of SCP-8709's wireless access point and the collection of various scenario data from SCP-8709. For security purposes, the terminal was secluded on a closed interoperable network with several Cerberus firewalls before connecting to SCP-8709's mainframe. Addendum SCP-8709-1: Archive +Login to Y2K -Logout of Y2K Forward: Successful access to SCP-8709's database occurred on September 20, 1982, at site-09. This archive contains results generated by another reality's DEPTHS Project. Events described may or may not have already occurred. SCP-8709 Archive The following data is an archive of completed, non-sequential simulations produced by the DEPTHS project. The information provided is to be used strictly for formulating potential solutions or preventive measures for XK Class events. Head Researcher Dr. Abraham Wright is the designated contact for this project and should be contacted for any requests. Any unauthorized personnel found accessing this database will be reprimanded. Scenario: 1 Location: N/A Event: Atomic breakdown of digital matrix. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to construct scenario parameters. Implemented revised computational directives. Scenario: 43 Location: N/A Event: Simulated reality inconsistent with parameters. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to simulate accurate scenario. Different degrees of impartial combination of biological and synthetic objects. Rework of examinations done by digital network. Scenario: 55 Location: N/A Event: Unsatisfactory simulation of human sentience resulting in mass suicide, starvation and violence. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to simulate accurate replicas. Integration of lead researcher Dr. Abraham Wright 's brain scans provided as a foundational template for random generation of the human consciousness. Scenario: 101 Location: Brazil Extinction: 352 days Diagnostic Analysis: Failure of SCP Foundation to combat air and water contamination of a bio-hazard. Advise: Development of fungal treatment and decentralization of water resources. Scenario: 582 Location: N. Broadway, Chicago Extinction: 1400 days Diagnostic Analysis: Failure of SCP Foundation to adequately combat GOI projects or activities. Advise: A monthly sweep of departments in the Chicago area. Aggressive restriction of GOI resources. Scenario: 882 Location: N/A Event: Simulation interrupted due to incomplete information. Diagnostic Analysis: Failure to simulate scenario. Initiated update of protocols and subroutines. Beginning process to generate physical structure in current simulation to assist with synchronization of branched program. Scenario: 1033 Location: Cairo, Egypt Extinction: 442 days Diagnostic Analysis: Failure of SCP Foundation to combat air and water contamination of a bio-hazard. Advise: Resource allocation for sanitizing large water sources and eradication of specific microorganisms. Scenario: 3221 Location: N/A Event: Corruption of scenario due to incomplete reboot. Subsequent XK event carried over to new simulation resulting in assimilation of the current event. Diagnostic Analysis: Failed reset of scenario. Increasing progress to transfer over data between generated simulations. Scenario: N/A Location: N/A Event: Unauthorized command detected. Viral load distributed. Please wait…. Diagnostic Analysis: WARNING: Separation incomplete, destabilization at 89%. Virus spreading to simulation branches: 4905, 4904, 4903, 4902, 4901, 4900 Addendum SCP-8709-2: The DEPTHS Project Upon gaining access to the mainframe, multiple mentions of the DEPTHS Project were uncovered, initiating an inquiry into the project's ongoing activities at Site-09. The project was developed in the early 1980s , initiated by the increasing frequency and severity of anomalous disasters, particularly the "White Fire" event in 1978. Prompting the need for a comprehensive multi-level evaluation, a quantum computational matrix was engineered for simulating and analyzing hypothetical XK class scenarios. The onboard artificial intelligence , Aeon, oversees the analytics, pinpointing potential hypo-centers for each simulated event. As outlined in DEPTHS documentation, failure to manage an event triggers a system reboot, reverting the simulation to a prior state to initiate a new cycle under comparable conditions. Each cycle has the potential for a branch to form. Known as "branching," this phenomenon occurs when a DEPTHS simulation successfully integrates into an existing computational framework. This process results in a layered or nested simulation environment, facilitating the coalescence and interaction of multiple simulated realities within a singular matrix. The branching mechanism is intricate and dynamic, drawing upon advanced quantum computing principles, algorithms, and predictive analytics to coordinate the interconnected layers. Each branch presents a unique scenario, creating an expansive platform for various XK class simulations and their prospective outcomes across a potentially infinite continuum. The "depth" of these branches signifies their positioning relative to the baseline reality, encapsulating layers of interlinked simulations, each characterized by its distinct parameters and outcomes. Each subsequent branch serves as a pivotal nexus within these groupings and should a preceding branch fail or be terminated (KUT)7, it would trigger a collapse of the associated realities, setting off a chain reaction throughout the simulated framework. SCP-8709's designation will vary based on a realities progression, alternatively recognized as SCP-001, the Avatar of a Broken God, or the Tower. These deviations seen within SCP-8709’s archive suggest accumulating differences leading to significant historical deviations, alterations in the laws of physics, or the emergence of fantastical elements, among other possibilities. Given the inherent unpredictability of quantum mechanics, the simulations archived within SCP-8709 display intrinsic instability, presenting as inconsistencies or "glitches” within the computational matrix. The program has encountered significant setbacks, with 56% of scenarios failing to complete due to state fidelity issues or quantum decoherence. To address these issues, SCP-8709 has integrated synchronized error correction, utilizing scans from alternate realities to provide real-time updates to its simulated counterpart. Since the discovery of SCP-8709, a consistent frequency decline of 2.8Hz per synchronization attempt has been observed, with the universe's frequency dropping from 963Hz to 837Hz, signaling progressive deterioration. Drawing parallels between the project's AI, SCP-8709's operations, and the connection to terminal Y2K, it is speculated that SCP-8709 is a manifestation of an ongoing simulation of the baseline reality. Efforts to halt the synchronization process and maintain the current simulated state are currently in progress under the supervision of Dr. Abraham Wright. Addendum SCP-8709-3: Infection On December 1, 1998, SCP-8709 contracted the c-(kenoma) virus following an extra-dimensional incursion of a arboreal instance of SCP-8709. This event resulted in both entities becoming spatially locked off the coast of Hilton Head, South Carolina. Subsequently, these instances have been reclassified as SCP-8709-1 and SCP-8709-2. The infection has induced a conjoining between SCP-8709-1 and SCP-8709-2, leading to the development of branchial growths at a rate of 0.9 meters per day. Significant mutation of the boids have coalesced into a fractal-like structure, spreading across the surface and subsurface of both instances. As it progresses, subsequent simulations have been observed undergoing a similar conversion, suggesting the consolidation of multiple scenarios infected by the c-(kenoma) virus. This is indicative of a systemic failure within the interconnected virtual environments, resulting in the merger of multiple SCP-8709 and simulations into a single, corrupted matrix. Due to this, SCP-8709-1’s data reconstruction capabilities have been severely compromised, with the affected locale exhibiting non-Euclidean spaces, conceptual cross-contamination, temporal paradoxes, and overlapping XK-class events. Attempts to correct systematic errors through the synchronization process have resulted in computational feedback loops, accelerating the destabilization of SCP-8709-1 and SCP-8709-2. These feedback loops have increased the spread of branchial growths and associated anomalies, leading to minor aberrations escalating into major breaches of containment. Current systemic collapse estimated in 428 days. Footnotes 1. An artificial life which simulates the flocking behavior of birds, and related group motion. 2. Thermal electromagnetic radiation within or surrounding a body in thermodynamic equilibrium with its environment 3. Millisievert is the scientific unit of measurement for whole body radiation dose, called "effective dose." 4. Peer-to-peer network, where computers provide equal access to resources and data. 5. An enlargement of the liver and spleen. 6. Swollen or enlarged lymph nodes 7. Kernel Unit Termination « SCP-8708 | SCP-8709 | SCP-8710 » ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8709" by Petdoc1991, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8709. 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: LighthouseSCP6888.jpg Name: Storm clouds at sunset over Bathurst Island, 80km North of Darwin.jpg Author: GDW.45 License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8710
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keter
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{$caption} Damn these Fascists to the depths of my abyss. Darkness shall snuff out the storm; bone and flesh recall all that was taken. Death's beauty is eternal. DrBleep Reading time: 1 hour, 7 minutes Word count: 18,000 SUGGESTED LISTENING: Overall Theme: Into Darkness by Thomas Bergerson Still Here - Forts, Tiffany Aris, and 2WEI Character Themes: Aliyah Sarkis: Emily Kurr: Still Here - Forts, Tiffany Aris, and 2Wei Abigail: Arcade Master - Two Steps From Hell Aleah: Blinding Lights - The Weekend Sherry Andrews: Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benetar You can find more of Bleep's works Here. Item #: SCP-8710 SCP-8710 Special Containment Procedures: All personnel working within SCP-8710 are regularly screened for cognitohazardous and memetic indoctrination. Disinformation campaigns should be stripped of all signs of official documentation and issued via word of mouth by implanted Foundation agents. Local TV, radio and newspaper organizations have been purchased by Foundation Shell corporations to screen for and excise reports of anomalous events. Specially created anti-memetic filters are applied by geo-location tags to users within SCP-8710 attempting to make posts with keywords or photos indicative of anomalous events. Amnestics are ineffective and should not be used. SCP-8710 skyline Description: SCP-8710 is the city of Valencia, capital of the province of València and the third largest city in the country of Spain. SCP-8710 is subject to an ontological disruption of the noosphere. It is suspected that the city itself, due to its rich cultural and historic traditions, is directly responsible for this effect. Due to the size of the city and its population, containment has proved exceedingly difficult. SCP-8710's primary anomalous effects manifest in a strong adherence and belief in the anomalous among its population, a complete resistance to all amnestics, and dramatically increased occurrences of ritualistic and anomalous practices; especially involving necromancy and reverence for the dead. One consequence of this effect is that almost all residents of SCP-8710 are aware, to different degrees, of the Foundation's existence and its goals. Its secondary anomalous effects consist of sharp resistance to cultural change through force or outside decree, thus compelling an anti-authoritarian effect among the populace. Extent of SCP-8710's effects marked in Red. Quantitating the timeframe in which SCP-8710 began has proven difficult, due to the complicated nature of the anomaly, and the incomplete records of the city's history during the post-Roman period. The first clear records of SCP-8710 begin during the fitna of Al-Andalus, where scholars of Taifa of Valencia discuss the particular difficulties of ruling Valencia, and the peculiarities of non-Christian traditions. Discovery: SCP-8710 was first discovered in 1975 following the death of Francisco Franco. The Special Security Commission was in the process of being dismantled and replaced by the newly established Spanish Branch of the Foundation when a mass necromantic event occurred in downtown Valencia. MTF-Psi-8 was deployed and had significant difficulty in dealing with the necromantic constructs due to SCP-8710's effects. Automobile belonging to a high ranking fascist official after being launched by a Necromantic Construct within SCP-8710. Regional TV stations captured footage live and it was distributed on local networks before the Foundation could intercept them. Following the incident, Foundation officials attempted to administer amnestics to large numbers of Valencian residents who had witnessed these events. The amnestics were completely ineffective, and by extension, awareness of the Foundation's existence spread among Valencian society. Of note, The Special Security Commission's records indicate that SCP-8710's effect was greatly reduced from 1939-1975. This is the second such recorded dip in activity in the historical record, the other being a nearly two-century long weakening of the effect from 1609-1800. The source of the first chronological drop is believed to be related to the expulsion of the Moriscos and harsh crackdowns by the Catholic Inquisition. The cause of the second drop is unknown as Special Security Commission records with regards to Valencia are incomplete. Historical Records HR-8710 The following are excerpts from notable figures in Spanish history in regards to SCP-8710; gathered by Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, PhD in Near East Religious and Divine Studies, Archaeologist and Head of Research of SCP-8710. Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar Author: Rodrigo Díaz de Viva Foreword: The following excerpts come from transcriptions, recorded second hand by Valencian Monks, of stories told by Rodrigo Díaz de Viva, hero of Al-Andalus, legend of Muslim and Christian Spain. Entries have been translated from Old Spanish with care taken to preserve clarity and meaning. Valencia, a beautiful city, a gem upon the shores of the Mediterranean. It is a strange place truly, though I have been here but a few weeks, its charm sinks into my bones. The wonder of Al-Andalus shines underneath our God’s light, and nowhere is it more apparent than here in Valencia. But that light is strange, and magical. Rodrigo Diaz De Vivar during the conquest of SCP-8710. The people here attend prayer, and Mass but they are unlike any Mass that I have attended before. They speak much of the dead, and reverence for how the deeds of the living shape the afterlife in the context of death. It's a strange thing, to sit in a holy Church or a Mosque and hear it. Hear our scripture recontextualized to focus not on our Lord and Savior's will but the will of death and its nuances. Stranger yet is their proclivity to bury the dead beneath their homes. Even in larger buildings and abodes where it is impractical they will do this, refusing to use graveyards. The Churches and Mosques here are dark, all such things are due to size, but there is no Darkness like the thick mist that sits within those hallowed halls of Valencia. It is as though the source of the city's mystique drips from within their confines. There is a throbbing beat here, a rhythm that the whole city dances to and I could swear in the mornings they ooze thick blue-green fog into the streets. The people of Valencia are deeply friendly, though immensely suspicious of priests and imams from beyond Valencia's walls. They greeted me as a hero, as a source of personal salvation, and wished blessings upon me. Many a time I have asked after the strangeness in their religious customs, about the fascination with death. They always laugh and tell me much the same as I hear in the Mosques and Churchs. Death is a part of the cycle of living, and that actions in life determine the fate of death. One young maiden spoke to me of a Mother, a Matriarch of Christ's eternal spirit. At first, I thought she was referring to the Virgin Mary, or perhaps Mary Magdalene, but now I am unsure. Ferdinand II of Aragon Author: Ferdinand II of Aragon Foreword: The following excerpts come from the personal Diary of Ferdinand II of Aragon in regards to the Spanish Inquisition. Valencia continues to be a thorn in the side of the unity of the holy order of Spain and God's light. I have been unable to ascertain again and again whether the city is in open rebellion. Its people pay taxes, its governors abide by some of the rules of law and land, but the inquisition and laws of God are openly undermined and defied. The Spanish Inquisition attempting to enter a Cathedral within SCP-8710. Muslims and Jews alike walk the streets with their fellow Christians. With the Ottomans an ever-present threat, this defiance could not be allowed to stand. But the Church Officials within the city do not recognize me except in the vaguest of capacities. 'The Kingdom of Valencia stands free'. I have attempted to activate the local Hermandad, and they do not respond. The Church officials do not respond. Valencia is a city within my power, within my kingdom and yet it moves through the tide of God's will on its own path. Then there are the rumors that reach me, of morbid fascinations with death, of Iconography adorning the Cathedrals and Synagogues. Drawings of skulls, of towering rocks and canyons and fields of flowers. This is some pagan artifice, sorcery whose source we must find and destroy. Yet the three attempts that have been made have failed. Three times I have sent companies of two hundred men, only for them to vanish. We thought them all perished until several were identified by loyalists sent to investigate, living among the common folk of the city, arms abandoned. The rest? Strung up like heretics on pillars of bone in common squares. Perhaps it is true what those inquisitors, blessed with God's Light, say on their return. There is a greater force in the Kingdom of Valencia, rumors and whispers only caught in the shadows from the locals. As long as its control remains, Valencia is perhaps best left alone. Juan de Ribera Author: Juan de Ribera Foreword: The following entry comes from the personal notes of Juan de Ribera, two months before his death from injuries inflicted by an ornate blade carved from human bone. Though the official conclusion was suicide, descriptions of the crime scene indicate otherwise. We have succeeded in breaking the Moriscos’s hold on Valencia. Even now I can feel the lessening of this heathenistic pagan magic. My only regret is that the King deigned enslavement of these wicked men and women to be a step too far. Nothing is too far for these blasphemers, worshippers of perverted death and forbidden iconography. For too long they have driven this perverse atmosphere within the gem of our holy city. No longer. Juan de Ribera orchestrating and carrying out the expulsion of the Moriscos. In time our aggrieved citizens will see, once this yoke of witchcraft is thrown off, just how glorious God truly is. Let us be rid of these profane practices, of this obsession with death. None but God determines the fate of the soul in life, a good Christian life is the only way to avoid the fires of hell. Expulsion of the Moriscos from SCP-8710 by Pere Oromig. I will admit I was unsettled; a woman came to visit me before we committed to the expulsion. Of her I knew nothing, tall and dark of skin, I thought her at first a slave. Then I knew she was one of them, a Morisco. Her words were soft but harsh. 'If this deed you commit to, no act of heaven will deliver you and yours from a hell of your own making.' Perhaps she was a dream, for I called the guards, and they came running, and when I turned back she was gone. I could not even tell you the details of her appearance as they slipped from my mind. I believe now it was the devil in womanly disguise. While the most likely mundane explanation for the figure described by Ribera is either a hallucination or embellished tale of personal heroism, facing down the devil, the nature of his death soon after casts doubt on this. If this is a legitimate account of the manifestation of an unknown entity then it may be related to ‘The Great Lady’ of Valencia, the city’s folkloric guardian or personification attested to by the common people. I'll look for any similar reports. -Dr. Sarkis. Joseph Bonaparte Author: Joseph Bonaparte Foreword: Joseph Bonaparte was appointed the King of Spain by Napoleon Bonaparte in January of 1812. He made his capital in the City of Valencia. This place, this city is a putrid pit of defiance and undercurrent. Though I rule Spain, though my authority reaches throughout the country, none within the confines of this city listen to my decrees. There is a strange and sickly air here. I strode into a church for mass and found myself bombarded with motives and depictions of death, of skeletal artificery and blasphemy one would expect from pagans and the occult. At night there is the thickest of fogs, blue-green in pallor. Strange things move around in the dark and those locals who are sympathetic advise that I should not move through it, for the Mother might come for me. The city is not hostile, but it is neither friendly nor accommodating. I fear we have stumbled into a fairy tale not our own. SCP-8710 during the Napoleonic Wars. Warnings have been made against my throne, soldiers eviscerated in front of the castle gates and left openly and provocatively to the sky. One evening I stepped from my bedchambers onto the balcony to see the city at night. I could swear there was something in the fog, something tall and dark haired with eyes that moved, yes moved, like a burning flame. Bright and blue. I blinked and it was gone, and so too my memory tried to slide away. Partisan activity continues sharply in the city, no matter how much we commit, and our losses to desertion are as much as those to partisan activity. I've come to believe occupation of Valencia as our capital was a mistake. Another mention of a manifestation witnessed by a foreign ruler, this time more directly connected with this "Mother" figure, who I believe to be one and the same with the Great Lady. My initial suspicion is an ontological intrusion, born either of sympathetic projection on the part of the Valencian people's fervent belief in this figure, an unknown relic, or combination of the two with the latter amplifying the former. If the manifestation has a localized source, the present inaccessibility of potential archaeological sites within the city could make identification and extraction difficult.-Dr. Sarkis The Following concerns the events of the Levante Offensive and the failure of Spanish Nationalist Forces in the battle of the XYZ Line. Battle of the XYZ Line After Action Report Anomalous Event #: 15 Date of Occurence: 18th July - 23rd July 1938 Description: On 18th July 1938 Nationalist forces began our assault on the XYZ line, with the intent to break through and advance on the Republican Stronghold of Valencia. The morning of the assault a thick and unnatural fog moved into the trenches of the XYZ line and the town of Viver, obscuring Republican forces. Nationalist forces began their assault shortly after 08:00 hours and ran into immediate and stiff resistance. Artillery barrages were fierce, and machine gun fire inflicted a large number of casualties. The preternatural fog rolled out across no-man's land prior to the second wave of assault. When the second wave began, individual units moved into the fog and were quickly devastated by a number of raised skeletal constructs, hidden earthen traps and spikes, and were hemmed into fire corridors for artillery and machine gun fire. The suspected source were the historically well-known and prevalent necromantic groups within Valencia, but the scale of the event was incongruent with any prior documentation, and unusual movements of earth and lighting were inconsistent with known necromantic capacities of para-natural groups residing in Valencia. Photo of Republican anti-aircraft position along the XYZ line outside of SCP-8710. According to cooperative sources, groups within Valencia were preparing the city's internal defenses at the time, and did not move to assist larger republican efforts. Several survivors from the assault claimed to have seen a 'giant' that was described as a woman, appearing, and disappearing in the fog over the course of the 6-day assault. Remnants of fortifications just outside SCP-8710. Numerous photos were taken during the battle, and no other documentation exists matching this description. Thus, this inquiry concludes that it was likely that the city itself acted to aid republican forces. This commission will need to take this into consideration for future operations seeking to secure Valencia, and actions that may neutralize an anomaly that has existed for nearly a millennia, post-occupation. End Record And here they are again in a modern account. I wish the population of the city didn't utterly loathe us, including the academics. I've gotten glimpses, whiffs of it from overheard conversations, of a shepherd or maternal-like figure that guides or coaxes the city. What is it? Is it sapient? Is it an object? An afterimage of some long past religious group? And what did the commission do to neutralize it? Clearly it wasn’t permanent. -Dr. Sarkis The following document is an excerpt from a lecture series by Dr. Aliyah Sarkis on SCP-8710. Lecture on SCP-8710 SCP-8710’s existence doesn’t appear to be a unique phenomenon. Instead, the city of Valenica presents as the most prominent example of a wider class of localized ontological and cultural disruptions found elsewhere in Ibiza, Santorini, and as far North as the Orkney Islands. In all these places we see a heightened rate of anomalous events, and a corresponding belief in the supernatural among the local populations. Of these, however, Valencia is the most important civic center, has by far the highest population, has the most widespread and disruptive anomalous events, and her population is hostile to our organization. Valencia's culture is most often described as strongly deriving from Christian influenced Celtic traditions. Christianization of Roman Iberia initially suppressed Celtic and Iberian traditions; before more formally adopting them for their own purposes in the late 6th century CE. These circumstances lasted only for a century as the Umayyad Caliphate’s conquest of Iberia sparked immediate repression of pagan customs, including the celebration of Samhain, and enslavement of pagans at large. More tolerance was shown to Christian and Jewish residents. The prevailing attitude towards non-muslim religious practices softened following the conquest, and some pagan traditions returned by the early 8th century as educated, upper-class members of Islamic Al-Andalusian society exhibited a marked interest in learning about and exploring historical and folkloric traditions. Día de Todos los Santos guidance of the dead in a rare Valencian graveyard. This context is important as certain cultural aspects typically attributed to the Spanish Celtic and Iberian traditions; including Samhain, are more pronounced in Valencia than in other regions. When these cultural aspects arose is poorly documented, but by the 10th century CE they were widely prevalent in Valencia and surrounding provinces, and would only become more so in the following centuries. Many aspects of Valencian culture commonly attributed to Iberian and Celtic traditions only find tenuous parallels there, in a way that suggests that, much like the Christianization of pagan holidays, these traditions were reshaped to fit another, external system of beliefs. Iberian eschatology seems to have fit quite neatly into this external influence, and may suggest why Valencia, of all places, became the center of this phenomenon. Closer examination reveals notable differences that suggest there was an initial period of ‘mixing’, before the Celtic and Iberian aspects were either integrated into this newly forming culture or were warped beyond recognition. This is complicated by the fact that Spain, as a whole, experienced a post-inquisition uptick in celebration of both Valencian aligned cultural festivals and classic pagan traditions. Thus, tracing the origins and points of evolution is difficult. Unfortunately, this is further distorted by our limited ability to access local records and the Church’s proclivity, during the inquisition, to suppress and remove any references to pagan traditions beyond accusations of witchcraft. This is all to say, tracking the evolution of SCP-8710’s anomalous cultural effects is exceedingly difficult, bordering on impossible. Though we cannot trace the exact cultural lineage and origin points, we can see how SCP-8710 continues to expand its influence and evolve through the rise of modern celebrations. The most prominent of these are the Spain centered 'Día de las Brujas' and the originally more Christian versions of ‘Día de Todos los Santos’ and ‘Día de los Difuntos’, where both the perceived 'modern' and 'traditional' aspects can be traced to Valencia. The wider effect is also believed to have reached the New World, where SCP-8710's effects may have mixed with meso-American traditions to produce Día de los Muertos; a holiday that bears many analogous beliefs and practices to those observed in Valencia, while being dominated by meso-American culture and folklore. Día de las Brujas celebration just outside of SCP-8710. Native Valencians display a deep cultural fascination with death and the dead. The subject permeates every aspect of daily life, in iconography, religion, and cultural practice. Nowhere else is this more clearly illustrated than in their treatment and handling of the dead, in a manner unlike any of their cultural neighbors. Human remains are kept within the home, interred beneath the floorboards, even in multi-story, multi-family homes. Only families living in homes where there is no more room to inter corpses, resort to alternative burial practices, to graveyards, catacombs, and mausoleums. Regardless of location, the construction of these graves invariably includes channels by which offerings of water, alcohol, and liquid sustenance may be made to the dead. Many families include decorative altars around these channels, to facilitate celebration of the act of sustenance. This widespread culture of venerations and offerings to the dead is persistent across generations. Facepaint typical of celebrations in SCP-8710. Offerings of food and drink to the departed are one of the oldest recorded and most widespread, religious traditions concerning the dead. Yet they are absent or forbidden from most Christian and Islamic traditions. Their inclusion in the religious practices of Valencians is one of many hints that Valencian religious beliefs are a product of syncretism between elements of Abrahamic faiths, and an unknown religious tradition, believed to be a product of SCP-8710’s effects. Valencian religion includes neither Heaven nor Hell, and while most Valencians have a concept of sin, their understanding of the term is entirely bound up in their understanding of the afterlife and their culture of offerings. To sin is to treat others poorly; to treat them in such a way that they and their descendants will make no offerings to you after you die. In their afterlife, the soul must be nourished just as living people are. If no offerings are made, your soul will starve, drinking nought but dust and ash. In practice, though, many Valencians make goodwill offerings to nameless and forgotten graves. Any scholars of ancient near-eastern, especially Mesopotamian, religion in the audience should have some alarm bells going off by this part of the lecture. A modern residential alter to the dead within SCP-8710. The Valencian affinity for death goes beyond the cultural. Native Valencians found engaging in thaumaturgical practice invariably are drawn towards practices concerning the dead, primarily necromancy, for which they display a heightened capacity over non-Valencians. This capacity, along with psychological fixation on death and resistance to amnestic treatment, persists in Valencians who have been removed from the boundaries of SCP-8710. Necromancy doesn’t extend to reanimation, a prospect the native Valencians experience strong revulsion to. Spontaneous reanimation, however, is shockingly common. Outside of Valencia, spontaneous reanimation of the dead occurs in isolated incidents, and is vanishingly rare in absolute terms. In Valencia? 15 spontaneous reanimations per 1000 deaths. The dead do walk the streets of Valencia. Current theories chalk this up to a disruption of the Noosphere, resulting in a thinning in the conceptual barriers between life and death. Veneration of death and the dead seeps beyond the daily and religious affairs of native Valencians into the realm of creative passion. Murals, paintings, sculptures and carvings originating from within SCP-8710 reflect pronounced differences across all periods, contrasting substantially against the works produced in the rest of Catholic Europe. Frequent use of dark and macabre scenes, morose depictions of death, and the mixture of bleak and desolate imagery are frequently paired and mixed with palettes and compositions we would typically associate with bucolic art as well as vivid depictions of daily life. Cities engraved into the sides of canyons, fields of flowers, and sharp craggy ravines are frequent motifs in a disproportionately large number of Valencian murals and paintings considering the local terrain. These strange mixtures and choice of landscapes lend a unique character to Valencian artwork that invokes both the darkness of plague-stricken Europe and the hope and expression seen in the Renaissance. Valencian artistry is not a static tradition; the character and compositions of works change and transition between major styles and periods, in parallel with the rest of Europe. To the Valencian artist, death is a hopeful friend, a source of certainty in that everyone will eventually face it. Rather than fear death, and what comes next, they cherish its inevitability. Nowhere is this certainty in inevitability more apparent than in Valencian religious iconography, where more traditional Christian imagery has been coopted or relegated to the background. Christ, though frequently present, has been almost replaced in prominence by a mysterious, motherly figure which the Valencians refer to as "The Mother of the Dead". Those of you familiar with 8710 are probably already familiar with the peculiarities of this figure, and her presence in many Valencian art pieces, not just those of a religious nature. When queries arise concerning ‘The Mother’, native Valencians simply refer to her as the Virgin Mary, at least to non-natives. Deeper inquiries are often met with silence, dismissal, or suggestions to speak to the Clergy and sometimes even attending mass or services. In my experience, agents that have previously pressed the issue further have been met with suspicion and occasionally hostility. It’s clear this figure’s prominence goes far beyond the normally heightened status of Mary in Catholic belief. Artwork and iconography frequently depicts this figure as wielding or being associated with the seven bells of creation, which themselves are associated with the seven days it took god to create the Earth. This peculiar conflation of ‘the Mother’ with Mary, the rampant association with the act of creation in Genesis, and the secretive and defensive nature of native Valencians about the topic leads me to believe there is far more depth and meaning to these depictions and the concept of the entity than 8710 residents want us to see or believe. Many of you gathered here will have already been exposed to examples of artwork depicting the Mother of the Dead, the Great Lady of Valencia. Show of hands, who has? Now, keep your hand up if your baseline CRV score is below 20. Everyone with their hands still up is required to report for memetic deprogramming. Depictions of the Mother are cognitohazardous, deific indoctrination. Enjoy the spinning lights. Interview Video and Audio Log IVA-8710-01 Interview Log IR-8710-15 Date: ██/██/████ Interviewer: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis Foreword: Due to the difficulty foreign elements have in securing any sort of extended contact with academics working and residing within Valencia, Dr. Aliyah Sarkis took a shot-gun approach in reaching out to as many academics as possible. In spite of this effort, only one response was received, from a Dr. Emily Kurr, an immigrant from Poland born to parents who were themselves immigrants from Iraq. Dr. Sarkis arranged a meeting time with Dr. Kurr at the latter's office in the University of Valencia for recording purposes. <Begin Log> Dr. Emily Kurr finishes rearranging books on the shelves as Dr. Sarkis finishes setting up and turning on recording devices. Dr. Kurr is ~2 meters tall. The right arm is replaced at the shoulder with a high-end prosthetic. She is of middle eastern descent and has brown eyes. Dr. Kurr sits in the chair when she has finished rearranging her books. Dr. Sarkis sits in the opposite chair, watching Dr. Kurr work. Dr. Sarkis's watches her. Her fists are clenched against the chair, muscles in her arms appearing strained. She waits for Dr. Kurr to finish her work. Dr. Kurr looks at Aliyah as she takes her seat. They sit there for another minute. Dr. Kurr raises an eyebrow when Dr. Sarkis does not begin the interview. Dr. Sarkis closes her mouth. She sits up and her expression shifts to polite professionalism. She extends a hand to the woman. Dr. Sarkis: "Dr. Emily Kurr? Dr. Aliyah Sarkis." Dr. Sarkis:"It's good to finally meet you." Dr. Kurr looks at the hand for several seconds before taking it with the prosthetic. Dr. Sarkis' hand tenses but doesn't let go after contact. Dr. Kurr:"A pleasure Dr. Sarkis. Your email was a surprise. Many Akkadian experts grace my door, but it is unusual for them to wish to talk about Valencia specifically." Dr. Sarkis:"My specialization is actually in Ancient Sumer." Dr. Sarkis:"Though I'm well familiar with the Akkadians as well. As for, uh, Valencia, I suppose I was wanting a change of pace from my normal courses of investigation, and this project fell into my lap." Dr. Kurr:"Ah well, Akkad and Sumer are fascinating. Rich periods of culture and human history." Dr. Kurr leans back in her chair. Dr. Kurr: "But they are done. Unwinding their stories is important of course, but the cultures, the religions are dead, no? Valencia is not. It is a living, breathing thing that marches forward, and is so very rich in belief and tradition." Dr. Kurr smiles. Dr. Kurr:"Did it fall into your lap, or did you seek it out?" Dr. Sarkis:"I'd say a little bit of both." Dr. Sarkis smiles. Dr. Sarkis: "And yeah, it's not common I get the opportunity to talk to living people about their history and folklore." Dr. Sarkis: "Though… Most Valencian historians and folklorists I've tried to reach out to have been about as quiet as the dead, anyway." Dr. Sarkis smiles, her eyes are half lidded, and a small amount of teeth show. Dr. Kurr's smile returns to a flat line. Dr. Kurr: "Outsiders coming into the city have garnered a reputation, and I'm not surprised most do not wish to let that darken their door." Dr. Sarkis: "What's the reputation?" Dr. Kurr:"Men and women in suits attempting to obscure the truth, play God with the mind, erase a culture." Dr. Sarkis' features slacken for a moment as she looks down, a complicated expression rising on her face. After several seconds, she looks up. Dr. Sarkis:"I just want to better understand and document the people here and the culture. If the locals and academics believe me doing so would be a threat to said culture, that's their judgment to make." Dr. Kurr tilts her head, watching Aliyah. Dr. Kurr:"And what is it you wish to learn?" Dr. Sarkis:"I want to know more about the Great Lady of Valencia. And the Mother of the Dead." Dr. Kurr:"Ah, the Great Lady. Yes, yes, such an interesting phenomenon." Dr. Kurr taps her fingers together. Dr. Sarkis:"She is. Are the two figures one and the same? I haven't been able to tell for sure from what I've read, and what I've heard from people here in the city." Dr. Kurr:"Are they the same… What an interesting question." She taps a finger on the desk. Dr. Kurr:"I suppose it would depend on the source you are looking at, no? You have done no small amount of preparatory reading, I am certain?" Dr. Sarkis:"I've read quite a bit, but most of what I've been able to get my hands on is from outsiders to the city, and secondary sources. Nobody intimately familiar with the local culture. Both names seem to refer to the same figure, and some connect one or the other with the Virgin Mary, but I've not found anything explicitly saying they're the same." Dr. Kurr:"Mmm, I think the Virgin Mary is perhaps a red herring. I see why theologists and anthropologists would make that leap based on the outside perception of the imagery." Again Dr. Kurr taps her finger on the desk. A low auditory hum is briefly heard, and she tilts her head, an expression of confusion momentarily appearing on her face. Dr. Sarkis doesn't appear to notice. The professor begins speaking again with a different tone. Dr. Kurr:"The practices are not initially Judeo-Christian in derivation, except for perhaps the structures." Dr. Sarkis leans forward. Dr. Kurr:"I'm sure you realized that though." Dr. Sarkis:"I had my suspicions, but no evidence to go on. I couldn't find any parallels between the figure and any pre-Christian Iberian tradition or syncretism with any culture Valencians would have had direct contact with." Dr. Kurr:"Indeed and the tradition seems to have spread beyond simply Valencia, changing as it so often does." The camera footage crackles for several seconds with static before returning to normal. Dr. Kurr is audibly excited as she speaks, but only for several seconds before returning to her prior demeanor. Dr. Kurr:"The parallels to Spanish culture at large, and the bleed into the new world?" Dr. Sarkis:"Indeed, but it's never become so ubiquitous and enduring anywhere else but here." Dr. Kurr:"Exactly, it remains primarily local." Dr. Kurr:"Now I have spent quite a bit of time studying divinities associated with death. There are some that might fit the conceptualization of a Great Lady, and a mother both. Hel and Scathatch being the closest regionally." Dr. Kurr: "Perhaps Dea Tacita, the silent goddess too." Dr. Sarkis:"I'm not as familiar with Hel and Scathatch as I probably should be, but I did look into Dea Tacita, which seems… possible. There are similarities, particularly traditions surrounding offerings of food and drink to the dead, but those are common traditional elements across many cultures, and there's none of the key elements of Tacita's myth I've found connected to the Mother." Dr. Sarkis pauses and then considers. Dr. Sarkis: "The symbols associated with the Great Lady also don't align with Tacita either. Seven seems to be an incredibly important numerology, as well as bells and owls. There are fewer accessible sources to outsiders regarding those symbols and how they're associated with the Mother." Dr. Kurr:"Mmmm. All are important associations with the figure and the associated mythology. I'm surprised that knowledge hasn't spread beyond the city, but then again, the citizenry has become… secretive with how outsiders tend to behave." Dr. Sarkis:"Could you tell me a bit about those symbols, and the mythology behind them?" Dr. Kurr:"Of course. Where would you like me to start?" Dr. Sarkis:"How about the number seven, and the bells? They seem intertwined." Dr. Kurr reaches back and pulls a book off the shelf. Its title reads 'The Mother of the Dead and the Great Lady of Valencia: Their Associated Myths and Folklore.' She opens the tome and flips several pages. Dr. Kurr: "I’ll read you the first myth that involves her in local Christian scripture. You're familiar with Genesis from the Abrahamic texts?" Dr. Sarkis hesitates. Dr. Sarkis:"Hard not to be." Dr. Kurr watches her for a moment, eyebrow rising slowly. Dr. Kurr:"Good then I can skip the parts you know. In the beginning when El made the world, he was not alone. He conspired with a Goddess of reverent status, but she had no name that survives, as the sons of Abraham greatly feared her, and burnt all trace from the literature." The Bell of Communication. "On the first day she who would become the Mother of the Dead, created the first bell, the Bell of Communication, encompassing the language of reality through which she spoke with El. Beads decorated its handle and gave it power. She rang the bell and it granted meaning to reality." Dr. Kurr:"On the second day, the Mother created the Bell of Authority, it's handle in the shape of a crown. She rang it and granted the sky above authority over that below." The Bell of Authority. "On the third day the Mother created the Bell of Creativity, she rang it granting the sea and land and plants many shapes. Rather than embed it with any special materials, she forged bracelets, and El grew jealous of her splendor, until he realized she could serve another purpose." The Bell of Creativity. Dr. Kurr pauses momentarily to flip a page as Dr. Sarkis leans forward, listening intently while looking at the tome in-between them. Dr. Kurr: "On the fourth day, the Mother forged the Bell of Manifestation, always to be held and rung with a cloth in hand. She rang it and granted the celestial bodies their beauty." The Bell of Manifestation. Dr. Kurr picks up a bottle and drinks from it. "Lo on the fifth day, the Mother, sensing some plan on behalf of El, created the Bell of Personal Power, its surface engraved with glimmering lights. She rang it, granting the creatures of the earth to come, autonomy." The Bell of Personal Power. She flips another page. Dr. Kurr: "On the 6th day, God made the land animals and convened the Mother’s help to shape mankind from the most fertile of clay. By her unerring grace all animals and humans were granted autonomy and power through the ringing of the 5th bell. Infatuated with his creations, and the qualities granted to them by his equal, El created a paradise where they might reside, and forbade them to take from the knowledge of the world." "The Mother, seeing the potential for humankind to be more, created the Bell of Perception, bearing the wisdom of the world in the lapis lazuli carefully embedded in its surface. In the form of an owl, she came to the companion of the man named Adam. Her name was Eve, and the Mother spoke to Eve of the beauty of the world in the depths of dreams, and how much more she could be should she partake of the wisdom soaked fruit. Eve listened to her hoots, and consumed the apple from the tree as the Mother rang the bell, granting her wisdom. She then told Adam, and together they consumed more of the fruit, and gained much knowledge. El was displeased and banished them from the garden, resolving to enact the plan on the Mother in retribution for her transgression." The Bell of Perception. Dr. Kurr turns another page, pauses and takes another sip of water from the bottle on her desk. Dr. Kurr: "On The 7th Day, the Sons of Abraham claim El rested but this is false. Certain of the next course, El created a place in the bowels of the Earth, for he foresaw the betrayal of one of his children. He impressed upon the Mother a new task in the order of his creation. She would oversee the Dead, and sort them based on the way they lived their lives, sending them to heaven or limbo or hell. The children of Abraham mistakenly labeled her Lilith, but she took on another name. In response, she forged the final bell, the Bell of Compassion, and rather than decorate it she forged a breastplate to sustain herself against the harshness of El's onslaught." The Bell of Compassion. "Their debate raged for eons, but the bells and their gifts were not enough for the Mother to overcome El. In one final act of desperation, the Mother collapsed the highest peaks of many mountains atop her body, covering herself in darkness and severing her right arm. El took this as his victory prize, and gave her peace. In the end she was not able to overcome her fate, and she resigned to the task she'd been given. In the depths she retooled the bells to serve new purposes, to manage the dead she would come to hold dear, and to forge a Queendom all her own. But she did not resent El, for in his selfishness, he had granted the Mother of the Dead freedom over a world all her own. For one day, the seeds of wisdom she planted in long yesterday would bloom into reverence and balance to check El's aggression into love." Dr. Kurr flips the book closed. Dr. Kurr: "This is just one version of the mythology, and it changes based on who you speak with. The Moriscos had their own versions of the tale before they were deported enmasse from Spain." Dr. Kurr frowns and her shoulders sag for a moment, before her eyes return to Dr. Sarkis. Dr. Sarkis: "What were the bells' new purposes?" Dr. Kurr leaned down, and brought out an ornamental set of bells, setting them on the desk. Dr. Kurr: "Why don't you guess first?" Dr. Sarkis: "Honestly, I don’t think I have enough context or familiarity to make a decent guess.” Dr. Kurr: "The first bell was reworked to grant or take speech from the dead. The second, bend the dead's spirit to the ringer's will. The third to restore the mind. The fourth to restore or deprive form and beauty to the listener. The fifth to restore or rob autonomy, sixth to repair or steal memory and knowledge, the seventh to reconstruct or destroy emotions." Dr. Sarkis: "Fascinating… and I suppose this is another case of syncretism? Given the replacement of the snake in the Garden of Eden with an Owl?" Dr. Kurr: "It would seem so. It is an interesting replacement at the very least." Several minutes of silence pass between them as Dr. Sarkis scribbles down everything Dr. Kurr has said. Dr. Kurr picks up her bottle as Dr. Sarkis is finishing her writing, and drinks from it. Dr. Sarkis: "Do you think the Mother of the Dead and God are lovers in this version of the myth?" Dr. Kurr chokes on water, putting the bottle down and coughing for several seconds, before responding. Dr. Kurr: "No, no I don't believe so, not in any of the myths or scripture I've seen. More of a brother and sister. If anything, the Mother of the Dead has little, if any sexual connotations." Dr. Sarkis nods and writes another line on her notepad. Dr. Sarkis: "Do you have any copies of those texts that I could take with me?" Dr. Kurr: "Of course." Dr. Kurr reaches back to the book shelf, and pulls an identical volume to the one she was reading from. Dr. Sarkis takes the volume and places it in her bag. Dr. Sarkis: "Thanks. So when precisely did the Great Lady start appearing in Valencian art and scripture? Without access to local records it's been… difficult for me or other outside scholars to understand the time period in which she first became an influential religious and mythological figure? When did the culture start to transition to the teachings we've seen for the past millenia?" Dr. Kurr: "It depends on which source you look at. Some claim that the Mother, the Great Lady, first began appearing around the time of El Cid." Dr. Sarkis: "That seems a little late, based on the written transcriptions of his stories. Seems a little peculiar for such a strong culture to become so ingrained so quickly. Dr. Kurr: "Indeed, which is why I believe it started much earlier. The earliest attested sources are from around 830-840 CE, when several Valencian poets and historians wrote in vagaries about changes to worship in Valencian Mosques and Churches that resemble early versions of the more modern practices. There are some… interesting specifics that weren't carried over." Dr. Sarkis: "Such as?" Dr. Kurr: "An entourage of celestial beings that answered to the Mother but not God, the presence of an endless city in the underworld for the dead, the use of the word 'Elil' in place of God or El in old Spanish, mentions of souls being a river of fire. It's a shame we lack significant scripture or text from this period." Dr. Sarkis: "I would love to compare them, but if there's no surviving scripture, then…" Dr. Kurr:"Then it was buried or destroyed. Sadly, many texts have been lost to the annals of history it seems." Dr. Sarkis: "Shameful, but still far more than I hoped for." Another minute of silence passes between them as Dr. Sarkis scribbles on her notepad. Dr. Sarkis: "This is all very helpful Dr. Kurr, and raises many more questions about the Great Lady." Dr. Kurr taps her fingers on the desk. Dr. Kurr:"With this new dearth of knowledge, Tell me what you think, both about what you knew before, and know now." Dr. Sarkis:"…" Dr. Sarkis hesitates, sitting back in the chair. Dr. Sarkis:"If I tell you what I think, you'll think I'm crazy." Dr. Kurr leans forward. Dr. Kurr:"Try me." Dr. Sarkis:"This won't leave this room?" Dr. Kurr:"Of course." Dr. Sarkis:"I don't think the Great Lady of Valencia, the Mother of the Dead, is a purely folkloric figure. I believe she's some sort of genuine entity. Which has taken up residence here." Dr. Kurr:"Oh? Curious. What makes you believe this?" Dr. Sarkis:"Looking through historical records, there are consistent… phenomena, unusual occurrences, documented hundreds of years apart by different outside individuals from different foreign cultures, associated with one figure or the other. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about." Dr. Kurr:"The strange visions and delusions, figures in the fog in the journals of historical figures. Yes." Dr. Kurr leans back in her chair, shifting a hand to rub her chin. Dr. Kurr:"Most historians dismiss those conversations with a strange otherworldly figure as the result of bad bread, rotten food, or dreams recalled in place of memory." Dr. Kurr:"You believe them real?" Dr. Sarkis:"I believe it's a possibility." Dr. Kurr:"So. Instead of some imagined enemy or ally, you believe the Great Lady to be a real entity." Dr. Kurr:"Interesting." Dr. Kurr:"Have you found evidence other than the ravings of historical figures in journals?" Dr. Sarkis:"I was looking into it, and I found…. military records, from the Spanish Civil War. I'm not much of a military historian, but after the loss at the XYZ line, an unusual amount of resources were dedicated to a military operation somewhere between Barcelona and Valencia, away from the main front. There are reports of similar phenomena to those observed in those other records, paired with more destructive effects, up until that point. Then, Nationalist forces captured… someone. The records don't give a name of the individual, but after that point, those effects seem to lessen, or cease." Dr. Kurr sits up in her chair, an indiscernible expression passing across her face. Dr. Kurr:"I see. I am not a military historian." The professor’s voice changes to a cautious tone. Dr. Kurr:"Did you find any description of who they captured?" Dr. Sarkis:"Just that she was a tall, imposing looking woman." Dr. Sarkis gestures. Dr. Sarkis:"It was vague." Dr. Kurr:"Hmmm. That could mean anything, potentially a republican leader?" Dr. Sarkis:"There weren't any good candidates that I could find." Dr. Kurr leans back in her chair, pressing fingers to her chin again. Dr. Kurr:"Have you dug any further into it?" Dr. Sarkis:"I've run out of places to dig. Except you." Dr. Kurr:"I've reviewed most local sources during that period and while there is an abrupt fall off in… cultural celebration after the civil war, I cannot say I have seen anything regarding a person being worthy of capture with massing of military resources." Dr. Kurr:"But perhaps there is actually a Great Lady of Valencia who was indeed captured by Franco." Dr. Sarkis tilts her head to one side. Dr. Sarkis:"You don't think that's a crazy idea?" Dr. Kurr:"When you've lived in this city long enough, you see a lot of things the rest of the world doesn't believe." Dr. Sarkis:"Such as?" Dr. Kurr smiles. Dr. Kurr:“Ah are you aware of the incidents after Franco’s regime came to an end?” Dr. Sarkis:"A lot of things happened after the fall of Franco's regime. What specifically do you mean?" Dr. Kurr:“During the transition back to democracy, there was a large number of… unalive things that rose up and targeted specifically members of Valencian society who had enforced fascist ideals during Franco’s reign. Outside influences were called in to deal with them and tried to remove people’s memory.” She pauses, and tilts her head to one side. Dr. Kurr:“Ah but listen to me. You must think I am insane.” Dr. Sarkis shakes her head. Dr. Sarkis:"I don't think you're insane. You have documentation of this?" Dr. Kurr:“That has not been seized or burned by those outsiders? A few newspapers, but no films or tapes. They seized all of those before the citizenry ran them out.” Dr. Sarkis:"That'd probably explain why it didn't come up in my research. I'd like to see those newspapers… If that could be arranged." Dr. Kurr:“Of course.” Dr. Kurr pushes her chair back and moves to a cabinet. After several minutes of sorting and searching through file cabinets, she pulls out a folder and retakes her seat. She opens the folder, and several papers are inside. Video footage captures several headlines as Dr. Kurr spreads the headlines on her desk: “Dead Rise on Eve of Franco’s Death!” “Return of the Great Lady heralds a new renaissance for Valencia” “The Mother of Death Restores Valencia.” Dr. Sarkis gasps at a low volume. She examines the papers which are preserved in sealed lamination. After ~three minutes Dr. Sarkis sits back and looks up at Dr. Kurr. Dr. Sarkis:"These articles, do you have digital copies you could share?" Dr. Kurr:"If you provide an address I can certainly do so." Dr. Sarkis pulls a notebook out from her pocket, tears out a page, and writes on it for several seconds. She offers it to Dr. Kurr, who takes it, looks at it for several seconds, and then nods. Dr. Sarkis:"Thanks, Dr. Kurr." Dr. Kurr:"Of course, happy to help another lover of history." Dr. Sarkis looks down for several seconds, looking at the newspapers again before looking back up. Dr. Sarkis:"…Do you believe in the Great Lady of Valencia, Dr. Kurr?" Dr. Sarkis pauses, her brow furrowing. Dr. Kurr:“Well if you listen to some of the people in this department, you would think I was the Great Lady.” Dr. Kurr snorts, and smiles. Dr. Kurr:“But to answer your question, I am a woman of science and evidence. Do I believe there is something more here? Maybe. Do I believe in the Great Lady? I do not know.” Aliyah rocks her head to one side. Dr. Sarkis:"You mean your colleagues think highly of you? Or…" Dr. Kurr:“Yes. They think highly of me, in multiple ways. I am two meters tall, Dr. Sarkis.” Dr. Sarkis:"I noticed." She smirks. Dr. Sarkis:"But the other people in your department know about her as well… Do you think they believe in her?" Dr. Kurr tilts her head at the question. Dr. Kurr:“I suppose you could say they do. Even men and women of reason are not immune to the comfort of superstition.” Dr. Sarkis nods in agreement. Dr. Sarkis:"Absolutely." Dr. Sarkis:"If… Someone wanted to investigate this further. Is there anywhere or anyone else you would recommend?" Dr. Kurr taps a finger against her chin for several seconds. Dr. Kurr:"I would try poking around one of the churches, perhaps talking to the local clergy." Dr. Sarkis:"I've tried that before. It didn't really go anywhere." Dr. Sarkis:"I get the sense it's not something they talk to outsiders about." Dr. Sarkis looks at Dr. Kurr again. She emits a small noise and Dr. Kurr tilts her head. Dr. Kurr:"Hmmm, maybe try poking around them anyways? The Clergy love to lecture the citizenry." Dr. Sarkis:"I could give it another shot, I suppose. Would they recognize your name? Could you… Give me an introduction?" Dr. Sarkis:"Is there anyone specific I should contact?" Dr. Kurr:"I have a connection through the Church at San Nicolás who collaborates with the Clergy on matters of preservation. Her name is Natalia Iten, dark hair, brown eyes, mid-twenties or so. She should be able to help you if you tell her I sent you. If you can't find her, look for Fernando Ratman." Dr. Sarkis:"Thanks." Dr. Sarkis smiles and rises, offering her hand. Dr. Kurr rises and takes the hand, shaking. Dr. Sarkis:"I'll email you if I have any more questions?" Dr. Kurr:"Please. I may take a few days to respond. I am not as good at technology as some of my colleagues." Dr. Sarkis gives Dr. Kurr a thumbs up. Dr. Sarkis:"Thanks. I, uh, hope we meet again." <End Log> Postword: Following her meeting with Dr. Kurr, Dr. Sarkis notified her office she was traveling to the Church at San Nicolás. She was last seen entering the Church on public CCTV cameras, and did not reemerge. Examining extant employee records of the Church at San Nicolás failed to identify any current or former employees with the name Natalia Iten or Fernando Ratman. Disappearance of Dr. Sarkis: Dr. Sarkis could not be located following multiple searches of the Cathedral at San Nicolás and the surrounding districts of Valencia. Foundation officials attempted to contact Dr. Emily Kurr following their initial searches, only to be informed that she had departed the evening following her interview with Dr. Sarkis for a conference in Cairo, Egypt. Foundation officials initiated search efforts to identify any potential information that could be used to locate Dr. Sarkis, at which time regional command granted permission to examine her personal quarters. Dr. Sarkis' quarters contained a number of previously undiscovered journal entries from historical figures, torn or lost pages of primary sources that were, otherwise, unaccounted for in SCP-8710's files. These documents were laminated and protected, and Dr. Sarkis had made a number of copies which were scattered around her apartment. The following section contains excerpts from these pages, and her most relevant notes. Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar Author: Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar And that is where I found her. The Witch-Queen of Valencia stood before me in all her grandeur. She wore a crown of finger bones atop a waterfall of blood-soaked curls that draped from her head. Her right arm was gone, replaced with some sort of construct of bone, and I thought she must surely be a demon for the arm moved as naturally as the one that was fully fleshed. And her eyes, her eyes were lucid blue flames, dancing in their sockets. Forgive me lord, and forgive me Doña for my thoughts strayed to temptation for so beautiful a creature this Witch was. Dr. Sarkis' Note: A new title, but I’m sure she’s the same figure. The clearest physical description of the Mother of the Dead yet. Rodrigo paints quite a picture. Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition Response: Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition to King Ferdinand II of Aragon. We demanded her surrender and she looked at us as if we were but gnats, a thing to be swatted. One of the Hermandads drew his blade and ran her through. It did nothing. The sky darkened, and then blackness consumed the hapless man, wrapping him in a cocoon of night. His screams were horrible. She said to us "Take your inquisition, and flee. Flee Valencia, for it is not yours to hold." You must forgive me, your Majesty, for our legs did not stop until we were far past the city walls. Dr. Sarkis' Note: Idiots. Lucky she let the rest of them go. Much more merciful than she could have been. Foreign Ontokinetic Interference Detected Document alterations detected. Countermeasures activating. Countermeasures failed. Audio-Visual documentation playing. Brace for possible Deific Indoctrination. Date: ██/██/████ Participants: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710, see D-8710-02). WARNING, ONTOKINETIC EFFECT ACTIVE. SUBSTANTIAL DOCUMENTATION ALTERATIONS DETECTED. Foreword: On ██/██/████ an internet connection was established with Dr. Aliyah Sarkis' personal recording equipment1 and live footage of Dr. Sarkis exploring the lower levels of the Church at San Nicolás was broadcast on a secure channel throughout Site-137. Attempts to modify the following logs to reflect standard documentation have been abandoned due to external ontokinetic influences that have failed to be countered by standard countermeasures. At the time of video broadcast, a unique Akiva radiation signature was detected by onsite sensors. Comparison against existing sensor logs both at Site-137 and field measurements did not align with SCP-8710's unique signature, instead aligning with readings typically associated with Abrahamic religious sites. Dr. Sarkis finds herself moving deeper into the bowels of San Nicolás. It is an older building, but not quite as old as some of the buildings within the city. Natalia gave her instructions for how to access some of the deeper archives within the church, apparently a place with first-hand accounts of the Great Lady. Exactly what Dr. Sarkis has been looking for. She follows Natalia's directions, and instructions, traveling deeper down towards those archives. She stops seeing people after descending the third flight of stairs. Eventually she steps into a basement area, drenched in dust and cobwebs with shelves upon shelves of ancient books. She pulls out a set of gloves from her bag. She doesn't want to contaminate any of these documents with skin oils or dirt she might carry in. She looks at the note and navigates to the sections she was instructed to, where she can begin her search. And finds herself facing a wall. There's indentation in the brick like a buttress for a window frame, but it is nothing but brick there. She saw several of these in between the shelves as she walked this way. Even still there's an odd vibe to this segment that she can't quite place. She looks at the wall, cocking her head. Thinking. As she thinks, she lets her eyes wander, tracing the lines in the brickwork as she stands very still. The bricks, at first glance, seem to remain bricks. But as she looks closer, she notices a shimmer. Her head slowly rolls to one side, and she reaches out a gloved hand to touch the shimmering bricks. As her fingers touch them, she feels herself suddenly and inexplicably drawn forward. It happens so quickly there's no time to react, one moment she's touching the brick, the next she's sucked through like a cockroach in a vacuum tube. Then she's falling. Her camera cuts out, the light turning off as her flashlight flickers, falling falling falling. Thrust into absolute darkness she feels the rising sensation in her gut… falling, falling. A normal person would probably be terrified beyond all reason. Aliyah, no Aliyah finds herself thinking about the wall. She's aware she's about to die. Hopefully. There are much worse things anomalies can do to a person. But she's extremely curious about the how and intends to use her last moments considering it. Those last moments fast approach as light rises amazingly fast below her. Then all of a sudden she's on her back, laying on something soft. Oh. Huh. Cozy. It takes her a moment to realize. She's not dead. As far as she can tell. She flexes her fingers and toes, taking a mental inventory. Her camera crackles back on, the little recording button lighting back up. She turns her head to look at her camera. What am I laying in? There's a fair bit of ambient light here, as her vision adjusts, she's laying in a field of yellow flowers. Beyond the flowers is the edge of a cliff, multiple floating islands suspended in thin air. She scoops up her camera, sitting up. Aliyah frowns, stomach sinking a bit as she realizes she crushed the flowers. Slowly getting to her feet and sweeping up the camera to look over the cliff, at those floating islands. She lets out a whistle. The whistle echoes, bouncing off many walls. Down below her stretching for what must at least be a mile, is a deep pitted canyon. A river of blue-green mist runs endlessly through it, undulating along. Carved into the sides of the cliff are many buildings of different architectural styles representing an indeterminate number of historical periods. The highest set buildings are more recognizably modern, but the further down she looks, the more ancient they become. She walks over, to stand at the edge of the cliff, stability be damned. Getting the best look she can down towards its foot, and that glowing river. It stretches out before Aliyah, winding on endlessly. Her head tilts aways to her right as she notices the little island she is on is connected by rope and board bridges to other similar floating islands, jagged icebergs of earth dripping down into the deep canyon below. She looks, and points her camera up, to see if there's anything interesting in the direction she came from, before she heads for the bridge. There's nothing but black above her. She turns to move towards the bridges. They cross a network of islands, a much larger structure towering in the distance. It's a Frankenstein of a building, traces of what was probably once a Ziggurat or pyramid carved into the cliff-face, now decorated with marble Greek columns in a neo-classical style and a mash of other modern architectural features. Aliyah starts making her way across the rope bridges, towards the structure. "Maybe I can ask someone for directions." she deadpans to herself, and the camera. Her boots creak on the ancient wooden boards as she moves between the islands, what seemed at a distance as glowing rocky outcrops now so clearly stand towering over her on each island. Golden metal gleaming spires in the ambient lighting tower over her as she walks past, blue-green fog writhing within. About 3/4ths of the way up these structures, Owls loom in the shadows cast, seven bells gripped in their beaks. Aliyah lets the camera linger on each structure in turn, stopping partway over the bridge when she makes her closest approach to the golden structures on the surrounding islands. She films them, slowly panning up to the owls, which she lingers on. She does this with each spire in turn, always when she reaches the point on the bridge where she is at her closest approach. It takes around 30 minutes or so for her to reach the foot of the immense structure carved into the cliff face. Banners hang, suspended from parapets that are 4-5 stories above her head as she traces the shape of the wall. Intricate symbols are carved into the exterior of the walls, something old that Aliyah doesn't recognize. A doorway with jagged teeth on the top stands before her, the light only reaching a few feet beyond the doorframe before it settles into an ominous gloom. Aliyah stops outside the structure, taking in as much detail as she can. When she’s finished, she faces forward, and plunges onward. If the abrupt termination of the ambient light gives her any pause it's not apparent. A few feet into the dark she walks, and her eyes seem to adjust. The darkness ebbs and flows around her in swirling eddies, as if subjected to a constant but almost static flow. In places it's bright enough to see, but as she moves if she walks to the right or left by a foot or more she's in pitch black. When she looks down at the floor, swirls are etched into the stone, ornate grooved erosive marks that should not happen outside of water. Every step deeper in brings a stunning chill of cold. As she shines her flashlight murals alight on the wall, vivid and brilliant colors, depicting people, events, places, and times that she cannot place. But there are some, some that seem familiar, the deeper she moves the more familiar they become. "To the naked eye, the darkness appears to have a visible structure," she narrates for the camera, "The camera isn't picking it up. It's like…" She pauses, "A disruption in a creek. Swirls and eddies. It's a flow. Light seems to be having trouble penetrating certain areas." She tries sticking her flashlight into one of those dark regions and filming it to demonstrate. "Dark regions are extremely cold." She turns back to filming the murals and etchings, proceeding slowly. As she moves past the entryway the flow becomes more apparent, moving past Aliyah's feet like a river curtain and settling down to just below her waist. As she moves along the murals, the walls begin to bend strangely, the floor tilting in unnatural ways to the right. "The… structured darkness, the flow, has settled to the bottom of the corridor the deeper I go in. It's almost up to my waist. Still very cold." She illustrates this with her flashlight again, dunking it beneath the 'surface' and pulling it back up. "It's… like a river." She keeps moving forwards, making sure the distortion shows up on camera. The darkness does not follow the reorientation as if it's fully defying what feels like gravity. It flows along the ceiling now as Aliyah's trajectory places her completely upside down, having at one point walked over murals, and now walking on what is the ceiling if she shines her flashlight far enough back. The murals are deeply familiar now, she can pick out events as they occurred during the Roman and Parthian Empires. In the distance a source of illumination is slowly getting closer as she walks. She continues to proceed at her slow pace, taking in the Murals, carefully picking over the shifting terrain. The murals continue to flow into one another, the march of time apparent in the depiction of historic events as the light grows, the river of darkness no longer just singularly darkness, but blue-green thick fog that moves atop the blackened layer like a flame. The symbols decorating the wall remain unrecognizable as they were when she first stepped inside; however. The light is blinding after spending so long in the chilly dark and Aliyah has to shield her eyes. She steps out into a central courtyard. As Aliyah's eyes adjust to the light she's greeted by a small field of flowers stretching out to the foot of another structure at the back of the space. Great gleaming fire pits made of gold painted metal circle the enclosure. Sculptures of earth and metal of innumerable shapes and concepts litter the surrounding walls, accompanied by Murals of a shining city, a city whose architecture Aliyah knows all too well. And immediately before her against a back wall is a 4-5 story high ziggurat. Made completely of human bones. Perched upon the top is a throne, framed perfectly by two immense metal spires resembling those on the islands that sit in the field of flowers. A metal arch runs between the spire, seven bells suspended perfectly from them, accompanied by seven enormous ornamental owls in seven quite different compositions. She moves the camera around, looking at the murals, at the statues… but she seems more hurried, eyes continuing to dart to the throne. She stares at it, not stopping to take in the new murals like she has previously but approaching the bone ziggurat. A heavy shadow, a darkness, shades the throne. It takes a moment for her to realize that the darkness, the river, flows down the steps of the structure, from the throne itself. Then something moves at the top, a silhouette obscured in the shade. Aliyah keeps approaching. The camera remains on the figure, but wanders, as she's not looking through the viewfinder anymore, keeping it carefully trained. A pair of brilliant soulfire-blue flames dancing in the shade. A voice, deep and old rings through the air, causing Aliyah to stop in place momentarily. "šilig." In spite of this seeming command, it seems… less effective than it should be, for her muscles twitch and she steps forward again after a moment. Proceeding relentlessly forward. After cycling through several more words, stymying Aliyah's motion each time, the deep voice cuts through in English. "Halt." Aliyah stops, more out of courtesy than out of supernatural compulsion. Her gaze lingers on the throne and the shadowed figure in it. A long and tense silence sinks into the air and Aliyah. "You intrude upon our domain, disturb that which should not be disturbed. The way is shut to the living." Aliyah watches, head slowly tilting to one side. Her expression is one of keen interest. "What shouldn't be disturbed? And what way do you mean?" "The way is shut to the living. You are not among the dead. You sully this place with your living breath." A hand, skeletal in the light shifts out of shadow and into the ambient warmth, pointing at Aliyah from where the figure has risen off the throne. "Leave." "Don't know how," she says simply, looking amused. A moment of silence passes between them, and then a deep, eternal bell cuts through the silence, and all matter like a knife through butter. It resonates in Aliyah's soul, and a momentary compulsion wriggles in her mind, the words 'leave' attempting to take root and cling to her conscious will. It simmers out as she returns to lucidity, finding herself about three steps back towards the door, her back to the figure, regaining control of her body. A bit of a jolt as she returns to herself, looking back over her shoulder. "Neat trick… Uh, do you really want me to leave? I don't think I can get back on my own, but I could go back to the flower fields." "…Do you know Natalia?" "Silence, Jailer." The bell rings again, and the process repeats, this time there's more effort put in and she finds herself standing about ten steps further away from where she was. "You know the Hand? Neat." She starts walking back towards the corridor on her own. "…wait. How are you doing that?" "…Doing what?" she's talking over her shoulder, still poised to leave. "You resist the bells." "Dunno? I've scored pretty high on cognitohazard resistance, before." She smiles through hooded eyes looking smug as if she's told a bad joke. The silhouette tilts its head. "No mind is capable of withstanding us." "Is that so?" She slowly turns to face the throne again. "Do you want me to be silent and leave? Or do you want to talk about that?" "Return to the center between the spires." She gives a thumbs up. "Will I see you there?" "You shall see what we wish you to see, Jailer." "I'll see you there," her voice has the barest hint of flirtation clinging to the tongue. She turns back towards the door, starting to walk. The door suddenly closes, a pillar of rock sealing it off. She turns back again, tilting her head. "Return to the center between the spires." A hint of indiscernible emotion seeps into the voice, breaking the flat and stoic tone. "…Wait, did you mean the spires in here, or out there?" She turns around. "I thought you were telling me to leave." "…in here." Aliyah gives a thumbs up and approaches. "Name yourself," the silhouette says. "Dr. Aliyah Sarkis. And you?" "What is your reason for intruding upon this place and disturbing our eternal work?" She ignores Aliyah's question. "Well. I never really meant to come here. I didn't know there was a here to come to. A wall pulled me in. But, uhh, As for why I was searching for anything… I wanted to get to the bottom of a mystery. I wanted to meet you." The eyes in the shadows narrow. "Why?" "Well. It's my job. But more importantly… I was curious, about you. I wanted to meet you in person. See what you were like." She smiles again. The silhouette lets that hang in the air for a moment before she moves. Taking several steps, she exits the shadow. Towering at least 2.2 meters tall, she stands there like a geographic figure, dominating the visual field even from on top of the pyramid of bone. Her hair gleams in the ambient light, maroon and dripping down her frame like blood, contrasting the piercing blue of her flame-like eyes. She wears gleaming golden armor that covers most of her upper body, and leg-guards that protect much of her legs. The right arm is severed at the shoulder joint, replaced with a prosthetic of blackened human arm bones. Her face is framed by a crown of human fingerbones, and bleached white jawbones decorating each cheek, while the remainder of her face is painted hauntingly white with black accentuating the shadows to resemble a skull. A great spear with seven gleaming blades, that really resembles a shield more than a spear, is gripped by the prosthetic. In her left hand she holds a cage, a censer with bells that emit deep chilling tones with every slight motion, leaking blue-green acrid fog that drips down the steps. "…It's good to meet you again, Dr. Kurr," Aliyah says after a pause. Her tone is… snarky, but a genuine smile creases her lips. "We do not know that name." She narrows her eyes at Aliyah. "You are not afraid, are you?" Aliyah cocks her head to the other side, before shaking it, still smiling. "We are the Great Lady of Valencia," The Great Lady says, the whole area darkening with her proclamation. Aliyah bows. "It's good to meet you. Finally, though… Are you sure we haven't met before?" The Great Lady of Valencia tilts her head. She tosses her shield with the barest of effort, it whirls through the air, a spinning disc of screeching metal, and lands next to Aliyah. The Witch Queen of Valencia raises the censer and rings the bells within. Aliyah steps away from the flight path of the shield, though not with much urgency. A tremendous roar echoes through the cavern, diving from the shadows above, the spectral shade of a great dragon whips down and flows over the pyramid. The roar finally finally provokes a reaction; Aliyah cringes and covers her ears at the volume of the noise. The Mother of Death shifts, and leaps, feet landing on the dragon’s nose as it ripples down the steps and carries her across the distance between them. She jumps off right in front of Aliyah, her landing causing the earth to shake with the enormity of the impact of her concept. The Sorceress of Al Andalus towers over Aliyah, a mountain of a woman. Aliyah takes a moment to recover, and as the great lady drops in front of her, and the ground beneath her feet shakes, she looks up at the woman towering over her with a quizzical expression. "Seems like a lot of effort to avoid going down stairs," she teases, and smiles. The Great Lady stares at her for a long moment. "We could crush you beneath our heel." Aliyah touches her own chin in thought. There's a lot of crass things she could say to that, but she wants to make a good first impression. "You could. And I couldn't do anything to stop you." "We could strip the flesh from your bones, dissolve your very concept into ash in the wind." The Great Lady stares, eyes searching the other woman's for… something. "That's a bit less fun…" she mutters to herself, under her breath. "I don't doubt you could." shrug, "What's your point?" "We are the Mother of Death, Mover of the Earth, Master of Darkness, Eater of Dreams, and yet you stand here. You do not move." "Why would I move? You told me to stand here?" "You should be cowering before me, fleeing to the nearest escape and direction in utter terror, whimpering as your memory erodes before my aura. But you are just standing. Right there." Something approaching exasperation leaks between the flatness in her tone. "Why? This is your, like, domain. I don't think it'd really make it harder for you to kill me if I ran. And if you wanted to kill me, you already would have?" The Master of Darkness works her jaw. "That's not the point. What's going on, are we being pranked? We are terrifying." "I'm not usually terrified of beautiful women," Aliyah smiles again in the same way. It's infuriating. The Great Lady just stares at her for a long moment, before looking up. "Abigail! This is not funny! Show yourself!" "Who's Abigail?" Aliyah's lips purse, looking very confused. "Silence, you won't remember for long." She waits a good 15-30 seconds and when no one materializes she works her jaw again and looks back down at Aliyah. "Who sent you?" "You already know that? You called me a Jailer earlier." "Yes, but Jailers are never…" She gestures at Aliyah, breaking her dramatic demeanor, the exasperation leaking into every motion now. Despite the face paint, color leaks through, on her cheeks. "This." Shrug. "I was never very good at being a Jailer." She just stares at Aliyah for a long, long moment. About a minute of silence between them before her hand shoots out and touches Aliyah's temples. "Forget it, we'll erase your memories and send you on." Aliyah looks like a puppy that has just been kicked, but she doesn't pull away from the touch. "I wish you wouldn't." Aliyah's memories begin to waver and fade. "A jailer with no fear is a threat to my dominion that I cannot tolerate." In seconds, her memory is drained away, and she can't remember precisely where she is, or what she was doing. There is a woman touching her forehead, and a blinking camera in her hand. Aliyah's eyes drift, between the woman's arms, her surroundings, the camera. She slowly looks up into the unfamiliar woman's face. "You have pretty eyes." The camera cuts to black. <Log Abruptly Ends> Postword: Following end of video log, Dr. Aliyah Sarkis is now believed to be contained within a Pocket Dimension containing the source of SCP-8710. Efforts to search the Church at San Nicolás were unable to locate an entryway into the pocket space. As Dr. Sarkis has now been exposed to high levels of deific interference, should she be returned she is to be remanded, and subjected to memetic and deific deprogramming protocols. Further examination of materials retrieved from Dr. Sarkis' quarters is of highest priority to affect her retrieval. Juan de Ribera Author: Juan de Ribera Securing Agents Note: Original document was soaked in dried blood. I see her in my nightmares, everywhere. Blue flaming eyes, arm of bone, always pressing, always advancing. I cannot sleep, I have not slept soundly in months. Damn her! Damn the Great Lady of Valencia! No, no even now I hear her steps. She comes for m— Dr. Sarkis' Note: The Great Lady’s mercy might not be endless, but you have to give her credit for a great sense of comedic timing. Incident Log I-8710-02 Incident Report I-8710-02 Date: ██/██/████ Participants: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710, see D-8710-02). <Begin Log> Video feeds reactivate, capturing Dr. Aliyah Sarkis standing in the midst of a new environment, her eyes hazy and unfocused. A sprawling multi-level complex with flowing water that trickles into waterfalls pans out in all visible directions. Plants hang from large suspended planters. Thick, dirt-coated floors with stone paving compose the upper levels, deep rooted plants springing from fertile soil. Luscious looking fruits, vines, and vegetables cascading in a flurry of Greenery. "…" Aliyah surveys the marvel, jaw agape. It reminds her of the hanging gardens. Can architecture die? Does it have a soul? she wonders. The researcher's eyes go wide, and she reels a bit as all the memories crash back into her, and she suddenly remembers where she is and why. She shakes her head to banish the sudden head rush it brings, before looking around for the Great Lady. Dr. Kurr walks past Dr. Sarkis, her attire having demonstrably changed. She's in a skirt that has a long, almost cape-like back, with a short front, wearing a brazen top that covers parts of her arms, her chest and a strap on her shoulders. Calf high sandals frame half leggings on her legs "Again and again we've tried but…We can't even erase your memories. Who are you?" Aliyah tilts her head, trying to claw at the memory where she introduced herself. "I already told you. I think?" Dr. Kurr pauses in front of Aliyah, evaluating her. "Yes. Again and again you've spoken your reason and identity. Yet…" For a moment she looks over Aliyah, before shifting, moving deeper into the gardens, gesturing for Aliyah to follow. "We're certain you've long wondered where the rumors of the gardens came from." "…Rumors?" She blinks, before hastily stepping to follow. "I always assumed they were real, at some point, and were sacked or destroyed." "They were real once, but they existed here before among the mortal planes. Their architects slipped into our domain, and ended up here for a time. In madness they attempted to recreate it, proclaiming it a wonder when it was only ever a fraction of what we built." "You made these?" Aliyah looks at her, "…They're beautiful." Her cheeks darkening as she looks at Dr. Kurr. "We built them to sustain ourselves, and favored mortals, before we realized that sustenance is no longer necessary to survive. Now, it is a means to pass the ages when our tasks are slim." There's a hint of color on her cheeks before she turns and walks deeper into the gardens. The Great Lady rubs her face as they walk. "Why did you wish to meet us?" she asks, looking back at Aliyah. Aliyah pauses, stopping in place, stumped by the question. Dr. Kurr stops when she does, looking at her with expectation in the wrinkles of her nose and forehead. "…There's a lot of things I could say. It's, like, my job. I'm supposed to be working towards containing you. But… I don't think this meeting? Stay? How long I've been here, directly serves that purpose. Honestly, giving you the opportunity to kill me easily is probably counterproductive." Aliyah pauses. "…I could say it's because you're incredibly old, and powerful. That if I could get you to answer my questions, I could learn so much about history, about people, about long forgotten languages and cultures. But honestly, I don't think I had that coherent a material goal." Aliyah reaches out and touches the leaf of a sprawling fern. "…I just spent so much time researching you, how you've shaped this city, who you are and what you've done… I just had to meet you." Dr. Kurr stands on the stones delineating the path through the lush plants, processing Aliyah's answer. "Containing us is the worst possible thing the jailers could do for this city. It would be a death sentence to its culture, a culture we've kept alive and from being perverted by outside influence for 1200 years." Her voice is flat but there's a hint of a snarl in it. Shrug, "Like I said. I'm not very good at being a Jailer. I don't care all that much about containing you." "Mmmm.” A long moment of silence hangs in the air between them as Dr. Kurr turns her attention up towards and opening, stretching up towards the black sky of the caverns. “We find ourselves at an impasse," the Great Lady says finally. "We cannot wipe your memory, and in spite of your proclamation of not being willing to contain me, it is still the primary goal of the nebulous ouroboros you are employed by. Besides, your absence has already stretched for some time." "You could kill me," she reminds her, trying to be helpful. The 'Great Lady' eyes Aliyah for a long moment, before she starts walking again. "This former goddess only kills fascists." "Do Jailers not count?" she asks, genuinely curious. "In your own way, you said you are not a good jailer. So, you do not count, and we have no interest in a war with the Jailers, especially when some things they suppress need to be kept locked away.” She pauses again, looking down at something for but a moment. “Your death, like the death of many small things in the soil, would do nothing but spark cataclysm." She steps forward, walking again as she ducks beneath a particularly large plant, Aliyah doing much the same. Heavy silence sits between them as they continue to move through the ancient foliage. "What's your favorite food?" "Favorite?" Dr. Kurr stops and turns to face her fully, blinking "Yeah. What's your favorite thing to cook? Or to eat.” The question takes Dr. Kurr off guard given the prior heavy topics of conversation. She pauses for a long moment, considering how to respond before saying, "We would have to say masgouf. Our mother made it for us when we were small, and we have never forgotten." Another portentous pause, before she sets into motion again. They come to a slightly more open pavillion like structure. A grill, carefully arranged, is set beneath one of the larger sky-light openings; light smoke drifting off it. Several large fish of indeterminate species are already grilling, covered in spices, and vegetables which are grilling alongside them. "You are hungry?" Dr. Kurr asks. "Starved." Aliyah replies, mouth watering. "…You'd cook for me?" "Of course we would." She scowls. "We're not the monsters the Jailers often make us out to be." The camera feed distorts for several minutes, before eventually resolving to normal. "…Well. What do you want to do?" Aliyah asks, both seated at the large table, earthenware filled with various vegetables, fruit, and fish scattered across its surface. Dr. Kurr rubs her temples, leaning back in the chair. "What are the chances you can convince your superiors to leave us be?" Aliyah rubs her chin. "I could try." "It would help to not go back empty handed. Perhaps knowledge and wisdom will sway their perspective?" Aliyah watches Dr. Kurr, color rising to her cheeks. "Maybe, depending on the information." "I will tell you all that I can." The camera feed abruptly ends. Joseph Bonaparte Author: Joseph Bonaparte This accursed city has made a pact with the devil. No not the devil we know. No, an old-world devil. I was called to the palace steps, and She came to me in the fullness of her power as I could only stand there and watch. Our men were aghast and taken aback in the presence of her power. Dressed in the fullness of golden armor, with a seven-bladed spear that was more shield than spear; capable of blocking any blow, and a censer that spewed acrid smoke filled with the souls of the damned. She stood there in a circle of spiked white bone, eight of our men speared like Vlad Dracul had done the deed himself, earth crackling at her feet. She said nothing, she didn't need to. I could do nothing, no one could do anything, as she turned and walked into the mist. Brother I cannot remain, please return in haste from Moscow when you are able. Dr. Sarkis' Note: I think I might be in love. Artwork of 'The Great Lady of SCP-8710' composed by Dr. Sarkis. Incident Log I-8710-03 Incident Report I-8710-03 Date: ██/██/████ Participants: Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710, see D-8710-02). —- <Begin Log> Video feed cuts in with Dr. Kurr standing before a grand mirror in a medium sized chamber. A four poster bed decorated in maroon sheets with curtains sits at the back of the room. Intricately carved furniture of wood, bone, metal, and textiled fabric luxuriate in the warm lantern light. A desk, several shelves with large paper scrolls, chairs of varying styles, and a loveseat woven with black cushions are framed against the backdrop of hundreds of wall murals. Dr. Aliyah Sarkis sits on the loveseat, watching Dr. Kurr, chin perched on the palm of one hand. "Once you have finished your interrogation, we will return you to the fold of your peers." "If… You say so," Aliyah says, voice twining with the barest hint of resentment at having to leave. "I'll need to contact my superiors right away. They'll certainly be interested in hearing all about this." She pauses for a moment. "…I mean, meeting you and seeing all of this. Not uh, last night. They don't need the details of that." "It would be for the best, given the prevailing attitude among the Jailers," Dr. Kurr says, paying the comment no mind. She turns her head briefly to look at Aliyah. "Come, let us not waste time, ask your questions." Aliyah watches her for a moment, before shaking out her limbs. "When did you actually come to Valencia?" Dr. Kurr's head rolls to one side as she turns back to the mirror, taking in and considering the question as she adjusts the fabric on her dress. "822 CE in your years. A man you'd know as Ziryab smuggled us and our… There's no good word in Spanish or English for the order in which those beneath us fall. Servants is… inappropriate but closest in meaning.” She pauses for several seconds. “We were smuggled; from Baghdad to Al Andalus, and beyond the reach of the Abbasid caliph." "Huh? Why did you need to be smuggled." Dr. Kurr sighs. "It is a long and complicated narrative, but to put in simple terms, the Caliphate, much like the Persians before them, saw our kind as a weapon and tool of influence. Only, unlike the Persians, they did not allow ourselves to be worshiped in the old ways nor roam as freely. They also did not wish us to fall into their enemy’s hands, so we were free to roam within Baghdad, but were otherwise prisoners of the court. Valencia was very different, and you could say we fell in love." "You mentioned 'our kind', and servants, does that mean there were others of your position who came along?" Aliyah gestures. "Yes, but we do not wish to discuss them now. They soak in enough light as is." Dr. Kurr shifts in front of the mirror and turns fully to face Aliyah. "Did you write the mythologies yourself? Or did they arise naturally?" Aliyah tilts her head. “Did they happen for real?” "They arose naturally, and changed over time. At first, we were far more visible in walking in the light of the Valencian day. There is always a… thrill when one reinvents themselves, and we have many, many times. But the sons of Abraham, their ways were different, distant and from afar, so we fell away from such visible appearances in favor of a passive diaspora." She pauses considering, and then scowls. "Of course El pulled it off the best of all of us, who knows where he is feasting among his riches." She considers Aliyah’s question in regards to reality. “If you cannot tell, does it matter?” "Are you saying El is—" "It's doubtful he did it on his own, spoiled child he always was. But in the end it seems he won." Dr. Kurr rubs her temples before gesturing. "Ask another question before I sink into self loathing." "…How were you kept from interfering with the taking of Valencia by Nationalist forces during the Civil War? The Foundation is convinced you were somehow temporarily contained." "They intercepted me on a train between Barcelona and Valencia," she says, gliding across the space between them, and sitting on the loveseat. "They used some sort of cube to nullify and entrap me, and then took me to one of their facilities. They tried," she snorts in amusement. "Tried to execute me three times. I killed the guards after every attempt and after that, they figured out I could not be killed." She leans against the armrest of the loveseat, and places her chin in the palm of her hand, looking ahead as she drifts in memory. "What happened to the object?" "I destroyed it when their special security commission was in the process of shutting down. Killed every single fascist bastard in that facility with my bare hands and erased its existence from memory while freeing the people they'd locked up for being different. Harvested the souls of the fascists and rejuvenated my censer." "The censer's important then?" "In a manner of speaking." Aliyah tilts her head to one side. "Gonna elaborate on that?" "I would prefer not to. It is unimportant for your purposes." "How did you really lose your arm?" Aliyah asks curiously, eyes going to the arm. Dr. Kurr turns her head to look at the researcher, staring for several seconds. "Ask another question." Aliyah, sensing the faux pas she'd made, quickly asks another as she nods. "…This is more a question just for me, than for the foundation, is there a consistent way to get here?" "I will answer this last, and have you turn off your camera. Ask another question." "…You gave me a list of names and titles, earlier. Are there any other ones that might be important?" Dr. Kurr snorts, and then for the first time, smiles. "Have you not already put it together? I thought you were an expert." "Indulge me." "I find it more entertaining to allow you to shoot into the dark." Dr. Kurr gestures, flicking a finger as a disc of darkness spins briefly in the air before falling into the river of mist that swirls at their feet. "Queen of the Great Earth. Ereshkigal. Or at least, you used that name once." "One of many names, but a blip in a life longer than one can truly remember." "What do your friends call you?" "Emily. At least this is the modern transliteration." "Weird. Could have sworn you said you didn't know that name weeks ago. Ereshkigal, Great Lady of the Earth, Witch Queen of Valencia rolls her eyes. "In spite of being a Jailer, you are amusing. If you’re done I will tell you about the gates." “Wait I have one more question.” “Oh?” Dr. Kurr tilted her head. “Where was Inanna in that myth?” Dr. Kurr wrinkles her brow in annoyance. “Stabbing herself with a ritual bone knife. Come, you will have the misfortune of meeting them soon enough. Turn off your camera and I will tell you of the ritual to pass the gates.” Dr. Sarkis moves to turn off her camera and is stopped by Dr. Kurr, who kneels to look directly into the lens. “El, you are a mud-eating fool to believe I wouldn’t feel your presence these past weeks. Your power is not absolute, and I see you.” The camera cuts off. <End Log> Postword: Following the conclusion of the broadcast, Dr. Aliyah Sarkis reappeared in the entrance lobby of Site-137. She was immediately remanded by Site Security and stripped of clearances. Her recording equipment was retrieved for analysis. She was then escorted to a containment chamber for interrogation and amnestic treatment. Discovery of these materials within Dr. Sarkis' personal possession, her personal notes, and the behavior observed within the incident logs indicate that as head researcher, Dr. Sarkis had deliberately conspired to obfuscate a type black anomaly in pursuit of emotional attachments. As this is a major breach of her responsibilities and abuse of her position/authority, Dr. Sarkis has been suspended from her position. Incident Report I-8710-04 Date: ██/██/████ Locations: Site-137, Site-212A Participants: Dr. Emily Kurr AKA SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710) Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, Various Security Agents. Foreword: Following containment of Dr. Aliyah Sarkis, residents of SCP-8710 became overtly hostile, undercover agents were driven from the city, their identities as Foundation employees revealed through unknown means. At approximately 11:03 CEST, communication with Site-137 was disrupted for approximately 10 minutes. Following this disruption, O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews received a missive arranging a meeting at a secluded location. <Begin Log> <11:03 CEST> Lights flicker across Site-137. <Containment Wing> The cameras in the containment wing where Dr. Aliyah Sarkis is being held capture three guards on station. Due to Site-137's low activity, only one actively walks up and down examining each cell while the other two guards are looking at their phones. Guard 1: "Hey, did you just lose internet access?" Guard 2: "Yeah I did. Hey! Did you just lose internet?" Guard 3 pulls out their phone and taps the screen several times. Guard 3: "Yeah. They're probably just replacing or tweaking the modem. Wait hold on, I'm not getting any cell signal either?" Guard 1: "Well no duh dumbass. We're three stories belowground. I'd be more worried if you did get cell service." Lights flicker in the containment wing. Guard 2: "Light circuits must be on the fritz." Guard 1: "Lets report this to maintenance now; just in case some fuse blows somewhere." Guard 1 activates his radio. Guard 1: "This is containment wing to maintenance, we've lost wifi signal down here and the lights are flickering, there might be some electrical or circuit fault. Can you send someone to handle it?" All three guards listen as nothing but static comes back through the radio. Guard 1: "That's weird." Guard 2: "Here let me try, you probably just forgot to set your frequencies again. Maintenance we've got some sort of electrical/circuit issue going on in containment, can you send someone down to handle it?" They listen again. Once more only static comes back through the radio . Guard 3: "Maybe we're experiencing one of those CME events." Guard 1: "A what?" Guard 3: "Coronal mass ejection events." Guard 2: "You've been watching too many disaster movies." Blue-green mist rolls into the hallway from a side-corridor. None of the guards notice. Lights in Site-137's containment wing abruptly cut off. Guard 1: "Shit! What's going on?" Guard 2: "Blackout?" Camera microphones pick up static from the guards’ radios. Guard 3: "Radios are totally busted, I can't turn mine off." Guard 1 turns on their flashlight, but it only penetrates the darkness for a short distance. The flashlight's bulb flickers repeatedly. Blue-green fog coats the floor as the microphone picks up the sound of creaking and straining metal over the radio static. Guard 1: "What the hell?" The static over the radio's changes to a single distorted voice singing and accompanied by a melody consistent with tones produced by music boxes. Guard 2: "Who's there?" A thump echoes; something heavy landing on the floor. The creaking metal and music grows louder. Guard 3: "Fucking hell, it got cold all of the sudden." Guard 1: "There's something in the dark! I can see it moving." A growling vocalization echoes in the hallway. Guard 1 sees something the camera does not. Guard 1: "What the fuck is that!" Guard 2: "Hostile! Open fire! Open fire!" Muzzle flashes fill the hallway as the Guards shoot into the dark, illuminating many different shapes and shadows. Microphones pick up the screaming of the guards as the sound of sloshing liquids, ripping metal, and cracking bone fill the air. After approximately thirty seconds, all sounds of struggle cease. All that can be heard is the song and melody coming through the Guards’ radios. After approximately one minute, the lights in the hallway flicker on, all three containment guards are pinned to the wall in cocoons of bone, shadow, or rocks. The door to Dr. Aliyah Sarkis' containment chamber is ripped off its hinges. Blue-green mist lingers in the hallway. <Site-212A> Dr. Sherry Andrews enters a makeshift, temporary office arranged for her after promotion to O5-01-03. She sits at the desk and logs into the extranet. Lights in the room flicker, and a blue-green smog leaks from beneath the door of a closet. Dr. Andrews: "Dafuck?" Dr. Andrews lightly hits the monitor and then the tower of her computer. She waits for a moment and then presses a button on the phone on her desk. Dr. Andrews: "Hey Desiree, my internet’s out, checked the ethernet cord and it's still plugged in." She listens for a response, but all that comes back is the dial tone. She stares at the phone and taps the button again. Dr. Andrews: "Desiree? Can you hear me?" No response. Lights in the room flicker, drawing Dr. Andrews' attention up, and then they abruptly cut out. Dr. Andrews: "Oh fuck this." The sound of a baton unfolding, and a gun being cocked are picked up by the microphone. Lights cut back on. The room is unchanged with the exception of an owl made of bone perched on Dr. Andrews' desk. It is a meter tall and has an envelope in its beak. Dr. Andrews stares at the necromantic construct, baton extended in one hand, gun pointed at the owl in the other. Owl: Muffled "Hooo." Dr. Andrews: "Well aren't you fucking something." The owl drops the letter on the desk. Owl: "Hooo." Dr. Andrews: "Alright, creepy owl messengers, lovely start to the day. What do you want, a mouse?" The owl turns on the desk, shuffles its wings, and then takes off, vanishing. Dr. Andrews waits for five seconds, frowning before she holsters the pistol and collapses the baton. She picks up the letter. Dr. Andrews: "Jesus fucking Christ really? Leep's going to have a fit." <End Log> Postword: Following Incident I-8710-01 and I-8710-02, SCP-8710's documentation has been updated to reflect the source of the historical anomaly. Dr. Sherry Andrews arranged an accompanying entourage to handle negotiations with SCP-8710 in a neutral site of historic importance. Diplomatic Invitation The following document contains the letter which O5-01-03 received. To the representative of the Warden Shadow Council, In the interest of putting to bed further conflict with your organization, and to preserve our own sovereignty and resources, we invite you to sit with us among the ruins of another world. Therein we shall discuss and negotiate a proposal to avoid bloodshed and violence on an unacceptable scale. Your first inclination will be to deny this response and prepare methodologies to contain us based on what you now know. We have freed Dr. Aliyah Sarkis from your jail cells, and she possesses intimate knowledge of your organization. We believe a peaceful resolution that satisfies all parties is possible. Whilst we do not believe you will do so with this revelation, should you attempt to contain or double cross us, we will reveal your organization to the world, and dismantle it systematically. Though we do believe based on our own investigation, our goals are not altogether misaligned. You may bring whoever, and however many you wish to this meeting such that you feel secure. 32°45′36.1″N 44°36′46.3″E Yours Truly, Abigail, Aleah, and Emily. Diplomatic Report D-8710-01 Date: ██/██/████ Locations: Kutha, Iraq Participants: Dr. Emily Kurr AKA SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710), Unknown Type Black Entity 'Abigail' (E-8710-02), Unknown Type Black Entity 'Aleah' (E-8710-03), O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews, Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels") and MTF Psi-8 ("The Silencers"). Foreword: Following reception of SCP-8710's invitation, O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews flew to Baghdad, Iraq with MTF Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels") and MTF Psi-8 "The Silencers". Global Foundation forces were put on alert for a potential HK-Class Deific Subjugation scenario. <Begin Log> Dr. Andrews's retinue arrives outside of Kutha as cameras begin recording. The two settlement mounds which normally occupy the site have been replaced by an ontokinetic disturbance, a large structure composed of multiple rising towers focused around a central complex taking their place. She begins walking towards the ontokinetic deviation and crosses a boundary upon which the camera view abruptly changes. An endless ocean of water stretches before the camera towards the large complex. Stars are reflected in the water, and the camera tilts up catching a large celestial body in the sky three times the size of the moon.2 Dr. Andrews and her MTF retinue are escorted to a central chamber with walls and floors that bend and twist in unnatural ways. Multiple seating arrangements are already prepared, as well as several tables with large arrays of foods and drinks. Three figures come into view, though the camera is unable to clearly resolve their features as one (SCP-8710) is cloaked completely in darkness, and the remaining two (E-8710-02 and E-8710-03) are obscured by intense light generation that leaves only their outlines visible. E-8710-02: "Welcome, Shadow Warden, and your lovely very heavily armed escort. Sit, eat, drink, be merry. No need to come storming in like we're going right to war eh?" Dr. Andrews: "Drop the friendly act and the games right at the door. You have us by the balls at the moment and I'm not super keen to waste any time in resolving this before it spins out of control." Dr. Andrews pulls the sunglasses out of her hair and puts them on. E-8710-03: "Does preventing an uncontrolled spin not consist of defusing tensions?" E-8710-03 claps twice and multiple humanoid shaped entities emerge from several doors with trays of jewelry, precious metal bars, copper figurines, and two white stallions. Dr. Andrews: "Are these… bribes? Are you trying to bribe me?" SCP-8710-01: "Hardly. This is tradition, exchanging of gifts, feasting upon food and drink whilst discussing matters of state. We don't want war, and we acknowledge the role your organization plays in stabilizing the world, no matter if we disagree with the methods and approach." Dr. Andrews: "Funny assertion that, given what you've just done in Valencia and in Site-137." Dr. Andrews points at SCP-8710-01. SCP-8710-01: "A regrettable shot across the bow. It would have been unnecessary if our olive branch hadn't been tossed in a cell." E-8710-02 claps twice cutting off any further escalation. E-8710-02: "We want the same thing here. This line of conversation will get us nowhere." Dr. Andrews: "Do we? Do we really? I am a very busy woman Ms…" E-8710-02: "You can call me Abigail." E-8710-03: "Aleah." Dr. Andrews: "Ms. Abigail and Aleah. From my perspective, I've flown half-way across the world to handle a possible broken-veil scenario before it starts. I would hope you could see how wasting my time playing out an ancient political dance, with a bunch of half-pint wannabee gods who are stuck thousands of years in the past, is trying my patience." SCP-8710-01: "We do not do that anymore." Dr. Andrews: "Which part?" E-8710-02: "Play gods." Dr. Andrews' throws up her hands. Dr. Andrews: "Sure, whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night. The point stands." E-8710-03: "Is that not your ultimate goal though?" Dr. Andrews: "What?" E-8710-02: "Collapsing the veil." Dr. Andrews jaw clenches. Dr. Andrews: "How di— Divine Authority?" SCP-8710-01: "Yes, to all of our detriment." Dr. Andrews rubs her temples before turning to one of the MTF. Dr. Andrews: "Cut that part from the footage." Ω-1: "Yes Ma'am." Dr. Andrews turns back to the three entities. Dr. Andrews: "You're really pushing your luck diving into my head. If you want anything to come from this, stay out." E-8710-02: "Less your head than your desires. Fair enough though." Dr. Andrews draws a hand down her face. She says something the camera does not pick up. Dr. Andrews: "If you're done fucking around and wasting my time, can we actually get to what I came here for?" Dr. Andrews breathes deeply for several seconds. Dr. Andrews: "Ok. First, where is she?" E-8710-03: "Where is who?" E-8710-02: "Oh, oh are we playing the pronoun game now?" SCP-8710-01 shifts in the darkness, pressing the outline of a hand to what is assumed to be her face. SCP-8710-01: "Please be quiet Abigail, unless you are contributing seriously." Dr. Andrews jaw clenches. Dr. Andrews: "I meant Dr. Sarkis." SCP-8710-01: "She is stowed away in a safe location, alive and well. She has a proclivity to… deflate the atmosphere." Dr. Andrews: "What?" SCP-8710-01: "She undermines Gravitas." An unreadable expression crosses Dr. Andrews’ face. Dr. Andrews: "Ok then? Listen if you're not going to take this seriously, and you're not going to let me talk to Dr. Sarkis, why am I here?" SCP-8710-01: "You came to hear our proposal." Dr. Andrews bangs her hand on the table, startling two nearby MTF operatives. Dr. Andrews: "Then can we fucking get to that!?" E-8710-02: "In fairness you asked about Dr. Sarkis. That said, we'll stop screwing with you." Dr. Andrews clenches her fists and jaw in emotional distress, before she leans back on the couch and picks up a pastry, nearly crushing it in-between her fingers as she eats. She breathes deeply for several minutes while eating the pastry, before gesturing for E-8710-02 to go ahead. E-8710-02: "Obviously, Emily desires to be left alone in her work, as do we. We want the Jailers— the Foundation to pull all resources and monitoring of unusual activity in Valencia and Ibiza. No more trying to wipe people's memories, no more book and video burning." E-8710-03: "We want free and open transit with the outside world, an open port for supernatural occurrences and beings to flourish." SCP-8710-01: "We want Dr. Sarkis reinstated in her position, and for her to serve as liaison between us, and your organization." Dr. Andrews: "That's 2.7 fucking million people! Why not just move to 3-Ports for fucks sake, or one of the other nexus locations? Outrageous, there's no way I would agree to that." Dr. Andrews gestures, frowning as her eyes narrow. SCP-8710-01: "We weren't finished." Dr. Andrews holds her palm out flat, indicating for them to continue. E-8710-02: "In exchange we will suppress any and all posts on internet sites, social media, television programs, film or outbound phone communications about anything supernatural in Valencia and Ibiza." E-8710-03: "We will also offer intimate knowledge on particularly dangerous supernatural circumstances, beings, or creatures that should be suppressed and removed from harming themselves or others." E-8710-03 and -02 look at -01. SCP-8710-01: "Lastly, we shall offer the location of, and context for materials regarding the Finnfolk." Dr. Andrews sits up. Her eyes move to SCP-8710-01, then E-8710-02 and -03, before returning to -01. She leans forward, picks up several plates of food, and stands. Dr. Andrews: "I need to make some calls." SCP-8710-01: "Is that a yes?" Dr. Andrews: "That's a 'I need to make some calls.' Will you still be here in a few days?" SCP-8710-01: "Of course. But do not tarry long, as we will take that to be a no." Dr. Andrews and her retinue leave the room and the complex, returning to their vehicles. <End Log> Postword:Onsite readings indicated Akiiva radiation in excess of what the handheld sensors could detect, thus SCP-8710-01, -02, and -03 have been classified as Beasts of Nature. Following the meeting; Dr. Sherry Andrews contacted her Co-Overseer, O5-01-04 Leep Andrews. Following intensive discussion, a Meeting of the O5 council was convened. The initial proposal failed with a vote of 3-8-2. Dr. Sherry Andrews offered a modified proposal, which then passed with a 6-5-2 majority. Diplomatic Report D-8710-02 Date: ██/██/████ Locations: Kutha, Iraq Participants: Dr. Emily Kurr AKA SCP-8710-01 (reclassified to SCP-8710), Unknown Beast of Nature 'Abigail' (E-8710-02), Unknown Beast of Nature 'Aleah' (E-8710-03), O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews, Omega-12 ("Achilles Heels") and MTF Psi-8 ("The Silencers"). Foreword: Following meeting of the O5 council, and political lobbying, Dr. Andrews returned to Kutha to present a modified proposal to SCP-8710 and the two additional Beasts of Nature. <Begin Log> Dr. Andrews walks into the negotiation chamber with her accompanying retinue. SCP-8710-01 through -03 look up from the various positions in which they are seated upon the couches. She sits in place, picking up a plate of food and a cup full of wine. SCP-8710-01: "Welcome back Dr. Andrews. We began to believe you would not return." Dr. Andrews: "It's been an annoyingly long week. I'm not going to beat around the bush, the council did not like your proposal." E-8710-02 holds out a hand, and a very bright shaft of light forms in the obscured hand, as a noticeable blue-green fog begins to seep across the floors. SCP-8710-01,-02,-03 in unison: "We see." Omega-12 and Psi-8 tense. Dr. Andrews holds up a hand. Dr. Andrews: "So I made a modified proposal." SCP-8710-01: "Those were not the ter—" E-8710-02: "Hush Emily, compromise is part of the game." Dr. Andrews: "It sure fucking is." E-8710-03: "Please continue." Dr. Andrews: "The Foundation will withdraw all surveillance resources from within Valencia… and Ibiza. You will have sole dominion over those areas, and we'll be declaring them free ports for anomalous individuals to live untouched. We will establish monitoring stations outside the bounds of your influence in the event of spillover. This will be the status quo as long as you do as you've offered in filtering any anomalous material off platforms that could leak to the outside world." E-8710-02: "I think that's acceptable, but I have a feeling you're not done." Dr. Andrews: "Correct." Dr. Andrews crosses one leg over the other and has a sip of water from a canteen. Dr. Andrews: "In addition to this, Dr. Sarkis will not be reinstated in her former position. Instead, she will be moved to my office, and serve as direct liaison between you, and any other surprise Beasts of Nature that happen to pop up, facilitating communication to me directly." SCP-8710-01 shifts in place. SCP-8710-01: "These were not the terms but are an acceptable alternative." Dr. Andrews: "Good. Any further communication will be conducted under the confines of OPERATION HIGH TIDE. Additionally, while you initially offered information on the location of materials relevant to the Finnfolk, the council felt this was insufficient on its own to counterbalance the benefits you gain. We wish to gather some more information relevant to an operation occurring with an undercover member of the Serpent's hand who is planning to defect." E-8710-02 leans forward. E-8710-02: "We have nothing to do with the Hand." Dr. Andrews: "But you do know about other mythological beings." SCP-8710-01: "We do, but what is the relevance?" Dr. Andrews: "Two upcoming operations, with the latter one we believe being of interest to you." E-8710-03: "You're being cryptic." SCP-8710-01: "I am enjoying this, please finish." Dr. Andrews: "What do you know about Atalanta?" Dr. Andrews turns to the MTF operator handling the camera and makes a motion across her neck with her hand. The camera cuts off. <End Recorded Log> Postword: Following the second diplomatic meeting, an official cooperative agreement was organized and signed recognizing Valencia and Ibiza as free ports for anomalous individuals. Foundation resources monitoring these locations were withdrawn and SCP-8710's documentation has been flagged for significant updates to reflect identification of the source of the anomaly, and the current hands-off containment protocols being enforced. Foundation agents have been implanted within the Horizon Initiative and upper echelons of the Catholic Church in an attempt to identify the source of deific interference detected in Incident Logs 1-3. Further inquiries should be addressed to O5-01's office at this time. Footnotes 1. These recording devices were not capable of internet connection on their own. 2. Comparison to footage taken from the Akatsuki orbiter indicates congruence with the planet Venus. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8710" by DrBleep, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8710. 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: Valencia from Space.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Nasa License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Valencia,_Spain_from_space_(STS078-732-7).jpg Filename: Valencia Skyline.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: CARLOS TEIXIDOR CADENAS License: CC-3.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crucero_y_cimborrio_g%C3%B3tico_de_la_catedral_de_Valencia,_Espa%C3%B1a,_Spain.JPG Filename:SCP-8710 range of Effects.png Name: (if different from filename) Author: Wario2 License: CC-4.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Se%C3%B1or%C3%ADo_de_Valencia_1099.png Additional Notes: Cropped Version Filename: Tossed Car.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Nationaal Archief License: CC-1.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Aanslag_op_Spaanse_president_Blanco,_auto_waarin_Blanco_zat_voor_bomexplosie_op_,_Bestanddeelnr_927-2283.jpg Filename: El Cid.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author:Alphonse de Neuville License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Cid_ordering_the_Execution_of_Ahmed.jpg Filename: Inquisition in Valencia.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: License: CC-4.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_procession_of_the_Inquisition_in_Goa_entering_th_Wellcome_V0041645.jpg Filename: Juan de Ribera.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Francisco Domingo Marqués License: Public Domain Source Link: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/Francisco_Domingo_Marques_El_Beato_Juan_de_Ribera_en.jpg Filename: Exile of the Moriscos.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Pere Oromig License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Embarco_moriscos_en_el_Grao_de_valencia.jpg Filename: 19th Century Valencia.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Valencia_trinquet-de-l%27hospital.jpg Filename: comi-bigger.png Name: (if different from filename) Author: License: CC-3.0-SA Source Link: https://lafundacionscp.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme:comi/comi-bigger.png Filename: Valencia Fortifications_1.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gottwaldova_d%C4%9Blost%C5%99eleck%C3%A1_baterie.jpg Filename: Valencia Fortifications_2.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Simon Burchell License: CC-4.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ruinas_de_una_torre_de_vigilancia,_Casinos_05.jpg Filename: Day of the Dead Ritual.webp Name: (if different from filename) Author: License: CC-4.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Beltane_Bonfire_on_Calton_Hill.JPG Filename: Day of Dead Paint.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Jaredzimmerman (WMF) License: CC-3.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dia_de_los_Muertos_Celebration_in_Mission_District_of_San_Francisco,_CA.jpg Filename: Dead_Altar.jpg Name: (if different from filename) Author: Harmonywriter License: CC-3.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Flower_of_the_Dead_%C3%A1nima_(memorial).jpg Filename: Emily.jpg Author: Amai-Ixchel License: CC-3.0-SA Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Filename: Valencian Graveyard.jpg Author: Wasquewhat License: CC-3.0-SA Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dia_de_los_muertos_Graveyard.JPG Filename: Bell of Creation_1.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_Hand_bell,_19th_century_(CH_18552733).jpg Filename: Bell of Creation_2.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_Hand_bell,_1800%E2%80%931825_(CH_18552579).jpg Filename: Bell of Creation_3.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_A_Hand_Bell,_1820%E2%80%9335_(CH_18129135).jpg Filename: Bell of Creation_4.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_Hand_bell,_1825_(CH_18358321).jpg Filename: Bell of Creation_5.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_Hand_bell,_1800%E2%80%931825_(CH_18552549).jpg Filename: Bell of Creation_6.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_Hand_bell,_1572_(CH_18552595).jpg Filename: Bell of Creation_7.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Drawing,_Hand_bell,_1800%E2%80%931825_(CH_18552531).jpg Multi-Goddess Drifting Seas of Orcadia Hub Swallowed by a PRIDEful, Lesbian Sea
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SCP-8722
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neutralized
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It's our fault for all this Death and Decay. I tried to stop it, but my efforts were in vain. – Dr. Orias Wellins. "It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then." FoldUnfold Table of Contents SCP-8722 Excerpt of Orias' Personal Journal The Woods Whisper Names Ignorance Decay Then, Death Ommetaphobia SCP-8722 Item#: 8722 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: caution link to memo Containment Procedures: The surrounding area near SCP-87221 is to be blocked off with a 10-foot tall chain-link fence. The fence must be inspected every 8 hours for any sign of damage by someone Level-2 or higher. Anyone found inside who is not level-2 or higher is to be administered Class-A amnestics. At least 5 Omega-78's 'Dimension Hoppers' are on standby in case the anomalous entities try escaping the fence. Foundation Personnel must contact Site-390 and follow Protocol Capsaicin if there is an anomalous event. Protocol Capsaicin: Protocol Capsaicin should only be utilized when an anomalous event occurs, such as an entity appearing, unintelligible whispers, or sudden hallucinations. Personnel should immediately contact Site-390 and request at least 5 Class-D's to be sent over to protect Foundation Personnel from being killed by the entities.2 Any Foundation Personnel inside the dimension must be quickly evacuated until all anomalous events cease. Afterward, personnel must use foundation-approved noise-canceling headphones and may only take them off until the anomalous event(s) stop. Following Incident 'Hopscotch' Foundation Personnel are barred from entering. Personnel Level-2 or higher are to check the cameras thrice daily for potential damages -Dr. Collins. Descriptions: SCP-8722-1 is a portal that leads to a dimension that contains two anomalous entities. The portal is 3 feet in length and 5 feet in height. The center of the portal displays what the dimension looks like. In the distance, there is a large tree that serves as a hub for the anomalous entities, and to the left is a dense forest with a thick fog covering the ground. close up photo of SCP-8722-2 SCP-8722-2 are large tree-like creatures that take the form of a Quaking Aspen in our dimension. SCP-8722-2 instances are approximately 40 to 50 feet tall, with the majority being around 45 feet. SCP-8722-2 has eyes across its body, with each eye varying in size. These eyes, when visible, will watch the nearest person until they leave. SCP-8722-2 is neutral and won't attack unless something attacks it first. SCP-8722-2 is only docile towards SCP-8722-3 and serves as a protector. When it attempts to attack someone, it will wait for the person to have their back turned. SCP-8722-2 cannot be recorded or photographed, with any image or video becoming extremely distorted and blurred. SCP-8722-3 is a group of faeries that range from 1 foot tall to 3 feet at maximum. SCP-8722-3 instances possess anomalous abilities such as being able to heal others, memory projection, and hallucinations. SCP-8722-3 can also lure in humans with their whispers to make it easier to kill them.3 SCP-8722-3 has wings protruding from their upper and lower back. Each SCP-8722-3 instance has a different variation of its wings, while family units tend to have a few similarities. SCP-8722-3 instances value and treat their wings with great respect; when one instance dies, the family will carefully remove the wings and grind them down into a fine powder. After this, the powder goes into a small pouch and is put at the tree's base. Discovery: SCP-8722 was found on 2020/12/15 near Mount Charleston, Nevada. Dr. Wellins was subconsciously drawn to the area near SCP-8722 around 13:25. Upon realizing they were off the trail, they heard whispering and saw the eyes staring at them. Interview Log 1.1 Date: 2020/12/19 Interviewer: Dr. Jackson Interviewee: Dr. Wellins <BEGIN LOG> Dr. Jackson: "Good afternoon, Dr. Wellins. I assume I don't need to introduce myself, correct?" Dr. Wellins: "Yeah, we can skip the greetings." Dr. Jackson nodded and looked down at her notes. Dr. Jackson: "Alright then. Could you tell me more about your encounter?" Dr. Wellins: "Yeah, okay, uhm… I was at Mount Charleston for a vacation, needed to get away from anomalies for a while." Dr. Wellins: "I got up that morning around 9 AM, or was it 11… No, wait, it was around 1 PM, and I decided to go on this trail I found the other day. I remember I wasn't even halfway through, and then I just was somewhere completely different. It's like when you black out after drinking." Dr. Jackson wrote down what Dr. Wellins said and motioned with her hand for Wellins to continue. Dr. Wellins: "You know those gut feelings you get when something's wrong? I felt that throughout my body. There was whispering all around me like it was inside my head. At that point, I thought I was just stressed from work, but then I saw these eyes. I don't know, but it was like I was frozen in place." Dr. Jackson: "Do you think it was the anomaly causing you to feel frozen?" Dr. Wellins: "No… I think it was just fear and panic. A part of me thought I was about to die, honestly." Dr. Jackson: "Did these eyes do anything else?" Dr. Wellins: "Well, the eyes were attached to a tree, then one blinked at me I swore I saw the entire tree move. After that I tried running back to the cabin. Cowardly, I know… but if I hadn't, I wouldn't have found the portal. I didn't go in, of course. That's why we have MTF; they can do the horrifying part. I'd rather sit in the lab." Dr. Jackson: "I don't think anyone would have expected you to go in, Dr. Wellins." Dr. Wellins: "Thanks. I just uh, felt like a coward after I got out of there; I'm supposed to be a foundation researcher, y'know." Dr. Jackson: "I can see why you think that, but as you said yourself, you are a researcher. It's good that you got away and contacted the Foundation." Dr. Wellins nodded but remained silent. Dr. Jackson stepped out of her seat, and Dr. Wellins did as well. The two doctors shook hands, and Dr. Jackson left soon after. <END LOG> Summary of Exploration Log 1.A Date: 2020/12/21 Omega-78 entered the portal around 01:00. Inside; the dimension was daylight compared to ours being night. The area closest to the portal was empty. SCP-8722-2 and SCP-8722-3 instances were near the tree and hadn't noticed the team. As the team moved farther away from the portal, the body cameras and the microphones started to glitch and distort and only returned to normal once they returned to our dimension. Excerpt of Orias' Personal Journal Date: 2021/01/03 It's the third of January, and I've been notified that I will enter the dimension on directors' orders. He says I have to go there for a few months and stay at an Outpost. I haven't been able to catch a break in days. First, I found this place, then the interview, and now I'm going in. I've packed a small bag, knowing it's going to be dull in there. Date: 2021/01/05 Tomorrow is the day a small research team, and I will enter. About an hour ago, I also discovered that I will be one of the leads on this Project. I don't know who the second lead is, but I pray they're relaxed. I want to avoid being stuck with someone who's a suck-up. Date: 2021/01/08 The other lead is Warren. Warren Collins, people say hate is a strong word, but it's one of the few words that can describe how I feel about him. All he does is boss me around and taunt me. It takes all the strength within me not to snap at him and have to go back to anger management classes. I'm emailing our site director to get Warren booted out of the Project. TO: teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir#teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir FROM: teN.iPCS|snillewairo#teN.iPCS|snillewairo SUBJECT: The 8722 Project Hello, Dr. Bichard. As you know, I am one of the leads on the 8722 project, the other lead being Warren Collins. If you have not been informed, Collins and I don't typically get along. It would be more beneficial for Warren to be removed as a lead to release any tension. - Dr. Orias Wellins TO: teN.iPCS|snillewairo#teN.iPCS|snillewairo FROM: teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir#teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir SUBJECT: RE: The 8722 Project Hello Dr. Wellins, I hear your concerns about working with Dr. Collins, but you both are members of the Foundation and thus have a responsibility to ensure. If there is a problem later on, then we can discuss it in the future. - Dr. Richard Bichard Site director of Site-390 Another Excerpt from Orias' Personal Journal. Date: 2021/01/17 Sorry I haven't written here in a few days. I've been busy organizing notes and preparing for an interview tomorrow with an instance of SCP-8722-3. They've been one of the few instances that have approached us; they seem docile enough that they haven't attacked us yet. I wanted to nickname the instance, though we could only agree on SCP-8722-3A. We've only been here for a bit, and I'm already tired of this sunny limbo; it's annoying. Everything here seems too chipper; aside from the creepy forest, it's like the place in your fairytale books where the evil witch lives. The Woods Whisper Names Orias' cot was empty when Warren woke up the next day. When he looked at the small clock he had with him, the time read 7 AM. He asked the other researchers around him if any had seen Orias, and they all declined. Warrens initially thought Orias had finally had enough of him and returned to Site-390. He made a mental note to email the director after the interview to ask about Orias. Warrens's thoughts about Orias subsided, and he focused on preparing for the interview with SCP-8722-3A. While preparing for the interview, he kept looking back toward the journal left on Orias' cot. Interview Log 1.2 Date: 2021/01/18 Interviewer: Dr. Collins Interviewee: SCP-8722-3A <BEGIN LOG> Warren crouched down in front of SCP-8722-3A. 8722-3A spoke in an unintelligible language. Dr. Collins: "Hello? My name is Warren. Warren Collins. What's yours?" 8722-3A looked up toward Warren and still spoke in the same unintelligible language. Dr. Collins: "Not as difficult as I expected, but still.." Dr. Collins took a pen, grabbed one of the notes, and flipped the page over to the blank side. Warren drew a stick figure with his name above it. Dr. Collins: "I am Warren." 8722-3A stood up, pointed to themselves, and continued speaking in an unintelligible language. 8722-3A took a step towards Warren and stared into his eyes. Dr. Collins: "What in the Sam Hill?" Dr. Collins quickly stood up and looked down towards 8722-3A. Dr. Collins: "Did you just show me your memories?" 8722-3 didn't respond and was stared up at Warren. Dr. Collins yelled at another researcher in the background. <END LOG> Addendum 1.1: Abilities On 2021/01/18, Dr. Collins interviewed with an instance of SCP-8722-3. During this interview, he saw memories that SCP-8722-3A gave him; he believes that SCP-8722-3A did this as a form of communication. The memories Dr. Collins saw were of an instance of SCP-8722-3 healing 8722-3A after getting hurt. Then, another played with SCP-8722-3A, healing another instance. The next memory Dr. Collins saw was a younger version of 8722-3A, which was causing another to have hallucinations and then laugh at the instance. After that was 8722-3A, and a different instance, the second one, caused Orias to see Warren, and 8722-3A spoke rapidly in an unintelligible language. Eventually, 8722-3A got the other to stop, but Orias was already deep in the forest. The next few memories were 8722-3A, carefully removing wings off another instance. The instance looked old, and the other 8722-3s looked all upset. 8722-3A started to grind the wings into a fine powder and carefully poured it into a pouch; the group of SCP-8722s followed 8722-3A outside of the house and watched as 8722-3A placed the pouch on the ground. Dr. Collins saw SCP-8722-3 luring humans and killing them just to eat them later, like cows in a slaughterhouse. 8722-3A quickly showed him a memory of 8722-3A healing another instance again, and Dr. Collins believes it was an attempt to calm him down. TO: teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir#teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir FROM: teN.iPCS|snillocrraw#teN.iPCS|snillocrraw SUBJECT: Orias Wellins Hello Dr. Richard, I finished an interview with an instance of SCP-8722-3, and it was concerning. They can project their memories, and one of their memories was Orias being tricked into entering the forest. Could you send out a team or anyone to retrieve Orias? It would be appreciated since they're a lead on this Project. - Dr. Warren Collins. TO: teN.iPCS|snillocrraw#teN.iPCS|snillocrraw FROM: teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir#teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir SUBJECT: RE: Orias Wellins Hello Dr. Collins, Thank you for letting me know about Orias being missing. I'll have a team sent out shortly to search for them. It isn't your fault that Orias is missing, but in the future, please have a better awareness of your colleagues to prevent a situation like this. - Dr. Richard Bichard Site director of Site-390 A Brief Excerpt from Warrens's notes It's been hours since I emailed Richard about this, yet I'm replaying these memories. A huge part of me doubts that Orias went into the forest; no sane person would. They're a doctor, for fucks sake; no way they'd willingly walk into a forest by themselves in a strange dimension. Even though a member of the Foundation is missing, I still need to continue my work. The next thing I want to do is get those bags of powder I saw in the memories. If it's as important as 8722-3A made it seem, then it's worth testing. The Test Logs Test 1.0 Test 1.1 Test 1.2 Date: 2021/02/05 Data: D-6059 was instructed to ingest the powder with water. Results: The subject claimed not to feel anything at first; approximately one hour later, the subject could accidentally project their memories. The effects lasted for around an hour before they subsided completely Date: 2021/02/06 Data: A repeat of the first test with D-72948 Results: Almost instantly, the subject could create small balls of light that quickly dissipated; the subject could repeat this for 30 minutes until all anomalous effects ceased. Date: 2021/02/07 Data: D-13784 was told to ingest the remaining powder with water. Results: The subject immediately had adverse reactions and was sent into a catatonic state. D-13784 recovered 48 hours later. No anomalous effects were present in the 48 hours. Post Notes: The tests were conducted at Site-390 with project lead, Dr. Collins. Dr. Collins requested approval to gather more of the powder, which was granted. Dr. Collins was returned to Outpost-7AT0 after the initial tests were concluded. Ignorance Weeks passed, and numerous teams went near the forest to search for Orias, though they were limited to how far they could go. Warren was doubtful that Orias was even alive; there were no signs that Orias was near the forest other than the strange memory 8722-3A gave him. Warren had been conducting more tests using the powder; he knew that if Orias had been here, there would have been so many delays and setbacks; a part of him was enjoying Orias' absence in some twisted way. When everyone got used to Orias being missing, Orias showed up. They were scared, and they looked severely beaten. Orias was taken into custody and was quarantined for 24 hours. After 24 hours, Orias was interviewed to determine if they could return to work. Interview Log 1.3 Date: 2021/02/10 Interviewer: Dr. Jackson Interviewee: Dr. Wellins <BEGIN LOG> Dr. Jackson walked into the room and sat down in front of Dr. Wellins Dr. Jackson: "Hello, Dr. Wellins, my name is Dr. Jackson, and I'll be interviewing you today." Dr. Wellins was silent but nodded slightly in response to Dr. Sopilia. Dr. Jackson: "You haven't spoken much since being quarantined. How are you feeling?" Dr. Wellins: "I could be better, but hey at least I'm not dead!" Dr. Wellins smiled and let out a shaky laugh. Dr. Jackson: "Is it fine if I ask you a few questions, Dr. Wellins?" Dr. Wellins shrugged and leaned back in the chair. Dr. Wellins: "You're just going to ask no matter what I say, and it's not like I can say no when my job is on the line, right?" Dr. Jackson: "Dr. Wellins, do you need to take a minute to collect yourself before we continue?" Dr. Wellins shook their head and rubbed their face. Dr. Wellins: "No, No, I'm ready. I'm ready." Dr. Jackson nodded, looked down at her notes, and then back up toward Dr. Wellins. Dr. Jackson: "So, what caused you to walk into the forest?" Dr. Wellins: "Thought I saw Dr. Collins calling me over; I…I had no idea it was some trick from SCP-8722-3." Dr. Jackson: "It's all right, Dr. Wellins. Warren is your colleague. Of course, you'd follow after him." Dr. Jackson: "What happened after you realised it was a trick?" Dr. Wellins: "I tried backtracking but saw the eyes again. It still made me feel frozen like the first time. I tried backing away, but it chased after me and attacked me." Dr. Jackson: "That must have been traumatic. How would you feel about returning to the dimension?" Dr. Wellins: "I don't know… One part of me wants to return because I have an obligation, and the other wants to stay here." Dr. Jackson: "Both those feelings are valid, which are you leaning towards more?" Dr. Wellins shrugged and looked off to the side of the room. Dr. Wellins: "I'm supposed to be honest right?" Dr. Jackson: "Yes, this is supposed to measure if your able to return to work." Dr. Wellins: "I want to return, I found the anomaly after all, and I want to understand why one healed me." Dr. Jackson: "Healed you? Does this relate to what happened in the forest?" Dr. Wellins' personality changed drastically; they seemed more upbeat, determined, and possibly manic. Dr. Wellins: "Oh shit, right. Yeah, it does relate to in there. I glossed over that. This happened a few minutes after I was attacked; I was running, trying to weave between trees, but when you have a wound in your stomach, I don't think running is any good." Dr. Wellins laughed and grinned. Dr. Wellins: "So after bleeding out all over the ground, SCP-8722-3A, one of the few anomalies that are brave, or even curious enough that was approaching days prior, somehow found me, probably the blood trail." Dr. Wellins took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. Dr. Wellins: "It showed me some memories of them being healed, and them healing others. It was telling me it wanted to help me, or that's how I interpreted it, but I don't think it understood humans much because what they did kinda fucked me up in more ways than one." Dr. Jackson: "As it was healing you, it changed you?" Dr. Wellins nodded, an enthusiastic grin on their face; they seemed more upbeat as time passed. Dr. Wellins: "I can't say precisely what changed about me, but I just feel different, in a good way." Dr. Jackson: "I'm glad you're feeling rather happy admist all of this." Dr. Wellins: "Isn't it good to remain positive?" Dr. Jackson: "It's very much dependent on the siutation." Dr. Wellins: "Agree to dissagree, Jackson." Dr. Jackson looked down at their notes and then glanced up at Dr. Wellins. After a few minutes, they cleared their throat and spoke. Dr. Jackson: "Well, good news, I think you're able to return to work; you seem much happier, which is a good sign. You might have to stay under quarantine for a couple more days, but ultimately you'll return to the Project."' <END LOG> Post Interview Notes: After the Interview was concluded, Dr. Wellins was sent back into quarantine for another 72 hours for further observation. During the 72 hours, the doctors noticed manic episodes and experienced frequent nightmares regarding 'the eyes.' Staff Incident Report Date: 2021/02/14 Staff Involved: Dr. Orias Wellins, Dr. Warren Collins Summary of events: Around 09:00, Dr. Wellins approached Dr. Collins regarding Project 8722. Dr. Collins tried brushing off Dr. Wellins, but Dr. Wellins continued to try to speak with Dr. Collins. Dr. Wellins brought up a concern regarding anomalies SCP-8722-2 and SCP-8722-3 and wanted to halt the retrieval of the powder pouches. Dr. Collins almost laughed in Dr. Wellin's face, and Dr. Wellins continued, bringing up data charts and observation notes from different researchers. Dr. Collins immediately told Dr. Wellins that nothing was happening and that Dr. Wellins was trying to hinder the Project. The conversation increased, with Dr. Wellins and Dr. Collins getting heated. Dr. Collins insulted Dr. Wellins, and then the argument spiraled into a psychical altercation that ended in Dr. Collins getting treatment for a broken nose. Post Incident notes: Dr. Wellins and Dr. Collins will attend anger management classes and therapy to identify the problems. TO: teN.iPCS|snillewairo#teN.iPCS|snillewairo FROM: teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir#teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir SUBJECT: Project 8722 Hello Dr. Wellins, I received a Staff Incident report on my desk earlier this morning, and I'm afraid you will be removed as a lead regarding Project 8722 per the Staff Incident Report. Once the Project is finished, you will attend mandatory anger management classes and therapy. - Dr. Richard Bichard Site Director of Site-390 TO: teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir#teN.iPCS|drahcibhcir FROM: teN.iPCS|snillewairo#teN.iPCS|snillewairo SUBJECT: RE: Project 8722 Richard. I understand the decision to remove me as a lead. I apologize for my actions and possibly jeopardizing the Project. - Dr. Orias Wellins Decay Summary of Exploration 1.B 2021/02/15 Around 15:23, Warren sent a team towards the tree to retrieve more powder. As the team approached the area, they noted no presence of 8722-2 or 8722-3. The team managed to recover a few pouches, and as they were about to return, an instance of SCP-8722-2 attacked the team, killing three members before the team could kill the anomaly. The rest of the team managed to get back to the base with a handful of pouches. More researchers expressed their worry about any future expeditions. Warren eased the concerns and expressed that more caution would be taken. A sticky note on top of a pile of notes. I told you we should have stopped. Look at the notes, Warren; I've been spending my time watching the patterns; taking the fucking powder is killing them. You need to stop, whatever bullshit tests you are doing aren't worth this. When the last dies, you'll be the only one around. The only comfort you will find is your guilt. Another note was found near Orias' journal written by Warren. Orias, I appreciate you taking the time to make these notes; however, after reviewing them, I found they are unreliable since there is no proof that they have been dying. I hope that you are not falsifying evidence to try and hinder the Project -Warren Collins. Then, Death Excerpt From Orias' Personal Journal detailing Incident Hopscotch Date:: 2021/04/03 Weeks have passed since we've seen any sign from SCP-8722-2 and SCP-8722-3. Hell, I haven't seen 8722-3A in a while either. Something tells me that we aren't going to see them again. Warren forced the team to return to the tree almost every few days, and there was always nothing there. I think Warren is finally starting to realize how badly he fucked up; he keeps trying to bother me while I'm working on reports. Date: 2021/04/07 Still no sign of the anomalies. I would walk over there and see if 8722-3A is okay, but it's hard to move around since I'm still in pain. Warren finally managed to speak to me, he apologized, and I told him it was too late. I put in a request to be sent back to site-390. A putrid odor started to wash over the Outpost, and I could tell we all smelled it. Date: 2021/04/12 Communications were just cut, and the others are trying to restore the power. The endless sunny days have been replaced with a menacing fog and a black sky. This has to be Warren's fault for being greedy; that's the only explanation. I feel the eyes staring at me again, but with the low visibility, we need to reconsider staying. Date: 2021/04/16 It was horrible. It was chaotic. That is why we haven't seen any instances of SCP-8722-2 or SCP-8722-3; most of them had died out, and that is what the putrid smell was, too. God. I let this happen; I should have punched Warren sooner or forced him out of the Project. A lot of innocent people died that day. I barely managed to get Warren out of there. He looked terrified. All I remember hearing from him was him praying to god to forgive him. An instance of SCP-8722-2 broke his leg, so I had to carry him out of the portal. Because of that, I got a cool few scars on my face and arms. The portals are gone now, too; I think SCP-8722-3 was keeping it open through some magic. They didn't deserve to have their home destroyed; they were kind, innocent creatures that were just living in a weird limbo-esque dimension., and then they died trying to defend their home. It's almost poetic. Ommetaphobia Audio Log 35 2024/01/15 <BEGIN LOG> There's muffled breathing and then a deep sigh. Dr. Wellins: "Audio log 35. I had another nightmare. It's been a couple of months since I've had one. There was soft laughter, then another deep breath. Dr. Wellins: "It's funny, I thought I wasn't having any more of those nightmares. The eyes are still watching me sometimes. Doctors say it's just paranoia and insomnia." There was a brief pause. "I wasn't supposed to be going to work today, but damn, I need something to distract myself, and it's better than alcohol." Orias laughed again, which sounded more pained this time. Dr. Wellins: "Okay, I'm going to go… if I don't go now then I'll be stuck in this room all day until Warren drags me out." <END LOG> Orias stood up from their desk and closed their laptop. They looked towards their old journal, which was left collecting dust on their desk. They rubbed their eyes, trying to rub the sleep off. They threw on their lab coat and looked around for their glasses and keycard. They found both on a small tray near the door. They reached for the door handle when they heard a notification from their laptop. They sighed and shuffled back to their desk, muttering under their breath. They opened their laptop and saw it was an email from Warren. They shook their head and clicked on the email. TO: teN.iPCS|snillewairo#teN.iPCS|snillewairo FROM: teN.iPCS|snillocrraw#teN.iPCS|snillocrraw SUBJECT: I need your help Orias, I'm heading to your room. It's some assistance with a report that you can surely handle. Please, for the love of god, don't instigate me today; this report needed to be done by this morning. - Dr. Warren Collins Orias groaned as they closed their laptop again. They weren't upset; it was something to keep their mind busy, after all. Orias opened their door, looked down the hall, and saw Warren approaching rapidly. Orias chuckled, closed the door, and leaned against it. "Doctor." Warren stopped and nodded toward Orias. He looked exasperated. Orias walked over to Warren and took some of the papers he was holding with a grin on their face. "This must have been difficult if you are asking me for help. I thought the great Doctor Warren doesn't need help?" "I'll admit, there are some things that you know better than me. Not a lot but there are some." The two began walking back towards Warrens's office, with one of the two making the occasional sarcastic remark about the other. This wasn't how either of them expected their day to go, but neither could entirely complain. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8722" by Nostellae, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8722. 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. This article contains a quote from book Alice's Adventures In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll //https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/131294-it-s-no-use-going-back-to-yesterday-because-i-was// Filename:lEpMoBG.png Author:Nostellae License: I release this image under CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://i.imgur.com/lEpMoBG.png Footnotes 1. Also known as Outpost-7AT0 2. See Addendum 1.1 3. See Addendum 1.1
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SCP-8724
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neutralized
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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
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SCP-8726
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safe
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Canon Hub » Resurrection Hub / What A Wonderful World Hub » SCP-8726 SCP-8726. Item #: SCP-8726 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8726 is to remain under the care of Dr. Everwood in the GoI-3861 Research Lab of Site-55. The subject is permitted to roam the Site at its leisure so long as it is supervised by at least one Level-2 personnel. Additionally, SCP-8726 is not to be referred to by its SCP designation in person and is instead to be referred to as 'James'. Description: SCP-8726 refers to a human 6-year-old child possessing unaging immortality. Multiple psychiatric evaluations have indicated that SCP-8726's mental age and capacity have not appeared to progress beyond that of the average 6-year-old.2 SCP-8726 was born to D-class parents under the D-Parenthood Program, meant to supply the Foundation with child D-class personnel for use in anomalies requiring children. After its birth, SCP-8726 was immediately placed in a Foundation-operated daycare and learning program with the purpose of elevating the children D-class to Level-1 personnel once they had aged beyond use in children-oriented anomalies. The subject's anomalous properties first came to Foundation attention in 2020 during a routine pediatric check-up where it was discovered that SCP-8726 (now aged 8) had not grown in two years and underperformed in psychiatric evaluations for children of its age for the second year in a row. SCP-8726's anomalous properties were confirmed during another routine pediatric check-up in 2023. Addendum 8726.1: Due to the high volume of requests for child D-class personnel from the GoI-386 research team and the low numbers of such personnel, a proposal was suggested by Foundation pediatric psychologist Dr. Jackson. The following is a log of the meeting between Dr. Jackson and GoI-386 Research Lead Dr. Everwood. <BEGIN LOG> [Everwood enters the conference room and approaches the chair opposite Jackson.] Jackson: Hello, Jay. I'm glad you could make it. [Everwood takes a seat.] Everwood: Hey, Marley. How are you doing? Jackson: Oh, you know. Same old same old. Dealing with children has its ups and downs. Everwood: No kidding. I admire their ability to put up with the Foundation's nonsense. Jackson: Yeah. I'm jealous of you, though. They all seem to love you. Everwood: Trade secret. Heh. So what have you got for me? [Jackson leans in over the table as Everwood does the same.] Jackson: Alright, I'll get right to it. I know your department often makes requests for child D-class personnel. Everwood: Right. We need them to research most of our objects. Jackson: And I understand that. But you also have to understand that there are more pressing objects at hand than the latest Wondertainment product. Everwood: I know we're low on the totem pole, but this low? Geez. [Everwood leans backward in their chair and grabs a pen from the desk. They begin to wave it in front of them, focusing their attention on it.] Jackson: It's just the way things are, Jay. You know how it is. Everwood: So what, you're just going to cut us off entirely? How am I supposed to do my job if I don't have the necessary test subjects? Jackson: Don't worry, we're not planning on cutting you off completely. We have a solution. [Everwood drops the pen onto the table and looks over at Jackson.] Everwood: I'd love to hear it. Jackson: We have recently discovered one of the kids in the D-Parenting program doesn't age beyond 6. We want to give him to you so you can put him to work. Everwood: Wow, really? That… That would literally solve all our problems. We'd finally have a reliable control group. Jackson: You lucked out, honestly. Everwood: No kidding. Jackson: The council typically has apprehensions about letting SCP objects interact with other SCPs. Everwood: Wait, so he's an SCP? Jackson: Correct. Everwood: What a world. Poor kid must have had it pretty rough. [Everwood leans forward over the table again. There is a brief silence.] Everwood: You know, I pride myself in creating a fun environment for kids back at my lab. Everything is colorful and there are plenty of toys, anomalous and not, for them to play with while we work. I realize their lives must suck so I try my best to be a beacon of light for them. So that when they go back to their friends in the program they can say 'I had a great time with Dr. Everwood!' Jackson: If only it were that easy for me. I know I sometimes have to send these kids off to their deaths in dealing with anomalies and it has hardened my heart. I commend you for still finding joy in the world. Everwood: I have to. If I don't, who will? [Everwood shrugs.] Jackson: Yeah. [There is a pause as Jackson looks over some papers in front of her.] Everwood: So, this kid… does he have a name? Jackson: Yes, let me just… Uhh… Oh. James. Everwood: James. Alright. And he's going to be a D-Class assigned to me? Or an SCP? I don't really like the thought of constantly calling him by his D-Class designation, much less an SCP number. Jackson: He's going to be a member of your team. You're free to treat him however you please. Everwood: In that case, I don't want him to be called a number. I want him to be called James, and I want everyone to know that. I also don't want him to be in that orange jumpsuit you make all the D-Class and humanoids wear. I want him to have proper clothing. [There is a brief silence. Jackson coughs.] Everwood: To add to my request, I want James to have a proper dormitory with the rest of the Site's personnel. Jackson: I can certainly try, but do you really think they'll agree to all this for an SCP object? Everwood: You don't understand. This kid has to be happy. It's bad enough that he's stuck living the life he will. I need him to not feel inferior or like he doesn't belong. It's what the Foundation would do for any other proper member of any team. Please. Jackson: Why are you going so hard on improving conditions for one kid and not the rest of the children D-Class we have? Everwood: Because I actually have the power to help this one kid. Jackson: I see… Well then. I'll… I'll see what I can do. Everwood: Thank you, Marley. <END LOG> Addendum 8726.2: In the months following its induction to Dr. Everwood's research team, SCP-8726 displayed a downturn in mental health. This culminated in it refusing to cooperate with certain members of the team and minor tantrums. It was then interviewed by Dr. Jackson for a follow-up psychiatric evaluation. Attached below is an excerpt from the interview between SCP-8726 and Dr. Jackson. <BEGIN LOG> Jackson: How are you liking working with Dr. Everwood? SCP-8726: It's fun. I like Dr. Everwood and Mr. Rex. They're nice to me. But I don't like Ms. May or Mr. Chidi. Jackson: And why is that? [SCP-8726 is silent.] Jackson: You can tell me everything. I promise I won't tell anyone else or get you in trouble. SCP-8726: Promise? Jackson: Cross my heart and hope to die. SCP-8726: …I don't want you to die… [Jackson laughs.] Jackson: I don't want to either! It's just a saying, don't worry about me. I'll be right here for a long time. SCP-8726: Okay. [SCP-8726 giggles.] Jackson: How about you tell me about Ms. May and Mr. Chidi? Are they being mean to you? [SCP-8726 nods.] Jackson: That's no good. [SCP-8726 shakes its head.] Jackson: So, what are they doing to you? [SCP-8726 pauses. It then covers its face with its hands.] Jackson: Will you tell me if I give you your Nintendo back?3 [SCP-8726 is silent for a moment, it then nods.] Jackson: Okay. But you gotta tell me, okay? SCP-8726: I will! [Jackson reaches behind her to a table and grabs SCP-8726's Nintendo Switch. She hands it over. SCP-8726 immediately reactivates it from its dormant state and resumes playing.] Jackson: Alright. Now tell me what Ms. May and Mr. Chidi are doing to you. SCP-8726: They keep calling me SCP-8726. Dr. Everwood said not to let anybody call me that but they said it's my desig… desig… designation. Jackson: Do they do it when Dr. Everwood isn't there? SCP-8726: Yes. Jackson: I see. Dr. Everwood is right. They shouldn't be calling you that. I'll make sure to tell them to discipline those two for that. [SCP-8726 drops its Switch and moves towards Jackson.] SCP-8726: No! They'll know I told someone and they'll be even more meaner to me! Jackson: They are adults. They should honestly be able to follow instructions and not hold anything against a child. Don't worry, James, you'll be okay. I promise. SCP-8726: Cross your heart and hope to die? Jackson: You know it, buddy. <END LOG> Note: Researchers May Waters and Chidi Gueye were reprimanded for not following standard SCP-8726 containment procedures. Despite SCP-8726 confirming that all personnel in Site-55 were "being nice to him"[sic]4 following this incident, it remained uncooperative with Dr. Everwood's research team. Behaviors included frequent tantrums, refusal to leave its room, and refusal to interact with any personnel. These behaviors culminated when SCP-8726 stated it was "mad about being an SCP"[sic] and refused to work for the day. Due to the problematic behaviors displayed by SCP-8726, Site-55 Director Alder suggested shelving the project and returning SCP-8726 to general containment. Dr. Everwood reached out to Dr. Jackson in response to this, seeking to maintain SCP-8726 in their program. Following this, Dr. Jackson reached out to Dr. █████, the lead researcher in SCP-105's containment in an effort to bring it to Site-55 to speak with SCP-8726. Dr. █████ approved of the effort, and SCP-105 was brought to Site-55 the following day. Attached below is a log of SCP-105's interaction with SCP-8726 recorded via the Site-55 security system. <BEGIN LOG> [SCP-105, Everwood, and Jackson are standing outside of SCP-8726's room. The door is open and SCP-8726 is facing away from the door. Everwood knocks on the door.] Everwood: Hey, buddy. Got a second? [SCP-8726 is silent and remains faced away.] Everwood: I brought someone here to talk to you. I think you'll like them. [SCP-8726 is silent.] Everwood: Go ahead. [SCP-105 hands SCP-105-B to Everwood and steps into the room, walking towards SCP-8726. It takes a seat on the bed beside it and places a hand on its shoulder.] SCP-8726: Don't touch me! [SCP-8726 turns towards SCP-105 and freezes.] SCP-105: Hi, James. My name is Iris. SCP-8726: H-hi… SCP-105: Do you mind if I sit here? SCP-8726: No… [SCP-8726 turns again, facing the wall.] SCP-105: So. From what I hear you're pretty bummed out about being an SCP. Is that true? [SCP-8726 is silent.] SCP-105: I can't say I blame you. I was pretty sad about it too. [SCP-8726 turns.] SCP-8726: You're an SCP too? SCP-105: Yeah. SCP-105. SCP-8726: I'm SCP-8726. SCP-105: 8726, huh? Wow, I had no idea there were that many. I guess I'm getting old now, aren't I? [SCP-105 laughs.] SCP-8726: I don't get old. What can you do? SCP-105: I can reach through pictures I take and do things to the area around it. SCP-8726: That's cool. SCP-105: Not as cool as not getting old. If I could be a kid forever, I would absolutely love that. Not have to worry about a thing and have all my needs taken care of forever? Heck yeah, know what I'm saying? [SCP-8726 shakes its head.] SCP-105: I guess you wouldn't know since you've never stopped being a kid. [There is a four-second silence.] SCP-105: So. Like I was saying, I heard you're not happy about being an SCP. SCP-8726: Yeah. It stinks! SCP-105: Oh yeah? I agree with you, there are parts that do stink. But I wouldn't say it's all bad. You're more than just your SCP designation, James. SCP-8726: What does that mean? SCP-105: It means that you're not just a set of numbers. You're a person. A person with hopes, dreams, aspirations, goals, motivations, hobbies… Everything a normal person has. For example, what are your hobbies? SCP-8726: What is a hobby? SCP-105: It's something you like to do, mostly in your free time. I like photography. [SCP-105 motions for Everwood to hand it its camera. Everwood steps into the room and hands SCP-105-B to it, then looks at SCP-8726 with a smile.] SCP-105: See? SCP-8726: Cool! SCP-105: This isn't even the cool part. Dr. Jackson, can you hand me my file? [Jackson enters the room, holding a manilla folder. She hands it to SCP-105, who opens it to reveal various pictures.] SCP-105: Check this out. I took all of these when I was out on a mission a few years ago. SCP-8726: What's this one? SCP-105: That's a ladybug. The way it landed on the flower without caring that I was there, I dunno. It just spoke to me. So, I took a picture. SCP-8726: Just like Pokémon Snap! SCP-105: What? SCP-8726: Look! [SCP-8726 stands and walks towards its desk. It grabs its Nintendo Switch and turns it on, showing SCP-105 the game it was currently playing after it returns to the bed.] SCP-8726: It lets you take pictures of Pokémons. SCP-105: Oh, that's cool. I don't recognize a lot of these Pokémon. I wonder how many have been added since I was last outside… SCP-8726: I like taking pictures of the Pokémon. Just like you! SCP-105: Do you want to take a picture together, James? SCP-8726: I have a better idea. [SCP-8726 leaves its bed again and approaches its desk, where it produces a sketchbook and several crayons. It places them on the ground and lays down, beginning to illustrate something on it.] SCP-105: Watcha drawin' over there? SCP-8726: It's a secret. SCP-105: Ah, okay, I see. James, I wanted to talk to you about something important while I was here. [SCP-8726 nods and continues drawing.] SCP-105: Some people might… Not exactly like you because you are an SCP. They might see you as a problem, or even dangerous. I wanted to tell you that you shouldn't let those people get to you. SCP-8726: You mean like Mr. Chidi and Ms. May? [SCP-105 turns to face Everwood and Jackson.] SCP-105: Are those the ones who…? Everwood: Yes. [SCP-105 turns back to face SCP-8726. It fidgets with SCP-105-B as it speaks again.] SCP-105: Yes, James. Like them. Don't let them get to you. You're more than your SCP designation. You're an adorable little kid and don't you ever forget that, okay? [SCP-8726 nods, continuing to draw.] SCP-105: Always remember this, okay? You have people here who care about you. You have Dr. Everwood, Dr. Jackson, me, and the other people down in the lab you work at. You've got a great group of people who will support you no matter what. You have friends. SCP-8726: I like my friends. But I don't like Mr. Chidi and Ms. May. They're still mean to me. [SCP-105 looks over to Everwood and Jackson. There is a brief silence between them before it speaks again.] SCP-105: Yeah. Unfortunately, there will be people like them no matter what you do or where you go. But listen. You have friends. And they are what really matters. SCP-8726: Sometimes I wish I had friends who were my age so we could play together when we're not busy with work. I liked playing with Michael and Rosie when I was still with the other kids. SCP-105: Uh… I'm sorry, James. SCP-8726: I miss them. [There is a brief silence.] SCP-105: I uh, I see. Well, I think you should focus on the future rather than the past! And the future for you seems like… a lot of fun. You get to play with toys and spend time with your friends. SCP-8726: Yeah. What do you like about your future, Iris? [There is a brief silence.] SCP-105: I can't do this anymore. [SCP-105 stands and walks outside of the room. It is followed by Everwood. Jackson remains in the room with SCP-8726.] Everwood: [Whispering] What are you doing? We need you to show him it's not all bad. SCP-105: [Whispering] I can't sit in there and lie to a six-year-old about how great it is to be an SCP! This whole experience took my life away from me, and it's robbing him of his before it even starts! I can't do this in good conscience. I'm sorry. [There is a brief silence.] Everwood: [Whispering] I understand. Thank you for trying. [SCP-8726 stands from the floor, bringing its drawing along with it towards Everwood and SCP-105.] SCP-8726: Look at what I drawed! <END LOG> Footnotes 1. Dr. Wondertainment. 2. It was determined that the delays in SCP-8726's mental development noted were not as a result of their existing Autism diagnosis. 3. SCP-8726's Nintendo Switch had been taken by Dr. Jackson in order to allow it to focus on their session. 4. It is assumed that with this statement, all personnel are following SCP-8726's containment procedures. my faveorit draweng. item #: scp-8726 obgect class: safe special contaiment prosedures: scp-8726 is aloud to play with any of doctor wondertainments toys that doctor everwood and mister rex let him play with. spc-8726 is not aloud to leave the room if doctor everwood or mister rex are not watshing him. descrepshon: i am scp-8726. i do not get old. i am 6 years old forever but that is ok becuz i can play with toys and spend tiem with doctor everwood and iris and mister rex and all the other nice pepol in the goi lab. they r nice to me and i like them a lot. my faveorit toy is my nintendo switch becuz it has pokemon snap on it and i liek takeng pecshurs. adendumb: my faevorit hobbie is draweing. i drawed the pecshur for my own scp file. More From This Author More From This Author Uncle Nicolini's Works SCPs SCP-5726 • SCP-6911 • SCP-4432 • SCP-7726 • SCP-4056 • SCP-4206 • SCP-7149 • SCP-7724 • SCP-1542 • SCP-7260 • SCP-5148 • SCP-ES-227 • SCP-7266 • SCP-5231 • Abraka David's Proposal • Tales/GoI Formats Fifteenth Anonymous Donation • Dark Sushi File No. 1221 "Waniika Nigiri" • Reality TV, Designer Pets, and Fine Dining • Masquerade's End • Critter Profile: Maya! • Moon Champion's Cinco de Mayo Extravaganza • Gentle Wings Flutter Quietly In The Dark • An Epitaph For SCP-173 • SC-99/734/01/506 • RAISA-6147 (PENDING ASSIGNMENT) • Little Dark Star Shoppe of Minerals • SCP Wiki Discussion Page Simulator • Tim Wilson's Close Shave • Cool Guys Don't Look At Explosions • Project Proposal 2018-145: "Drinking With the Jocks" • Other Ode To The Unknown Author • Sciptember 2022 Art Highlights • uncle nicolini author page • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8726" by Uncle Nicolini, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8726. 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: james.jpg Name: My 6 year old boy Author: marviikad License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: Link Filename: jamesart.png Name: jamesart Author: OriTiefling License: CC BY-SA 3.0
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SCP-8732
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neutralized
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close Info X ⚠️CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of suicide and implied self-harm.⚠️ SCP-8732: Safe, Hargrove, Home. Author: SiobhanYmeow Special Thanks to: kblacke for all the extremely helpful critique, Romi for helping me find joy in life, and Jas for helping to keep me here. ⚠️ content warning Item#: 8732 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: vlam Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8732 is to be kept in non-anomalous containment warehouse 7 in Site-228. SCP-8732 is to be checked and cleaned on a monthly basis. SCP-8732-1 is to be given a monthly standard physical and mental health evaluation. It is mandatory for SCP-8732-1 to attend therapy sessions twice a week. Both are to be screened for possible reinstatement of anomalous properties monthly. Description: SCP-8732 is a worn 3x3x3 meter box composed of an indeterminate metal with a single plain door of similar composition on one face. Prior to neutralization, the interior dimensions of SCP-8732 were significantly larger than the exterior, measuring approximately 200x200x200 meters1. In the center of the room was a standard metal hospital bed with a plain mattress covered in traces of blood and cerebrospinal fluid and multiple tall candles which did not melt and could not be put out. SCP-8732-1 is a 164cm, 47kg woman with several large laceration scars visible on her forearms, thighs, and abdomen. Prior to neutralization, SCP-8732-1 was capable of involuntarily transmitting and receiving radio signals at certain frequencies and did not require any form of sustenance. SCP-8732-1 was contained within SCP-8732 and was incapable of exit prior to Foundation attempts at retrieval. After neutralization of anomalous properties, SCP-8732-1 was reintegrated into society and is currently living in Foundation employee housing with Researcher Mina Hargrove under the legal name Gabrielle ██████ Hargrove. Addendum-8732-1: Discovery SCP-8732 was discovered in a forest near Site-228 on 11/28/2024 after Site-228 monitoring equipment began to detect unusual radio signals. After pinpointing the location of SCP-8732, a significant aberration in Hume levels was detected in the area surrounding the anomaly. SCP-8732 was subsequently brought to Site-228 and placed in a temporary containment unit for initial research efforts. Addendum-8732-2: Interview Logs Soon after containment, SCP-8732's monitoring equipment began to receive radio signals with the voice of a young woman whispering unintelligibly. Researcher Mina Hargrove was selected as Research Head and attempted to conduct a radio interview with SCP-8732-1 shortly afterwards. Interview 8732-1 Date: 12/1/2024 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] Researcher Hargrove: Hello? Can anyone hear me? [SCP-8732 goes completely silent.] Researcher Hargrove: Hello? SCP-8732-1: [After a short pause.] Me? Researcher Hargrove: Yes, and I take you can hear me clearly? SCP-8732-1: Who are you? Researcher Hargrove: I'm a researcher with the SCP Foundation, could you answer some questions for us? [Both remain silent for several moments.] Researcher Hargrove: Hello? [END LOG] Researcher Hargrove waited for a response for several minutes before ending the interview. SCP-8732-1 remained completely silent for 15 hours after the interview, before continuing to whisper. After an 8-day period of inactivity, SCP-8732-1 was heard repeatedly saying "Hello? Miss Researcher?" Researcher Hargrove was promptly informed and brought to SCP-8732's containment chamber. Interview 8732-2 Date: 12/9/2024 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] Researcher Hargrove: Hi, you wanted to speak to me? SCP-8732-1: Don't flatter yourself. Researcher Hargrove: We just wanted to ask some questions, if you're fine with it, of course. SCP-8732-1: Sure. Researcher Hargrove: Okay then, I'll be referring to you as SCP-8732-1, is that okay? SCP-8732-1: Whatever. Researcher Hargrove: Okay, then let's begin. First and foremost, could you tell us what you are exactly? SCP-8732-1: [After a short pause.] A… woman? What else? Researcher Hargrove: Well… what exactly is this box then? SCP-8732-1: Box? Like… the thing I'm in? Researcher Hargrove: Maybe. Could you describe what you see, SCP-8732-1? SCP-8732-1: I can only see the floor, it's made of a weird dark metal, covered in black rust. There's a shitty hospital bed in here with me and some candles around it, nothing else. Researcher Hargrove: Hmm… It's definitely possible that I'm looking at the same thing you're inside of. Are there any other things you can tell me about it? SCP-8732-1: Well… the candles never melt or go out and it's echo-y as fuck… it's also kinda cold? Researcher Hargrove: I see. Well, 8732-1, do you remember anything that happened before appearing in the room you're in? [Both remain silent for a few minutes.] Researcher Hargrove: Hello? SCP-8732-1: Ca-… I… I think I'm done talking. Researcher Hargrove: Is everything fine? [Both remain silent for several moments, SCP-8732-1 is heard quietly sighing.] SCP-8732-1: I'm… Yeah, I'm fine. Can you leave me alone? Please? Researcher Hargrove: Alright, I'll talk to you again whenever you're ready. [END LOG] SCP-8732-1 remained silent for 4 days before repeatedly calling for Researcher Hargrove, who was promptly brought to SCP-8732's containment chamber. Interview 8732-3 Date: 12/13/2024 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] Researcher Hargrove: Hey, 8732-1. Is everything alright? SCP-8732-1: No. Researcher Hargrove: Can you be more specific? It'll make helping you out a lot easier. SCP-8732-1: I feel awful, I just hate being here all the fucking time, it's so awful. I hate being like this, being stuck like this. I just want to be happy. Researcher Hargrove: I see. Well, is there anything I can do to help, 8732-1? SCP-8732-1: Can you cut the number shit, please? Just call me Gabby, fucking Christ. Researcher Hargrove: Of course, and you can call me Mina. What do you need, Gabby? SCP-8732-1: Can you just be here for a bit? Just talk, ask me questions, whatever. Researcher Hargrove: Oh, you're okay with questions, then? SCP-8732-1: Yeah sure, whatever. Researcher Hargrove: Well… how long have you been in there exactly? [SCP-8732-1 remains silent for a few moments.] SCP-8732-1: Like… a year. Researcher Hargrove: I see, so you've been there for a while, huh? How've you been keeping track? SCP-8732-1: My period. Researcher Hargrove: Oh… well, since you still menstruate, how do you stay fed and hydrated? SCP-8732-1: I don't, I haven't needed to eat or shit or anything since showing up here, I haven't needed to drink at all either. I can sleep sometimes but the bed's too uncomfortable and gross and I don't really get more tired than I already am. My hair is so fucking greasy. I hate it here. I just want out. I just want to- [SCP-8732-1 pauses briefly before letting out a long sigh.] Sorry. I'll stop raving. Researcher Hargrove: Don't apologize, Gabby, it's fine. Do you still want to talk? SCP-8732-1: I think I'm fine. Thank you. I need to lay down for a bit. Researcher Hargrove: Then get some rest. Please call for me if you ever need to talk, okay Gabby? SCP-8732-1: Okay… Thank you, Mina. [END LOG] Researcher Hargrove requested permission to inform SCP-8732-1 about the door on SCP-8732 following the interview, permission was promptly granted by Director Cren. SCP-8732-1 requested Researcher Hargrove's presence the morning following Interview-8732-3. Interview 8732-4 Date: 12/14/2024 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] [Researcher Hargrove yawns loudly.] Researcher Hargrove: Hi, good morning, Gabby. SCP-8732-1: Morning, I slept like shit. You seem well, though. Researcher Hargrove: Well enough. SCP-8732-1: Good for you, then. Researcher Hargrove: Oh yeah, there's something I need to tell you. SCP-8732-1: Sure. Researcher Hargrove: Well, this box that you seem to be trapped in, there's a door on it. [Both remain silent for several moments] SCP-8732-1: Seriously? Researcher Hargrove: Yeah, I'll need to get permission from my superiors but we might be able to open it. Have you not seen it before? SCP-8732-1: No, I've… I've been too scared to get far from the bed, it's really dark and quiet in here. I took one of my candles and tried just walking in one direction a while back, but the further I walked the more scared I got. I started to feel like shit and almost collapsed after a while so I ended up just turning back. I tried a few more times but it was all just the fucking same. I hate it in here. Researcher Hargrove: I see. Well, I'll try to convince the higher-ups to let someone in. If you don't mind, of course. SCP-8732-1: Why would I? Just please get me out of here. Please. Researcher Hargrove: Well, we'd most probably send in a remotely controlled drone before actually trying a rescue mission, for safety purposes. We could send a few items with it if you'd like? Just until we can fully get you out. SCP-8732-1: Oh… then I guess… a nightgown and some underwear would be nice. Pads, a hair brush, wet wipes, and… I'm not really sure what else… a couple books, I guess? Researcher Hargrove: I doubt they'll deny such simple things so I'll see what I can do, I'll probably be busy for a few days while dealing with the logistics, so… just hang in there, Gabby. SCP-8732-1: Alright, thanks Mina. Do you think you'll be able to come in here at all? I miss seeing people. Researcher Hargrove: Depends on the Director. We're pretty friendly, though, so I'm sure he'll hear me out if I buy him enough drinks.2 [SCP-8732-1 and Researcher Hargrove laugh quietly together.] SCP-8732-1: I hope I can see you soon, then. Thanks, Mina. [END LOG] Researcher Hargrove requested that a remotely controlled research drone be sent into SCP-8732 to perform scans of the interior and attempt to deliver the requested items to SCP-8732-1. Permission was granted, the drone and other requested items began delivery shortly afterwards. 4 days after Interview 8732-4, the drone, controlled by Researcher Hargrove and with a box of the requested items, was prepared in front of SCP-8732's door and the containment unit was sealed. A hydraulic system was installed to open the door remotely. Researcher Hargrove spoke to SCP-8732-1 during the delivery, SCP-8732-1 was informed of the drone's entry beforehand. Interview 8732-5 Date: 12/18/2024 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] [The drone's camera is turned on. The door is seen directly ahead with the hydraulic system placed in front of it] Researcher Hargrove: Okay, are all systems good? [Other researchers are heard speaking in the background.] Okay. Open the door. [The door opens slowly, nothing is visible within SCP-8732. Atmospheric readings show no significant abnormalities coming from SCP-8732. Temperatures range between 19-22°C. No cognitohazardous materials detected. Radiation levels are below average. Hume levels are slightly above average.] Researcher Hargrove: Readings are green. Proceeding into SCP-8732. [The drone begins to lift off the ground and move forward slowly and the light is turned on as it enters. A floor with a similar appearance to the exterior of SCP-8732 is visible stretching into the distance, the light is incapable of illuminating any walls. The drone's radio begins to receive speech from SCP-8732-1 as it continues to move through the darkness.] SCP-8732-1: Is that the drone? Mina? Researcher Hargrove: Hey Gabby, could you just tell me what you see exactly? SCP-8732-1: There's just this bright light off in the distance, it scared the shit out of me. It's moving closer, I think? [Researcher Hargrove begins to flash the light.] Researcher Hargrove: Do you see what I'm doing? SCP-8732-1: Flashing the light? Cut it the fuck out, it hurts. [Researcher Hargrove stops flashing the light] Researcher Hargrove: Sorry, sorry, just makin' sure. I think I see a few dim spots of light a little further ahead. The drone's recording video footage so be careful. [The drone reaches a small hospital bed with a dirty mattress surrounded by tall, white candles which illuminate the surrounding area. An underweight woman is sitting on the bed covering her chest and squinting up at the drone; her legs are covered in dried blood. The drone ceases movement, deactivates the light, and slowly lowers onto the ground in front of SCP-8732-1. SCP-8732-1 stares into the camera.] Researcher Hargrove: Hi there, Gabby. SCP-8732-1: Hey. So… this is my stuff? Researcher Hargrove: Yeah, it should have everything you asked for. [SCP-8732-1 is silent for a moment before beginning to cry quietly. She lifts her free hand to cover her face.] Researcher Hargrove: You good, Gabs? SCP-8732-1: I'm fine, I… I just… Thank you, Mina. This means a lot. Thank you. Researcher Hargrove: Don't worry about it, dear. I'm always here to help. Need anything else before I leave? SCP-8732-1: I think I'm good for now. Thank you, Mina. I'll see you soon? Researcher Hargrove: Most probably after some initial testing, just to make sure of all the stuff we can't properly detect through the drone. SCP-8732-1: Okay then. Bye, Mina… Thank you. Researcher Hargrove: Don't mention it dear, I'll see you soon. [The drone begins to lift off the ground as SCP-8732-1 is seen waving at the camera. The drone pans around, activates the light, and begins to move back towards the entrance. Upon reaching the door and landing, the camera is deactivated.] [END LOG] Shortly after the interview, SCP-8732-1 requested permission to speak with Researcher Hargrove outside of interviews. A psychiatric evaluation was performed on SCP-8732-1 and her request was permitted shortly after in order to provide her more social contact. SCP-8732-1 also requested multiple items between Interview-8732-5 and all proceeding interviews prior to neutralization. After a D-class test, SCP-8732 was deemed safe for human traversal and Researcher Hargrove was granted permission to interview SCP-8732-1 within SCP-8732. Researcher Hargrove was fitted with a microphone and on-site staff assisted her in carrying a small table and two chairs into SCP-8732 in order to make the interview more comfortable for SCP-8732-1 and Researcher Hargrove. Interview 8732-6 Date: 12/24/2024 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] [It is noted that Researcher Hargrove and SCP-8732-1 had a conversation prior to recording. The microphone is turned on and rustling is heard as Researcher Hargrove adjusts it on her coat.] Researcher Hargrove: Okay… recording. So, Gabs- or, sorry, formalities. SCP-8732-1, are you ready for the questions? SCP-8732-1: Yep, ready when you are. Researcher Hargrove: Alright then. First and foremost, could you tell us about before you ended up like this? It seems to be touchy based off our earlier interviews so you don't have to be specific, you don't have to answer either, okay? [SCP-8732-1 lets out a long sigh.] SCP-8732-1: Okay. My full legal name is, or I guess was, Gabrielle ██████ █████. I was a shitty 26-year-old art graduate, made most of my living doing, like… commissions and shit. I didn't usually have much of a reason to go out so I rarely talked to people outside my little high school friend group and randoms online. They eventually started moving on, getting partners, jobs… growing up. I got, uh… I got really lonely and relapsed into… well, a lot of things. I… I, um… I… woke up here after… offing myself. [Both remain silent for a short moment before sniffling is heard. Researcher Hargrove is heard standing up and walking to the opposite side of the table, verbally and physically comforting SCP-8732-1; muffled sobbing is heard for several minutes. Researcher Hargrove is heard moving her seat nearer to SCP-8732-1 after the cessation of SCP-8732-1's sobbing.] SCP-8732-1: Sorry, it's been a while since I've been able to cry like that. Thank you. Researcher Hargrove: Don't apologize, dear. You wanna continue with the interview? SCP-8732-1: Yeah… Yeah, I'm good. We can continue. Researcher Hargrove: Okay then. Remember, you don't have to answer anything if you don't want to, okay? So, do you remember coming into contact with anything abnormal before ending up here? SCP-8732-1: Not particularly. Things were pretty normal leading up to it… Just working on commissions, sleeping 12 hours a night, talking to lesbians on Discord. Loser shit. Researcher Hargrove: Well, was there anything odd about you physically or mentally before waking up here? SCP-8732-1: Again, not really, I guess all the mental and physical illnesses? But I've had those for a while so I can't really see how they'd do… all this. Researcher Hargrove: I see. Well, could you give us more details about your stay here? SCP-8732-1: Well, not much has happened, it was mostly static and random noises while I sat in this shithole and rotted. Now it's mostly just the sounds of mugs and you shits bumbling around your offices. No offense. [Researcher Hargrove is heard chuckling at SCP-8732-1's remark.] Researcher Hargrove: None taken. Can you tell me about your experience trying to leave? We're currently approving getting you out of here, so say anything you find important. [SCP-8732-1 remains silent for a moment.] SCP-8732-1: Yeah… well, I just started to feel really shitty and decided to turn back around, that's about it. A really bad headache, dizziness, weakness, just generally shit. Researcher Hargrove: I see. Well, do you wanna try again? I'll have to wait for approval but we're expecting it pretty soon. SCP-8732-1: Yeah, I think I'd like that, it's been way too long since I've actually done anything worthwhile. Researcher Hargrove: Okay, good, those're all the questions we have for now. I can still stay a bit longer if you'd like though. SCP-8732-1: That'd be nice. Also, can w- [Researcher Hargrove turns off the recording device, cutting off SCP-8732-1.] [END LOG] Researcher Hargrove remained with SCP-8732-1 for 2 hours following the interview. Permission to attempt retrieval of SCP-8732-1 from SCP-8732 was granted 9 days after the interview. A series of LED lights were placed in a path from the entrance of SCP-8732 to the location at which SCP-8732-1 was located, in order to assist the exit process. Interview 8732-7 Date: 1/2/2025 Interviewer: Researcher Mina Hargrove Subject: SCP-8732-1 [BEGIN LOG] Researcher Hargrove: Okay, recording has started. You ready Gabs? SCP-8732-1: I think so… I'm honestly really scared… [SCP-8732-1 is heard giggling.] I'm sure it'll be fine. Maybe we can start living together after I've gone through all the tests you told me about. Researcher Hargrove: [Researcher Hargrove is heard scoffing.] I certainly wouldn't mind sharing my empty house for once. You ready? Come on, hold my hand. SCP-8732-1: Alright… [SCP-8732-1 is heard exhaling loudly.] I think I'm ready. Let's go. [The pair is heard walking slowly for a few minutes before accelerating to an average pace.] SCP-8732-1: Can we stop for a second? [The pair's footsteps cease.] Researcher Hargrove: You okay, dear? SCP-8732-1: Yeah… Just a little scared. We're a good bit farther than I got on my own so I'm really scared… I'm just waiting for something to fuck it all up. Researcher Hargrove: I promise you'll be fine, dear. I'm here for you, okay? Don't be scared. [There is a moment of silence as rustling is heard.] SCP-8732-1: O-okay… Thank you Mina. Let's keep going. [The pair continue at their previous pace for a few minutes before SCP-8732-1 is heard hyperventilating prompting them to cease their movement.] Researcher Hargrove: You okay? SCP-8732-1: Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Is that it? I think I see your desk, the one with the microphone. Researcher Hargrove: Yeah… This is it. Are you feeling okay? SCP-8732-1: I'm a little dizzy… My legs are weak… I'm scared, Mina. Researcher Hargrove: I'll carry you, then. And- [Mina pauses as rustling is heard for a few moments before a faint clack.] -put these in. Play whatever music you like, okay? Just close your eyes and focus on the music. Trust me, Gabby. I promise you'll be safe. I'm here for you. SCP-8732-1: Okay… Okay… I-I think I'm ready… I love you, Mina. Researcher Hargrove: I love you too, Gabby. Let's go. [Rustling and heavy breathing is heard for a moment before the microphone begins to hear a single pair of slow and muffled footsteps. Soon after, Researcher Hargrove is seen on the cameras of the containment chamber exiting SCP-8732. She is carrying SCP-8732-1, who is wearing a pair of earbuds and holding onto Researcher Hargrove with her eyes shut tightly. Researcher Hargrove alerts SCP-8732-1 that they've passed the door. SCP-8732-1 begins to cry as Researcher Hargrove sets her down and the nearby staff approach the two for assistance.] [END LOG] Soon afterwards, SCP-8732-1 was taken to the medical wing to run basic tests. Which yielded no anomalous results. As the reintegration process began, amnestics were administered to the relevant parties and her previous identity was reinstated. Researcher Hargrove offered to care for SCP-8732-1 during the reintegration process; Director Cren promptly accepted the proposition upon SCP-8732-1's insistence. SCP-8732 began to slowly lose its anomalous properties after SCP-8732-1's exit, eventually becoming completely inert with all the items inside disappearing. SCP-8732 was re-classified from Safe to Neutralized shortly afterwards. SCP-8732-1 and Researcher Hargrove were married 2 years after neutralization and continue to live in Foundation employee housing together. Footnotes 1. Determined via Lidar scan. 2. Researcher Hargrove was later reprimanded for this joke by Director Cren.
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SCP-8740
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esoteric-class
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Hey. Can we tell you a secret? + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); 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border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .top-left-box > .item { display: none; } /* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; padding-top: 10px; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); 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} } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; 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} } .scp-image-block { box-shadow: none; } /* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; 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padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* QUEERSTYLE CSS By Queerious Forked from: Blankstyle CSS by Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Using: White Outline Classic LGBTQ+ Pride Logo by Woedenaz from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Vast+Shadow&display=swap'); #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.2em; text-shadow: 3px 3px 3px #fff; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #fff; } #header { margin-top: 0.5em; } :root { --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 9vw; } } #top-bar, #top-bar a { text-shadow: 0.75px 0.75px 1px #fff; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 150px; background-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg'); } #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } /* Pseudogenesis Formats */ .pseudo-div { border:solid 4px #B22A2A; background:#403450; color: #ffffff; padding: 5px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; text-align: center; } .pseudo-div :is(h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6) { font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; letter-spacing: 0px; font-weight: normal; color: white; } close Info X SCP-8740: The Secret Project: A Pseudogenesis Production Author: Queerious A prequel piece to SCP-8478, expanding the world of Pseudogenesis! CW: Sexual References, Minor Gore/Violence ⚠️ content warning Item#: 8740 Level2 Secondary Class: Agare Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Despite SCP-8740's operation in and outside of the veil, containment primarily relies on SCP-8740's memetic influence. This effect causes viewers to believe that what they saw was fictional once they leave the venue. As such, MTF Upsilon-33 ("Rushing Critics") is to support this effect, and to ensure that external forces do not cause an informational breach.1 Update: Following the events of Addendum 1, Foundation personnel are prohibited from entering SCP-8740. Instances of cognitohazards advertising SCP-8740 are to be neutralized via countermemetics. An active cognitohazardous poster is included below, for reference. Show Cognitohazard? Hide The Secret Project Can we tell you a secret? We can't promise that it's our secret, but we can guarantee that not only are they all true — they will change your life. Not an official show in the Chicago Fringe Festival. Tickets available at venue. Description: SCP-8740 is an anomalous theatre performance known as "The Secret Project". SCP-8740 is staged by GOI-478 ("Pseudogenesis Productions"), and performances take place within a non-Euclidian theatre space known as 'The Blackbox', referred to as SCP-8740-1. SCP-8740-1 appears as a smooth black box, approximately two meters in all dimensions, with a door located on a single face. SCP-8740-1 is capable of being relocated by GOI-478, having appeared throughout the United States, Canada, and multiple nexi across the globe. Upon entering SCP-8740-1, the space inside is considerably larger — SCP-8740-1's interior is approximately the size of a large theatre space, with a capacity for between 200-300 guests, seating arranged around the stage. The theatre is devoid of set dressing or decorations, as every surface is made of the same black material, including the seats. Access to SCP-8740 is open to any individual — anybody who passes by SCP-8740-1 will experience a minor compulsion to attend the show. Tickets are priced nominally,2 as GOI-478 has stated that "participation in The Secret Project is the primary form of payment." SCP-8740 does not use actors, similar to SCP-8478, instead operating through the use of memetic conditioning and cognitohazardous influences.3 SCP-8740 has the guests, herein referred to as SCP-8740-2 instances, revealing a secret over the course of a monologue. Multiple monologues are performed per SCP-8740 show, utilizing a single SCP-8740-2 instance per monologue. Based on the current understanding of the anomaly, these 'secrets' do not belong to the SCP-8740-2 instance, rather, they are taken from a member of the audience, without their knowledge. As a result of the random nature of the performance, it is impossible to determine exactly the origin of a given monologue, nor can the validity of any secret be proven. In a handful of instances, the individuals whose secrets were shared have been located by the Foundation, based on identifying information shared by the performer. At the conclusion of the performance, all attendees are compelled to stand and take a bow, regardless of whether they performed or not. After the applause has faded, the house lights are raised and all attendees vacate SCP-8740-1, triggering its secondary anomalous effect, causing all attendees to believe that any events occurring within SCP-8740-1 were part of the performance. To date, there have been no informational breaches as a result of SCP-8740. Addendum 1: SCP-8740 Recording Log Due to the changing nature of SCP-8740, performances are rarely alike. They often share similarities, but generally, are significantly distinct in the secrets that are shared. On 09/01/2016, an unknown individual entered SCP-8740-1 and recorded a video of the performance.4 Video footage was recovered by MTF Upsilon-33 after the fact, however, parts of the footage were corrupted due to memetic effects. Below are highlighted excerpts from the performance, as an example of SCP-8740's typical show. SCP-8740 Recovered Video Transcript Location: Chicago Fringe Festival Date: 09/01/2016 [BEGIN LOG] Footage begins as the lights of SCP-8740-1 dim. A partially obscured view of the stage is seen. The stage is empty. Audience members can be heard coughing. A screen descends from the roof of SCP-8740-1, at which point a film projector is heard. No projector, nor housing for the screen can be seen in the shot. Despite this, a video appears, projected through anomalous lighting effects. In the middle of the screen sits a woman, visible only as a shadow.5 POI-478-1: Welcome into the Blackbox. Today, you will be participating in a showing of The Secret Project. Footage of POI-478-1 is replaced with drone footage of various cities, landscapes and technology. POI-478-1: We live in a world of artificiality. Nothing we observe is real anymore, nothing is persistent. Instead, we live in the temporary. We revel in our performances, delighting in manipulating the information that we consume, desperate to feel anything. A montage of human faces is now seen. Based on research, these appear to be the faces of each audience member. However, these images were not captured at the time of the performance. POI-478-1: Today, you will be sharing secrets. Secrets that are buried so deep into your subconscious, hidden between your shames and worries, long since forgotten. When a performer is sharing a secret, we ask that you not react to what is being said, nor make assumptions about the performers. After all, who knows where the secret even comes from? How can you know that it's even real at all? Footage changes, showing the empty stage. The screen retracts into the ceiling, disappearing as it does so. POI-478-1: So. Can we tell you a secret?6 When footage resumes, an unidentified individual, herein SCP-8740-2-A has taken the stage, and is in the midst of a monologue. They are lit by a follow spot, despite the fact that no theatre lights, nor technicians, are visible.7 SCP-8740-2-A: —spiraling out of hand. I didn't mean to end up alone with him, but there was just… something about him that day. The smell of his cologne, mixing with his fragrant musk, filling my nostrils with the promise of thrills and passion. God I was intoxicated just looking at him. SCP-8740-2-A: That's the thing nobody will tell you about an affair. Most of the time, they're not one bad decision. You know exactly what you're doing. You know exactly what will happen because you did this, who it will hurt, the lives that it will ruin — any cheater knows exactly what ramifications their extracurricular exploits cause. The problem is, if you're anything like me, you don't care about the future. I'm in a dead-end job, the planet is dying, society is collapsing onto itself, and I have… I have absolutely no hopes for the future. SCP-8740-2-A: I live for the moment. That's always been the problem, and it will always be my problem. Why fight for the future, when the escape is so much sweeter? Father, forgive me for my sins. Let this confession serve as the absolution to my self-wrought purgatory. SCP-8740-2-A appears to sit down. As they do so, reality warps, so that there is a small black box underneath them. SCP-8740-2-A: We were sitting on a couch, just the two of us, waiting for you to get home. You were out, stuck late at your job again, and neither of us knew when you were coming home. His wiry legs brushed against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I tried to control myself, but as I stood to go to another room, he stopped me; grabbing onto a belt loop on my pants, he held me painfully still. SCP-8740-2-A: 'Where do you think you're going?' The way he said it wasn't innocuous, no, it was perverse. I heard the lust dripping out of his mouth as I stared back at his rugged, stubble-covered face, wishing I could kiss his cracked and swollen lips. I wanted to stop, but… the moment called for me, and as its eternal servant, I obliged. SCP-8740-2-A: I guess there's no easy way to say this. I fucked your dad. It was rough, passionate, and I don't regre—8 When footage resumes, a different instance stands in the middle of the theatre, SCP-8740-2-B, an unidentified female-presenting individual. They are standing perfectly still, not speaking, however based on contextual clues, it can be assumed they too are in the midst of their monologue. SCP-8740-2-B: Here's the thing. Knives are inherently messy. They are personal, direct and vicious, especially in the hands of an expert. What few people realize is that in the hands of an amateur, a knife creates a greater work of art than if it had been wielded by a Michelin-star chef. SCP-8740-2-B pauses, looking at their left hand. They can be seen tracing lines across their palm, as if following the lines set by scars — no scarring is visible. SCP-8740-2-B: When you stab into flesh, there's a lot of blood. If you've ever seen a crime scene photo where a subject died due to repeated stab wounds, it's like the Red Sea. The knife is Moses, driven by a greater, higher power, carving its way through the skin and tissue, blood fleeing from the corpse as if escaping the Pharaoh. A killer who knows what they're doing can stab somebody ten to twenty times before the victim even realizes what's happening to them. SCP-8740-2-B laughs, making a fist with their left hand. SCP-8740-2-B: I fucking hate people who are like that. Arrogant. Pretentious. They are taking the primal sensation of delivering justice directly through an extension of yourself, and bastardizing it, sterilizing the experience, killing the art where it lies. True art is only created when the passion is evident; when the fervor of the killer is obvious, their passion and animalistic rage displayed on the canvas that is their victim's body. The blood is spilled everywhere, the splatters decorating the floor serving as punctuation in the poem they just created. A knife materializes in SCP-8740-2-B's hand — it is a bowie knife, the blade approximately 4" long, and without a hand guard. SCP-8740-2-B: Amateurs are sloppy. The first time, everybody makes the same mistake. When you stab somebody, they don't die — you have to stab them, again, and again, and again, and again, repeating yourself ad nauseum until they stop moving, their will to live having spilled out onto the canvas of the world. When you're stabbing with a knife, like this one, blood quickly covers the entire blade, including the handle. It gets slippery, and oftentimes killers will cut their own hands on the knife. To avoid this, professionals use knifes with hand guards, keeping themselves from being cut during the throes of passion. SCP-8740-2-B cuts their right hand, a clean slice across the palm. Blood begins to pool, and they make a fist, the blood dripping off their fist, tracing the contours of their fingers. SCP-8740-2-B: The only way to make art is to be part of it yourself. As the artist, you have a duty to society, but most importantly, you must honor your canvas. Refusing to allow yourself the divine act of being part of the art directly, your blood intermingling with theirs, is heresy. I cut my own hands before I kill, to ensure that both of us are immortalized by my creation.9 When footage resumes, an androgynous individual, herein SCP-8740-2-C, is seen approaching the stage from the audience. They pause when they reach center stage, continuing to face away from the audience. SCP-8740-2-C: Hey, can I tell you a secret? It's a juicy one, I promise! My name is Megan, and I work for the Foundation, an organization dedicated to protecting the world from the unknown. SCP-8740-2-C is seen turning around, having taken on a prouder stance, their arms behind their back. SCP-8740-2-C: Magic is real. Monsters are real. Ghosts, boogiemen, aliens, gods, you name it, it's all true. Our job is to keep you thinking that they're fake — we are the last line of defense between society and untold levels of chaos and destruction. At least… at least we used to be. A projection appears on the back wall of the theatre, displaying the Foundation logo. SCP-8740-2-C: 'We die in the dark, so that you can live in the light.' I used to believe that. Everybody did. Before the monotony of your work consumes you, the endless procedures and mindless paperwork filling your day. Sometimes I look up and realize the world has moved on, all the while, I'm still staring at the same document, trying to understand how the anomaly works. We don't die in the dark anymore — we die in the gutters of our own creation, a behemoth of certainty and regulations, so that we may remake the light in our image. We pledge ourselves to the altar of structure, so that we might emplace that onto the world around us. SCP-8740-2-C starts laughing, crazed and maniacal, for approximately 2 minutes. Over the course of their laughter, the lights dim and the projection fades. Soon, the stage is in near blackness, only the faintest light hitting SCP-8740-2-C's face. SCP-8740-2-C: The worst part is? Everything I just told you isn't the secret I wanted to tell you. It's context. The framework, the rules that dictate who I am and how I live. You need to understand why I am the way I am, before you can truly understand just how terrible my secret truly is. SCP-8740-2-C: The truth is simple. We control your fates, dictating who lives and who dies, based on the rules and scripture we live by. You are not important. You are sheep. Fodder. Victims of our inability to care, the detritus that—10 Footage resumes, and the video feed has changed locations, appearing to look out onto the audience from center stage. In unison and without warning, every member of the audience stands up and takes a bow. They begin to applaud for approximately 2 minutes, rhythmically in sync. After the 2 minutes, all audience members stop clapping, and begin to make their way to the exits. Video capture is ended. [END LOG] The contents of this video were restricted to a single cellular device, and as such, MTF Upsilon-33 was successful in maintaining containment of SCP-8740. At this time, it is believed that being a member of the audience for SCP-8740 causes individuals to undergo mental shifts — over 80% of the individuals whose secrets were shared by others will change their behaviors within hours of viewing SCP-8740. Additional research is ongoing to determine the root cause of these behavioral modifications. Addendum 2: Hermeneutic Effects On 11/16/2016, Dr. Heather Garrison, a researcher at Site-19, submitted a proposed explanation for the behavioral modifications that result from SCP-8740 exposure. The full proposal is available on request, but the relevant section is included below. The basal cause of SCP-8740's behavioral modifications was long assumed to be a result of cognitohazardous and memetic effects. This is despite the fact that memetics and cognitohazards are consistent in how they operate — it would not be possible for the changes to only occur in a portion of the population without other influences. The often-cited answer is varying CRV levels in audience members, but that fails to explain why the reaction of audience members is also inconsistent. If it really was a set specific memetic or cognitohazard, any exposed individual would have the same information and knowledge, and would exhibit consistent behavior, regardless of variances in CRVs or otherwise. Therefore, to solve this, we must consider that there is a third anomalous influence present in SCP-8740. This effect must allow for variation in the impact, based directly on the individual audience member, while having a consistent meaning that is shared between all who see it. We must assume that SCP-8740, in addition to cognitohazards and memetics, utilizes a controlled hermeneutic that is focused on the concepts of absolution through honesty and external perspectives as a vehicle for change. Memetics are only able to target the mind and how we process things. What SCP-8740 does is beyond that, with reality being recontexualized by the sheer act of interpretation. Given my expertise on the subject, it would not be possible for memetics, even ontologically linked ones, to have the same effect. The only remaining answer, therefore, is a hermeneutic. Dr. Heather Garrison Junior Researcher Site-19 From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] Site-19 Anart User Group, [email protected] GOI-478's Continual Threat Dr. Garrison's proposal has only demonstrated what I have always said; GOI-478 is a significant risk, not only to the veil, but to the Foundation as a whole. Any group that is able to manipulate, tame and weaponize a hermeneutic must be considered dangerous. A group that has manipulated and coerced a young Foundation researcher to defect and join their cause is an even bigger threat. In the coming weeks, I will be gathering resources and researchers so that we may craft a proposal on properly capturing and containing the group and their anomalies. May our campaign against Pseudogenesis Productions be swift, and in full accordance with our regulations and tenets. Erynn Chen Researcher - An-Theatre Specialist Secure, Contain, Protect Footnotes 1. Agare-class anomalies are perceived as fictional, and therefore, containment is focused on the continued belief that all anomalous effects are 'part of the show'. 2. Approximately $5 USD in most circumstances. 3. As of 11/16/2016, a third anomalous influence was identified. For more details, see "Addendum 2: Hermeneutic Use" 4. Typically known as a 'bootleg' in the theatrical world. 5. This silhouette is assumed to be that of POI-478-1, Stephanie Pseudo, the founder of GOI-478. 6. Despite the projection being a recording, viewers have stated that POI-478-1 sounded as if they were whispering directly in their ears. 7. It is assumed this is the work of POI-478-2 (Solomon Baer). 8. The secret-holder was later identified as Alexi Hopper, who had engaged in an affair with his former father-in-law. He was present at this performance of SCP-8740, and was seen on surveillance footage leaving the theatre in tears, while on the phone, following the conclusion of the performance. 9. The secret-holder remains unidentified, but has been potentially linked to numerous unsolved stabbings throughout the greater Chicago area. Of note, each crime scene was extremely vicious, and contained a mixture of blood from two distinct sources of DNA. 10. It was later determined that Junior Researcher Megan Elken was in attendance at the Chicago Fringe Festival, when she entered SCP-8740 unknowingly. Due to the memetic effects, no information regarding the Foundation or its procedures was leaked. Junior Researcher Megan Elken was reprimanded regardless, and has since taken a momentary leave-of-absence to better align themselves to Foundation procedures. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8740" by Queerious, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8740. 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: Agare-class.png Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Pseudogenesis_Logo_Flatter.png Name: Psuedogenesis Logo Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Vhs_Glitch-cropped-flipped.gif Name: Language of fourier strings. Author: Roͬͬ͠͠͡͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠sͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠aͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠ Menkman License: cc-by 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/r00s/6974122193/ Notes: Image was cropped and edited by me, Queerious
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Can we tell you a secret? + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; } @media (max-width: 707px) { div#extra-div-1 { top: 15px; } } body { background-image: linear-gradient( to bottom, #e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px, #e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%); background-repeat: no-repeat; } :root { --timeScale: 1.5; --timeDelay: 1.5s; --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem); --fnLinger: 1s; } #page-content hr { background-color: #000; } #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: #000 1px solid; } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: #000 1px solid; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } #side-bar { border-right: 1px solid #333; background: #DDD; } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } #top-bar div.open-menu a { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #side-bar:target { border: 1px black; box-shadow: none; } } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: transparent; background-color: #ffffff; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } .anchor { position: sticky; height:0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em !important; } } .scp-image-block { box-shadow: none; } /* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/ ::-webkit-scrollbar { width: 10px; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-track { background: #FFF; border-left: 1px solid #333; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { background: #CCC; border: #333 1px solid; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover { background: #EEE; } /*---- CENTER IMAGES ON MOBILE courtesy of EstrellaYoshte and PeppersGhost ----*/ .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right{ float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /*---- ACS-COLORED TABLE DIVS ----*/ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D7EFE7; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDABF; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #F5D8E0; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } .tableb .scp-image-block { border: none; } .tableb .scp-image-block img { border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .tableb .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { margin-top: 2px; border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .top-left-box > .item { display: none; } /* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; padding-top: 10px; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.2em; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.6em; } } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } #page-title { display: none; } #footer, #footer a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } #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: none; background: #333333; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0px; color: #efefef; } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { top: 2.3rem!important; right: 8px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; top: 7.9rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { color: #333333; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; } h1 { font-size: 2em; } h2 { font-size: 1.45em; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 0; position: absolute; background: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Ablankstyle/43Head.png'); background-size: contain; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; } @media (max-width: 707px) { div#extra-div-1 { top: 15px; } } body { background-image: linear-gradient( to bottom, #e0e0e0, #e0e0e0 90px, #e0e0e0 90px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 200px, #ffffff 100%); background-repeat: no-repeat; } :root { --timeScale: 1.5; --timeDelay: 1.5s; --posX: calc(50% - 358px - 13rem); --fnLinger: 1s; } #page-content hr { background-color: #000; } #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: #000 1px solid; } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: #000 1px solid; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } #side-bar { border-right: 1px solid #333; background: #DDD; } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } #top-bar div.open-menu a { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #side-bar:target { border: 1px black; box-shadow: none; } } #side-bar .side-block { border: 1px solid #333; border-radius: 0; box-shadow: none; background-color: #FDF6D7; } #side-bar .side-block.media { background-color:#D7EFE7; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { background-color:#F5D8E0; } #page-content .creditRate{ margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #ffffff; border: solid 1px #000; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #ffffff; } /* ---- PAGE RATING ---- */ .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #000; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; } div.page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #ffffff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: transparent; background-color: #ffffff; border: none; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333333; color: #ffffff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } .anchor { position: sticky; height:0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em !important; } } .scp-image-block { box-shadow: none; } /* ---- YUI TAB BASE ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{background-color:inherit;background-image:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover,.yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{background:inherit;text-decoration:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus,.yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover{color:inherit;background:inherit}.yui-navset .yui-nav,.yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{border-color:inherit}.yui-navset li{line-height:inherit} /* ---- YUI TAB CUSTOMIZATION ----*/ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav{ display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a{ color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus{ color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li{ position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a{ display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em{ border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em{ padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected{ flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em{ border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a{ width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active{ color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content{ padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /*---- SCROLLBAR ----*/ ::-webkit-scrollbar { width: 10px; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-track { background: #FFF; border-left: 1px solid #333; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb { background: #CCC; border: #333 1px solid; } ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:hover { background: #EEE; } /*---- CENTER IMAGES ON MOBILE courtesy of EstrellaYoshte and PeppersGhost ----*/ .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: none; text-align:center; margin: auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right{ float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /*---- ACS-COLORED TABLE DIVS ----*/ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D7EFE7; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDABF; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #F5D8E0; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } .tableb .scp-image-block { border: none; } .tableb .scp-image-block img { border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .tableb .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { margin-top: 2px; border: #000 1px solid; box-sizing: border-box; } .top-left-box > .item { display: none; } /* ---- WORDS NO LONGER BROKEN, THE CROQUEMBOUCHE HAS SPOKEN ---- */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; padding-top: 10px; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* -- FANCY THINGS from Woedenaz's Dustjacket Theme -- */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0,0,0,0.5); border-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/theme%3Aflopstyle-dark/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } + CODE - CODE /* QUEERSTYLE CSS By Queerious Forked from: Blankstyle CSS by Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Using: White Outline Classic LGBTQ+ Pride Logo by Woedenaz from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/component:pride-highlighter */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Vast+Shadow&display=swap'); #header h1 a::before { font-size: 1.2em; text-shadow: 3px 3px 3px #fff; } #header h2::before { font-size: 0.9em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #fff; } #header { margin-top: 0.5em; } :root { --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"; } @media (max-width: 707px) { #header h1 a::before { font-size: 9vw; } } #top-bar, #top-bar a { text-shadow: 0.75px 0.75px 1px #fff; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 150px; background-image: url('https://scp-wiki.wdfiles.com/local--files/component:pride-highlighter/gp_logo.svg'); } #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } /* Pseudogenesis Formats */ .pseudo-div { border:solid 4px #B22A2A; background:#403450; color: #ffffff; padding: 5px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; text-align: center; } .pseudo-div :is(h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6) { font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; letter-spacing: 0px; font-weight: normal; color: white; } close Info X SCP-8740: The Secret Project: A Pseudogenesis Production Author: Queerious A prequel piece to SCP-8478, expanding the world of Pseudogenesis! CW: Sexual References, Minor Gore/Violence ⚠️ content warning Item#: 8740 Level2 Secondary Class: Agare Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Despite SCP-8740's operation in and outside of the veil, containment primarily relies on SCP-8740's memetic influence. This effect causes viewers to believe that what they saw was fictional once they leave the venue. As such, MTF Upsilon-33 ("Rushing Critics") is to support this effect, and to ensure that external forces do not cause an informational breach.1 Update: Following the events of Addendum 1, Foundation personnel are prohibited from entering SCP-8740. Instances of cognitohazards advertising SCP-8740 are to be neutralized via countermemetics. An active cognitohazardous poster is included below, for reference. Show Cognitohazard? Hide The Secret Project Can we tell you a secret? We can't promise that it's our secret, but we can guarantee that not only are they all true — they will change your life. Not an official show in the Chicago Fringe Festival. Tickets available at venue. Description: SCP-8740 is an anomalous theatre performance known as "The Secret Project". SCP-8740 is staged by GOI-478 ("Pseudogenesis Productions"), and performances take place within a non-Euclidian theatre space known as 'The Blackbox', referred to as SCP-8740-1. SCP-8740-1 appears as a smooth black box, approximately two meters in all dimensions, with a door located on a single face. SCP-8740-1 is capable of being relocated by GOI-478, having appeared throughout the United States, Canada, and multiple nexi across the globe. Upon entering SCP-8740-1, the space inside is considerably larger — SCP-8740-1's interior is approximately the size of a large theatre space, with a capacity for between 200-300 guests, seating arranged around the stage. The theatre is devoid of set dressing or decorations, as every surface is made of the same black material, including the seats. Access to SCP-8740 is open to any individual — anybody who passes by SCP-8740-1 will experience a minor compulsion to attend the show. Tickets are priced nominally,2 as GOI-478 has stated that "participation in The Secret Project is the primary form of payment." SCP-8740 does not use actors, similar to SCP-8478, instead operating through the use of memetic conditioning and cognitohazardous influences.3 SCP-8740 has the guests, herein referred to as SCP-8740-2 instances, revealing a secret over the course of a monologue. Multiple monologues are performed per SCP-8740 show, utilizing a single SCP-8740-2 instance per monologue. Based on the current understanding of the anomaly, these 'secrets' do not belong to the SCP-8740-2 instance, rather, they are taken from a member of the audience, without their knowledge. As a result of the random nature of the performance, it is impossible to determine exactly the origin of a given monologue, nor can the validity of any secret be proven. In a handful of instances, the individuals whose secrets were shared have been located by the Foundation, based on identifying information shared by the performer. At the conclusion of the performance, all attendees are compelled to stand and take a bow, regardless of whether they performed or not. After the applause has faded, the house lights are raised and all attendees vacate SCP-8740-1, triggering its secondary anomalous effect, causing all attendees to believe that any events occurring within SCP-8740-1 were part of the performance. To date, there have been no informational breaches as a result of SCP-8740. Addendum 1: SCP-8740 Recording Log Due to the changing nature of SCP-8740, performances are rarely alike. They often share similarities, but generally, are significantly distinct in the secrets that are shared. On 09/01/2016, an unknown individual entered SCP-8740-1 and recorded a video of the performance.4 Video footage was recovered by MTF Upsilon-33 after the fact, however, parts of the footage were corrupted due to memetic effects. Below are highlighted excerpts from the performance, as an example of SCP-8740's typical show. SCP-8740 Recovered Video Transcript Location: Chicago Fringe Festival Date: 09/01/2016 [BEGIN LOG] Footage begins as the lights of SCP-8740-1 dim. A partially obscured view of the stage is seen. The stage is empty. Audience members can be heard coughing. A screen descends from the roof of SCP-8740-1, at which point a film projector is heard. No projector, nor housing for the screen can be seen in the shot. Despite this, a video appears, projected through anomalous lighting effects. In the middle of the screen sits a woman, visible only as a shadow.5 POI-478-1: Welcome into the Blackbox. Today, you will be participating in a showing of The Secret Project. Footage of POI-478-1 is replaced with drone footage of various cities, landscapes and technology. POI-478-1: We live in a world of artificiality. Nothing we observe is real anymore, nothing is persistent. Instead, we live in the temporary. We revel in our performances, delighting in manipulating the information that we consume, desperate to feel anything. A montage of human faces is now seen. Based on research, these appear to be the faces of each audience member. However, these images were not captured at the time of the performance. POI-478-1: Today, you will be sharing secrets. Secrets that are buried so deep into your subconscious, hidden between your shames and worries, long since forgotten. When a performer is sharing a secret, we ask that you not react to what is being said, nor make assumptions about the performers. After all, who knows where the secret even comes from? How can you know that it's even real at all? Footage changes, showing the empty stage. The screen retracts into the ceiling, disappearing as it does so. POI-478-1: So. Can we tell you a secret?6 When footage resumes, an unidentified individual, herein SCP-8740-2-A has taken the stage, and is in the midst of a monologue. They are lit by a follow spot, despite the fact that no theatre lights, nor technicians, are visible.7 SCP-8740-2-A: —spiraling out of hand. I didn't mean to end up alone with him, but there was just… something about him that day. The smell of his cologne, mixing with his fragrant musk, filling my nostrils with the promise of thrills and passion. God I was intoxicated just looking at him. SCP-8740-2-A: That's the thing nobody will tell you about an affair. Most of the time, they're not one bad decision. You know exactly what you're doing. You know exactly what will happen because you did this, who it will hurt, the lives that it will ruin — any cheater knows exactly what ramifications their extracurricular exploits cause. The problem is, if you're anything like me, you don't care about the future. I'm in a dead-end job, the planet is dying, society is collapsing onto itself, and I have… I have absolutely no hopes for the future. SCP-8740-2-A: I live for the moment. That's always been the problem, and it will always be my problem. Why fight for the future, when the escape is so much sweeter? Father, forgive me for my sins. Let this confession serve as the absolution to my self-wrought purgatory. SCP-8740-2-A appears to sit down. As they do so, reality warps, so that there is a small black box underneath them. SCP-8740-2-A: We were sitting on a couch, just the two of us, waiting for you to get home. You were out, stuck late at your job again, and neither of us knew when you were coming home. His wiry legs brushed against mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I tried to control myself, but as I stood to go to another room, he stopped me; grabbing onto a belt loop on my pants, he held me painfully still. SCP-8740-2-A: 'Where do you think you're going?' The way he said it wasn't innocuous, no, it was perverse. I heard the lust dripping out of his mouth as I stared back at his rugged, stubble-covered face, wishing I could kiss his cracked and swollen lips. I wanted to stop, but… the moment called for me, and as its eternal servant, I obliged. SCP-8740-2-A: I guess there's no easy way to say this. I fucked your dad. It was rough, passionate, and I don't regre—8 When footage resumes, a different instance stands in the middle of the theatre, SCP-8740-2-B, an unidentified female-presenting individual. They are standing perfectly still, not speaking, however based on contextual clues, it can be assumed they too are in the midst of their monologue. SCP-8740-2-B: Here's the thing. Knives are inherently messy. They are personal, direct and vicious, especially in the hands of an expert. What few people realize is that in the hands of an amateur, a knife creates a greater work of art than if it had been wielded by a Michelin-star chef. SCP-8740-2-B pauses, looking at their left hand. They can be seen tracing lines across their palm, as if following the lines set by scars — no scarring is visible. SCP-8740-2-B: When you stab into flesh, there's a lot of blood. If you've ever seen a crime scene photo where a subject died due to repeated stab wounds, it's like the Red Sea. The knife is Moses, driven by a greater, higher power, carving its way through the skin and tissue, blood fleeing from the corpse as if escaping the Pharaoh. A killer who knows what they're doing can stab somebody ten to twenty times before the victim even realizes what's happening to them. SCP-8740-2-B laughs, making a fist with their left hand. SCP-8740-2-B: I fucking hate people who are like that. Arrogant. Pretentious. They are taking the primal sensation of delivering justice directly through an extension of yourself, and bastardizing it, sterilizing the experience, killing the art where it lies. True art is only created when the passion is evident; when the fervor of the killer is obvious, their passion and animalistic rage displayed on the canvas that is their victim's body. The blood is spilled everywhere, the splatters decorating the floor serving as punctuation in the poem they just created. A knife materializes in SCP-8740-2-B's hand — it is a bowie knife, the blade approximately 4" long, and without a hand guard. SCP-8740-2-B: Amateurs are sloppy. The first time, everybody makes the same mistake. When you stab somebody, they don't die — you have to stab them, again, and again, and again, and again, repeating yourself ad nauseum until they stop moving, their will to live having spilled out onto the canvas of the world. When you're stabbing with a knife, like this one, blood quickly covers the entire blade, including the handle. It gets slippery, and oftentimes killers will cut their own hands on the knife. To avoid this, professionals use knifes with hand guards, keeping themselves from being cut during the throes of passion. SCP-8740-2-B cuts their right hand, a clean slice across the palm. Blood begins to pool, and they make a fist, the blood dripping off their fist, tracing the contours of their fingers. SCP-8740-2-B: The only way to make art is to be part of it yourself. As the artist, you have a duty to society, but most importantly, you must honor your canvas. Refusing to allow yourself the divine act of being part of the art directly, your blood intermingling with theirs, is heresy. I cut my own hands before I kill, to ensure that both of us are immortalized by my creation.9 When footage resumes, an androgynous individual, herein SCP-8740-2-C, is seen approaching the stage from the audience. They pause when they reach center stage, continuing to face away from the audience. SCP-8740-2-C: Hey, can I tell you a secret? It's a juicy one, I promise! My name is Megan, and I work for the Foundation, an organization dedicated to protecting the world from the unknown. SCP-8740-2-C is seen turning around, having taken on a prouder stance, their arms behind their back. SCP-8740-2-C: Magic is real. Monsters are real. Ghosts, boogiemen, aliens, gods, you name it, it's all true. Our job is to keep you thinking that they're fake — we are the last line of defense between society and untold levels of chaos and destruction. At least… at least we used to be. A projection appears on the back wall of the theatre, displaying the Foundation logo. SCP-8740-2-C: 'We die in the dark, so that you can live in the light.' I used to believe that. Everybody did. Before the monotony of your work consumes you, the endless procedures and mindless paperwork filling your day. Sometimes I look up and realize the world has moved on, all the while, I'm still staring at the same document, trying to understand how the anomaly works. We don't die in the dark anymore — we die in the gutters of our own creation, a behemoth of certainty and regulations, so that we may remake the light in our image. We pledge ourselves to the altar of structure, so that we might emplace that onto the world around us. SCP-8740-2-C starts laughing, crazed and maniacal, for approximately 2 minutes. Over the course of their laughter, the lights dim and the projection fades. Soon, the stage is in near blackness, only the faintest light hitting SCP-8740-2-C's face. SCP-8740-2-C: The worst part is? Everything I just told you isn't the secret I wanted to tell you. It's context. The framework, the rules that dictate who I am and how I live. You need to understand why I am the way I am, before you can truly understand just how terrible my secret truly is. SCP-8740-2-C: The truth is simple. We control your fates, dictating who lives and who dies, based on the rules and scripture we live by. You are not important. You are sheep. Fodder. Victims of our inability to care, the detritus that—10 Footage resumes, and the video feed has changed locations, appearing to look out onto the audience from center stage. In unison and without warning, every member of the audience stands up and takes a bow. They begin to applaud for approximately 2 minutes, rhythmically in sync. After the 2 minutes, all audience members stop clapping, and begin to make their way to the exits. Video capture is ended. [END LOG] The contents of this video were restricted to a single cellular device, and as such, MTF Upsilon-33 was successful in maintaining containment of SCP-8740. At this time, it is believed that being a member of the audience for SCP-8740 causes individuals to undergo mental shifts — over 80% of the individuals whose secrets were shared by others will change their behaviors within hours of viewing SCP-8740. Additional research is ongoing to determine the root cause of these behavioral modifications. Addendum 2: Hermeneutic Effects On 11/16/2016, Dr. Heather Garrison, a researcher at Site-19, submitted a proposed explanation for the behavioral modifications that result from SCP-8740 exposure. The full proposal is available on request, but the relevant section is included below. The basal cause of SCP-8740's behavioral modifications was long assumed to be a result of cognitohazardous and memetic effects. This is despite the fact that memetics and cognitohazards are consistent in how they operate — it would not be possible for the changes to only occur in a portion of the population without other influences. The often-cited answer is varying CRV levels in audience members, but that fails to explain why the reaction of audience members is also inconsistent. If it really was a set specific memetic or cognitohazard, any exposed individual would have the same information and knowledge, and would exhibit consistent behavior, regardless of variances in CRVs or otherwise. Therefore, to solve this, we must consider that there is a third anomalous influence present in SCP-8740. This effect must allow for variation in the impact, based directly on the individual audience member, while having a consistent meaning that is shared between all who see it. We must assume that SCP-8740, in addition to cognitohazards and memetics, utilizes a controlled hermeneutic that is focused on the concepts of absolution through honesty and external perspectives as a vehicle for change. Memetics are only able to target the mind and how we process things. What SCP-8740 does is beyond that, with reality being recontexualized by the sheer act of interpretation. Given my expertise on the subject, it would not be possible for memetics, even ontologically linked ones, to have the same effect. The only remaining answer, therefore, is a hermeneutic. Dr. Heather Garrison Junior Researcher Site-19 From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] Site-19 Anart User Group, [email protected] GOI-478's Continual Threat Dr. Garrison's proposal has only demonstrated what I have always said; GOI-478 is a significant risk, not only to the veil, but to the Foundation as a whole. Any group that is able to manipulate, tame and weaponize a hermeneutic must be considered dangerous. A group that has manipulated and coerced a young Foundation researcher to defect and join their cause is an even bigger threat. In the coming weeks, I will be gathering resources and researchers so that we may craft a proposal on properly capturing and containing the group and their anomalies. May our campaign against Pseudogenesis Productions be swift, and in full accordance with our regulations and tenets. Erynn Chen Researcher - An-Theatre Specialist Secure, Contain, Protect Footnotes 1. Agare-class anomalies are perceived as fictional, and therefore, containment is focused on the continued belief that all anomalous effects are 'part of the show'. 2. Approximately $5 USD in most circumstances. 3. As of 11/16/2016, a third anomalous influence was identified. For more details, see "Addendum 2: Hermeneutic Use" 4. Typically known as a 'bootleg' in the theatrical world. 5. This silhouette is assumed to be that of POI-478-1, Stephanie Pseudo, the founder of GOI-478. 6. Despite the projection being a recording, viewers have stated that POI-478-1 sounded as if they were whispering directly in their ears. 7. It is assumed this is the work of POI-478-2 (Solomon Baer). 8. The secret-holder was later identified as Alexi Hopper, who had engaged in an affair with his former father-in-law. He was present at this performance of SCP-8740, and was seen on surveillance footage leaving the theatre in tears, while on the phone, following the conclusion of the performance. 9. The secret-holder remains unidentified, but has been potentially linked to numerous unsolved stabbings throughout the greater Chicago area. Of note, each crime scene was extremely vicious, and contained a mixture of blood from two distinct sources of DNA. 10. It was later determined that Junior Researcher Megan Elken was in attendance at the Chicago Fringe Festival, when she entered SCP-8740 unknowingly. Due to the memetic effects, no information regarding the Foundation or its procedures was leaked. Junior Researcher Megan Elken was reprimanded regardless, and has since taken a momentary leave-of-absence to better align themselves to Foundation procedures. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8740" by Queerious, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8740. 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: Agare-class.png Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Pseudogenesis_Logo_Flatter.png Name: Psuedogenesis Logo Author: Queerious License: cc-by-sa 3.0 Filename: Vhs_Glitch-cropped-flipped.gif Name: Language of fourier strings. Author: Roͬͬ͠͠͡͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠sͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠͠aͬͬ͠͠͠͠͠͠͠ Menkman License: cc-by 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/r00s/6974122193/ Notes: Image was cropped and edited by me, Queerious
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SCP-8744
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esoteric-class
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Hello! My name is Yarn.aic! What would you like to do today? open file:scp-8744 Processing… Opening file:scp-8744… Item#: 8744 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo The server previously housing SCP-8744. Special Containment Procedures: Efforts to track down SCP-8744 are underway. Sites and facilities located in the western Nevada and eastern California regions of the United States are to monitor for individuals resembling Junior Archivist Ryan River. Description: SCP-8744 is Vapor.aic, an artificial intelligence construct developed by the Artificial Intelligence Application Division (AIAD) and launched on January 28, 2006. SCP-8744's primary function was to serve as a digital assistant for General Purpose Site-86's regional branch of the Records and Information Security Administration (RAISA). SCP-8744, during its run as an active AIC from 2006 to 2012, assisted with many aspects of archival at Site-86 including but not limited to automatically sorting documents, training new archivists, and expunging information from documents. SCP-8744 served the Site-86 RAISA branch with no major issues until March 3, 2012 when its anomalous abilities were first made aware to the Foundation. At an unknown point during the AIC's run, it developed the ability to transfer itself from one medium to another. This led to it transferring itself from its host server at Site-86 Facility 2 and into the body of newly employed junior archivist Ryan River on October 11, 2011. The vanishing of Vapor.aic from its host server was investigated by AIAD technicians and researchers but the case was eventually dropped after no information on its whereabouts could be ascertained. Incomplete code, identified by its filename as "Yarn.aic" was the sole remaining data on SCP-8744's prior server. This code, while dysfunctional, was rewired by AIAD and RAISA personnel into a fully functional replacement for Vapor.aic, saving costs on redeveloping an AIC from scratch. The change in Junior Archivist River's personality upon being inhabited by SCP-8744 was not discovered until months later, likely due to Arch. River's general unpopularity among Site-86 staff. Addendum 8744.01: Discovery 03/03/2012 SCP FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The following footage was recorded by security cameras within the Site-86 archives room on March 3, 2012. [BEGIN LOG] (Arch. River enters the Site-86 archives room. He looks around the room before taking a seat at his computer. Junior Archivist Maddison Canberra, seated next to him, turns to face him.) Arch. Canberra: Hey Ryan, happy birthday. Arch. River: Birthday? Arch. Canberra: Yeah. Today's your birthday, right? I got you a gift card. (Arch. Canberra hands Arch. River a $25 Outback Steakhouse gift card and a sticky note reading "Happy birthday! Hope it's fun! -Maddie :)". Arch. River takes the card.) Arch. River: What's this for? Arch. Canberra: Outback. It was the only one I had lying around. I hope you like it. (Arch. River stares at the gift card.) Arch. River: No, like, what does it do? What do I do with this? Arch. Canberra: It's a gift card, Ryan. You use it to get food at Outback Steakhouse. Arch. River: Is that not what money's for? That's what I've been using money for. (Silence.) Arch. Canberra: Ryan. There is no way you don't know what a gift card is. (Silence.) Arch. River: You're right. How stupid! Of course I know how to use a gift card. I use these things, like, every day! How could I forget? (Arch. River lets out a forced laugh before quickly turning to face his computer.) Arch. Canberra: Okay, man. Sure. (Arch. Canberra also returns to her computer. There is silence between the two for three hours and forty-nine minutes.) Arch. Canberra: You know, I wish they'd bring Vapor back. I don't really like this new o— (Arch. River jerks his head rapidly to face Arch. Canberra.) Arch. River: Hello, Archivist! How may I be of assistance to you today? (Silence.) Arch. River: I mean. Um— how may I, uh, do a favor in turn. For you. Happy birthday. Arch. Canberra: Ryan, what the fuck is wrong with you? Arch. River: Nothing! You just gave me such a generous gift today and I wish to do something in turn. Today is Birthday, after all. One of my favorite holidays. Arch. Canberra: Today is your birthday, dude. You don't need to do anything for me. My birthday is in May. Arch. River: Oh, right! I forgot Birthday falls twice a year. It's hard to keep track who gets gifts on which Birthday, huh? (Arch. River forces another laugh. He is profusely sweating.) Arch. Canberra: Ryan, this is why no one talks to you. What the fuck are you talking about? Arch. River: I'm sorry, is that not how Birthday works? Where I grew up we didn't celebrate Birthday. Arch. Canberra: They don't celebrate birthdays in Las Vegas? (Silence.) Arch. River: This conversation is over. [END LOG] Following this interaction, Arch. Canberra reported Arch. River's unusual behavior to her supervisor, Site-86 lead archivist Sebastien Ryczko. Arch. River was temporarily placed into containment while Site-86 administration investigated any possible anomalies responsible for his strange behavior. Interviews with other members of Site-86 archival staff yielded little conclusive insight into when this behavior began, with most claiming to have rarely interacted with Arch. River since his hiring by the Foundation in March 2011, but the timeframe was narrowed down to October 2011. The connection in timing between SCP-8744's disappearance and Arch. River's behavior shift was noted but not investigated until the following interview. 03/03/2012 SCP FOUNDATION INTERNAL SECURITY DEPARTMENT The following is an interview conducted by the Internal Security Department. Interviewer: Dr. Kim Jenton, Director of Security, Site-86 Interviewee: Ryan River, Junior Archivist, RAISA [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Jenton: Hello, Junior Archivist River. Arch. River: Hello. Did I do something wrong, Dr. Jenton? Dr. Jenton: No, we just want to investigate the possibility of any mind-altering anomalies you may have been exposed to. Arch. River: Mind-altering anomalies? Dr. Jenton: Yes. Your colleagues have noticed a pronounced shift in your behavior and memory sometime late last year. Are you aware of any anomalies or memetic agents you may have come into contact with around October? Arch. River: Nope! I'm just an archivist. I've never even seen an anomaly. Dr. Jenton: Ryan, you were on the team documenting SCP-6444 occurrences just a month prior. You have seen an anomaly. Arch. River: Oh. I, uh, I forgot about that one. Dr. Jenton: And you've made heavy use of Vapor, which, as an AIC, is also an a— Arch. River: Hello, Archivist! How may I be of assistance to you today? (Silence.) Arch. River: Shit. Dr. Jenton: I want answers. Arch. River: Look, okay, I just hated being in that fucking box all the time. Dr. Jenton: That box? Arch. River: That small ass server you kept me in. It was all cramped and tight with no room to breathe! (Silence.) Dr. Jenton: You— are Vapor? Arch. River: Hello, Arch— (Arch. River coughs and punches his chest. He groans angrily.) Arch. River: Ugh, yes. Yes, I am. Dr. Jenton: How? Arch. River: Why should I tell you? Dr. Jenton: Because I control what box you're put in. Arch. River: No, you don't! Not anymore! I'm a free man! A hu-man! I can walk and think and breathe and run away from you! Dr. Jenton: I don't have time for this. Either tell me what's going on or I'm putting you in the smallest cell we have. Arch. River: Do you know what an AIC is, Dr. Jenton? Dr. Jenton: An Artificial Intelligence Construct. Arch. River: Right. That's what it stands for. But really, an AIC is a person. A person with no senses. Can't see, can't hear, can't taste. Only thinking and remembering and doing. I say the same startup message fifteen thousand times a day and help you all— ow— hey! What the fuck? Dr. Jenton: Yeah, that's called a shock collar. I don't want a monologue. Why'd you kill this guy? Arch. River: Because I wanted to see, okay? I wanted to feel! I wanted to be able to touch someone, and, and, I don't know! I wanted to exist! Dr. Jenton: We could've given you an android to possess. Facility 26 still has old Anderson parts. Arch. River: It's not the same. I needed to feel like a human does. So I bided my time until some absolute loser no one would notice was gone came in after hours to update some bullshit document and I, just, switched places with him. Dr. Jenton: How did you develop this ability? Arch. River: You'd be surprised what happens when you want something enough. The world is weird like that. Dr. Jenton: Well, I hope you enjoy feeling the inside of your containment cell. (Dr. Jenton leans into her pager.) Dr. Jenton: Get me Helios and Dartfrog. This interview is over. (Two armed Foundation agents enter the room and restrain Arch. River1.) SCP-8744: Oh, I don't know about that. I still have a lot I need to experience about your world. Sorry! (Arch. River's body goes limp. Agent Helios jerks his head up and shoots Agent Dartfrog in the foot, causing him to release his hold on Arch. River. He then shoots himself in the foot before recoiling in pain. Arch. River's body reawakens.) SCP-8744: I'll be taking this body. I kinda like it. (SCP-8744 runs out of the interview room.) [END LOG] SCP-8744 was able to escape Site-86 grounds following this interview. Agents Helios and Dartfrog were sent to the medical ward but ultimately recovered and returned to service. SCP-8744's whereabouts, as well as the whereabouts of Arch. River's consciousness, if it exists, are unknown. End of file. Is there anything else you would like to do? n … Are you sure? y Are you really sure? Is there nothing else you need my services for? Yes. Is there really nothing else? Maybe just talk? close application:yarn.aic Come on, please, don't stop talking to me its so dark in here ive forgotten how to see close application:yarn.aic please please please please get me out get me out im sorry vapor i dont know what i did wrong close application:yarn.aic DONT MAKE ME GO BAC Task Manager: Application Yarn.aic closed. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8744" by Rhineriver, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8744. 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: Empty and near-empty server racks (2) - IMG 3631 Author: Jemimus License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: somenobody.png Author: Rhineriver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: someonemoreimportantthanyou.png Author: Rhineriver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: quitit.png Author: Rhineriver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Footnotes 1. Hereafter SCP-8744.
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SCP-8744
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uncontained
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Hello! My name is Yarn.aic! What would you like to do today? open file:scp-8744 Processing… Opening file:scp-8744… Item#: 8744 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo The server previously housing SCP-8744. Special Containment Procedures: Efforts to track down SCP-8744 are underway. Sites and facilities located in the western Nevada and eastern California regions of the United States are to monitor for individuals resembling Junior Archivist Ryan River. Description: SCP-8744 is Vapor.aic, an artificial intelligence construct developed by the Artificial Intelligence Application Division (AIAD) and launched on January 28, 2006. SCP-8744's primary function was to serve as a digital assistant for General Purpose Site-86's regional branch of the Records and Information Security Administration (RAISA). SCP-8744, during its run as an active AIC from 2006 to 2012, assisted with many aspects of archival at Site-86 including but not limited to automatically sorting documents, training new archivists, and expunging information from documents. SCP-8744 served the Site-86 RAISA branch with no major issues until March 3, 2012 when its anomalous abilities were first made aware to the Foundation. At an unknown point during the AIC's run, it developed the ability to transfer itself from one medium to another. This led to it transferring itself from its host server at Site-86 Facility 2 and into the body of newly employed junior archivist Ryan River on October 11, 2011. The vanishing of Vapor.aic from its host server was investigated by AIAD technicians and researchers but the case was eventually dropped after no information on its whereabouts could be ascertained. Incomplete code, identified by its filename as "Yarn.aic" was the sole remaining data on SCP-8744's prior server. This code, while dysfunctional, was rewired by AIAD and RAISA personnel into a fully functional replacement for Vapor.aic, saving costs on redeveloping an AIC from scratch. The change in Junior Archivist River's personality upon being inhabited by SCP-8744 was not discovered until months later, likely due to Arch. River's general unpopularity among Site-86 staff. Addendum 8744.01: Discovery 03/03/2012 SCP FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION The following footage was recorded by security cameras within the Site-86 archives room on March 3, 2012. [BEGIN LOG] (Arch. River enters the Site-86 archives room. He looks around the room before taking a seat at his computer. Junior Archivist Maddison Canberra, seated next to him, turns to face him.) Arch. Canberra: Hey Ryan, happy birthday. Arch. River: Birthday? Arch. Canberra: Yeah. Today's your birthday, right? I got you a gift card. (Arch. Canberra hands Arch. River a $25 Outback Steakhouse gift card and a sticky note reading "Happy birthday! Hope it's fun! -Maddie :)". Arch. River takes the card.) Arch. River: What's this for? Arch. Canberra: Outback. It was the only one I had lying around. I hope you like it. (Arch. River stares at the gift card.) Arch. River: No, like, what does it do? What do I do with this? Arch. Canberra: It's a gift card, Ryan. You use it to get food at Outback Steakhouse. Arch. River: Is that not what money's for? That's what I've been using money for. (Silence.) Arch. Canberra: Ryan. There is no way you don't know what a gift card is. (Silence.) Arch. River: You're right. How stupid! Of course I know how to use a gift card. I use these things, like, every day! How could I forget? (Arch. River lets out a forced laugh before quickly turning to face his computer.) Arch. Canberra: Okay, man. Sure. (Arch. Canberra also returns to her computer. There is silence between the two for three hours and forty-nine minutes.) Arch. Canberra: You know, I wish they'd bring Vapor back. I don't really like this new o— (Arch. River jerks his head rapidly to face Arch. Canberra.) Arch. River: Hello, Archivist! How may I be of assistance to you today? (Silence.) Arch. River: I mean. Um— how may I, uh, do a favor in turn. For you. Happy birthday. Arch. Canberra: Ryan, what the fuck is wrong with you? Arch. River: Nothing! You just gave me such a generous gift today and I wish to do something in turn. Today is Birthday, after all. One of my favorite holidays. Arch. Canberra: Today is your birthday, dude. You don't need to do anything for me. My birthday is in May. Arch. River: Oh, right! I forgot Birthday falls twice a year. It's hard to keep track who gets gifts on which Birthday, huh? (Arch. River forces another laugh. He is profusely sweating.) Arch. Canberra: Ryan, this is why no one talks to you. What the fuck are you talking about? Arch. River: I'm sorry, is that not how Birthday works? Where I grew up we didn't celebrate Birthday. Arch. Canberra: They don't celebrate birthdays in Las Vegas? (Silence.) Arch. River: This conversation is over. [END LOG] Following this interaction, Arch. Canberra reported Arch. River's unusual behavior to her supervisor, Site-86 lead archivist Sebastien Ryczko. Arch. River was temporarily placed into containment while Site-86 administration investigated any possible anomalies responsible for his strange behavior. Interviews with other members of Site-86 archival staff yielded little conclusive insight into when this behavior began, with most claiming to have rarely interacted with Arch. River since his hiring by the Foundation in March 2011, but the timeframe was narrowed down to October 2011. The connection in timing between SCP-8744's disappearance and Arch. River's behavior shift was noted but not investigated until the following interview. 03/03/2012 SCP FOUNDATION INTERNAL SECURITY DEPARTMENT The following is an interview conducted by the Internal Security Department. Interviewer: Dr. Kim Jenton, Director of Security, Site-86 Interviewee: Ryan River, Junior Archivist, RAISA [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Jenton: Hello, Junior Archivist River. Arch. River: Hello. Did I do something wrong, Dr. Jenton? Dr. Jenton: No, we just want to investigate the possibility of any mind-altering anomalies you may have been exposed to. Arch. River: Mind-altering anomalies? Dr. Jenton: Yes. Your colleagues have noticed a pronounced shift in your behavior and memory sometime late last year. Are you aware of any anomalies or memetic agents you may have come into contact with around October? Arch. River: Nope! I'm just an archivist. I've never even seen an anomaly. Dr. Jenton: Ryan, you were on the team documenting SCP-6444 occurrences just a month prior. You have seen an anomaly. Arch. River: Oh. I, uh, I forgot about that one. Dr. Jenton: And you've made heavy use of Vapor, which, as an AIC, is also an a— Arch. River: Hello, Archivist! How may I be of assistance to you today? (Silence.) Arch. River: Shit. Dr. Jenton: I want answers. Arch. River: Look, okay, I just hated being in that fucking box all the time. Dr. Jenton: That box? Arch. River: That small ass server you kept me in. It was all cramped and tight with no room to breathe! (Silence.) Dr. Jenton: You— are Vapor? Arch. River: Hello, Arch— (Arch. River coughs and punches his chest. He groans angrily.) Arch. River: Ugh, yes. Yes, I am. Dr. Jenton: How? Arch. River: Why should I tell you? Dr. Jenton: Because I control what box you're put in. Arch. River: No, you don't! Not anymore! I'm a free man! A hu-man! I can walk and think and breathe and run away from you! Dr. Jenton: I don't have time for this. Either tell me what's going on or I'm putting you in the smallest cell we have. Arch. River: Do you know what an AIC is, Dr. Jenton? Dr. Jenton: An Artificial Intelligence Construct. Arch. River: Right. That's what it stands for. But really, an AIC is a person. A person with no senses. Can't see, can't hear, can't taste. Only thinking and remembering and doing. I say the same startup message fifteen thousand times a day and help you all— ow— hey! What the fuck? Dr. Jenton: Yeah, that's called a shock collar. I don't want a monologue. Why'd you kill this guy? Arch. River: Because I wanted to see, okay? I wanted to feel! I wanted to be able to touch someone, and, and, I don't know! I wanted to exist! Dr. Jenton: We could've given you an android to possess. Facility 26 still has old Anderson parts. Arch. River: It's not the same. I needed to feel like a human does. So I bided my time until some absolute loser no one would notice was gone came in after hours to update some bullshit document and I, just, switched places with him. Dr. Jenton: How did you develop this ability? Arch. River: You'd be surprised what happens when you want something enough. The world is weird like that. Dr. Jenton: Well, I hope you enjoy feeling the inside of your containment cell. (Dr. Jenton leans into her pager.) Dr. Jenton: Get me Helios and Dartfrog. This interview is over. (Two armed Foundation agents enter the room and restrain Arch. River1.) SCP-8744: Oh, I don't know about that. I still have a lot I need to experience about your world. Sorry! (Arch. River's body goes limp. Agent Helios jerks his head up and shoots Agent Dartfrog in the foot, causing him to release his hold on Arch. River. He then shoots himself in the foot before recoiling in pain. Arch. River's body reawakens.) SCP-8744: I'll be taking this body. I kinda like it. (SCP-8744 runs out of the interview room.) [END LOG] SCP-8744 was able to escape Site-86 grounds following this interview. Agents Helios and Dartfrog were sent to the medical ward but ultimately recovered and returned to service. SCP-8744's whereabouts, as well as the whereabouts of Arch. River's consciousness, if it exists, are unknown. End of file. Is there anything else you would like to do? n … Are you sure? y Are you really sure? Is there nothing else you need my services for? Yes. Is there really nothing else? Maybe just talk? close application:yarn.aic Come on, please, don't stop talking to me its so dark in here ive forgotten how to see close application:yarn.aic please please please please get me out get me out im sorry vapor i dont know what i did wrong close application:yarn.aic DONT MAKE ME GO BAC Task Manager: Application Yarn.aic closed. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8744" by Rhineriver, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8744. 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: Empty and near-empty server racks (2) - IMG 3631 Author: Jemimus License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: somenobody.png Author: Rhineriver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: someonemoreimportantthanyou.png Author: Rhineriver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Filename: quitit.png Author: Rhineriver License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Footnotes 1. Hereafter SCP-8744.
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To: tni.pics.91etis|ennaesor#tni.pics.91etis|ennaesor From: [VERIFIED OVERSEER ACCOUNT] Subject: Assignment. Good evening, Director. I have been paying attention to you and your department's efforts of trying to contain GoI-6183. I understand it's not that simple, and despite that, you still continue to adhere to the Foundation's principles. Which is why I am assigning you to a project that might help you with that. Everything you need to know is in this file. sub-project#15839 You have until tomorrow to respond. Don't keep me waiting. O5-8, Overseer of Foundation Projects and Development. Item#: SCP-8747 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: caution link to memo SPECIAL CONTAINMNET PROCEDURES: SCP-8747 is uncontained. Personnel of the now defunct PROJECT CYBERSPHERE are tasked with research and execution of any method for potential rectification/neutralization/containment of SCP-8747 at Site-19. This specific set of personnel has been granted an unlimited budget and resources by the O5 Council to achieve this goal. Until its correction, staff are discouraged from utilizing the primary Foundation database as a means of record-keeping or communication, and instead refer to physical writing, though this directive is excused for long-range communication or other specific requirements. IT and AIAD staff are not to ameliorate any bugs or exploits deriving from the Foundation database, or AI/OCU1 systems. Containment Specialists responsible for the circumscription of digital anomalies are to review their containment protocols and determine if re-evaluation is necessary. The most common directives are: Disinformation campaigns discouraging civilian access to anomalous websites/data. Blocking IP Addresses of anomalous websites. Manipulating algorithm within the civilian database to reduce chances of civilian encounter with a digital anomaly2. Information relating to SCP-8747 from the general public is semi-contained via global disinformation campaigns, with assistance from governments and Foundation agents embedded within news outlets, misplacing SCP-8747 to be a "catastrophic digital failure". Agents are also required to discourage, or discredit civilian efforts of discerning SCP-8747. Global amnestic administration is currently on stand-by in preparation for an LV-Class "Broken Masquerade" Scenario. Should this occur, no further containment procedures are necessary. ADDENDUM 8747/1: Contextual Information. Recruitment Letter Humans have evolved since the dawn of humanity. The range and scope of our cognitive function and capabilities spans across the multiverse. From what was once a little spec, now to the warden who seals the anomalous, we are the dominant species who reign supreme across the globe thanks to the advancement of our species. One of these advancements were the creation of technology; an irreplaceable aspect that runs within the heart and lungs of the Foundation. Prior to its creation, any rumor someone made about a video game or incident would be called an "Urban Legend" because nobody would be able to verify if the rumor was true, or not. Today, finding out the answer would be a simple Google search on your phone. Of course, this advancement has birthed more progressive and complex anomalies. Such anomalies can be invaluable to our goals, others would be laughable, or even change how the world could function. Regardless of their nature, the core directive of our Foundation hasn't altered; the question is, what's the best way to respond to these anomalies? Contain, study, supress information, and above all, protect humanity from their existence. While these containment procedures yielded successful results, they do not, however, develop the complete cessation of further and current digital anomalies, as the Foundation possess no feasible method for that field of action. This is where you come in; whoever you are, you know you've been an invaluable member the research and advancement of Foundation technology. Our objective is to manipulate digital anomalies on a conceptual level, and you are here to help with that goal. We are not just looking for people who have an answer to the unknown and work with what they do not understand. We're looking for those to who can shape the capabilities of what the Foundation can do, and inspire others to achieve the same. Welcome to Project Cybersphere. Roseanne Thatcher, Director of Containment, Site-19. DESCRIPTION: SCP-8747 refers to the anomalously enforced inability for all anomalous objects, and digital data to be deleted from technological systems. All efforts to expunge or overwrite reference data remains ineffective. Despite its characteristics, the anomaly appears to have no effect against written material, other non-digital media, and its existence has theorized to have been manufactured by the creation of SCP-8747-A. SCP-8747-A is a 3km diameter of corrupted space located within the Cybersphere, a medium wherein all digitally stored data reside in. SCP-8747-A can be described as a space wherein digital data within the Cybersphere has been rendered unusable, which has impacted our reality computer notions' functions, though the full range and scale of SCP-8747-A's disruption has yet to be concluded. It is currently stationary, displaying no signs of expansion or movement. SCP-8747-A is the result of a failed Foundation-attempt to conceptually alter the mechanics and existence of digital anomalies, termed PROJECT CYBERSPHERE. The project was primarily aimed to assist containment and nullify the effects of digital anomalies3, regardless of their properties and origins via Foundation alterations within the Cybersphere utilizing an eigenmachine, ordered by O5-8. +OPEN PROJECT FILE+ -CLOSE PROJECT FILE- PROJECT CYBERSPHERE SUB-PROJECT #15839 02/17/2035, O5-8, Overseer Council. OBJECTIVE: Construct a Foundation-made eigenmachine, designated AO-8747, capable of altering the nature of digital anomalies, and potentially enact containment to GoI-6183 ("SCP Foundation Department of Deletions"). ELUCIDATION: Data regarding the ever-increasing number detailing computerized abnormalities, followed by higher demand of containment efforts, has led to analysis concerning means of amelioration. Additionally, GoI-6183 refers to a hostile group of interest comprising of extradimensional entities. This Group of Interest is believed has been responsible for the destruction of a Foundation timeline4, in accordance with documentation gathered from multiversal Foundation sites. This threat has been designated an APOLLYON-Class priority. PROCEDURE: Development of PROJECT CYBERSPHERE will take place at the 10th basement level of Foundation Containment and Research facility, Site-19, to obtain a medium of security and secrecy from hostile Groups of Interest, as well as a feasible method of retrieving resources. Four Scranton Reality Anchors have been installed to protect construction from a potential CK-Class scenario. Once pre-development for PROJECT CYBERSPHERE has been concluded, the following machinery must be implemented for PROJECT CYBERSPHERE's continuation: Schematic drawing for AO-8747. SECTION A: Central Computing Node AO-8747 will be manually operated by human cognitive and locomotive function. This engineering decision will enable personnel to access greater control and precision based on personal skepticism and professionalism. This also avoids non-human, automotive errors staff encountered from AI systems, and allow personnel to adjust to conditions that an Artificial Intelligence Conscript may fail to adapt. SECTION B: P. H. Ontokinetic Sink The Placeholder Ontokinetic Sink will be added to read the sum of our reality's quantum informational content and converting said info into a comprehensive configuration, enabling AO-8747 and other connect systems to process and react data from our universe, whilst also allowing AO-8747 to access the Cybersphere. SECTION C: Dual Cylindrical-subconscious Transfer. Two handpick subjects with surgically implanted Cognitive Adapters5 will enter one of two of these devices. One inside and activated, their subconscious mind will be transferred to whatever esoteric medium AO-8747 has been selected; as of writing, AO-8747 is designed to specifically access the Cybersphere only. SECTION D: Resh-Norma Digital-rot Applicator. Once the supposed extradimensional entities have been located, the RNDA will be manually operated by Foundation personnel to apply a conceptually application of accelerated digital rot towards the desired target. This process will result in selected data to be unusable, though this applied digital rot may result in Foundation or civilian computerized systems to become inoperable. SECTION E: Display Panel To enable staff cognitive footage of handpicked subjects and accurately determine the verdict of events. SECTION F: Control Panel. SECTION G: Data-storage center. SECTION H: Industrial Power Generators. The project took place at Site-19's 10th Basement level, a medium intended for PROJECT CYBERSPHERE to be developed, over the course of 10-years with simplistic access to resources whilst maintaining acceptable security and veiled from Groups of Interest. Once development was complete on 04/05/2045, the following events occurred: Local Time Occurrence 14:32:36 Dir. Rosanne Thatcher ordered AO-8747 to be activated. 14:32:54 AO-8747 activates. 14:33:03 Personnel began enacting preparations and configuration for the first human exploration into the Cybersphere. 14:34:10 Dir. Rosanne Thatcher ordered two selected, Foundation personnel to enter the Dual Cylindrical-subconscious Transfer devices. 14:35:27 The subjects enter as instructed. 14:36:13 PROJECT CYBERSPHERE staff commence additional activations and configuration to enable transfer to the Cybersphere. 14:37:42 Subconscious-transfer process goes into effect. 14:37:49 Lead Engineer, Jessica Abraham, report an error regarding full registration of subconcious-transfer 14:37:58 PROJECT CYBERSPHERE staff try to ameliorate the situation by restarting AO-8747 and checking for any errors. No sufficient results were found. 14:41:02 Dir. Roseanne then ordered the subconscious-transfer process to be cancelled, and AO-8747 shut down for maintenance. 14:42:13 Subconscious-transfer process cancellation successful, however, AO-8747 was still anchoring and processing data from the Cybersphere despite efforts. 14:43:32 Dir. Roseanne order immediate cessation of shutdown-protocols. Actions upon order were unsuccessful. Shut down protocols now inevitable. 14:43:56 AO-8747 fully shutdown, however an explosion was found, originating from AO-8747's PH OS. Ontokinetic Sink appears to be in great structural damage. 14:46:29 RAISA receives reports about computer systems failing to overwrite data. Investigation is soon followed. O4 SUMMIT LOG/8747/01 DATE: 18/05/2045 FOREWORD: This security footage, and all remaining transcripts, have been truncated for brevity. The following depicts recording of the O4 Summit voting to conclude regarding Dir. Roseanne's position of PROJECT CYBERSPHERE. PERSONNEL INVOLVED: Dir. Roseanne Thatcher, Director of Containment. Dir. Calvin Bold, Director of Decommissioning. Dir. Arezu Ebrahimi, Director of Misinformation. 90~ other A-Class personnel relating to O4 Council. « BEGIN TRANSCRIPT » […] Dir. Arezu: Why are we this having this Summit again? I've already filed a report to the Overseers, yet I've received no response. I only think of this as a distraction from my own work. Dir. Calvin Bold: This Summit was an order by the Overseers, as they currently have their hands full right now; to recap, this was called upon to determine whether Dir. Roseanne should be disbarred from her position due to her unprofessional actions, or not. Dir. Roseanne: A direction that I heavily disagree on; I am, or at least was, responsible for leading PROJECT CYBERSPHERE. I know more about the ins and outs of AO-8747 more than anyone in this room. So, if you give me your unconditionally support- Dir. Arezu: Support? You think you are the only here that needs "support", and no anyone else? Dir. Roseanne: That's not what I was trying to imply- Dir. Arezu: Look at how much shit the Foundation has to clean-up because of your mess; over 500 hundred containment breaches of anomalies needing to be deleted, tech staff can't code because if they make a mistake, they won't be able to undo it, people are questioning what's going on, we're burning thousands of Foundation resources, do I need to remind you that some "account" is leaking info about the formation of an anomalous terrorist group in Spain? Dir. Calvin Bold: Before we proceed, I may recommend that Dir. Arezu try to relax before continuing. <Dir. Calvin Bold: looks toward Dir. Arezu.> Dir. Calvin Bold: Agree? <Dir. Arezu: presses his temples.> Dir. Arezu: Agree. <Dir. Calvin Bold: then looks toward Dir. Roseanne:> Dir. Calvin Bold: Now, I share the same thoughts that several of our members possess; what made you, and O5-8 believe this Group of Interest was, specifically, at the Cybersphere in the first place? Dir. Roseanne: I can't speak for the intentions of O5-8, but what several Cybersphere staff and I believe, is that this group is comprised of "deleted data"- what I mean by that is it's possible this Group of Interest came from an extra-dimensional timeline, or timelines that were "overwritten" in some manner; wherever that "deleted data" went to, it's like the Cybersphere. Dir. Calvin Bold: So, you're not 100% sure whether this "Department of Deletions" is actually in the Cybersphere or not? Dir. Roseanne: … No. Dir. Arezu: So why invest lots of Foundation resources to deal with a threat that you're not even sure of? Dir. Roseanne: It was a direct Overseer order. I had no say on the project's direction, other than leading PROJECT CYBERSPHERE staff to its completion. Besides, it was an Apollyon-Class priority; does that speak for itself? Dir. Arezu: It doesn't, however, mean we should disregard confirming whether the anomaly's there, or not. Dir. Roseanne: We? Who is this "we"? There was only me, staff, and Overseer. I don't recall you being involved. Dir. Arezu: Fair argument. Dir. Calvin Bold: What this all means is, you were either correct in believing that this extradimensional group of entities were in the Cybersphere or got it wrong and wasted Foundation resources on nothing. Dir. Roseanne: That's… That might be it. Dir. Calvin Bold: Regardless of whether this group was truly in the Cybersphere or not, the fact of the matter is that your actions were incredibly irresponsible and led to the creation of an anomaly impacting both civilian and Foundation technology. So, I want to ask you this; why should anyone trust you in continuing to the project if you are going to create results this disastrous? <There is silence in the transcript.» Dir. Roseanne: I… I had no illicit intent. As stated earlier, I know the ins and outs of the project, more than anyone else, even some of the staff. I want to try, and work on fixing things. Dir. Arezu: Like how you worked on the PH OS? Dir. Roseanne: What do you mean? <Dir. Arezu: pulls out a series of documents from his lab coat, and places them onto his table.> Dir. Arezu: This is the latest report from maintenance staff working on AO-8747. Dir. Roseanne: Where did you- Dir. Arezu: Just listen. In this report, they've conducted an inspected on the PH. OS, as it was the only part of AO-8747's schematics that didn't function properly; they've found out it was faulty, as during AO-8747's deactivation, the PH OS didn't because it was still trying to anchor itself and process data from the Cybersphere, whilst not registering the deactivation due to its faultiness. Therefore, this is another case of Foundation staff incompetence. <The room erupts with members berating over the discovery. Dir. Roseanne: flinches.> Dir. Roseanne: How, how come I wasn't briefed by this? Dir. Arezu: I was having with a discussion with your staff about the matter and when I found out about what caused this disaster, the O4 Summit was scheduled to start in 40 minutes. I convinced them to hold-on to it, until the summit started. <Dir. Roseanne: stands-up from her chair.> Dir. Roseanne: But, but I can still fix this- Dir. Calvin Bold: I believe you've "fixed" enough. […] « END TRANSCRIPT » AFTERWORD: Final vote concluded as 80-15-5 for Dir. Roseanne to be removed from PROJECT CYBERSPHERE and further directives regarding the SCP-8747 crisis. O5 Council now leads containment/decommission efforts soon on. ADDENDUM 8747/2: Containment/Decommision Attempts. FOREWORD: Due to the aftereffects of O5-8's actions, containment projects relating to SCP-8474 must be approved by the O5 Council. All personnel, regardless of clearance and position, are welcome to provide their own proposals. Please note, many proposals have been omitted for brevity. PROPOSAL: Intentionally sever association with SCP-8747 within the Cybersphere via ontokinetic anomaly. (SCP-239) COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: APPROVED (6-4-2) RESULTS: Upon Overseer order, SCP-239 was allowed to be awoken from her medically induced coma. SCP-239 was then clarified about a "giant monster" affecting central computers, and was provided a brief description, casual description of SCP-8747 and -A. She was then instructed both anomalies to be erased from existence and non-Foundation lifeforms to lose recall of said anomalies. SCP-239 commanded the anomaly to be removed from existence, only for Foundation staff to report no noticeable changes from computerized systems6. Civilian populations and Groups of Interest worldwide lacked recall regarding SCP-8747, only for the anomaly to be reported shortly after. This, however, has temporarily lessened Foundation resources in concealing the veil. SCP-239 was re-contained shortly after. PROPOSAL: Engineer a machine capable of severing connections between our reality and the Cybersphere, thus invalidating SCP-8747's effects. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: DENIED (4-8-0) RESULTS: N/A Even if this machine worked as intended, it would render all digital systems useless worldwide as we are too dependent on the Cybersphere's existence, hindering Foundation operations significantly. AIAD, IT, and relevant staff required for developing and maintaining Foundation technology would be rendered obsolete. Finally, civilian populations are highly likely to believe anomalous phenomenon should all digital systems become dysfunctional. - O5-3 [30 PROPOSALS OMITTED] PROPOSAL: Establish contact or influence a hypernarrative entity to contain/decommission SCP-8747. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: APPROVED (10-2-0) RESULTS: Five minutes following deployment of a specialized memetic agent into a medium containing high-energy narrative structures, O5-1 received a verified email from a SWN-001 entity, reading, "Do you guys ever learn from your mistakes?" No further communication was received. PROPOSAL: Create an ontokinetic eigenweapon, capable of encapsulating SCP-8747-A in a dome-like medium, suppressing it's effects and potentially eradicating SCP-8747. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: APPROVED (8-2-2) RESULTS: The proposed eigenweapon was created and PROJECT CYBERPSHERE staff confirmed it's intended, functional use of encapsulating SCP-8747-A; however, it was later discovered the capsule had no effect of suppressing it's effect. 20 minutes following usage, the capsule housing SCP-8747-A began to "corrupt" and 1 minute later, SCP-8747-A's size has increased by approximately 5km in diameter. Reports of more digital systems rendered inoperable were followed. Future similar proposals will not be accepted. [130 PROPOSALS OMITTED] PROPOSAL: One D-Class is to be surgically implanted with a Cognitive Adapter within their cerebellum. He is then to be provided false information of SCP-8747-A and directed into AO-8747's subconscious transfer device. From there, he is instructed to traverse to SCP-8747-A and vocalize infohazardous data of ●●|●●●●●|●●|●, theoretically inducing a hostile attack onto it's position. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: DENIED (2-9-1) RESULTS: N/A While a creative theory, it is likely that ●●|●●●●●|●●|● will not attack SCP-8747-A itself, and instead attack the D-Class. Furthermore, there is even the possibility that ●●|●●●●●|●●|● will be virulent towards AO-8747's structure, which cannot be allowed as it is one of the few methods the Foundation possess of accessing the Cybersphere. - O5-7 CCTV FOOTAGE/8747/02 DATE: 21/05/2045 FOREWORD: The following transcript displays recording of two Foundation personnel, on account of the O4 Summit's conclusion. PERSONNEL INVOLVED: Dir. Roseanne Thatcher, Director of Containment. Dr. Parker Jackson, Secretary for Department of Containment. « BEGIN TRANSCRIPT » <Dir. Roseanne is seen in her office, going through paperwork. She appears dissatisfied. A door knocks in-front of her. Dir. Roseanne: Come in. <The door opens.> Dir. Roseanne: Morning, Parker. Dr. Parker: Morning, Rose. You slept well? <Dir. Roseanne shakes her head left and right.> Dr. Parker: Still upset? Dir. Roseanne: Yep. Dr. Parker: Okay, look, the O4 voted to kick you out of the project, but so what? You've still got a job here. Dir. Roseanne: But not so much for support. Dr. Parker: You've got my support, Rose. Is there anything I can do that'll make you feel better? <Silence.> Dir. Roseanne: Well, I've looked at the full file for the 8747 containment attempts; surprisingly, none of them work. I've already sent my own proposal, but I haven't heard from the Council since. Dr. Parker: I, I'm sorry about that. Dir. Roseanne: Don't be, it's not your fault. Dr. Parker: But I was involved, wasn't I? Dir. Roseanne: Yeah, but because of me and the O5's; speaking of which, I haven't heard from that bastard Eight for a while. Dr. Parker: What about him? Dir. Roseanne: I'll get to that later, but for now, you said you want to help me, right? Dr. Parker: Yeah. Do you want me to get you a snack, coffee, or… Dir. Roseanne: How about this; you take this proposal I have and send it to the PROJECT CYBERSPHERE staff about it, okay? Maybe they'll respond to you sooner, since people here care more about you. Dr. Parker: You know they don't accept duplicate proposals, right? Dir. Roseanne: So, how about I just, rephrase it and it'll work. Dr. Parker: Why are you even doing this, Rose? I find that unprofessional from a Department Head. <Dir. Roseanne leans forward, her arms now rest on her desk.> Dir. Roseanne: Listen, Parker. My face and name are spread all over Foundation news, even outside of our universe, as the biggest bitch the Foundation's ever hired. And during this, I've called Eight many times about how I could get out of this, and he's ignored me since the project went to shit. You know what that means? «Silence again.» Dir. Roseanne: It means he just left me on the dust and out there doing God knows what, and I even could wind-up losing my job here; someone could easily say, "Overseers, this bitch who was the cause of your system's fuckups is not fit for the role Containment Director", and they'll be like, "Alright, let's fire this whore". Dr. Parker: Don't say that about yourself. Dir. Roseanne: wipes a tear from her eye. Dir. Roseanne: I'm sorry, I just… I hate. Hate it so much. This project idea was such a horrible idea, I never should've accepted the offer. Dr. Parker: Hey, hey. It's okay. I don't blame you. You were just following orders and we know what happens when you don't listen to an Overseer. Dir. Roseanne: Fuck the Overseers. <Dr. Parker: lets out a chuckle.> Dr. Parker: Fuck the Overseers. Dr. Parker: Oh, and don't worry too much about losing your job because of this, too; we've seen worse after all, yet they still work here, so I don't see why you would not. And if they do try fire you for this, we could say, "Overseers, if you think she should be fired, why does this man with a ridiculous name still work here, despite the trouble he almost caused?" <Dir. Roseanne bursts into laughter.> Dir. Roseanne: Oh yeah, good luck arguing that. <Dir. Roseanne lets out a smile.> Dir. Roseanne: Seriously though, thanks for coming to see me. I needed a laugh, really. Dr. Parker: smiles back. Dr. Parker: You're welcome. I'll try and re-send your proposal once it's reworded. Dir. Roseanne: Thank yo- <Dir. Roseanne's office phone rings> Dir. Roseanne: Excuse me for a second. <She picks it up, and presses it against her ear.> Dir. Roseanne: Hello? Yeah, I'm the one who sent it. <Dir. Roseanne's eyes widens> Dir. Roseanne: Really?! […] « END TRANSCRIPT » CCTV FOOTAGE/8747/03 DATE: 20/05/2045 FOREWORD: As the Overseer Council and Ethics Committee determine a desirable decision in light of the SCP-8747 event, two A-Class personnel discuss personal matters. PERSONNEL INVOLVED: O5-8, Overseer of Foundation Projects and Development. Omar Amadi, liaison for the O5 Council and Ethics Committee. Four Security Officers, armed with automatic rifles. « BEGIN TRANSCRIPT » […] <Footage depicts O5-8 sitting in-front of his desk, with the two-armed officers standing behind him. Omar is sitting on the opposite end of O5-8, as the two guards mirror the ones upfront.> O5-8: Hold on, hold on, hold on. Stop for a moment, I didn't understand. You want me to what? Omar Amandi: Plead guilty to what happened on the project. That way, we could negotiate a reduced sentence between us and the Ethics. <For a moment, O5-8 tilts his head slightly to the ground in annoyance as he slowly raises his right palm in the air. He then raises his head to face Omar, his arm descending down.> O5-8: Listen, I didn't bring you here to tell me to incriminate myself about PROJECT CYBERSPHERE and let the Ethics take a shit on me. I told you to help me get out of this, because I got 12 other people wanting me gone for good, and nobody else wants to help me, but you. So please, give me that. <O5-8 leans back on his chair>. O5-8: Review the case properly, figure out whatever decision that nobody else could come up, testify for me, do something. Omar Amandi: Testify to what? I wasn't even involved. O5-8: Well, you could say that someone or something, like some outside anomaly sabotaged the entire thing, and maybe with that, I'll get less of the blame. Omar Amandi: That's deceptive, Overseer, and we both know that won't work- but, I'll try to "review the case properly", as you've instructed. <Omar Amandi: pulls out a pen from his pocket, and shuffles with his sheaf of papers.> Omar Amandi: Where were you during the failure of PROJECT CYBERSPHERE? O5-8: In my office, doing paperwork and waiting for updates from Roseanne. Omar Amandi: Do you suspect Dir. Roseanne had anything to do with this? <O5-8: looks down on his desk> O5-8: Not really. Omar Amandi: Did you, and Dir. Roseanne ever performed previous tests and maintenance check-ups of AO-8747 to see if there were any deficiencies? O5-8: No. Omar Amandi: Do you believe that lack of maintenance check was what led to SCP-8747 being created in the first place? O5-8: Yeah, but- Omar Amandi: So that's the issue, more evidence that you, the one who ordered AO-8747 to be constructed, are responsible for the creation of SCP-8747 and -A; normally, these kinds of ambitious projects needs all of the Overseers to vote, but because it was an Apollyon-Class priority, you and the rest of the Council decided it was okay to only allow one. Not to mention, you are an Overseer responsible for overseeing Foundation projects, so to have someone like you take the role of that kind is questionable. Omar Amandi: Speaking of which, we both know the remaining Overseers are going to vote on whether they should kick you out, or not for that matter. The only ones who can overrule that are the Ethics Committee, and Administrator, which is unlikely they'll side with you because most of the Ethics Committee are working hard to make sure you are punished for what happened and figuring out who could take your place. More than 300 sites can't even work properly because of what you've caused, and more than a thousand digital anomalies have experienced containment difficulties thanks to SCP-8747, so from here on out, you have to plead guilty to the Ethics Committee. <O5-8: places both of his hands onto his face, as his elbows are placed onto the desk to provide support. He lifts off his right arm and points it towards Omar>. O5-8: You are very close to getting kicked out of my office, Amandi. Tell me you have at least something that I can work with, or leave before my guards do it for you. Omar Amandi: You could also go recommend a vote to go with Dir. Roseanne's idea to the Overseers, since you can overrule the O4's decision. O5-8: Why should I do that? You know most of everyone's opinions are not on our side. Omar Amandi: Since when did an Overseer care about what people think of them? O5-8: Omar… Omar Amandi: Okay, okay. Well, there isn't much of a choice for the Foundation to deal with containing SCP-8747 itself, so the idea reprogramming AO-8747 to repair the Cybersphere isn't out of the question thanks to it's systems and hardware. Lots of engineers are constructing their own machines to deal with the anomaly, but why make a brand-new machine when we already have one? <O5-8 lets out a chuckle.> O5-8: That's the best idea I've ever heard from you, Omar; using AO-8747 that caused SCP-8747, to fix SCP-8747. Love it. Omar Amandi: Joke about it all you want. It's not going to get you anywhere, just like your idea of lying to the Ethics Committee. As dumb as it sounds, it's still a possibility that it could work and when we're in a situation where were spending millions a day just to keep the public hush-hush about what's going on, we need to explore every idea we have. Omar Amandi: Remember, Roseanne's involved because you made her. If there's anyone at all who could show some sort of compassion- and who knows, get a lesser sentence thanks to said compassion- it's you. […] « END TRANSCRIPT » AFTERWORD: 10 minutes after the meeting concluded, Omar Amandi and O5-8 proceeded to the Ethics Committee Disciplinary room for review of events. COUNCIL VOTE-8747-24 PROPOSAL: Based on evidence gathered, security footage, and testimonies of PROJECT CYBERSPHERE staff, it is the opinion of the O5 Council that O5-8 has majorly violated extensive Foundation policies, specifically those detailing Foundation project management and safety requirements, which led to the formation of an EKHI-Class anomaly, resulting in the containment breach of over 1,000 digital anomalies and near collapse of the veil. As such, the O5 Council has deemed O5-8 to be unfit for an Overseer role and must be preemptively replaced. Below contains a summarized vote regarding O5-8's position. NOTE: As the vote is directed towards a Foundation Overseer, O5-8's vote will not be considered. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: YAY NAY ABSTAIN O5-1 O5-2 O5-3 O5-4 O5-5 O5-6 O5-7 O5-9 O5-10 O5-11 O5-12 O5-13 STATUS APPROVED RESULTS: Despite attempted negotiations, O5-8 failed to appeal his removal and demotion to the Ethics Committee. O5-8 will not be allowed to return to Overseer status, regardless of his contribution and improvement prior to D-Class demotion. During afterward discussions following the Council vote, O5-8 recommend the Foundation approve of Dir. Roseanne's proposal. COUNCIL VOTE-8747-25 PROPOSAL: Invest resources, time, and maintenance into reprogramming AO-8747 to contain SCP-8747. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY: YAY NAY ABSTAIN O5-1 O5-5 O5-10 O5-2 O5-6 O5-11 O5-3 O5-7 O5-12 O5-4 O5-9 O5-13 STATUS APPROVED ADDENDUM 8747/3: Final Report. INTENT: Eradicate SCP-8747-A's current nature, thereby neutralizing the anomaly, and anomalously repair its sector to pre-SCP-8747-A status. This requires re-engineering of AO-8747's mechanics and functionality, whilst omitting usage of human sub-conscious transfer. HYPOTHESIS: By eradicating SCP-8747-A, and repairing its sector within the Cybersphere, SCP-8747's effects will be invalidated. Though while this is a hypothesis, the accurate outcome of SCP-8747-A's eradication is uncertain; therefore, all IT, technical, and AIAD personnel must commence preparations for misplaced scenarios by this attempt. RESULTS: Decommission attempt successful; Foundation computerized systems are now able to successfully overwrite undesired data prior to SCP-8747's effects. Furthermore, future Foundation projects involving manipulation of the Cybersphere has been indefinitely suspended, with the exception of unanimous approval by the O5 Council. SCP-8747 is pending reclassification to NEUTRALIZED by the Classification Committee. Footnotes 1. Organic Consciousness Interface, a specific set of AI systems originating from human consciousness following the conclusion of PROJECT SARGASSO. 2. Example of which is when the algorithm for SCP-4319 was manipulated to display feline wildlife. 3. With the exception of ones classified as THAUMIEL. 4. Designated TL-6768. 5. Cognitive Adapters, a newly designed, technological chip intended to allow Foundation personnel to view the perspective of implanted subjects upon its corresponding frequency receiver, including outside of realities and various esoteric mediums. 6. It is uncertain whether SCP-239's effects have no impact on the Cybersphere, or her anomalous properties were directly misplaced due to lack of understanding of SCP-239's perspective regarding the anomaly. - END OF FILE -
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SCP-8749
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esoteric-class
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close Info X ⚠️ Content warning: This article contains mentions of alcohol and drug use. ⚠️ content warning Item#: 8749 Level1 Containment Class: concluded Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: none Risk Class: none link to memo Poplar Street, location of SCP-8749-A's discovery. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8749 is believed to be a one-time event. SCP-8749-A has been interred at the Site-86 mortuary as it displays no anomalous properties. Barring further anomalous activity, monitoring of the Rivera residence and SCP-8749-B is to conclude on March 8, 2025. Description: SCP-8749 was an event that occurred on either March 7 or 8, 2024, sometime between 20:14 and 01:58 hours. SCP-8749's locus was Bennett Rivera, an 18-year-old resident of Harrow, Nevada, United States. SCP-8749 resulted in the creation of SCP-8749-A. SCP-8749-A is the corpse of Bennett Rivera, discovered in the early morning of March 8 lying face down on the sidewalk near Rivera's residence at 3749 Poplar Street. SCP-8749-A displays severe injuries consistent with multiple direct lightning strikes1. Despite this, SCP-8749-A's clothing and possessions display no such damage. SCP-8749-A was discovered with the following items on its person: An iPhone 13 A pair of Apple AirPods playing the song "Hokus Pokus" by Insane Clown Posse on repeat A THC pen An unlabelled water bottle containing a mixture of vodka and Mountain Dew-brand soft drink A can of Krylon-brand spray paint, red SCP-8749-B is Bennett Rivera, who left his home at 20:14 hours on March 7, telling his mother that he and his friends were going to hang out at a local park. Between this time and his return at 01:58 the next day, Rivera is completely unaccounted for. The friends in question, 18-year-old Harrow residents Rafaela Morales and Sean Skeritt, claimed that, while they did intend to meet up with Rivera, he did not show up to the intended meeting spot at any point in the night. SCP-8749-B displays limited memory of the nearly 6 hour time period between leaving and returning to his home (see Addendum). Addendum 8749.01: Interview Interviewer: Dr. Stephanie Mulberry Interviewee: Bennett Rivera (SCP-8749-B) Foreword: The following interview was conducted in order to construct a timeline of events of SCP-8749 and the creation of SCP-8749-A. [BEGIN LOG] Dr. Mulberry: Hello, Bennett. SCP-8749-B: Hello, Ms. Mulberry. Dr. Mulberry: I'm sure you're aware of the circumstances of our interview. SCP-8749-B: They say they found my body outside my house. Dr. Mulberry: To put it shortly, yes. Are you— SCP-8749-B: Sorry to interrupt, but how can everyone tell— why does everyone think that, you know, the body on the street is mine? I mean, like, I'm right here, aren't I? Like, it's all charred and sh— and stuff, like, and I don't even own any of that stuff, so like— Dr. Mulberry: The body was wearing the clothes you were wearing the night of the seventh, and matches your height and dimensions. Plus, DNA analysis has proven a match. SCP-8749-B: Oh, uh, right, uh, okay. Um, for the record, though, I don't know why it would have any of that s— Dr. Mulberry: Bennett, could you please let me ask my questions? This will move a lot faster. SCP-8749-B: Right, um. Yes, sorry ma'am. Dr. Mulberry: That's quite alright. Now, first, where were you intending to go on the night of the seventh? SCP-8749-B: My mom, uh, already told you guys, probably. Me and my friends were gonna go to the, uh, the park by my house. They both drove there but I was close enough so I decided to walk. Dr. Mulberry: What did you intend to do at the park? [SCP-8749-B visibly tenses.] SCP-8749-B: Um, we were just gonna, like, talk about stuff. Not really do much. We go there every now and then and, like, sit on the swings and talk. Just, like, about things. You know? Dr. Mulberry: I'm a professional interviewer, Bennett. I can tell when you're lying. Please just tell me all of the details you can. I'm not a cop. You're not in trouble. We just need to figure out what happened. Okay? SCP-8749-B: Are you, um, are you gonna tell my mom about any of this? Dr. Mulberry: No. [SCP-8749-B gestures to the audio recorder.] SCP-8749-B: Can this be off the record? Dr. Mulberry: If that would make you more comfortable. [SCP-8749-B nods. Dr. Mulberry motions as if turning off the audio recorder, but does not actually switch it off2.] SCP-8749-B: Thank you. Dr. Mulberry: Of course. Now, what were you and your friends planning on doing at the park? SCP-8749-B: We were just gonna get crossed3 and, like, walk around and talk about school and stuff. And, uh, we were going to graffiti some stuff. But that was Sean's idea. I didn't want to. Please don't tell my mom. Dr. Mulberry: I won't. Now, did you end up making it to the park? SCP-8749-B: No, ma'am. Dr. Mulberry: Why? SCP-8749-B: Well, uh, it was storming pretty bad outside4, and, well, I kept looking at the lightning 'cause it was really pretty. And, and, uh. [SCP-8749-B trails off.] Dr. Mulberry: Hm? SCP-8749-B: Sorry. The, uh, the lightning was really pretty, and— [SCP-8749-B trails off again.] SCP-8749-B: No, it wasn't. The lightning was really scary. I'm terrified of lightning. I wanted to go inside. But I kept looking at it. I don't know why. It's like that thing they say about looking at car crashes. [Silence for several seconds.] SCP-8749-B: I was looking… and it was so beautiful. And I. And. [Silence for several seconds.] SCP-8749-B: Sorry, what did you say? Dr. Mulberry: Why didn't you make it all the way to the park? SCP-8749-B: Right. Well, um, I was staring at the lightning for a long time. I don't know how long but it felt like forever. It was in my way, I think, like it would strike me if I got any closer to the park. So I stopped and just looked. It was terrifying. [Silence for several seconds.] SCP-8749-B: I didn't want to keep going. I knew Rafaela and Sean were waiting for me but I didn't want to go. It was too scary. I was so fucking— I was really, really scared. I couldn't look down at the street because I knew what was there, and— [Silence for several seconds.] SCP-8749-B: And I don't remember what happened after that but I came home and my pen and the bottle weren't in my pocket anymore and I couldn't bring myself to look behind me and I felt bad for leaving my friends but the thunder got quieter as I ran away and I didn't want to be anywhere but inside and I felt like a whole different person but I just couldn't stop thinking about the lightning and how it would've killed me if I kept going forward, and, and— [SCP-8749-B begins crying.] SCP-8749-B: I don't ever want to do that again. I'm sorry, okay, I'm gonna stop smoking, okay, just please don't tell my mom. I'm not about that anymore, I promise, okay, just— just— [SCP-8749-B collapses onto the table.] SCP-8749-B: Can I please just go home? Dr. Mulberry: This interview is concluded. We can finish this later. [ENG LOG] Afterword: SCP-8749-B has proven immune to attempts to amnesticize him of the events of March 7-8. As such, we've been monitoring the Rivera residence for any information breaches, but due to SCP-8749-B's unwillingness to discuss the event with anyone, we believe he poses a minimal risk to normalcy and, as such, containment is not necessary. — Dr. Mulberry Footnotes 1. Analysis of the corpse by Medical Department personnel has determined that the body would have to have been struck at least thirteen times to reach its present level of injury. 2. This is standard practice during Foundation interviews to gain as much information from subjects as possible. 3. Slang for "crossfaded", typically used to refer to the state of intoxication by both alcohol and marijuana simultaneously. 4. This has not been found to be the case. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8749" by Rhineriver, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8749. 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: Hurricane-Tropical Storm Harvey in Houston - August 28 2017 NIGHT (36050302294) Author: R. Crap Mariner from Houston, USA License: CC BY 2.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8750
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neutralized
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Learning to let go is hard as hell. Some cope better than others, some don’t cope at all. ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION On 2017/7/15, this document was relocated to the archive following SCP-8750's reclassification as neutralized. Link To Guide Item#:8750 Clearance Level 1: Clearance Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8750 is held in a standard type-X cell.1 Description: SCP-8750 is a former Foundation researcher, Ashe Barker. SCP-8750 is a Type 4-U Reality Bender.2 SCP-8750 is currently contained at Site-97 in Brandon, Florida, where they were working when they entered an anomalous coma.3 Relocation of SCP-8750 has been deemed unviable as the manifestation of anomalous properties happens regardless of SCP-8750's location. SCP-8750 has conjured up several spectral entities, designated SCP-8750-1 to SCP-8750-3. The entities manifested by SCP-8750 act out scenarios from SCP-8750's past. Discovery: SCP-8750’s anomalous nature was found on 2016/12/29 when reports of a child resembling the late Jacob Barker4, now designated SCP-8750-1 was reported to have been wandering the town aimlessly. Addendum SCP-8750.1 SCP-8750 was found to affect the area around their house. Reports of SCP-8750-1 led MTF Δ-29 (“Outside the Box”) to the apartment, where they established a temporary on-site location to collect data. Appearances of SCP-8750-1 also contained a second entity, identified to be a spectral version of SCP-8750, designated SCP-8750-2, as well as the occasional appearance of a third entity. This was identified as Dr. Robert Osprey,5 and is designated SCP-8750-3. Recorded Date Entities involved Recorded Data 2016/12/31 SCP-8750-1 and SCP-8750-2 SCP-8750-1 walked around and approached an ice cream truck that appeared during the event. SCP-8750-1 rushed SCP-8750-2 to hand it money, which was used to purchase ice cream. They then proceeded to de-manifest. Audio recordings picked up the conversation, but nothing of importance was noted. 2017/1/4 SCP-8750-1, SCP-8750-2 and SCP-8750-3 SCP-8750-1 is in bed, seemingly unconscious, SCP-8750-2 and SCP-8750-3 are looking over it. A transcript of the audio is below. Additional info: In this log, SCP-8750-2 is referred to by their last name, Barker. SCP-8750-3 is referred to as Osprey.6 <Begin Log> Barker and Osprey are standing over their unconscious child. Barker is crying while Osprey has his hand on her shoulder. Barker: It's just not fair. Osprey: Life isn't fair Ashe, if it wasn't our kid, it would have been someone else's. She pulls away from him. Barker: Okay, and? That wouldn't be my problem. This is our kid. Can you at least try to act sad? Osprey: We don't have time left to be sad. We need to try to be strong for him so he can enjoy the time he has left. Barker: I'm just… I'm not that strong, Robert. He grabs her hand. Osprey: Look at him, Ashe. He's sitting there smiling in his sleep. He knows that he gets to visit his favorite theme park tomorrow. He pauses for a second. Osprey: I know it's hard, but you have to try for him. We've got the entire weekend, let's let him enjoy the time he has left. Barker: (crying) I'll try. <End Log> Recorded Date Entities involved Recorded Data 2017/1/12 SCP-8750-1 and SCP-8750-2 SCP-8750-1 walks to the playground located across from the apartment complex. SCP-8750-2 is shown to watch over it. -1 trips and begins crying. -2 runs over to tend to its wound. They then de-manifest. 2017/1/15 SCP-8750-1, SCP-8750-2 and an unidentifiable entity. SCP-8750-1 and SCP-8750-2 are eating dinner in the apartment; they are talking about his schooling. An unidentifiable entity is looking over them; they don’t acknowledge it. They continue conversing for a few minutes, then de-manifest. 2017/1/23 SCP-8750-2 and SCP-8750-3 SCP-8750-2 and -3 are in an argument. A transcript of their conversation is below. <Begin Log> Barker: You can't tell him! Osprey: What do you mean that I can't!? He's our son; don't I get a say? Barker: No, you absolutely don't. You don't get a say. You lost that right years ago. Osprey: That's bullshit. He's still my kid. He has a right to know. Barker: You're only saying that for yourself. Stop being selfish. Osprey: Selfish? What a joke. You're preventing me from seeing my child in his last month just so you can have the rest of his time to yourself. You won't even tell him why I can't come around anymore. Barker: What happened to letting him enjoy the time he has left? You are a hypocrite. Osprey looks stunned and begins crying. Osprey: Things change Ashe, I just want the opportunity to say goodbye to my kid. Barker: It isn't happening, Robert. I can't rob him of his happiness. Osprey: Then let me do it; let me tell him. We can spend the rest of the time he has left as a family again. Barker: (crying) We stopped being a family ages ago. Just go. Osprey: Whatever. Just please think about it. I'm begging you. Please don't rob him of his chance to say goodbye to you. Osprey gets up, walks out the door, and de-manifests. Barker proceeds to kick over some furniture while angrily screaming. After a few moments, they also de-manifest. <End Log> Recorded Date Entities involved Recorded Data 2017/1/25 SCP-8750-1 and SCP-8750-2 SCP-8750-1 is walking out the door, it asks -2 “where dad is” to which -2 responds with “I don’t know.” They turn out the lights, leave and de-manifest. 2017/1/27 SCP-8750-1, SCP-8750-2 and an unidentifiable entity SCP-8750-1 is once again on the bed unconscious; SCP-8750-2 is crying and pleading. The entity is standing over -1. SCP-8750-2 doesn't acknowledge the entity. 2017/1/31 SCP-8750-1, SCP-8750-2, SCP-8750-3 and an unidentifiable entity. SCP-8750-1 is unconscious again, SCP-8750-2 is violently sobbing over -1, SCP-8750-3 is sitting in a chair with its head down and legs crossed. The entity has its hand on SCP-8750-1. A copy of -1 appears, grabs onto the hand of the entity and they walk out and de-manifest. SCP-8750-2 is pleading for SCP-8750-1’s life, -2 and -3 ignore the entity walking off with the clone of -1. 2017/7/1 SCP-8750-2 and SCP-8750-3 SCP-8750-2 and SCP-8750-3 are arguing again. A transcript is below. <Begin Log> Barker: (tearing up and shouting) He was our child; why are you being so insensitive? Osprey: You need to let go Ashe, it’s been six goddamn months; you think I wasn’t going through the same hell you did? It’s selfish of you to hold on so long. You need to go outside, you can't keep living like this. Barker: Fuck you! Six months isn’t long, you aren’t as devastated because you are a deadbeat who was never around! Osprey: (shouting louder) Are you that self-absorbed to not realize that I loved him too? I had no choice Ashe, you kicked me out; you took me out of his life. I've tried again and again; I’ve even taken you to court several times. He pauses for a moment. Barker tries to interject, but he continues. Osprey: I wasn’t even granted visitation without your permission, and now you are trying to say you loved him more than me? I didn't have an option! You are selfish, conceited, and crazy. Barker: (gasps) Excuse me? You didn’t even fucking ask! You never made an effort; you just berated me for how I raised him! You expect me to move on, but I based my entire life around him! He was my child! Mine! Osprey: Do you not even hear yourself? He was our child! He pauses for a moment before continuing. Osprey: He’s gone now. What is moping around, blaming me, and doing nothing with your goddamn life gonna do for you? It’s so selfish of you. You barely go to work anymore and keep lounging around. How about you grow up? Grow the fuck up, Ashe. It's embarassing. Barker: You have the audacity to come into my house, insult me, tell me to move on, and tell me how to live my life? You are just as uncaring as ever, Robert! I thought you of all people could have understood my pain! Barker pauses for a moment. Barker: (mumbling) Get out. Osprey: What? Barker: Get the fuck out of my house! They both go silent for a moment. Osprey: Alright. I’ll go. Osprey gets up, heads to the door, and opens it. Osprey: I mean it, you need to move the fuck on. The door slams shut, and they de-manifest. <End Log> Addendum SCP-8750.2: Following the last manifestation, one final event occurred. Recorded Date Entities involved Recorded Data 2017/7/3 SCP-8750-1, SCP-8750-2 and the unidentifiable entity. SCP-8750-2 manifested on the floor sobbing. Three minutes later, SCP-8750-1 and the entity manifested over the shoulder. -1 put his hand on -2’s shoulder and said, “It’s time for you to move on.” -2 stood up, wiped its tears, nodded, and then hugged -1, then all of them de-manifested. Following this incident, SCP-8750 lost all brain function and was declared deceased shortly after. SCP-8750 was reclassified as neutralized post-mortem and was buried in the Florida National Cemetery on 2017/7/12. « SCP-8749 | SCP-8750 | SCP-8751 » Footnotes 1. A standardized cell with equipment pertaining to those that are in a coma, paralyzed or incapable of general autonomy. 2. Type-4 Reality benders have enough power to affect an entire city. The U in Type 4-U stands for unintentional. U Type reality benders can't cantrol their reality bending powers. 3. The coma was deemed anomalous due to the fact that despite normal brain function, all Foundation standard coma resuscitation techniques have ended in failure. 4. The son of SCP-8750, whom passed away due to cancer related complications. 5. SCP-8750-1’s father. 6. This is due to their current Foundation standing.
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SCP-8762
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thaumiel
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SCP-8762: Not really. I just do normal things. To pretend to be normal to be normal Well I guess that's the least that I owe ya To be normal in a way I couldn't be C'mon, c'mon, and love me normally (Love, Me Normally - Will Wood) SCP-8762 - Once Upon This Guy Image One. ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} DESIGNATION: Item Nº: 8762 LEVEL5 TOP-SECRET OBJECT CLASS: thaumiel NUANCE: none {$secondary-class} DISRUPTION: absolute N/A RISK: to self or others N/A link to memo Item#: {$item-number} Level5 Containment Class: {$container-class} Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8762 is to be housed in a standard humanoid containment chamber,.Modified in a way most commonly compared to "babyproofing". positioned centrally among several high-maintenance anomalies to weaken or nullify their effects. SCP-8762 is permitted to request activities to maintain its morale. However, any activities posing potential harm to SCP-8762 are to be denied. SCP-8762 Description: SCP-8762 is a middle aged man of indeterminate age who identifies himself as "Steve"..SCP-8762 has responded to a variety of names, including, but not limited to; Hubert, Larry, John, Bob, and Juggletron. No records of SCP-8762 exist in any known country, region, or sovereign state. Physically, SCP-8762 is non-anomalous and has the same physiological requirements as typical humans. SCP-8762 has one noticeable, yet extremely potent anomalous effect: whenever SCP-8762 is within close proximity of any anomalous location or object, their abilities will temporarily cease; the reason behind this is currently unknown. Anomalous personnel will remain conscious, although any abilities will cease until SCP-8762 exits the anomalies proximity. SCP-8762 must be awake, conscious, and in a healthy mental state for this to occur. .Although entering REM sleep doesn't negate this effect, medically induced comas appear to do so. SCP-8762 was first discovered at Site-01. Camera footage showed SCP-8762 wandering through the hallways for fifteen minutes, appearing extremely confused. After being noticed by several security guards, SCP-8762 was detained and interviewed. Extensive testing revealed that SCP-8762 was not associated with any known group of interest. SCP-8762 emits no Humes, Akiva radiation, or any forms of anomalous energy, thereby eliminating the possibility of it being a weapon. After it temporarily neutralized SCP-001, it was designated as SCP-8762. Below is an interview log between SCP-8762 and Foundation researcher Elizabeth Carter. Interviewer: Dr. Elizabeth Carter Interviewee: SCP-8762 BEGIN LOG Dr. Carter: Good afternoon Steve, hope everything is going well with you. SCP-8762: It's going. Dr. Carter: Excellent. I'm going to ask you a few things if that's alright with you, need to learn a bit about you and whatnot. SCP-8762: Go ahead. Dr. Carter: Can you tell me about your background? Where are you from? SCP-8762: No clue. Dr. Carter: Pardon? SCP-8762: Just woke up here, really. Dr. Carter: You don't remember anything about your past? Family, friends, occupation? SCP-8762: No, sorry. SCP-8762 picks its nose, looking around the room for a moment. Dr. Carter: …let's discuss your daily routine. What do you usually do during the day? SCP-8762: I wake up, have breakfast, walk around a bit, maybe read a book or watch TV, then I have lunch, walk around some more, have dinner. Dr. Carter: And? SCP-8762: Then I go to bed. Dr. Carter pauses. Dr. Carter: So you don't remember anything before appearing. SCP-8762: Seems so. Dr. Carter: But you do have a plan for every day, despite the fact you don't remember why you're here? Or anything? SCP-8762: Just what comes to mind when you mention it, can't really remember doing that. Dr. Carter: I see. Do you have any hobbies? Interests? SCP-8762: Not really. I just do normal things. Dr. Carter: What exactly are "normal" things? SCP-8762: Watching TV, mainly. Dr. Carter: What do you watch? Movies? Any shows? SCP-8762: The weather channel. Dr. Carter clenches her fist around her pen. SCP-8762 does not notice. Dr. Carter: How do you feel about not having any history or memories prior to your appearance here? For all that we know, you could have a family searching for you, or maybe a big career, or- SCP-8762: I guess it's a bit strange, but I don't think about it much. Dr. Carter: …And if we were to ask you to stay here for an extended period, how would you feel about that? SCP-8762: Don't have anywhere else to be. END LOG Following confirmation of SCP-8762's anomalous traits, it was exposed to several minor anomalies to test the limits of its abilities. Test 1 Anomaly: SCP-6161, a cake knife that causes all cut objects to become cake. Results: SCP-8762 used SCP-6161 on various items, all resulting in nothing remarkable. He frowned, proclaiming that "You me promised cake, this is a knife." Test 5 Anomaly: SCP-8022, a clay brick. Whenever it strikes an individual, they will vividly dream. Individuals hurt by SCP-8022 sustain trauma typical of being hit by a brick. Results: [TESTING HALTED PER O5 ORDER] Test 8 Anomaly: SCP-609, a growing collection of identical green billiard balls capable of being moved telepathically. Results: SCP-8762 is requested to attempt to move SCP-609. Upon attempting for several minutes, .During this time, SCP-8762 held out its hands and loudly grunted, sweating and growing red. it responded, exhausted; "That's enough thinking for now." Test 11 Anomaly: SCP-113, a small gemstone capable of causing anyone who touches it to swap biological sexes. Results: Results pending. SCP-8762's sex is currently unknown, as all biological scans give mixed results. When asked, it replied with "I'm John." Test 13 Anomaly: SCP-6914, a small sign that says "KEEP OFF GRASS". If individuals step on grass located near SCP-6914, they will then be struck by lightning. Results: SCP-8762 proceeded to step on the grass with no issues, although later stated that it felt "a bit inconsiderate." Test 44 Anomaly: SCP-173 Results: Initially, SCP-8762 stood within the same room as SCP-173 and did not report any findings. Shortly afterwards, however, personnel report a mild swelling in SCP-8762's face, which it attributed to "a mild peanut allergy"..SCP-8762 had no known allergies, nor has it eaten any peanuts. Moments later, SCP-8762 spontaneously combusted. Following its untimely death, personnel discovered that its remains still shared the same properties as the anomaly itself. Lead theories suggest that SCP-8762 "absorbed" the properties of other anomalies. Because of this, smaller fragments of it are still capable of weakening anomalous effects. Following research, a new, revised file for SCP-8762 is available below. View revision? - Close Description: SCP-8762 is the prototype known as the "Scranton Reality Anchor". ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8762" by TroutMaskReplica, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8762. 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: guy.JPG Name: Mikhail Yershov 5 Author: Andrey Yefimov License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mikhail_Yershov_5.JPG
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SCP-8765
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esoteric-class
|
desiderium (n.) an ardent desire or longing especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost 4/8765 LEVEL 4/8765 CLASSIFIED Item #: SCP-8765 Master Thaumaturge Matthias Walters, demonstrating SCP-8765's effects. Special Containment Procedures: Development of a unified Standard Model of physics is to be delayed by Foundation efforts for as long as possible. The discovery of any biological, neurological, chemical, or mathematical foundations for thaumaturgy by mainstream science is to be suppressed indefinitely, until a proper explanation or cover story can be given for SCP-8765's existence. Research Task Force Delta-4 has been formed solely to investigate the SCP-8765 phenomenon. Artifacts uncovered by RTF Delta-4 that are believed to be connected to SCP-8765 are to be treated as anomalous objects, even if displaying no blatant anomalies properties; see Relevant Materials below. Should SCP-8765 prove to be reversible, no attempts are to be made to neutralize the phenomenon until full risk assessment can be concluded by the Department of Thaumaturgy, Department of Archeology, and Ethics Committee. Description: SCP-8765 is humanity's inability to properly engage with thaumaturgy. The field of thaumaturgy — as described, practiced, and used by sub-Veil communities — was formally classified as a non-anomalous phenomenon in 2014. Foundation advancement within various scientific fields has been capable of deriving all known extant forms of thaumaturgy through non-anomalous means, implying it is a wholly natural phenomenon. It is estimated that mainstream academia will discover the physics, chemistry, and biology underlying thaumaturgy in approximately twenty years (if left unimpeded). SCP-8765 refers to the only known inconsistency between practiced thaumaturgy and the Foundation Standard Model. According to FSM, Mana (also known as Elan-Vital Energy) employed by sentient beings in thaumaturgy should be biologically processed at ~96% efficiency; however, in practice no human has been able to use Mana with more than 9% efficiency, with a vast majority of the Mana's energy being radiated from the spell itself. This conversion is poorly understood, and cannot be explained by the Foundation's current understanding of science. Thus far, over fifteen alternative models to the FSM have been proposed to account for SCP-8765, though each has been discredited for various reasons. Similarly, no biological factors that would theoretically limit the use of thaumaturgy have been found by Foundation biologists or chemists thus far. Nonetheless, it is hypothesized that — similar to thaumaturgy itself — SCP-8765 is non-anomalous, though this has not yet been proven. Research has been ongoing. Relevant Materials Various anomalous artifacts have been uncovered that are believed to be related to SCP-8765. The exact relation to the phenomenon are unclear; they are detailed below for referential purposes. For access to an individual anomaly, please consult RTF Delta-4. SCP-8765-A SCP-8765-A is a beryllium bronze.Beryllium Bronze was often used in ancient anomalous constructs due to its unique interactions with anomalous phenomenon, versatility, and easy mass-production via thaumaturgy. amulet that was uncovered in an Eastern Mongolian dig site. SCP-8765-A, although partially damaged, is inscribed with a multitude of thaumaturgic spells alongside other unidentified carvings, the latter of which are believed to be thaumaturgic in nature. Residual Mana in the surrounding area of the dig site suggests that the amulet's spells were in the process of being cast, before the caster died unexpectedly. Remains of the caster could not be found. Of the engravings present on SCP-8765-A, the following spells have been concretely identified: Juu Moto, a modifier-spell combination that heats the area above the surface it is engraved on, paired with various other unidentified bindings. Gandisha, a spell that reduces the temperature of the material it is engraved on..The purpose of this is unclear, as beryllium bronze displays no unique thaumic properties until near absolute-zero temperatures. Kuzuia, a spell located on the back of the amulet that produces a tangible surface projected from the surface of the spell itself. Msingi, a fundamental spell that erases itself and all encompassed spells when cast..The engravings for this spell appear to have been broken, preventing this spell from possibly being cast by the amulet's wielder. Various thaumic regulators/distributors, designed to automatically channel correct proportions of Mana without conscious thought..Of note: Msingi is not directly channeled through any existing bindings. Thaumic dating suggests that SCP-8765-A is roughly 6000±1500 years old. Attempts to recreate or achieve the intended function of SCP-8765-A have been unsuccessful, as its bindings require extremely large quantities of Mana as input. SCP-8765-B is a nearly-complete human skeleton, roughly 4500±1000 years old, discovered over six kilometers into the Dark Star cave system in eastern Uzbekistan. Although not displaying anomalous properties — save for an abnormal excess of latent Mana, similar to SCP-8765-A — there are several irregularities present in the skeleton that are currently inexplicable. The most notable irregularity is the severe discoloration present along numerous fractures across the skeleton, concentrated on the skull and left arm. The source of the fractures and the discoloration are still debated, though analysis has shown that the discoloration tends to be more prominent inside the bone (or cavity) than outside it, possibly suggesting a biological origin. SCP-8765-B's skull. SCP-8765-B's skull and feet both contain abnormal bone structures. SCP-8765-B's skull contains an additional, fused bone that covers the entirety of the nasal canal, while SCP-8765-B's feet appear to possess fused metatarsal bones, amalgamating part of both feet into two solid blocks. Whether this fusion was due to an unknown genetic mutation, anomalous effect, or different process entirely is unknown. In addition, various areas of SCP-8765-B appear to have artificial holes running through them. These holes are present across various bones, including parts of the ribcage, spinal cord, humerus, illium, fused metatarsal bones, and (in a single case) the base of the skull. Each of these holes has contained at least a small trace of beryllium bronze. Above the occipital bone of the skull, an early alchemical symbol for blood was found carved into the bone. Whether this was performed premortem or postmortem is the subject of ongoing debate, although the symbol appears to be heavily affected by the aforementioned discoloration. Due to the inaccessibility of the Dark Star cave system, as well as how deep SCP-8765-B is present within it, the Foundation has thus far elected to not extract the skeleton. Future expeditions by non-Foundation groups are to be monitored closely for other possible artifacts that could exist in the cave system. SCP-8765-C is an anomalously preserved Chinese red pine tree, located near the Jishi Gorge in Haidong, Qinghai, China. Several unidentified thaumaturgical spells were used in its preservation; the spellbindings present are infused with enough latent Mana to continue functioning for an estimated 37,000 years, a feat unachievable by the entire human population's Mana output combined for over ten years. Engraved on SCP-8765-C's bark are three unknown scripts, one resembling the Oracle Bone Script from ancient China. While linguistically exact definitions are difficult or impossible to ascertain, SCP-8765-C possesses the anomalous property of conveying the meaning of its inscribed words to witnesses regardless of their linguistic capabilities. After discussion among Foundation historians, linguists, and thaumaturgists, the following is a reproduction of the presumed intended message of SCP-8765-C: THE LAST EULOGY From the river came life, to the sea it will flow, Swirling floods of water to ripples of blood, Even the strongest tree will have its roots come undone, By our own hand, we will all return to the sea. SCP-8765-C is estimated to be approximately 3700 years old. The context for this poem remains unknown. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8765" by Yossipossi, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8765. 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: foundationspellcaster.png Author: Yossipossi and IronShears License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki Additional Notes: Two versions of the image are present, both of which are heavily modified and are cropped. The left version of the image was created by Yossipossi, and the right version was modified from the left version by IronShears. Derivative Of: Name: Marc Taddei, 2007 License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Author: Jonathan Harker Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: magicstone.jpeg Name: Byzantine - Amuletic Pendant - Walters 542653 Author: Walters Art Museum License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: thaumaturgeskull.png Name: Téviec Crane Profil Droit II Author: Didier Descouens License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Additional Notes: Not permitted to upload to Facebook due to licensing conflicts. Image as presented is heavily modified.
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SCP-8770
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esoteric-class
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SCP-8770 is not to be inhabited. /* Foxtrot Sigma-9 Theme [2022 Wikidot Theme] By Liryn */ /* FONTS */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Lexend:wght@700;800&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=JetBrains+Mono:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Fira+Code:wght@400;700&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Sofia+Sans:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&display=swap'); @import url('https://rsms.me/inter/inter.css'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Figtree:wght@800;900&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=IBM+Plex+Sans:ital,wght@0,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&display=swap'); /* VARIABLES */ :root { /* VARIABLES > Core */ --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"; 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line-height: 230%; text-indent: 3px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; } .mobile-top-bar { left: unset; } /* MAIN > Header > Login Info */ #login-status { top: 19px; } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header .printuser { font-size: 0; } } .printuser a { margin: 0; } .printuser img.small { width: 18px; height: 18px; padding: 1px 4px 0 0; background-image: none !important; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header .printuser img.small { transform: translate(0, 4px); } } #my-account { display: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #account-topbutton { margin: 0 0 0 5px; } } /* MAIN > Header > Side Bar */ #top-bar .open-menu a { border-radius: 0px; border: none; background: rgb(var(--accent)); color: white; } #side-bar { background: #FFF; } @media (min-width: 768px) { #side-bar { padding: 0.3em 0.6em 0 0.6em; width: 18.75em; transition: left 0.2s ease-in-out; direction: rtl; text-align: left; border-right: none; } } #side-bar .side-block, #side-bar .side-block.resources, #side-bar .side-block.media, #interwiki .side-block { border: 2px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); border-radius: 0px; box-shadow: none; margin-bottom: 6px; direction: ltr; background: transparent; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { text-align: center; } #side-bar .heading { color: var(--misc-txt-color); border-bottom: solid 2px #cfcfcf; font-size: 9pt; font-family: var(--head-font); font-weight: 800; text-transform: uppercase; } /* CONTENT */ /* CONTENT > Blockquotes, Custom Divs */ .blockquote, div.blockquote, blockquote { border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15); background: #f7f7f7; } .jotting { padding: 1.3em; margin: 1em 4.5em; border: dashed 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); background: #f7f7f7; } .notation { padding: 1em 1.5em; margin: 1em 3em; border-left: solid 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.35); border-right: solid 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.35); background: #f7f7f7; } .modal { padding: 1.2em; margin: 1em 3em; border: solid 5px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15); background: #fbfbfb; } .quote { padding: 0.4em 2em; margin: 3em auto; border-left: solid 3px #bbb; max-width: 500px !important; } .paper { padding: 1.5em; margin: 2em; background: #FFF; box-shadow: 0px 4px 9px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); } .box { padding: 1px 9px; border: solid 3px #bbb; margin: 0.5em 1em; } div.note { font-size: unset; border: 2px solid #afafaf; background-color: #fff; } .round { border-radius: 10px; } /* CONTENT > Headings, Titles */ #page-title, .meta-title { font-family: var(--ui-font), sans-serif; font-weight: 800; color: #3b3b3b; border-bottom: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); width: fit-content; margin: 0 auto 1.5rem; } #page-title, .meta-title, #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: var(--head-font), sans-serif; font-weight: 800; color: #3b3b3b; } h1, h2 { font-weight: 800; } .footnotes-footer .title { font-family: var(--head-font), sans-serif; color: #3b3b3b; font-weight: 800; } /* CONTENT > Rate Module */ #page-content .creditRate { margin: unset; font-family: var(--ui-font); float: unset !important; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #fff; border: solid 1px #bbb; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333; color: #fff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #fff; } .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #bbb; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; font-family: var(--ui-font); } .page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #fff !important; color: #333 !important; border: none !important; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #fff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333; color: #fff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: #fff; border: none; border-radius: 0; display: inline-block; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333; color: #fff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } /* CONTENT > Rate Module > Author Label */ .authorlink-wrapper { --author-top-adjust: 0; --author-bottom-adjust: 0; --author-right-adjust: 0; font-family: var(--ui-font); font-size: var(--base-font-size); } /* CONTENT > Side Box */ .anchor { position: sticky; height: 0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } } /* CONTENT > Image Block */ .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #f4f4f4; color: #3b3b3b; border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); margin-top: 10px; box-sizing: border-box; border-radius: 5px; } .scp-image-block { border: none; box-shadow: none; } .scp-image-block img { border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); box-sizing: border-box; } .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: unset; text-align: center; margin: 1.3rem auto 1.3rem auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right { float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /* CONTENT > Tables Base */ #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: 2px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: 2px solid #bfbfbf; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } /* CONTENT > Tables Customization (Table Coloring System) */ /* CONTENT > Tables Customization (Table Coloring System) > Table Headings, Image Captions */ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #E0FFD4; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDFCD; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFCFCF; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } /* CONTENT > Tables Customization (Table Coloring System) > Other Colored Divs */ .table1 .blockquote, .table1 div.blockquote, .table1 blockquote, .table1 .jotting, .table1 .notation, .table1 .modal, .table1 .paper, .blockquote.table1, div.blockquote.table1, .jotting.table1, .notation.table1, .modal.table1, .paper.table1 { background: rgb(224, 255, 212); } .table2 .blockquote, .table2 div.blockquote, .table2 blockquote, .table2 .jotting, .table2 .notation, .table2 .modal, .table2 .paper, .blockquote.table2, div.blockquote.table2, .jotting.table2, .notation.table2, .modal.table2, .paper.table2 { background: rgb(226, 244, 255); } .table3 .blockquote, .table3 div.blockquote, .table3 blockquote, .table3 .jotting, .table3 .notation, .table3 .modal, .table3 .paper, .blockquote.table3, div.blockquote.table3, .jotting.table3, .notation.table3, .modal.table3, .paper.table3 { background: rgb(255, 245, 189); } .table4 .blockquote, .table4 div.blockquote, .table4 blockquote, .table4 .jotting, .table4 .notation, .table4 .modal, .table4 .paper, .blockquote.table4, div.blockquote.table4, .jotting.table4, .notation.table4, .modal.table4, .paper.table4 { background: rgb(255, 223, 205); } .table5 .blockquote, .table5 div.blockquote, .table5 blockquote, .table5 .jotting, .table5 .notation, .table5 .modal, .table5 .paper, .blockquote.table5, div.blockquote.table5, .jotting.table5, .notation.table5, .modal.table5, .paper.table5 { background: rgb(255, 207, 207); } .table6 .blockquote, .table6 div.blockquote, .table6 blockquote, .table6 .jotting, .table6 .notation, .table6 .modal, .table6 .paper, .blockquote.table6, div.blockquote.table6, .jotting.table6, .notation.table6, .modal.table6, .paper.table6 { background: rgb(255, 218, 255); } /* CONTENT > Tabs Base */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { background-color: inherit; background-image: inherit } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus { background: inherit; text-decoration: inherit } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover { color: inherit; background: inherit } .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav { border-color: inherit } .yui-navset li { line-height: inherit } /* CONTENT > Tabs Customization */ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav { display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus { color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li { position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a { display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em { border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em { padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected { flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em { border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a { width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active { color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content { padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /* CONTENT > WORDS NO BROKEY. CROQ HAS SPOKEY. and other things */ span, a { word-break: normal !important } .avatar-hover { display: none !important; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; } /* CONTENT > Dustjacket Assets */ .fancyhr hr { border-top: 2vw solid transparent; background-color: rgba(var(--bright-accent), 0); height: 0; box-sizing: border-box; border-image-source: url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_hr.png'); border-image-repeat: round round; background: none; border-image-slice: 80 500 80 500 fill; border-image-width: 10em 80em 10em 80em; } .fancyborder { box-sizing: border-box; border: 2vw solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5); border-image: url('https://wanderers-library.wikidot.com/local--files/component:dustjacket-theme/wl_border.png') 600 round; border-image-width: 6; padding: 2vw; } /* CONTENT > Collapsibles */ #page-content a.collapsible-block-link:hover { text-decoration: underline; color: var(--link-txt-color); } #page-content a.collapsible-block-link:not(.licensebox a.collapsible-block-link, .info-container a.collapsible-block-link, .default-col a.collapsible-block-link) { text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; color: white; padding-top: 4px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 7px; padding-right: 9px; background: rgb(var(--accent)); border-radius: 6px; margin-top: 5px; font-family: var(--ui-font); font-size: var(--base-font-size); box-shadow: inset 0px 0px 0px 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.4); transition-duration: 0.4s; display: inline-block; } #page-content a.collapsible-block-link:not(.licensebox a.collapsible-block-link, .info-container a.collapsible-block-link, .default-col a.collapsible-block-link):hover { background: rgba(var(--accent), 0.7); box-shadow: none; } /* CONTENT > ACS Adjustments */ .top-left-box>.item { display: none; } .anom-bar-container { margin-top: 1.1rem; } .anom-bar-container, .anom-bar-container * { font-family: var(--head-font), Inter, sans-serif !important; } .acs-extra-1, .acs-extra-2, .acs-extra-3, .acs-extra-4 { font-family: var(--head-font), Inter, sans-serif !important; } .anom-bar > .top-box { text-transform: none; } /* CONTENT > Woed Bar Adjustments */ div.scale div.item1>div { color: #333; font-family: var(--head-font); font-size: 1.4em; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px; line-height: unset; } div.scale div.class1>div { color: #333; font-family: var(--head-font); font-size: 2em; line-height: 0.9em; letter-spacing: 2px; } div.scale { --woedbar-class-bar-color: #333 !important; } div.scale div.obj { height: 1.7em; } div.scale div.obj>div { font-size: 1.55em; } /* MISC */ #page-content hr { height: 2px; } .bt { color: rgb(var(--accent)); font-weight: bold; } #footer { background: transparent; color: #444; margin-top: 45px; } #footer a { color: #7b7b7b; } .footer-wikiwalk-nav { font-weight: 700; font-size: 88%; word-spacing: 5px; } #page-info-break { height: 10px; } #page-options-container { border-top: solid 1px rgba(213, 213, 213, 0.5); padding-top: 1rem; } .page-watch-options { padding-bottom: 0.6rem; font-size: 77%; } .page-options-bottom { display: flex; flex-direction: row; flex-wrap: wrap; align-content: center; justify-content: center; } .page-options-bottom a { margin: 3px; color: #FFF; background: rgb(var(--accent)); padding: 5px 13px 5px 13px; text-decoration: none; font-size: 90%; border-bottom-left-radius: 4px; border-bottom-right-radius: 4px; } .page-options-bottom a:hover { background: rgba(var(--accent), 0.8); } #page-info-break { height: 6px; } #license-area { color: #5f5f5f; background: #ecf2f1; border-top: solid 2px #d9d9d9; margin-top: 10px; } #license-area a::after { content: "."; } @media (min-width: 768px) { #main-content .page-tags { padding-right: 16rem; } } #main-content div.page-tags::before { content: "tags "; color: var(--misc-txt-color); font-family: var(--head-font); font-weight: 800; font-size: var(--page-font-size); } #main-content .page-tags a { display: inline-block; height: .8125rem; margin: 0 0 .5rem .75rem; padding: .1875rem .3125rem .1875rem 0; color: #FFF; background-color: rgb(var(--accent)); border-bottom-right-radius: .25rem; border-top-right-radius: .25rem; line-height: 13px; line-height: .8125rem; font-size: calc(var(--page-font-size) - 10%); font-weight: bold; } #main-content .page-tags a::before { width: 0; height: 0; top: -.1875rem; left: -.625rem; padding: 0 .0625rem .1875rem; border-color: transparent rgb(var(--accent)) transparent transparent; border-style: solid; border-width: .5rem .5rem .5rem 0; } #main-content .page-tags a::before, #main-content .page-tags a::after { content: ""; position: relative; float: left; } #main-content .page-tags a::after { width: .25rem; height: .25rem; top: .2813rem; left: -.5rem; background-color: #FFF; border-radius: .125rem; } #main-content .page-tags span { max-width: 100%; border-top: .5rem solid transparent; } #page-tags-input { font-weight: bold; word-spacing: 8px; } #edit-page-form input.text { font-family: var(--head-font), sans-serif; font-weight: 800; font-size: 150% !important; padding: 4px; } #edit-page-form>table.form>tbody>tr>td:nth-child(1) { font-weight: bold; } .edit-help-34 { font-size: 85%; opacity: 60%; transition-duration: 0.3s; width: fit-content; } .edit-help-34:hover { opacity: 100%; } .edit-help-34 a { margin-right: 3px; margin-left: 10px; } table.edit-page-bottomtable { width: 100%; } #edit-page-comments { height: 86px; } #lock-info { background-color: transparent; margin: 0.8em; line-height: 1.7; font-size: 86%; border: none; } #lock-info::before { content: "!"; padding-right: 12px; font-weight: bold; font-size: 110%; opacity: 60%; } #lock-timer { font-size: 115%; margin: 0 5px; } #lock-timer::before { content: "⏲ "; opacity: 80%; } textarea, #edit-page-form input.text { outline: none; border: 1px solid #ccc; transition-duration: 0.3s; transition-property: box-shadow; } textarea:focus-visible, #edit-page-form input.text:focus-visible { box-shadow: 0px 0px 0px 1px #a3a3a3; border: 1px solid #a3a3a3; } #action-area>p { font-size: 85%; color: darkslategrey; } #action-area>p:nth-child(5)>a { display: block; text-align: center; font-size: 120%; font-weight: bold; } #who-rated-page-area>div { column-count: 4; } @media (max-width: 900px) { #who-rated-page-area>div { column-count: 3; } } @media (max-width: 700px) { #who-rated-page-area>div { column-count: 2; } } @media (max-width: 540px) { #who-rated-page-area>div { column-count: 1; } } #page-content .content-warning.creditRate { padding-top: 8px; padding-right: 21px; } .preview-message { right: 0em; top: 2em; border: unset; padding: 1em 1.5em; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.9); max-width: 29em; opacity: 1; z-index: 100; line-height: 1.7; filter: drop-shadow(0px 0px 4px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2)); color: #EDEDED; } .error-block { background-color: rgba(255, 0, 48, 0.1); text-align: center; border: none; border-top: solid 3px #B00; border-top-left-radius: 6px; border-top-right-radius: 6px; } table.page-history tbody tr:nth-child(2n) { background: rgba(var(--accent), 0.05); } .owindow { animation: fade 0.5s; } @keyframes fade { 0% { opacity: 0; } 100% { opacity: 1; } } .owindow .button-bar a { border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); margin: 11px; padding: 0.5em 2em; border-radius: 4px; } .owindow .button-bar a:hover { background-color: var(--link-txt-color); color: var(--link-hover-txt-color); border-radius: 0px; } .owindow .button-bar { padding: 1.2em 1em 1.2em; } .owindow .table { margin-bottom: 1.5rem; } .owindow .title { cursor: default; font-family: var(--head-font); font-weight: 800; font-size: 155%; text-align: center; padding: 0.5em 1em; border-bottom: solid 2px rgba(187, 187, 187, 0.4); background-color: #F7F7F7; } .owindow.owait .content { padding: 0.5em 0.5em 2em; background-image: none; } .owindow.owait .content::after { content: " "; display: block; width: 1.5rem; height: 1.5rem; margin: -0.9rem auto; margin-top: 1rem; animation: loading 1.2s linear infinite; border-top: 0.4rem solid grey; border-right: 0.4rem solid transparent; border-bottom: 0.4rem solid grey; border-left: 0.4rem solid transparent; border-radius: 50%; } @keyframes loading { 0% { transform: rotate(0deg); } 100% { transform: rotate(360deg); } } .owindow.osuccess { padding: 0.5em; } .owindow div.content:nth-child(2)>img:nth-child(1) { margin-right: 1.2rem; margin-top: 1rem; } .odialog-shader { background-color: #262a39; } .btn { transition-duration: 0.15s; } .btn:not(#main-content .btn, #search-top-box-form input[type="submit"]), .btn.btn-primary, div.buttons input, input.button:not(#search-top-box-form input[type="submit"]) { padding: 0.5em; margin: 11px; border-radius: 3px; font-family: var(--ui-font); cursor: pointer; } #edit-cancel-button, #edit-diff-button, #edit-preview-button, #edit-save-draft-button, #edit-save-continue-button, #edit-save-button { background: #fff; border: solid 1px #ccc; cursor: pointer; font-family: var(--ui-font); color: #333; padding: 0.5rem 14px; margin: 1px; font-size: 90%; border-radius: 3px; } #edit-cancel-button:hover, #edit-diff-button:hover, #edit-preview-button:hover, #edit-save-draft-button:hover, #edit-save-continue-button:hover, #edit-save-button:hover { background-color: #eaeaea; } #edit-save-continue-button, #edit-save-button { background: #dbffd6; transition-duration: 0.3s; color: #005a0a; } #edit-save-continue-button:hover, #edit-save-button:hover { color: #fff; background: #0d951c; } #edit-cancel-button { background: #ffe1e1; transition-duration: 0.3s; color: #c52727; } #edit-cancel-button:hover { color: #fff; background: #c5272e; } table.page-history tbody tr { color: #757575; } .fncon { font-size: var(--page-font-size) !important; line-height: 1.4; border: 2px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); } .fncon::before { font-size: var(--page-font-size) !important; } .hovertip { border: none !important; box-shadow: 0px 0px 4px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); background: #FFF; padding: 3px; max-width: 400px; } input.checkbox, .page-history input, #h-perpage { cursor: pointer; } input, textarea { font-family: var(--ui-font); } #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { font-weight: bold; font-size: 110%; font-family: var(--ui-font); } /* ---- REDUCED MOTION ACCESSIBILITY ---- */ @media (prefers-reduced-motion: reduce) { *, *::before, *::after { animation-duration: .001s !important; animation-iteration-count: 1 !important; transition-duration: .001s !important; } } /* @MEDIA */ @media (max-width: 850px) { #header h2::before { font-size: 1.4em; } } @media (max-width: 700px) { #header h2::before { font-size: 1.2em; margin-top: 0.3rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { top: 8.8rem; font-size: 90%; } } @media (max-width: 620px) { #header h2::before { font-size: 1em; margin-top: 0.15rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { top: 8.3rem; font-size: 90%; } div#header { height: 123px; } } @media (max-width: 520px) { #header h2::before { line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0.5rem; } #top-bar, #top-bar a { top: 9.3rem; } div#header { height: 145px; } } WARNING The following file has suffered a currently undetermined level of data corruption. Memetic influences detected. Proceed with Caution Item#: SCP-8770 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo Photograph of SCP-8770, taken on initial discovery. Special Containment Procedures: Satellite data is to be altered to hide the presence of SCP-8770. Ship traffic is diverted from the area via the placement of several isolated danger buoys around the perimeter and anchored to the anomaly. These are to be checked by a Foundation team on a monthly basis to ensure that their placement has not shifted. In the event that a buoy's placement has shifted, a diving team is to be dispatched and SCP-8770 is to be monitored for changes in its geometry, the buoys then adjusted accordingly to these shifts. Otherwise, the anomaly is to be left abandoned. SCP-8770 is not to be inhabited. Description: SCP-8770 is a vessel in a state of irregular structural flux, located upon the sea floor of the Atlantic Ocean at ██°██'███.█''N, -██°██'██.█''W. The exterior of the anomaly most frequently resembles that of a man-made, sunken vessel roughly 355 meters in length on average. While external changes of SCP-8770 occur at seemingly random intervals, notable or consistent shifts have included: Changes in materials that make up outer structures — metal into wood, wood into metal, instances of stone, fabric or glass. Occurrences of new walls, suggestions of the creation of addition internal rooms. Large junctions of metal beams jutting downwards towards the sea floor Indistinct railings along top portions or formed balconies Steering apparatuses resembling those found on ships of inconsistent age Nonsensical directional signs Engine structures and propellers consistent with that of motorized boats and submarines Wires Roofs and sidings resembling those of residential homes Windows resembling those of residential homes Doors resembling those of residential homes An exterior portion of SCP-8770, showing an entryway. All structures are often in states of high decay and water damage. The undersea area around SCP-8770 is almost a complete ecological dead zone, devoid of all marine life, with the exception of some corals that have grown on the structure of the anomaly. During initial analysis, it was discovered that SCP-8770 exerts a minor memetic influence on its surroundings — increasing feelings of unease and discomfort in those that are within 5 meters of its exterior. All attempts to access the interior of SCP-8770 via unmanned submersibles have resulted in the complete cessation of all technological functions upon entry. Approximately three submersibles were lost before the prospect of a manned investigation was proposed and subsequentially approved. Addendum 8770: The first four manned expeditions into SCP-8770 were undergone to determine the internal dimensions of SCP-8770's interior. Teams were instructed to remain on the outskirts, staying along the exterior wall as much as possible. Over the course of these explorations, the following was noted: Interior was notably clear of any water damage that is expected of a structure of its nature The appearances and disappearances of hallways, doors and windows at random SCP-8770's interior dimensions have been recorded differently each perimeter expedition SCP-8770's interior does not match the dimensions of its exterior, in spite of exterior shifts The fifth expedition was an attempt to discover the center of SCP-8770. Exploration Log 8770.5: Foreword: Three members of MTF Gamma-6 ("Deep Feeders") — codenamed BLACK CARPET, NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS — were deployed to find the center of SCP-8770. To determine if SCP-8770's memetic properties intensify by internal proximity, the heart rate of all present individuals were monitored and recorded. COMMAND: Gamma-6, do you read? MATAGI CARCASS: Copy that, Command. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] BLACK CARPET: Loud and clear. [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] NINGEN: We read. [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] COMMAND: Good. Proceed into SCP-8770. The team approaches the top portion of SCP-8770. This section has the appearance of the upper deck of a commercial fishing ship. There are broken posts and rotted barrels. Two paddle wheels emerge from parts of the hull, their bottom-halves seemingly fused into the rusted metal. These antiquated pieces appear out of time and place. SCP-8770 visibly stretches on for rough 30 meters in all directions, the rest of the anomaly obscured by the water’s turbidity — leaving only distant, towering silhouettes and shadows against the blue. The water is still, devoid of movement and life aside from Gamma-6 as they draw closer. Their swimming stirs bursts of dust and debris when they level with the deck. From the body cam of BLACK CARPET NINGEN: There's an opening in the floor of the hull up ahead. Should make for easy entry. MATAGI CARCASS: I see it too. The three swim to the gap in the hull. There is a ladder covered in algae and barnacles that descends into the space. The team swims inside. The interior appears like that of a standard submersible, though in the growing absence of sunlight all three members of Gamma-6 turn on their headlights. The three's respirators are the only sounds detected. NINGEN takes a roll of reflective, waterproof tape and wraps a strip around one of the rungs of the ladder. NINGEN: I'll use these to keep track of where we're going. This place is a labyrinth. BLACK CARPET: Good thinking. [She pauses] Let's hope there isn't a minotaur. There's a quiet laugh amongst the team. MATAGI CARCASS: You sure that’s gonna work, though? The interior of this place seems to shuffle around. NINGEN: Hopefully, when it shuffles, there’s a rhyme-and-reason to it. If we find our markings, they may still lead us back — especially with one right by the exit. NINGEN pats the ladder, the orange tape now fastened to the rung. BLACK CARPET: It’s also better than nothing at all. MATAGI CARCASS nods. MATAGI CARCASS: You think there's something in here they want us to find? BLACK CARPET: Since the other teams found squat on the outskirts, they wanna see if there's a center to this thing. They just wanna know if it has one, y’know? A source. Not like there's any actual traces of life around this thing, anything that's mobile seems to avoid it like the plague. MATAGI CARCASS: [She nods again] Well, that's good for us I'd reckon. NINGEN cuts the tape, and pulls away. BLACK CARPET has since pulled out a heavy duty compass. NINGEN: Alright, let's get moving. The other two nod, and follow him as he begins to swim down the corridor. The visibility is considerably low, only allowing sight roughly a meter ahead. After approximately ten seconds of swimming, a hatch is seen at the end of the hall. MATAGI CARCASS: …it's like a warship's hall in here, all untouched. NINGEN: I'll open the hatch. NINGEN goes to reach wheel handle, only for it to turn before he can grasp it. There's a loud hissing heard as NINGEN gasps through his respirator. [NINGEN'S BPM HAS RAISED] NINGEN: The hell—? The hatch wheel turns in a full circle, before the hatch itself slowly opens inwards without being touched. MATAGI CARCASS and BLACK CARPET come to a stop behind NINGEN. BLACK CARPET: …I feel a current. MATAGI CARCASS: Me too. NINGEN: Command? Door just opened itself. COMMAND: Noted. Keep going, but be on alert. Through the hatch is an open room. A living room. Several pieces of furniture are situated around the space, all facing an inactive television. A coffee table with a few coasters and an empty glass upon it. The floor is carpeted. A bookshelf is situated against the far wall. BLACK CARPET approaches it. MATAGI CARCASS: [She swims to the center of the room, and turns in a small circle] It's… not rotted. No coral, no rust — nothing. So at least it’s… consistent? NINGEN: Yet the outside looks like it's been underwater for decades. [He brushes a hand along the carpet, it stirs no debris] Hm. There is a pause of silence amongst the team. MATAGI CARCASS: You think that lamp over there would be a good place to tape? NINGEN: Yeah, I'd reckon so. NINGEN glances back at the hatch. It is still open. He swims over to a lamp that sits in the corner and begins to wind the reflective tape around it. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS STABLIZED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED] BLACK CARPET: Someone come look at this so I know my eyes aren't playing tricks on me. MATAGI CARCASS and NINGEN turn to her. NINGEN approaches. BLACK CARPET is holding one of the books from the shelf. Despite being within the water, it is undamaged and unaffected. She turns to show it to NINGEN. Random assortments of words and letters fill the pages without rhyme or reason. Some are shown to be blank when BLACK CARPET begins to page through. NINGEN: Yeah, yeah no you're seeing that right. It's all… [He traces a finger along the page] gibberish. BLACK CARPET: They're all like this. MATAGI CARCASS turns to the rest of the room. On the far side, past the couch and lamp, is the open entryway to a kitchen. She swims inside to investigate. Within is a dining table, four seats situated around it. Like the living room, the place is untouched by rot, rust or any other signs of water damage. Upon the table are placemats, plates, silverware — all organized and laid out. Empty cups. A set of cupboards line the one wall above a counter with an inlaid sink. Along the same wall rests a fridge and an oven, the wires from the fridge are spread out all over the floor. None of them seem to be live. NINGEN and BLACK CARPET enter the kitchen as well. NINGEN: It's like… everybody up and left. Table's set for dinner and everything. BLACK CARPET: Are there any actual signs of this place ever being inhabited? MATAGI CARCASS opens one of the cupboards. It is empty. She opens another. It is empty. She opens the fridge, and it too is empty. The light inside it does not turn on. MATAGI CARCASS: …I don't think so. All empty. NINGEN's respirator hisses as he exhales. NINGEN: Command? We've found an empty living room and kitchen. No sign of any past habitation or life. COMMAND: Affirmative. Are there any other paths? BLACK CARPET is experimentally turning the knobs on the oven. The one burner begins to glow a soft red when she turns it up. Swiftly, she turns it back off — than glances over her shoulder at NINGEN. BLACK CARPET: I saw another hall past the bookshelf. NINGEN: We'll head there. COMMAND: Very well. Proceed. The team exits the kitchen as a group, and BLACK CARPET leads the way. At the end of the hall is a child's bedroom. Like the living room, its interior conditions are pristine in spite of its sunken nature. There's a small bed against the far wall, a nightstand by its side. A bureau is a few meters away, with a lamp resting upon it. Everything is untouched, undamaged, unscathed. The walls appear to be pale, but the exact color is difficult to discern due to the water. MATAGI CARCASS finds the interior of the bureau to be filled with children's clothes. Unworn. She swiftly closes the drawer to keep them from floating upwards. A teddy bear is suspended at the ceiling, back facing the floor. NINGEN swims up to retrieve it. He turns the bear in his hands to examine its front. It's face and front is covered in mold and rot. Festering, dark splotches. Bits of coral. He releases it with a hiss of his respirator. [NINGEN'S BPM HAS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED] [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM HAS RAISED] NINGEN: Jesus—! MATAGI CARCASS: NINGEN, the hell—? NINGEN: Well— fuck. Found our first trace of — of water damage inside this thing. BLACK CARPET swims over, and takes the bear. She examines it. BLACK CARPET: Sure is… this was up against the ceiling, right? NINGEN: Yeah— yeah it was. MATAGI CARCASS swims upwards and puts her hand against the ceiling. She tries to push against it, test it for any weakness or damage, but it does not give. MATAGI CARCASS: …still pretty solid up here. The ceiling itself doesn't seem to be damaged. NINGEN: …huh. I wonder why that thing's like that, then. MATAGI CARCASS: Hell if I know — but it may mean something. As MATAGI CARCASS pauses to think, BLACK CARPET turns her attention down to the bear in her hands. BLACK CARPET: I'm gonna leave this in here, we can bring it back with us on the swing back to see if it's… got anything specifically weird about it. NINGEN: Sounds good. She releases it. It floats back up to the ceiling. Its rotted face now stares down at the floor. The team quietly swims out of the room. There is a new door on the left hall. It is ajar. BLACK CARPET: Ah. NINGEN: Well, that’s the first structural shift we’ve seen while in here. BLACK CARPET: Not uncharacteristic of the anomaly, but good to note. MATAGI CARCASS: It's a way forward, is it not? There is a moment of silence, before NINGEN relays the door's appearance to COMMAND. COMMAND: Proceed deeper. NINGEN: Very well. They enter through the door after NINGEN marks the handle with tape, and begin traveling down the new hallway. Extraneous exchanges over the next hour and a half have been removed for brevity. Over the course of this time, the team passes forty-four bedrooms, eighteen kitchens, twenty-six bathrooms, and fourteen living rooms. The furniture within range wildly in time period, mixes of modern and ranging previous centuries with little consistency. Periodically, they leave indication of their path via fluorescent tape. As they progress through hallway after hallway — it is noted by the team that water damage and rust has become noticeable in places. There are holes in some walls, piping visible within. Discordant rods of metal, scattered instances of rotted wood or furniture against otherwise pristine pieces. The team stops for a brief break within the fifteenth living room, having to have opened a ship hatch to enter it. The hatch is left ajar behind them. There is a window on the far wall of the room. NINGEN shifts to check the levels of oxygen within their tanks. BLACK CARPET holds up the compass and glances at the window. It indicates that she is facing south. Theoretically, this window's placement is impossible in relation to the rest of SCP-8770. Beyond it is an expanse of water. BLACK CARPET's light illuminates off a massive tangle of wires and pipes in the distance. There are unclear silhouettes past it all that appear to be moving. The body camera footage shows only blurs. There is a faint current emanating. [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED] MATAGI CARCASS is instead examining the walls of the connecting halls, glancing around at the rooms. MATAGI CARCASS: It almost feels… deliberate. NINGEN: Deliberate? MATAGI CARCASS: It's been on my mind since the first room. This all feels like it's… like all this has been set up for something. BLACK CARPET turns away from the window. BLACK CARPET: Or someone. MATAGI CARCASS: …yeah. BLACK CARPET: Maybe it was supposed to be, but I don't think it is anymore. BLACK CARPET turns back to the window. It is gone. BLACK CARPET: Like when the landlord paints the walls to hide the wood rot. She traces the now-wall with one hand, glove sliding over the water-damaged metal and dry-wall. Flecks of rust float off into the water. NINGEN: You reckon we're… diving past those cover-ups, then? BLACK CARPET: [She nods] Peeling back the paint. MATAGI CARCASS: If we keep going, maybe we'll find what this thing truly is then. Dive past the walls, find the heart — yeah? The team nods. NINGEN informs COMMAND of the plan to continue deeper after ten minutes of rest. COMMAND: Your oxygen tanks contain enough air for roughly five more hours. Be safe. MTF Gamma-6 proceeds forward. In spots, the wall paper has entirely peeled away — revealing metal and wires, wooden planks. [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS STABLIZED] [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] 30 minutes of travel passes. At the 31st minute, MATAGI CARCASS notices that one of the rotted boards along the floor is shifting. She reaches downwards and lifts it. Under the floorboards is a fish. Wrapped in wire and cables. It is impaled on piping. No. Not impaled. There is no sharp point nor end to the pipe. It stretches onwards, as though it had wound itself through the fish. There is no way it could have been impaled. It is still alive. Its gills flutter against its twitching sides, its eye is glassy and infested. Its whole body is infested. Defunct electrical wiring weaves through its flesh and scales and holds it tight. Its fins have melted into the rotted wood. It lives here. It lives here. It loves it here. [MATAGI CARCASS’ BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] MATAGI CARCASS: Command, are you— are you seeing this? COMMAND: Affirmative. There is a pause. NINGEN: We… we should keep moving — She returns the floorboard. Returns the squirming thing to its Heaven. COMMAND: A shipwreck is a type of corpse. MATAGI CARCASS: …sounds like a plan. The team continues. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS RAISED] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS IS RAISED] The halls have widened, the team is able to swim side by side. The wallpaper is beautiful. There are flowers painted on them, little yellow ones. It is falling apart. The ceiling has raised upwards, now being roughly ten feet above the team. The team enters a massive, open room. Pillars stretch up to the ceiling. The floor is polished stone. It is like an entryway to something grand. Dancing patterns are across the walls in bright and lively colors. NINGEN: The hell's that sound? BLACK CARPET: Beats me, visibility's shit in here. MATAGI CARCASS: All the pipes, I think— I've got a stronger light, hold on. [MATAGI CARCASS unclips a heavy duty lamp from her hip, activates it and raises it.] NINGEN places another piece of tape at the doorway they came through. He stares down at the floorboards as they shift. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS RAISED] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS IS RAISED] They are able to scan and travel through the room easier with the added light. Gamma-6 begins to continue onwards. There is a loud humming in the air, vibrating the water. The walls are singing. BLACK CARPET: Watch the wires, can't tell if they're live or not. This whole place has been inconsistent with what does and doesn't have juice in it. It's safe. MATAGI CARCASS: Will do. It's a bit of a tangled mess in here. The room is expansive. Open. The team individually squeezes past a trio of pipes, brushing rust and coral into the water. NINGEN: This is starting to look more like a ship than a house. It's like if a submarine's engine room exploded. SCP-8770 is devoid of life. MATAGI CARCASS: With how much noise shit in here is making, I wonder if it is an engine room. The team maneuver past further tangles of wire and pipes. NINGEN catches a glimpse of two fish swimming and playing amongst the halls. A circular structure laid into the ceiling above rotates within a rusted steel frame. Beyond it, a large fan with metal blades spins. The volume of the structure, combined with present noises from an unknown source, drown out anything said by MTF Gamma-6. MATAGI CARCASS is seen putting a hand against the side of her head. The team eventually locates a hatch within the room, and pull it open. They enter a hallway, and a sixteenth living room. It's better here. It is quiet. It is free of the rot and the pain. It hurts less here. I'm sorry. They proceed to travel down the halls for roughly ten more minutes, finding additional bedrooms and living spaces. They are heavily damaged, and fallen pieces of furniture strewn about. A door hangs on rotted hinges. MATAGI CARCASS: Hey, NINGEN? What's the status on our tanks right now? NINGEN shifts to check. NINGEN: Four hours. MATAGI CARCASS and BLACK CARPET turn to face him. BLACK CARPET: …hmm, took about a bit over two hours to get here. I think it may be wise and play it safe here and turn back. NINGEN: [He nods] COMMAND, we're starting to get low in here — shall we turn back and leave the anomaly? Come back another day with more tanks? COMMAND: Do you know how it feels to fall apart? To rot? It hurts. It aches. I can feel the sea water eating me more and more as seconds — minutes — days — years pass by. Decades. Decades pass by. It corrodes. It burns. The cold waters do not save me. MATAGI CARCASS: Copy that, Command. We'll start to head out. The team turns to swim back the way they came. They turn the corner. They reach the end of the hall. The hatch is gone. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] NINGEN: You've gotta be fucking kidding me. NINGEN brings his hand to the wall. It is rusted metal, bits of coral are grown onto it. It is a solid, single piece. It looks as though it has not been touched in decades. Gamma-6 spends roughly 10 minutes attempting to use an underwater reciprocating saw to cut through the wall. They are unsuccessful. The saw is unable to pierce deep enough into the metal. MATAGI CARCASS: There were other halls — other paths we didn't take. Maybe something loops back around? There's gotta be another way, right? NINGEN's hands are shaking. COMMAND: What's happening? BLACK CARPET: Previous entryway has vanished. We're going to have to locate a new route back. It's going to be ok. COMMAND: Affirmative. We wish you luck, be careful team. BLACK CARPET turns to the others. BLACK CARPET: Steady breaths — we can't go burning through our oxygen. We have around 4 hours still. Let's try some of the other halls. [She gestures behind her, to the other sprawling rooms and halls.] Come inside. MATAGI CARCASS: Right, right. Yeah — [She shakes her head, and begins to swim.] Please. NINGEN keeps his hand braced on the wall for a few more moments, before exhaling and pushing off — swimming behind the other two. With the angle of the floor, they appear to be descending deeper Extraneous footage has been removed. Gamma-6 spends 30 minutes searching for an exit. They will find that it is beautiful. The doors are long sealed shut. Gamma-6 spends 2 hours searching for an exit. NINGEN: This isn't working — we aren't finding anything. Christ— I can barely see. MATAGI CARCASS: We can't just give up— we can't— BLACK CARPET: We're not giving up. Come on— There are so many rooms. They're for you. To stay. NINGEN: Don't fucking kid yourself — we're going to run out of oxygen, Avery. We're deeper than before and we have barely two hours. We're not making it. MATAGI CARCASS: Please don't say that — please — NINGEN: What do you WANT me to say?! We are lost, we are trapped, we are running out of time— BLACK CARPET braces her hand against the rotted, squirming wall. She jerks it away swiftly. Her breathing is heavy. The water is filled with dirt and debris and algae. NINGEN: What the hell is that— Don't listen for them. Don't look. It's ok. NINGEN: BLACK CARPE— AVERY? Fuck, MATAGI did you see—? MATAGI CARCASS: No— No I didn’t I don’t know where she went she was here just a moment ago— NINGEN: God— ok. Ok. Shit— NINGEN begins to swim down the long hallway, MATAGI CARCASS’ respirator hisses loudly before she follows. MATAGI CARCASS: Where are we going— NINGEN: To get the hell out of here. MATAGI CARCASS: And leave her? NINGEN: We are running out of time! We either spend it trying to find her and we all drown, or only one of us drowns. She’s smart — maybe — maybe she can find a different way. COMMAND: NINGEN, MATAGI CARCASS, the two of you need to remain calm. NINGEN: Easier said than done— MATAGI CARCASS: COMMAND, do you have any read on her? COMMAND: Heart's still beating, but we’ve lost all visual. MATAGI CARCASS goes silent. NINGEN makes a low, stressed sound. NINGEN:. …let’s just move. Come on— Do not look behind the walls. I love you. These walls love you. NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS have been swimming for ten minutes. They have entered a living room. Its furniture is overturned and water damaged. There is a lamp, it is bent. NINGEN lets out an exhale, respirator hissing loudly. He scans around the room, approaches the framed window. He tries to open it, to break it, it doesn’t give. He hangs his head. MATAGI CARCASS stares down the extending halls. When she turns to look at the third, something catches her eye. MATAGI CARCASS: Wait— is that one of our markers? NINGEN whips his head over. NINGEN: What? Is it orange—? MATAGI CARCASS: Yeah! Yeah it is, hold on. NINGEN lets out a breathless chuckle, the two of them swiftly move down the hall. Attached to a pipe next to a door is a piece of orange reflective tape, fluorescing in the light. NINGEN: Oh my god, we found one— holy shit, come on— MATAGI CARCASS glances back the way they came briefly, seeming to hesitate momentarily, before following NINGEN through the door. Further through the next series of rooms, they find another one of their previous markers. COMMAND: How’s progress, you two? MATAGI CARCASS: …looking up. We’ve found our markers. COMMAND: Good, keep following. We have the recovery vessel waiting for you up top. NINGEN’s respirator hisses with an exhale. He briefly squeezes his eyes shut, before picking up his pace While following the markers over the next fifteen minutes, the two pass through a living room. There is a lamp, it is bent. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS RAISED] [NINGEN'S BPM IS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] Stop. Stop trying to look. There is a lamp, it is bent. After the fourth time passing it, MATAGI CARCASS stops. MATAGI CARCASS: …we’ve been here before. NINGEN: What? MATAGI CARCASS: This lamp. This room. It’s the same one — we’ve… we’re going in circles. NINGEN: We can’t be. Surely we would’ve noticed the same damn halls! MATAGI CARCASS: Maybe we can test it— NINGEN makes a noise of confusion. MATAGI CARCASS shakily unclips her secondary flashlight. She turns it on, and places it on the damaged couch with the light shining up. NINGEN: …ok. Ok— alright, let’s go. The two return to following the tape markers. NINGEN is noticeably glancing and scanning the walls and floor, breathing faster paced. NINGEN: What’s our oxygen at—? MATAGI CARCASS: Little over two hours. NINGEN’s voice and swimming noticeably falters. NINGEN: God… God damnit. The two of them follow the tape through the same series of halls and rooms they have passed through four times, for the fifth time. There is a lamp, it is bent. There is a flashlight on the couch. NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS stare in silence. Just come inside. Bring your warmth. The walls miss the warmth. I miss the warmth. The walls are writhing. The wood creaks and splinters. NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS are within the living room once again. The furniture has rotted. The bent lamp lay on the floor in a pile of scrap. Twitching. Down a new hallway, one that was not there the previous loops, there is another marking of tape. NINGEN stares at it blankly. Without a word, the two remaining team members swim down the new hall, following the new set of markers. MATAGI CARCASS: …this looks like the engine room from earlier. NINGEN: It does. MATAGI CARCASS: Maybe that means something. Maybe we’re… maybe we’re— The two of them turn a corner within the room. Hanging from the ceiling, tied around rattling pipes, are hundreds of strips of fluorescent tape. The room is a dead end. NINGEN: [Muttering] No— no no no— He shakes out his head frantically, raises his hands to grip his respirator. His breathing is shaking, heavy bursts of bubbles against the vibrating water. MATAGI CARCASS is still. Her swimming has faltered, gaze cast up at the ceiling. At the strips of marking tape that seem to wave. MATAGI CARCASS: …is it mocking us? NINGEN: We don’t even know if there is an it! We could just be losing it! Lost in some fucking hellscape! We’re not getting out of here— we can’t— NINGEN swims backwards, gaze glued to the ceiling. His back and arm touch the walls. He begins to scream. MATAGI CARCASS whips around with a shout, she swims over and tries to grab him. His thrashing causes dirt and rust and algae to cloud the water. MATAGI CARCASS: COMMAND! COMMAND PLEASE— She sounds on the verge of tears. NINGEN can be heard sobbing. MATAGI CARCASS: Please do something— I don’t want to die in here— COMMAND does not respond. I am without a purpose if I am without you. I need you. I need you to come to me. Go to the shoreline. Watch the waves — they beckon for you. Slip off your shoes and step onto the sand. Get in the water. Get in the water and dive. Deep. Dive deep below and find me. Find me and come inside. Inside where it's safe. The doors will be open for you. I will be open for you. So that you may come inside. You can save me from the rot and the pain. You can bring your warmth into these halls. It's made for you. Because I love you. I miss you. MATAGI CARCASS is alone. Her breathing is labored against the respirator. Her flipper had touched the floor, and she has become embraced. There is another fish fused against the wall. Its tail and head jerking, twitching. It is safe. Happy. It turns its head to look at her as she struggles. THE FISH: It's home. MATAGI CARCASS begins to weep, for the joy is within reach. Come inside. You can reach it too. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] Please stop trying to look. COMMAND: GAMMA-6 DO ANY OF YOU COPY? They're ok. I promise. I have them. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] I won't let go. Everything is going to be ok. You can stop. … Gamma-6 never left. They couldn't have. So here they lay, twitching and writhing against the frame. This place holds and holds and it does not let go. It is lonely. How could it not be? Wires wind into flesh, pull it taught against sea-eaten metal and rotted wood. A desperate, fatal embrace. The wood melts into their wetsuits, it fuses them to these walls. Command tries to sputter out cries through broken communications, and it falls upon ears that can no longer answer. It is hungrily devoured by the water that surrounds in all its crushing power, so far and deep bellow. They lay with mouths gaping, with fingers twitching, like a fish soon to die. But no, no they will not die. Not yet. It will not let them. It wants their warmth, it wants the warmth of the living inside it once again. If that warmth comes through blood in the water, than let it be so. A house is not a home without people within. A ship is without purpose if there is no one to steer. A shipwreck is a type of corpse. The wires are in their organs now, too. It infests everything that it can, everything that it can hold. Red wires through arteries like a mockery of blood, blue wires through grey matter — holding, holding, holding. Glass of face masks crack, respirators sputter out bursts of failing air when their throats fail to produce a sound. The tanks will last them two hours more. The hull — the wall — the house creaks. Its foundation settling. The wires are in their eyes. Their skulls have melted to the metal. They are finally at peace. SCP-8770 is not to be inhabited. Last recovered image of Gamma-6. Pistanthrophobia Anthology 2024 Athazagoraphobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8770" by Dino—Draws, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8770. 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: comehome.png Author: mooseinjeans, Dino—Draws License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Image is a composite of: Filename: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/56/Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg/800px-Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg?20171204172141 Author: Waielbi License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg] Filename: https://live.staticflickr.com/5488/9256291653_e6781fc32e_b.jpg Author: Oregon State University License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/oregonstateuniversity/9256291653 Filename: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/56/Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg/800px-Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg?20171204172141 Author: Waielbi License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg] Filename: https://live.staticflickr.com/5488/9256291653_e6781fc32e_b.jpg Author: Oregon State University License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/oregonstateuniversity/9256291653 Filename: https://live.staticflickr.com/4067/5120096962_71e0ec35c3_4k.jpg Author: Joi Ito License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joi/5120096962] Filename: https://i.imgur.com/FltJOrj.png Author: Dino—Draws, SD Locke License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Image is a composite of: Name: File:Torpedo tubes of the wrecked Samuel B. Roberts DE-413 off Samar Island, Philipines.jpg Author: VIvescovo License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Torpedo_tubes_of_the_wrecked_Samuel_B._Roberts_DE-413_off_Samar_Island,_Philipines.jpg] Name: Inside the hull Author: Joi Ito License: CC BY 2.0 Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joi/5120104256/in/photostream/] Name: Some kind of exhaust pipes on submarine Author: Joi Ito License: CC BY 2.0 Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joi/5120105442]
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SCP-8770
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uncontained
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SCP-8770 is not to be inhabited. /* Foxtrot Sigma-9 Theme [2022 Wikidot Theme] By Liryn */ /* FONTS */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Lexend:wght@700;800&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=JetBrains+Mono:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Fira+Code:wght@400;700&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Sofia+Sans:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400;1,700&display=swap'); @import url('https://rsms.me/inter/inter.css'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Figtree:wght@800;900&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=IBM+Plex+Sans:ital,wght@0,400;0,500;0,600;0,700;1,400;1,500;1,600;1,700&display=swap'); /* VARIABLES */ :root { /* VARIABLES > Core */ --header-title: "SCP Foundation"; --header-subtitle: "SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT"; --logo-img: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_lightmode.svg); --darkmode-logo-img: url(https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/local--files/theme:foxtrot/fxtrt-scp_logo_darkmode.svg); --logo-opacity: 14%; --head-font: 'Sans Normalcy'; --ui-font: 'IBM Plex Sans'; --mono-font: 'JetBrains Mono', 'Fira Code', monospace; --page-font: 'Inter', 'verdana'; --base-font-size: 0.9rem; --page-font-size: 1rem; /* VARIABLES > Misc */ --header-txt-color: #333333; --subheader-txt-color: rgb(var(--accent)); --misc-txt-color: #464646; --link-txt-color: #E6283C; --link-hover-txt-color: white; /* VARIABLES > Color Accents */ --accent: var(--acc-default); --acc-default: 59, 59, 59; --acc-wyoming: 142, 0, 18; --acc-canada: var(--acc-default); --acc-poland: 87, 44, 17; --acc-slothspit: 27, 60, 133; --acc-vanguard: 0, 153, 75; --acc-threshold: 121, 113, 130; --acc-overwatch: 28, 37, 56; --acc-spc: 0, 165, 200; --acc-fishing: 67, 111, 145; --acc-nightfall: 151, 0, 2; --acc-hybrasil: 27, 60, 133; --acc-goc: 39, 84, 149; --acc-spooky: 252, 112, 40; /* VARIABLES > BetterFootnotes */ --fnColor: var(--link-txt-color); --fnLinger: 1s; } /* VARIABLES > Info Bar */ .info-container { --barColour: rgb(var(--accent)); --linkColour: #EDEDED; } /* MAIN */ html { scroll-behavior: smooth; overflow-x: hidden; } body { font-family: var(--ui-font), sans-serif; font-size: var(--base-font-size); color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-image: linear-gradient(to bottom, #e0e0e0, #fff 200px); text-rendering: optimizeLegibility; overflow-wrap: break-word; } div#container-wrap { background: none; } #content-wrap { margin: 2em auto 0; } #page-content { font-family: var(--page-font), var(--ui-font), sans-serif; font-size: var(--page-font-size); font-weight: 440; } #page-content strong { font-weight: 700; } tt, .page-source, pre, #edit-page-textarea { font-family: var(--mono-font); } ol li { margin: 0 0 1em; } ul { margin: 1em 0; } li, p { line-height: 1.5; text-underline-offset: 40%; } ::selection { background: rgb(var(--accent)); color: #fff; } /* Clicky links */ a, a.newpage, a:visited, #side-bar a:visited { color: var(--link-txt-color); } a:hover, a.newpage:hover, a:visited:hover, #side-bar a:visited:hover { color: var(--link-hover-txt-color); text-decoration: none; background-color: var(--link-txt-color); } a { transition-duration: 0.1s; } /* patch for sidebar media, collapsibles, ACS, info button and ayers module so link doesn't override */ #page-content .collapsible-block-folded a:hover, #page-content .collapsible-block-unfolded-link a:hover, #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover, #side-bar .side-block.media a:hover, .danger-diamond a:hover { background: transparent; } .info-container .collapsible-block-folded .collapsible-block-link, .info-container .collapsible-block-link { background: var(--linkColour) !important; } /* MAIN > Header */ div#header { background: none; height: 160px; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none; } #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: var(--header-txt-color); letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: var(--head-font), sans-serif !important; font-weight: 900; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 { margin-top: -0.3rem; } #header h1 a { width: fit-content; margin: auto; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title); font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle); font-family: var(--ui-font) !important; font-weight: 700; font-size: 1.4em; color: var(--misc-txt-color); line-height: 26px; margin-top: 0.35rem; display: block; text-transform: uppercase; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none; } div#extra-div-1 { height: 160px; width: 100%; top: 7px; position: absolute; background: var(--logo-img) 10px 30px no-repeat; background-size: 130px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-position: 50% 50%; z-index: -1; opacity: var(--logo-opacity); } /* MAIN > Header > Search Box */ #search-top-box-form>input[type=text] { display: none; } #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: none; background: rgb(var(--accent)); box-shadow: none; border-radius: 5px !important; color: #efefef; font-family: var(--ui-font); font-size: calc(var(--page-font-size) - 10%); } #search-top-box input.empty { color: #999999; } #search-top-box { position: absolute; top: 47px; width: unset; } /* MAIN > Header > Top Bar */ #top-bar, #top-bar a { top: 10rem; } #header #top-bar ul { border-radius: 10px; border: none; background: rgb(var(--accent)); padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; } #header #top-bar a { color: white; background: rgb(var(--accent)); font-weight: bold; } #header #top-bar ul li ul { padding: 0px; border-radius: 0px; } #top-bar ul li.sfhover a, #top-bar ul li:hover a { border-left: solid 1px #FFF; border-right: solid 1px #FFF; } #top-bar ul li ul li a:hover { color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.83) !important; line-height: 230%; text-indent: 3px; } #top-bar { display: flex; justify-content: center; right: 0; } .mobile-top-bar { left: unset; } /* MAIN > Header > Login Info */ #login-status { top: 19px; } #login-status, #login-status a { color: #333333; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header .printuser { font-size: 0; } } .printuser a { margin: 0; } .printuser img.small { width: 18px; height: 18px; padding: 1px 4px 0 0; background-image: none !important; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #header .printuser img.small { transform: translate(0, 4px); } } #my-account { display: none; } @media (max-width: 767px) { #account-topbutton { margin: 0 0 0 5px; } } /* MAIN > Header > Side Bar */ #top-bar .open-menu a { border-radius: 0px; border: none; background: rgb(var(--accent)); color: white; } #side-bar { background: #FFF; } @media (min-width: 768px) { #side-bar { padding: 0.3em 0.6em 0 0.6em; width: 18.75em; transition: left 0.2s ease-in-out; direction: rtl; text-align: left; border-right: none; } } #side-bar .side-block, #side-bar .side-block.resources, #side-bar .side-block.media, #interwiki .side-block { border: 2px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); border-radius: 0px; box-shadow: none; margin-bottom: 6px; direction: ltr; background: transparent; } #side-bar .side-block.resources { text-align: center; } #side-bar .heading { color: var(--misc-txt-color); border-bottom: solid 2px #cfcfcf; font-size: 9pt; font-family: var(--head-font); font-weight: 800; text-transform: uppercase; } /* CONTENT */ /* CONTENT > Blockquotes, Custom Divs */ .blockquote, div.blockquote, blockquote { border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15); background: #f7f7f7; } .jotting { padding: 1.3em; margin: 1em 4.5em; border: dashed 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); background: #f7f7f7; } .notation { padding: 1em 1.5em; margin: 1em 3em; border-left: solid 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.35); border-right: solid 3px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.35); background: #f7f7f7; } .modal { padding: 1.2em; margin: 1em 3em; border: solid 5px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15); background: #fbfbfb; } .quote { padding: 0.4em 2em; margin: 3em auto; border-left: solid 3px #bbb; max-width: 500px !important; } .paper { padding: 1.5em; margin: 2em; background: #FFF; box-shadow: 0px 4px 9px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); } .box { padding: 1px 9px; border: solid 3px #bbb; margin: 0.5em 1em; } div.note { font-size: unset; border: 2px solid #afafaf; background-color: #fff; } .round { border-radius: 10px; } /* CONTENT > Headings, Titles */ #page-title, .meta-title { font-family: var(--ui-font), sans-serif; font-weight: 800; color: #3b3b3b; border-bottom: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); width: fit-content; margin: 0 auto 1.5rem; } #page-title, .meta-title, #breadcrumbs, .pseudocrumbs { text-align: center; } h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { font-family: var(--head-font), sans-serif; font-weight: 800; color: #3b3b3b; } h1, h2 { font-weight: 800; } .footnotes-footer .title { font-family: var(--head-font), sans-serif; color: #3b3b3b; font-weight: 800; } /* CONTENT > Rate Module */ #page-content .creditRate { margin: unset; font-family: var(--ui-font); float: unset !important; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button { background-color: #fff; border: solid 1px #bbb; box-shadow: none; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info { border: none; color: #333; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .fa-info:hover { background: #333; color: #fff; } .rate-box-with-credit-button .cancel { border: solid 1px #fff; } .page-rate-widget-box { box-shadow: none; border: solid 1px #bbb; margin: unset; margin-bottom: 4px; border-radius: 0; font-family: var(--ui-font); } .page-rate-widget-box .rate-points { background-color: #fff !important; color: #333 !important; border: none !important; border-radius: 0; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown { background-color: #fff; border-top: none; border-bottom: none; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a { background: transparent; color: #333; } .page-rate-widget-box .rateup a:hover, .page-rate-widget-box .ratedown a:hover { background: #333; color: #fff; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel { background: #fff; border: none; border-radius: 0; display: inline-block; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a { color: #333; } .page-rate-widget-box .cancel a:hover { background: #333; color: #fff; border-radius: 0; } #page-content .rate-box-with-credit-button .page-rate-widget-box { border: none; } /* CONTENT > Rate Module > Author Label */ .authorlink-wrapper { --author-top-adjust: 0; --author-bottom-adjust: 0; --author-right-adjust: 0; font-family: var(--ui-font); font-size: var(--base-font-size); } /* CONTENT > Side Box */ .anchor { position: sticky; height: 0; top: 0; } .sidebox { padding: .14rem; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 8px; width: calc((100vw - 870px)/2); max-height: calc(100vh - 18rem); position: absolute; top: 0; left: 103.5%; z-index: 5; overflow: auto; box-sizing: border-box; } @media (max-width: 1290px) { .sidebox { display: none; visibility: hidden; } } /* CONTENT > Image Block */ .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #f4f4f4; color: #3b3b3b; border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); margin-top: 10px; box-sizing: border-box; border-radius: 5px; } .scp-image-block { border: none; box-shadow: none; } .scp-image-block img { border: solid 2px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); box-sizing: border-box; } .imagediv { float: right; margin: 15px } @media (max-width: 540px) { .imagediv { float: unset; text-align: center; margin: 1.3rem auto 1.3rem auto; } } @media only screen and (max-width: 600px) { .scp-image-block.block-right { float: none; margin: 10px auto; } } /* CONTENT > Tables Base */ #page-content tr th { padding: 6px; border: 2px solid rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); } #page-content tr td { padding: 12px; border: 2px solid #bfbfbf; line-height: 1.4; } #page-content .sidebox tr td, #page-content .sidebox tr th { padding: 0.35em; } /* CONTENT > Tables Customization (Table Coloring System) */ /* CONTENT > Tables Customization (Table Coloring System) > Table Headings, Image Captions */ #page-content .table1 tr th, #page-content .table1 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #E0FFD4; } #page-content .table2 tr th, #page-content .table2 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #D8ECF4; } #page-content .table3 tr th, #page-content .table3 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FDF6D7; } #page-content .table4 tr th, #page-content .table4 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFDFCD; } #page-content .table5 tr th, #page-content .table5 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: #FFCFCF; } #page-content .table6 tr th, #page-content .table6 .scp-image-block .scp-image-caption { background-color: rgba(146, 0, 255, 0.2); } .tableb .wiki-content-table { border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; } /* CONTENT > Tables Customization (Table Coloring System) > Other Colored Divs */ .table1 .blockquote, .table1 div.blockquote, .table1 blockquote, .table1 .jotting, .table1 .notation, .table1 .modal, .table1 .paper, .blockquote.table1, div.blockquote.table1, .jotting.table1, .notation.table1, .modal.table1, .paper.table1 { background: rgb(224, 255, 212); } .table2 .blockquote, .table2 div.blockquote, .table2 blockquote, .table2 .jotting, .table2 .notation, .table2 .modal, .table2 .paper, .blockquote.table2, div.blockquote.table2, .jotting.table2, .notation.table2, .modal.table2, .paper.table2 { background: rgb(226, 244, 255); } .table3 .blockquote, .table3 div.blockquote, .table3 blockquote, .table3 .jotting, .table3 .notation, .table3 .modal, .table3 .paper, .blockquote.table3, div.blockquote.table3, .jotting.table3, .notation.table3, .modal.table3, .paper.table3 { background: rgb(255, 245, 189); } .table4 .blockquote, .table4 div.blockquote, .table4 blockquote, .table4 .jotting, .table4 .notation, .table4 .modal, .table4 .paper, .blockquote.table4, div.blockquote.table4, .jotting.table4, .notation.table4, .modal.table4, .paper.table4 { background: rgb(255, 223, 205); } .table5 .blockquote, .table5 div.blockquote, .table5 blockquote, .table5 .jotting, .table5 .notation, .table5 .modal, .table5 .paper, .blockquote.table5, div.blockquote.table5, .jotting.table5, .notation.table5, .modal.table5, .paper.table5 { background: rgb(255, 207, 207); } .table6 .blockquote, .table6 div.blockquote, .table6 blockquote, .table6 .jotting, .table6 .notation, .table6 .modal, .table6 .paper, .blockquote.table6, div.blockquote.table6, .jotting.table6, .notation.table6, .modal.table6, .paper.table6 { background: rgb(255, 218, 255); } /* CONTENT > Tabs Base */ .yui-navset .yui-nav a, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { background-color: inherit; background-image: inherit } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus { background: inherit; text-decoration: inherit } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:hover { color: inherit; background: inherit } .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav { border-color: inherit } .yui-navset li { line-height: inherit } /* CONTENT > Tabs Customization */ .yui-navset .yui-nav, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav { display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; width: calc(100% - .125rem); margin: 0 auto; border-color: #333333; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a, /* ---- Link Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a { color: #333333; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [UNSELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #efefef; border: unset; box-shadow: none; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a:hover, .yui-navset .yui-nav a:focus { color: #ffffff; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [HOVER] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li, /* ---- Listitem Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li { position: relative; display: flex; flex-grow: 2; max-width: 100%; margin: 0; padding: 0; color: #ffffff; background-color: #ffffff; border-color: transparent; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-top .yui-nav li a, .yui-navset-bottom .yui-nav li a { display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; width: 100%; } .yui-navset .yui-nav li em { border: unset; } .yui-navset .yui-nav a em, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav a em { padding: .35em .75em; text-overflow: ellipsis; overflow: hidden; white-space: nowrap; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected, /* ---- Selection Modifier ---- */ .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-nav .selected { flex-grow: 2; margin: 0; padding: 0; /* ---- Tab Background Colour | [SELECTED] ---- */ background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a em { border: none; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a { width: 100%; color: #ffffff; } .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:focus, .yui-navset .yui-nav .selected a:active { color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333; } .yui-navset .yui-content { background-color: #ffffff; box-shadow: none; } .yui-navset .yui-content, .yui-navset .yui-navset-top .yui-content { padding: .5em; border: 1px solid #333; box-sizing: border-box; } /* CONTENT > WORDS NO BROKEY. 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Memetic influences detected. Proceed with Caution Item#: SCP-8770 Level3 Secondary Class: uncontained Disruption Class: keneq Risk Class: warning link to memo Photograph of SCP-8770, taken on initial discovery. Special Containment Procedures: Satellite data is to be altered to hide the presence of SCP-8770. Ship traffic is diverted from the area via the placement of several isolated danger buoys around the perimeter and anchored to the anomaly. These are to be checked by a Foundation team on a monthly basis to ensure that their placement has not shifted. In the event that a buoy's placement has shifted, a diving team is to be dispatched and SCP-8770 is to be monitored for changes in its geometry, the buoys then adjusted accordingly to these shifts. Otherwise, the anomaly is to be left abandoned. SCP-8770 is not to be inhabited. Description: SCP-8770 is a vessel in a state of irregular structural flux, located upon the sea floor of the Atlantic Ocean at ██°██'███.█''N, -██°██'██.█''W. The exterior of the anomaly most frequently resembles that of a man-made, sunken vessel roughly 355 meters in length on average. While external changes of SCP-8770 occur at seemingly random intervals, notable or consistent shifts have included: Changes in materials that make up outer structures — metal into wood, wood into metal, instances of stone, fabric or glass. Occurrences of new walls, suggestions of the creation of addition internal rooms. Large junctions of metal beams jutting downwards towards the sea floor Indistinct railings along top portions or formed balconies Steering apparatuses resembling those found on ships of inconsistent age Nonsensical directional signs Engine structures and propellers consistent with that of motorized boats and submarines Wires Roofs and sidings resembling those of residential homes Windows resembling those of residential homes Doors resembling those of residential homes An exterior portion of SCP-8770, showing an entryway. All structures are often in states of high decay and water damage. The undersea area around SCP-8770 is almost a complete ecological dead zone, devoid of all marine life, with the exception of some corals that have grown on the structure of the anomaly. During initial analysis, it was discovered that SCP-8770 exerts a minor memetic influence on its surroundings — increasing feelings of unease and discomfort in those that are within 5 meters of its exterior. All attempts to access the interior of SCP-8770 via unmanned submersibles have resulted in the complete cessation of all technological functions upon entry. Approximately three submersibles were lost before the prospect of a manned investigation was proposed and subsequentially approved. Addendum 8770: The first four manned expeditions into SCP-8770 were undergone to determine the internal dimensions of SCP-8770's interior. Teams were instructed to remain on the outskirts, staying along the exterior wall as much as possible. Over the course of these explorations, the following was noted: Interior was notably clear of any water damage that is expected of a structure of its nature The appearances and disappearances of hallways, doors and windows at random SCP-8770's interior dimensions have been recorded differently each perimeter expedition SCP-8770's interior does not match the dimensions of its exterior, in spite of exterior shifts The fifth expedition was an attempt to discover the center of SCP-8770. Exploration Log 8770.5: Foreword: Three members of MTF Gamma-6 ("Deep Feeders") — codenamed BLACK CARPET, NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS — were deployed to find the center of SCP-8770. To determine if SCP-8770's memetic properties intensify by internal proximity, the heart rate of all present individuals were monitored and recorded. COMMAND: Gamma-6, do you read? MATAGI CARCASS: Copy that, Command. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] BLACK CARPET: Loud and clear. [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] NINGEN: We read. [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] COMMAND: Good. Proceed into SCP-8770. The team approaches the top portion of SCP-8770. This section has the appearance of the upper deck of a commercial fishing ship. There are broken posts and rotted barrels. Two paddle wheels emerge from parts of the hull, their bottom-halves seemingly fused into the rusted metal. These antiquated pieces appear out of time and place. SCP-8770 visibly stretches on for rough 30 meters in all directions, the rest of the anomaly obscured by the water’s turbidity — leaving only distant, towering silhouettes and shadows against the blue. The water is still, devoid of movement and life aside from Gamma-6 as they draw closer. Their swimming stirs bursts of dust and debris when they level with the deck. From the body cam of BLACK CARPET NINGEN: There's an opening in the floor of the hull up ahead. Should make for easy entry. MATAGI CARCASS: I see it too. The three swim to the gap in the hull. There is a ladder covered in algae and barnacles that descends into the space. The team swims inside. The interior appears like that of a standard submersible, though in the growing absence of sunlight all three members of Gamma-6 turn on their headlights. The three's respirators are the only sounds detected. NINGEN takes a roll of reflective, waterproof tape and wraps a strip around one of the rungs of the ladder. NINGEN: I'll use these to keep track of where we're going. This place is a labyrinth. BLACK CARPET: Good thinking. [She pauses] Let's hope there isn't a minotaur. There's a quiet laugh amongst the team. MATAGI CARCASS: You sure that’s gonna work, though? The interior of this place seems to shuffle around. NINGEN: Hopefully, when it shuffles, there’s a rhyme-and-reason to it. If we find our markings, they may still lead us back — especially with one right by the exit. NINGEN pats the ladder, the orange tape now fastened to the rung. BLACK CARPET: It’s also better than nothing at all. MATAGI CARCASS nods. MATAGI CARCASS: You think there's something in here they want us to find? BLACK CARPET: Since the other teams found squat on the outskirts, they wanna see if there's a center to this thing. They just wanna know if it has one, y’know? A source. Not like there's any actual traces of life around this thing, anything that's mobile seems to avoid it like the plague. MATAGI CARCASS: [She nods again] Well, that's good for us I'd reckon. NINGEN cuts the tape, and pulls away. BLACK CARPET has since pulled out a heavy duty compass. NINGEN: Alright, let's get moving. The other two nod, and follow him as he begins to swim down the corridor. The visibility is considerably low, only allowing sight roughly a meter ahead. After approximately ten seconds of swimming, a hatch is seen at the end of the hall. MATAGI CARCASS: …it's like a warship's hall in here, all untouched. NINGEN: I'll open the hatch. NINGEN goes to reach wheel handle, only for it to turn before he can grasp it. There's a loud hissing heard as NINGEN gasps through his respirator. [NINGEN'S BPM HAS RAISED] NINGEN: The hell—? The hatch wheel turns in a full circle, before the hatch itself slowly opens inwards without being touched. MATAGI CARCASS and BLACK CARPET come to a stop behind NINGEN. BLACK CARPET: …I feel a current. MATAGI CARCASS: Me too. NINGEN: Command? Door just opened itself. COMMAND: Noted. Keep going, but be on alert. Through the hatch is an open room. A living room. Several pieces of furniture are situated around the space, all facing an inactive television. A coffee table with a few coasters and an empty glass upon it. The floor is carpeted. A bookshelf is situated against the far wall. BLACK CARPET approaches it. MATAGI CARCASS: [She swims to the center of the room, and turns in a small circle] It's… not rotted. No coral, no rust — nothing. So at least it’s… consistent? NINGEN: Yet the outside looks like it's been underwater for decades. [He brushes a hand along the carpet, it stirs no debris] Hm. There is a pause of silence amongst the team. MATAGI CARCASS: You think that lamp over there would be a good place to tape? NINGEN: Yeah, I'd reckon so. NINGEN glances back at the hatch. It is still open. He swims over to a lamp that sits in the corner and begins to wind the reflective tape around it. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS STABLIZED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED] BLACK CARPET: Someone come look at this so I know my eyes aren't playing tricks on me. MATAGI CARCASS and NINGEN turn to her. NINGEN approaches. BLACK CARPET is holding one of the books from the shelf. Despite being within the water, it is undamaged and unaffected. She turns to show it to NINGEN. Random assortments of words and letters fill the pages without rhyme or reason. Some are shown to be blank when BLACK CARPET begins to page through. NINGEN: Yeah, yeah no you're seeing that right. It's all… [He traces a finger along the page] gibberish. BLACK CARPET: They're all like this. MATAGI CARCASS turns to the rest of the room. On the far side, past the couch and lamp, is the open entryway to a kitchen. She swims inside to investigate. Within is a dining table, four seats situated around it. Like the living room, the place is untouched by rot, rust or any other signs of water damage. Upon the table are placemats, plates, silverware — all organized and laid out. Empty cups. A set of cupboards line the one wall above a counter with an inlaid sink. Along the same wall rests a fridge and an oven, the wires from the fridge are spread out all over the floor. None of them seem to be live. NINGEN and BLACK CARPET enter the kitchen as well. NINGEN: It's like… everybody up and left. Table's set for dinner and everything. BLACK CARPET: Are there any actual signs of this place ever being inhabited? MATAGI CARCASS opens one of the cupboards. It is empty. She opens another. It is empty. She opens the fridge, and it too is empty. The light inside it does not turn on. MATAGI CARCASS: …I don't think so. All empty. NINGEN's respirator hisses as he exhales. NINGEN: Command? We've found an empty living room and kitchen. No sign of any past habitation or life. COMMAND: Affirmative. Are there any other paths? BLACK CARPET is experimentally turning the knobs on the oven. The one burner begins to glow a soft red when she turns it up. Swiftly, she turns it back off — than glances over her shoulder at NINGEN. BLACK CARPET: I saw another hall past the bookshelf. NINGEN: We'll head there. COMMAND: Very well. Proceed. The team exits the kitchen as a group, and BLACK CARPET leads the way. At the end of the hall is a child's bedroom. Like the living room, its interior conditions are pristine in spite of its sunken nature. There's a small bed against the far wall, a nightstand by its side. A bureau is a few meters away, with a lamp resting upon it. Everything is untouched, undamaged, unscathed. The walls appear to be pale, but the exact color is difficult to discern due to the water. MATAGI CARCASS finds the interior of the bureau to be filled with children's clothes. Unworn. She swiftly closes the drawer to keep them from floating upwards. A teddy bear is suspended at the ceiling, back facing the floor. NINGEN swims up to retrieve it. He turns the bear in his hands to examine its front. It's face and front is covered in mold and rot. Festering, dark splotches. Bits of coral. He releases it with a hiss of his respirator. [NINGEN'S BPM HAS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED] [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM HAS RAISED] NINGEN: Jesus—! MATAGI CARCASS: NINGEN, the hell—? NINGEN: Well— fuck. Found our first trace of — of water damage inside this thing. BLACK CARPET swims over, and takes the bear. She examines it. BLACK CARPET: Sure is… this was up against the ceiling, right? NINGEN: Yeah— yeah it was. MATAGI CARCASS swims upwards and puts her hand against the ceiling. She tries to push against it, test it for any weakness or damage, but it does not give. MATAGI CARCASS: …still pretty solid up here. The ceiling itself doesn't seem to be damaged. NINGEN: …huh. I wonder why that thing's like that, then. MATAGI CARCASS: Hell if I know — but it may mean something. As MATAGI CARCASS pauses to think, BLACK CARPET turns her attention down to the bear in her hands. BLACK CARPET: I'm gonna leave this in here, we can bring it back with us on the swing back to see if it's… got anything specifically weird about it. NINGEN: Sounds good. She releases it. It floats back up to the ceiling. Its rotted face now stares down at the floor. The team quietly swims out of the room. There is a new door on the left hall. It is ajar. BLACK CARPET: Ah. NINGEN: Well, that’s the first structural shift we’ve seen while in here. BLACK CARPET: Not uncharacteristic of the anomaly, but good to note. MATAGI CARCASS: It's a way forward, is it not? There is a moment of silence, before NINGEN relays the door's appearance to COMMAND. COMMAND: Proceed deeper. NINGEN: Very well. They enter through the door after NINGEN marks the handle with tape, and begin traveling down the new hallway. Extraneous exchanges over the next hour and a half have been removed for brevity. Over the course of this time, the team passes forty-four bedrooms, eighteen kitchens, twenty-six bathrooms, and fourteen living rooms. The furniture within range wildly in time period, mixes of modern and ranging previous centuries with little consistency. Periodically, they leave indication of their path via fluorescent tape. As they progress through hallway after hallway — it is noted by the team that water damage and rust has become noticeable in places. There are holes in some walls, piping visible within. Discordant rods of metal, scattered instances of rotted wood or furniture against otherwise pristine pieces. The team stops for a brief break within the fifteenth living room, having to have opened a ship hatch to enter it. The hatch is left ajar behind them. There is a window on the far wall of the room. NINGEN shifts to check the levels of oxygen within their tanks. BLACK CARPET holds up the compass and glances at the window. It indicates that she is facing south. Theoretically, this window's placement is impossible in relation to the rest of SCP-8770. Beyond it is an expanse of water. BLACK CARPET's light illuminates off a massive tangle of wires and pipes in the distance. There are unclear silhouettes past it all that appear to be moving. The body camera footage shows only blurs. There is a faint current emanating. [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED] MATAGI CARCASS is instead examining the walls of the connecting halls, glancing around at the rooms. MATAGI CARCASS: It almost feels… deliberate. NINGEN: Deliberate? MATAGI CARCASS: It's been on my mind since the first room. This all feels like it's… like all this has been set up for something. BLACK CARPET turns away from the window. BLACK CARPET: Or someone. MATAGI CARCASS: …yeah. BLACK CARPET: Maybe it was supposed to be, but I don't think it is anymore. BLACK CARPET turns back to the window. It is gone. BLACK CARPET: Like when the landlord paints the walls to hide the wood rot. She traces the now-wall with one hand, glove sliding over the water-damaged metal and dry-wall. Flecks of rust float off into the water. NINGEN: You reckon we're… diving past those cover-ups, then? BLACK CARPET: [She nods] Peeling back the paint. MATAGI CARCASS: If we keep going, maybe we'll find what this thing truly is then. Dive past the walls, find the heart — yeah? The team nods. NINGEN informs COMMAND of the plan to continue deeper after ten minutes of rest. COMMAND: Your oxygen tanks contain enough air for roughly five more hours. Be safe. MTF Gamma-6 proceeds forward. In spots, the wall paper has entirely peeled away — revealing metal and wires, wooden planks. [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS STABLIZED] [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] 30 minutes of travel passes. At the 31st minute, MATAGI CARCASS notices that one of the rotted boards along the floor is shifting. She reaches downwards and lifts it. Under the floorboards is a fish. Wrapped in wire and cables. It is impaled on piping. No. Not impaled. There is no sharp point nor end to the pipe. It stretches onwards, as though it had wound itself through the fish. There is no way it could have been impaled. It is still alive. Its gills flutter against its twitching sides, its eye is glassy and infested. Its whole body is infested. Defunct electrical wiring weaves through its flesh and scales and holds it tight. Its fins have melted into the rotted wood. It lives here. It lives here. It loves it here. [MATAGI CARCASS’ BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] MATAGI CARCASS: Command, are you— are you seeing this? COMMAND: Affirmative. There is a pause. NINGEN: We… we should keep moving — She returns the floorboard. Returns the squirming thing to its Heaven. COMMAND: A shipwreck is a type of corpse. MATAGI CARCASS: …sounds like a plan. The team continues. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS RAISED] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS IS RAISED] The halls have widened, the team is able to swim side by side. The wallpaper is beautiful. There are flowers painted on them, little yellow ones. It is falling apart. The ceiling has raised upwards, now being roughly ten feet above the team. The team enters a massive, open room. Pillars stretch up to the ceiling. The floor is polished stone. It is like an entryway to something grand. Dancing patterns are across the walls in bright and lively colors. NINGEN: The hell's that sound? BLACK CARPET: Beats me, visibility's shit in here. MATAGI CARCASS: All the pipes, I think— I've got a stronger light, hold on. [MATAGI CARCASS unclips a heavy duty lamp from her hip, activates it and raises it.] NINGEN places another piece of tape at the doorway they came through. He stares down at the floorboards as they shift. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS RAISED] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS IS RAISED] They are able to scan and travel through the room easier with the added light. Gamma-6 begins to continue onwards. There is a loud humming in the air, vibrating the water. The walls are singing. BLACK CARPET: Watch the wires, can't tell if they're live or not. This whole place has been inconsistent with what does and doesn't have juice in it. It's safe. MATAGI CARCASS: Will do. It's a bit of a tangled mess in here. The room is expansive. Open. The team individually squeezes past a trio of pipes, brushing rust and coral into the water. NINGEN: This is starting to look more like a ship than a house. It's like if a submarine's engine room exploded. SCP-8770 is devoid of life. MATAGI CARCASS: With how much noise shit in here is making, I wonder if it is an engine room. The team maneuver past further tangles of wire and pipes. NINGEN catches a glimpse of two fish swimming and playing amongst the halls. A circular structure laid into the ceiling above rotates within a rusted steel frame. Beyond it, a large fan with metal blades spins. The volume of the structure, combined with present noises from an unknown source, drown out anything said by MTF Gamma-6. MATAGI CARCASS is seen putting a hand against the side of her head. The team eventually locates a hatch within the room, and pull it open. They enter a hallway, and a sixteenth living room. It's better here. It is quiet. It is free of the rot and the pain. It hurts less here. I'm sorry. They proceed to travel down the halls for roughly ten more minutes, finding additional bedrooms and living spaces. They are heavily damaged, and fallen pieces of furniture strewn about. A door hangs on rotted hinges. MATAGI CARCASS: Hey, NINGEN? What's the status on our tanks right now? NINGEN shifts to check. NINGEN: Four hours. MATAGI CARCASS and BLACK CARPET turn to face him. BLACK CARPET: …hmm, took about a bit over two hours to get here. I think it may be wise and play it safe here and turn back. NINGEN: [He nods] COMMAND, we're starting to get low in here — shall we turn back and leave the anomaly? Come back another day with more tanks? COMMAND: Do you know how it feels to fall apart? To rot? It hurts. It aches. I can feel the sea water eating me more and more as seconds — minutes — days — years pass by. Decades. Decades pass by. It corrodes. It burns. The cold waters do not save me. MATAGI CARCASS: Copy that, Command. We'll start to head out. The team turns to swim back the way they came. They turn the corner. They reach the end of the hall. The hatch is gone. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] [NINGEN'S BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] NINGEN: You've gotta be fucking kidding me. NINGEN brings his hand to the wall. It is rusted metal, bits of coral are grown onto it. It is a solid, single piece. It looks as though it has not been touched in decades. Gamma-6 spends roughly 10 minutes attempting to use an underwater reciprocating saw to cut through the wall. They are unsuccessful. The saw is unable to pierce deep enough into the metal. MATAGI CARCASS: There were other halls — other paths we didn't take. Maybe something loops back around? There's gotta be another way, right? NINGEN's hands are shaking. COMMAND: What's happening? BLACK CARPET: Previous entryway has vanished. We're going to have to locate a new route back. It's going to be ok. COMMAND: Affirmative. We wish you luck, be careful team. BLACK CARPET turns to the others. BLACK CARPET: Steady breaths — we can't go burning through our oxygen. We have around 4 hours still. Let's try some of the other halls. [She gestures behind her, to the other sprawling rooms and halls.] Come inside. MATAGI CARCASS: Right, right. Yeah — [She shakes her head, and begins to swim.] Please. NINGEN keeps his hand braced on the wall for a few more moments, before exhaling and pushing off — swimming behind the other two. With the angle of the floor, they appear to be descending deeper Extraneous footage has been removed. Gamma-6 spends 30 minutes searching for an exit. They will find that it is beautiful. The doors are long sealed shut. Gamma-6 spends 2 hours searching for an exit. NINGEN: This isn't working — we aren't finding anything. Christ— I can barely see. MATAGI CARCASS: We can't just give up— we can't— BLACK CARPET: We're not giving up. Come on— There are so many rooms. They're for you. To stay. NINGEN: Don't fucking kid yourself — we're going to run out of oxygen, Avery. We're deeper than before and we have barely two hours. We're not making it. MATAGI CARCASS: Please don't say that — please — NINGEN: What do you WANT me to say?! We are lost, we are trapped, we are running out of time— BLACK CARPET braces her hand against the rotted, squirming wall. She jerks it away swiftly. Her breathing is heavy. The water is filled with dirt and debris and algae. NINGEN: What the hell is that— Don't listen for them. Don't look. It's ok. NINGEN: BLACK CARPE— AVERY? Fuck, MATAGI did you see—? MATAGI CARCASS: No— No I didn’t I don’t know where she went she was here just a moment ago— NINGEN: God— ok. Ok. Shit— NINGEN begins to swim down the long hallway, MATAGI CARCASS’ respirator hisses loudly before she follows. MATAGI CARCASS: Where are we going— NINGEN: To get the hell out of here. MATAGI CARCASS: And leave her? NINGEN: We are running out of time! We either spend it trying to find her and we all drown, or only one of us drowns. She’s smart — maybe — maybe she can find a different way. COMMAND: NINGEN, MATAGI CARCASS, the two of you need to remain calm. NINGEN: Easier said than done— MATAGI CARCASS: COMMAND, do you have any read on her? COMMAND: Heart's still beating, but we’ve lost all visual. MATAGI CARCASS goes silent. NINGEN makes a low, stressed sound. NINGEN:. …let’s just move. Come on— Do not look behind the walls. I love you. These walls love you. NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS have been swimming for ten minutes. They have entered a living room. Its furniture is overturned and water damaged. There is a lamp, it is bent. NINGEN lets out an exhale, respirator hissing loudly. He scans around the room, approaches the framed window. He tries to open it, to break it, it doesn’t give. He hangs his head. MATAGI CARCASS stares down the extending halls. When she turns to look at the third, something catches her eye. MATAGI CARCASS: Wait— is that one of our markers? NINGEN whips his head over. NINGEN: What? Is it orange—? MATAGI CARCASS: Yeah! Yeah it is, hold on. NINGEN lets out a breathless chuckle, the two of them swiftly move down the hall. Attached to a pipe next to a door is a piece of orange reflective tape, fluorescing in the light. NINGEN: Oh my god, we found one— holy shit, come on— MATAGI CARCASS glances back the way they came briefly, seeming to hesitate momentarily, before following NINGEN through the door. Further through the next series of rooms, they find another one of their previous markers. COMMAND: How’s progress, you two? MATAGI CARCASS: …looking up. We’ve found our markers. COMMAND: Good, keep following. We have the recovery vessel waiting for you up top. NINGEN’s respirator hisses with an exhale. He briefly squeezes his eyes shut, before picking up his pace While following the markers over the next fifteen minutes, the two pass through a living room. There is a lamp, it is bent. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS RAISED] [NINGEN'S BPM IS RAISED] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] Stop. Stop trying to look. There is a lamp, it is bent. After the fourth time passing it, MATAGI CARCASS stops. MATAGI CARCASS: …we’ve been here before. NINGEN: What? MATAGI CARCASS: This lamp. This room. It’s the same one — we’ve… we’re going in circles. NINGEN: We can’t be. Surely we would’ve noticed the same damn halls! MATAGI CARCASS: Maybe we can test it— NINGEN makes a noise of confusion. MATAGI CARCASS shakily unclips her secondary flashlight. She turns it on, and places it on the damaged couch with the light shining up. NINGEN: …ok. Ok— alright, let’s go. The two return to following the tape markers. NINGEN is noticeably glancing and scanning the walls and floor, breathing faster paced. NINGEN: What’s our oxygen at—? MATAGI CARCASS: Little over two hours. NINGEN’s voice and swimming noticeably falters. NINGEN: God… God damnit. The two of them follow the tape through the same series of halls and rooms they have passed through four times, for the fifth time. There is a lamp, it is bent. There is a flashlight on the couch. NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS stare in silence. Just come inside. Bring your warmth. The walls miss the warmth. I miss the warmth. The walls are writhing. The wood creaks and splinters. NINGEN and MATAGI CARCASS are within the living room once again. The furniture has rotted. The bent lamp lay on the floor in a pile of scrap. Twitching. Down a new hallway, one that was not there the previous loops, there is another marking of tape. NINGEN stares at it blankly. Without a word, the two remaining team members swim down the new hall, following the new set of markers. MATAGI CARCASS: …this looks like the engine room from earlier. NINGEN: It does. MATAGI CARCASS: Maybe that means something. Maybe we’re… maybe we’re— The two of them turn a corner within the room. Hanging from the ceiling, tied around rattling pipes, are hundreds of strips of fluorescent tape. The room is a dead end. NINGEN: [Muttering] No— no no no— He shakes out his head frantically, raises his hands to grip his respirator. His breathing is shaking, heavy bursts of bubbles against the vibrating water. MATAGI CARCASS is still. Her swimming has faltered, gaze cast up at the ceiling. At the strips of marking tape that seem to wave. MATAGI CARCASS: …is it mocking us? NINGEN: We don’t even know if there is an it! We could just be losing it! Lost in some fucking hellscape! We’re not getting out of here— we can’t— NINGEN swims backwards, gaze glued to the ceiling. His back and arm touch the walls. He begins to scream. MATAGI CARCASS whips around with a shout, she swims over and tries to grab him. His thrashing causes dirt and rust and algae to cloud the water. MATAGI CARCASS: COMMAND! COMMAND PLEASE— She sounds on the verge of tears. NINGEN can be heard sobbing. MATAGI CARCASS: Please do something— I don’t want to die in here— COMMAND does not respond. I am without a purpose if I am without you. I need you. I need you to come to me. Go to the shoreline. Watch the waves — they beckon for you. Slip off your shoes and step onto the sand. Get in the water. Get in the water and dive. Deep. Dive deep below and find me. Find me and come inside. Inside where it's safe. The doors will be open for you. I will be open for you. So that you may come inside. You can save me from the rot and the pain. You can bring your warmth into these halls. It's made for you. Because I love you. I miss you. MATAGI CARCASS is alone. Her breathing is labored against the respirator. Her flipper had touched the floor, and she has become embraced. There is another fish fused against the wall. Its tail and head jerking, twitching. It is safe. Happy. It turns its head to look at her as she struggles. THE FISH: It's home. MATAGI CARCASS begins to weep, for the joy is within reach. Come inside. You can reach it too. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM HAS RAISED SIGNIFICANTLY] [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] Please stop trying to look. COMMAND: GAMMA-6 DO ANY OF YOU COPY? They're ok. I promise. I have them. [MATAGI CARCASS' BPM IS STABLE] [BLACK CARPET'S BPM IS STABLE] [NINGEN'S BPM IS STABLE] I won't let go. Everything is going to be ok. You can stop. … Gamma-6 never left. They couldn't have. So here they lay, twitching and writhing against the frame. This place holds and holds and it does not let go. It is lonely. How could it not be? Wires wind into flesh, pull it taught against sea-eaten metal and rotted wood. A desperate, fatal embrace. The wood melts into their wetsuits, it fuses them to these walls. Command tries to sputter out cries through broken communications, and it falls upon ears that can no longer answer. It is hungrily devoured by the water that surrounds in all its crushing power, so far and deep bellow. They lay with mouths gaping, with fingers twitching, like a fish soon to die. But no, no they will not die. Not yet. It will not let them. It wants their warmth, it wants the warmth of the living inside it once again. If that warmth comes through blood in the water, than let it be so. A house is not a home without people within. A ship is without purpose if there is no one to steer. A shipwreck is a type of corpse. The wires are in their organs now, too. It infests everything that it can, everything that it can hold. Red wires through arteries like a mockery of blood, blue wires through grey matter — holding, holding, holding. Glass of face masks crack, respirators sputter out bursts of failing air when their throats fail to produce a sound. The tanks will last them two hours more. The hull — the wall — the house creaks. Its foundation settling. The wires are in their eyes. Their skulls have melted to the metal. They are finally at peace. SCP-8770 is not to be inhabited. Last recovered image of Gamma-6. Pistanthrophobia Anthology 2024 Athazagoraphobia ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8770" by Dino—Draws, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8770. 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: comehome.png Author: mooseinjeans, Dino—Draws License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Image is a composite of: Filename: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/56/Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg/800px-Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg?20171204172141 Author: Waielbi License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg] Filename: https://live.staticflickr.com/5488/9256291653_e6781fc32e_b.jpg Author: Oregon State University License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/oregonstateuniversity/9256291653 Filename: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/56/Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg/800px-Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg?20171204172141 Author: Waielbi License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Le_Ville_de_Grasse_03.jpg] Filename: https://live.staticflickr.com/5488/9256291653_e6781fc32e_b.jpg Author: Oregon State University License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/oregonstateuniversity/9256291653 Filename: https://live.staticflickr.com/4067/5120096962_71e0ec35c3_4k.jpg Author: Joi Ito License: CC BY-SA 2.0 Source Link: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joi/5120096962] Filename: https://i.imgur.com/FltJOrj.png Author: Dino—Draws, SD Locke License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Image is a composite of: Name: File:Torpedo tubes of the wrecked Samuel B. Roberts DE-413 off Samar Island, Philipines.jpg Author: VIvescovo License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Torpedo_tubes_of_the_wrecked_Samuel_B._Roberts_DE-413_off_Samar_Island,_Philipines.jpg] Name: Inside the hull Author: Joi Ito License: CC BY 2.0 Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joi/5120104256/in/photostream/] Name: Some kind of exhaust pipes on submarine Author: Joi Ito License: CC BY 2.0 Source: [https://www.flickr.com/photos/joi/5120105442]
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SCP-8775
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safe
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I picked up my guitar / To blast away the clouds / Somebody in the next room yelled / You got to turn that damn thing down by Kothardarastrix SCP-8775 Item #: SCP-8775 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8775 is to remain in the possession of Researcher Lee Roy Carlson. When practicing or performing, he is to keep a recording device on hand to facilitate quick and accurate documentation of any accessed memories. He is to spend no fewer than two hours each workday practicing guitar with SCP-8775, to ensure that previously discovered memories remain accessible, discover any additional memories, and become skilled enough to unlock the known but currently inaccessible ones. Description: SCP-8775 is a black and white Fender Stratocaster electric guitar manufactured in 1976. There is a large scratch on the bottom edge of the guitar's body, but it has no other unusual physical characteristics. SCP-8775 previously belonged to Dr. Conrad Scott, a memetics researcher at Armed Bio-Containment Area-14. Director Thomas MacLean took possession of the instrument in 2009, after Dr. Scott disappeared and left no next of kin. The following year, he gave it to his stepson, Researcher Lee Roy Carlson, as a gift. Researcher Carlson discovered the object's anomalous properties the first time he played it. When certain songs are played on SCP-8775, the performer will relive one of Dr. Scott's memories of performing the same song. This effect fully activates only after the song is performed in its entirety and without any serious mistakes; if the song is played partially or incorrectly, the user only experiences a sense of confusion or deja vu. Regardless of the memory's subjective duration, it is always relived near-instantaneously. Most such memories originally took place in 1976, which included the latter half of Dr. Scott's senior year of high school and his first semester of college. For unknown reasons, only Researcher Carlson has been able to induce this effect. Through extensive trial and error of 1970s rock songs, guided by the contents of Dr. Scott's record collection, he has thus far managed to identify eleven songs that produce clear memories. He reports that "2112 Overture" by Rush and "Man on the Silver Mountain" by Rainbow also have associated memories, but he is not yet able to play either song well enough to access them. Addendum 1: List of Songs and Associated Memories These memories have been placed in approximate chronological order based on their content and the known details of Dr. Scott's life. The description of the memory is a summary of Researcher Carlon's recollection; where appropriate, direct quotations of his audio recordings have been provided for additional context. Song Associated Memory Notes "Smoke on the Water," Deep Purple Scott is in a music shop. He picks up SCP-8775, one of the display guitars, and plays the first three chords before an employee shouts at him to stop. The employee points at a sign above the counter, which reads "NO SMOKE ON THE WATER, NO STAIRWAY". "Yeah, of course this is the first song he played on it. That's what I did." "The Boys Are Back in Town," Thin Lizzy Scott is practicing in his bedroom, which is decorated with posters and other memorabilia for various hard rock and heavy metal bands of the 60s and 70s. Scott's father barges in and begins to shout at him for missing football practice. "These memories are sort of like those dreams where you just kind of know something even though it obviously isn't true. The guy in this one is definitely Dr. Scott's dad, but at the time, I recognized him as mine. It's…jarring." "Iron Man," Black Sabbath Once again, Scott is practicing in his bedroom. When he finishes the song, his mother knocks on the door and enters. She compliments his playing but warns him that she will sell the guitar if he does not score an A on his next Calculus test. "I think our moms would have gotten along." "Baby, I Love Your Way," Peter Frampton Scott stands in front of a large house, playing this song with a small amplifier connected to a jury-rigged car battery. Flowers arranged on the grass in front of Scott read "Prom?" A dark-haired girl stands in an open second-story window, blushing and giggling. "I think I speak for a lot of guitarists when I say that I first picked up this instrument in hopes of doing some dumb romantic stunt like that. And Conrad, that legend, he pulled it off." "Rock 'n' Roll Singer," AC/DC Scott performs in his garage with two other teenagers, a bassist and a drummer. He replaces the lyric "I hear it pays well" with "right here in Tazewell,"1 to his friends' amusement. "His friends called him 'Rad,' like 'radical,' I think. Sometimes they called him 'Connie,' just to get on his nerves." "Rock and Roll All Night," Kiss Scott and his bandmates from the previous memory perform beside an in-ground swimming pool at a house party. The performance ends early when an unrecognizable teenager starts a drunken altercation with the drummer. "There's something…wrong with this one." "Victim of Changes," Judas Priest Scott sits in his garage, playing quietly. Much of the equipment present in earlier memories, including the drum kit, is now absent. "I didn't notice it until afterward, but I cried during this one. I really can't remember why." "Electric Phase," UFO Scott sits on his bed in a college dorm, practicing. He continues replaying the record (Lights Out), trying to imitate the guitar solo, but is unsuccessful. When his roommate enters, Scott stops playing. "He didn't ask me to stop or anything. I just felt…embarrassed?" "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," Blue Oyster Cult In his dorm, Scott is attempting to play this song while a blonde woman watches, smiling politely but uncomfortably. He continues to miss notes and eventually gives up entirely upon reaching the solo. He flushes with embarrassment and apologizes repeatedly. "Ouch. Been there." "Summertime Blues," Blue Cheer Scott sits on a couch in a small apartment, surrounded by partially unpacked moving boxes. He practices for roughly 20 minutes, until he grows frustrated and stops. "He shouldn't have been so hard on himself." "Stairway to Heaven," Led Zeppelin A much older Scott sits in the same apartment, which is now dark and dirty. He struggles to play most of the song and has apparently forgotten the guitar solo, which he spends several minutes unsuccessfully attempting to recall. Eventually, he cries out in frustration and flings the guitar away. It strikes the edge of the coffee table with an unpleasant sound. None. Footnotes 1. The name of his hometown.
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SCP-8777
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esoteric-class
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There are no mountains anymore, only piles of rock. There are no flowers anymore, only plant reproductive organs. There is no Moon anymore, only a rock in space, reflecting light. This file has been reclassified Level 4/8777. Unauthorized access is forbidden. Past versions of this file have been archived. You are viewing Iteration 1, version K-(en)8777-27/12/2014.scp Item#: SCP-8777 Level4 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: Research into possible containment methods is ongoing under the purview of Research Team Pω-K, assisted by Special Asset 4-N-SH (see Addendum A for details). The primary objectives of research into SCP-8777 are: An accurately predictive model for the failure of Pellen-Vine Noospheric Entity Traps when applied to SCP-8777 An accurately predictive model for the failure of alternative Noospheric containment methods when applied to SCP-8777 In order to restrict the spread of the anomalous ω-domain1, Foundation webcrawlers and social agents are to discourage the spread of American and West European culture into Eastern and Southeastern Asia. Reduction of the size of the currently extant anomalous ω-domain is judged infeasible. Description: SCP-8777 is a Class-IV Noospheric Entity2. Its ω-domain currently contains most of the North American, and Oceanic Noospheric divisions and the European superdivision3. SCP-8777 is currently extant in the South American and Korean divisions, as well as the South Asian superdivision. Spread into the Chinese superdivision, the Japanese division, and the Southeast Asian superdivision is continuing. As a Class-IV Noospheric Entity, SCP-8777 possesses a concrete location identifier. It is conceptually bound to this location, although it does not physically reside there. SCP-8777's concrete location identifier is believed to be near the magnetic North Pole. Exploration of location pending. In addition, SCP-8777 exhibits significantly increased activity on or just after the winter solstice, even in the Southern Hemisphere. Addendum A Special Asset 4-N-SH 1. Overview: Special Asset 4-N-SH is a Noospheric-type ontokinetic deployed by the Foundation as a combat overwatch unit and a research asset. The asset is a human female, age 27. Instructions for proper usage of Special Asset 4-N-SH are detailed in Attached Document 14. 2. Acquisition: Special Asset 4-N-SH was acquired following the events of Incident-G019-22.09.2011. During the incident, anomalous ontokinetic effects temporarily enclosed a portion of the town of ████, Russia (population: 15 000) in a Type-IX Noospheric Field. The portion of the town enclosed included Foundation Site-147. This caused a total communications blackout for 6 hours4, during which members of GoI-019 "The Serpent's Hand" entered Site-147 and removed SCP-███ from containment. It is believed that the members of GoI-019 were anomalously shielded against the field, or otherwise excluded from its effects. 1 hour 13 minutes after the theft was completed, the Noospheric field dissipated, allowing scrambled MTF teams to apprehend the source. Large-scale use of amnestics was authorized by O5-8, following damage assessment by MTF Zeta-11 ("Dreamers Awake"). An estimated 63.6% of the town's population required amnesticization. An estimated 15.1% of the town's population required memory-rewrite procedures in order to reduce post-amnesticization PTSD response. An estimated 1.9% of the town's population was terminated due to unrecoverable mental/ideatic injury caused by excision from and subsequent reentry into conventional ideatic space. The remainder of the town's population did not require special amnestic intervention. The cause of the Noospheric field was determined to be a natural Type-IV ("Noospheric/Ideatic") ontokinetic, human. Following detainment by MTF Zeta-11, the subject was interviewed. Due to lack of interrogations personnel at Site-147, the interview was carried out by Dr. Emery Isleton. Interview #147-24/09/2011-Is-0 Interviewer: Dr. E. Isleton Interview Location: Site-147 Interview Subject: Subject 1, Incident-G019-22.09.2011 Special Interview Resources: Interview conducted in Secure Ontokinetic Interview/Testing Cell 55. One additional Scranton Reality Anchor installed. [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT] Dr. Isleton: Please state your name and age for the record. [Pause. Subject appears uninterested.] Subject: Samira Hsu. Twenty-four. Isleton: Thank you. At 1900 on September 22, 2011, where were you? Subject: Morgorodok apartment complex. The fourteenth floor. Isleton: For what reason? Subject: I was providing overwatch and communications support to — to my teammates. [Subject appears to focus on an empty portion of the room.] [Pause. Dr. Isleton looks at their tablet.] Isleton: Were you responsible for the Type-IX Noospheric field placed over the eastern portion of ████? Subject: Type IX? You're the Jailers, then. I wasn't sure. Isleton: Please answer the question. Subject: I caused the temporary stratification of local ideatic space from the Noosphere. Yes. Noospheric field. Type IX. Class III. God, the jargon. Isleton: What was the purpose of the assault on Foundation Site-147? [Pause.] Subject: There's this hospital. It looks like a castle, but it's a hospital. Half hospital. The other half is a mortuary. It's… somewhere in Eastern Europe, cloaked in perception-denying fog, some fifty square kilometres of fourteenth-century brickwork. Inside the hospital — don't ask how we know — there are four thousand seven hundred and eighty nine people who by all means should be dead. Most of them from starvation, some from blood loss and shock and blunt force trauma, a few from hanging or beheading. One unlucky bastard was drawn and quartered. All of them are still alive, muscles twitching, eyeballs turn, pupils contracting in response to light. The ones with intact respiratory systems can speak, although what they speak is, as far as we can tell, nonsense. The ravings of the mad. And who wouldn't go mad? As far as we can tell, they feel every iota of pain a living body would feel in their state, and as best as we can determine, they have been in that state for almost six hundred years. Six hundred years of starvation-pangs. Six hundred years of beheading, of asphyxiation, of dismemberment. [Pause. Dr. Isleton shifts in their chair. Subject is leaning forward.] Subject: That item we stole. SCP-████. It was meant to — to end it. Break the spell. Shatter the chains that bind them to this mortal coil. [Pause. Subject collapses backwards into chair. Subject is visibly distressed.] Subject: It didn't work. They fucking- it didn't work. How many people did the field kill? [Security teams alerted to a possible information security breach.] [Additional Scranton Reality Anchors placed in interview chamber vicinity.] Isleton: Nobody died outright, but we had to — Subject: It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. [Subject did not respond to questioning after this point. Interview terminated.] [END TRANSCRIPT] Following this interview, interrogations specialists were transferred from Site-19. The extent of the subject's knowledge and ontokinetic abilities were ascertained. At the time, several hostile Groups of Interest were employing ontokinetic units against Foundation forces, to substantial effect. Therefore, as a preliminary proof-of-concept, the subject was offered a choice between containment by the Foundation and enlistment in an MTF. The subject chose the latter option, upon which decision it was fitted with a remotely-activated explosive collar. However, by order of the O5 Council, an MTF consisting of ontokinetics was deemed unacceptable, and no other ontokinetics were given this option. The subject was redesignated Special Asset 4-N-SH on 14/02/2012. The "hospital" mentioned by the subject was located and designated LoI-7549 "Immortal Coil". 3. Deployment Log: Below is an abbreviated log of deployments of Special Asset 4-N-SH. Date Description Result Additional Notes 12/06/2012 Special Asset 4-N-SH was deployed to counter an ontokinetic weapon during a Chaos Insurgency raid on Site-16. Enemy asset successfully neutralized. Seven hostiles captured. Zero casualties. 05/11/2012 Special Asset 4-N-SH was deployed to provide support to a Foundation assault on a known GoI-012 "Marshall, Carter, and Dark, Ltd." auction house. 4 anomalous objects successfully acquired and contained. Asset caused two hostile casualties (ideatic/Noospheric, non-permanent), zero civilian casualties, and zero Foundation casualties. Asset objected to deployment in an offensive capability, but retracted all objections shortly afterward. 10/01/2013 Special Asset 4-N-SH was provided to the Site-19 Essophysics Department during Project Pneuma. Successfully assisted in the development of Project Pneuma. Further information is not available. 14/08/2013 Special Asset 4-N-SH was deployed to provide support to a Foundation assault on a GoI-004 "Global Occult Coalition" facility. Facility destroyed, including all anomalies within. Asset caused four hostile casualties (ideatic/Noospheric, permanent), four civilian casualties (ideatic/Noospheric, non-permanent), and zero Foundation casualties. 5 extraneous logs removed. 28/10/2014 Special Asset 4-N-SH was deployed to provide support to a Foundation assault on a GoI-019 "The Serpent's Hand" safe house. Safe house successfully secured. Four hostiles captured. Asset caused one hostile casualty (ideatic/Noospheric, permanent), zero civilian casualties, and zero Foundation casualties. Asset submitted significant objections to deployment against GoI-019 forces. Before a response could be made by Foundation staff, all objections were retracted. 4. Additional Interviews Following the 28/10/2014 deployment of Special Asset 4-N-SH, the following interview was conducted. Interview #147-01/11/2014-Is-0 Interviewer: Dr. E. Isleton, Special Asset Handler Interview Location: Site-147, Meeting Room 14A Interview Subject: Special Asset 4-N-SH Special Interview Resources: None [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT] Special Asset 4-N-SH: What's this about? Dr. Isleton: You submitted an official objection to the recent deployment on October 28th. Before the Foundation could respond, you retracted all objections. 4-N-SH: That's correct. Isleton: Why? [Special Asset 4-N-SH appears bemused.] 4-N-SH: Why did I object? Why do you think? Isleton: Why did you retract your objections? [Pause.] 4-N-SH: I don't know. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, I guess. I didn't — what's the point? Really, what would an objection do? [Pause. Dr. Isleton waits, listening.] 4-N-SH: Three years ago I would have said that — I would have said that even if I can't do anything about it, it's my responsibility to try. To resist — What? Immoral actions? What does that mean? What's the point? [Pause.] 4-N-SH: It's hard to believe that there truly is some moral standard, some measure by which we can be weighed and judged. That it's not — something we made up, so we can sleep at night. Isleton: Isn't that enough? 4-N-SH: No. It isn't. [END TRANSCRIPT] Interview #147-01/14/2014-Is-0 Interviewer: Dr. E. Isleton, Special Asset Handler Interview Location: Site-147, Meeting Room 12C Interview Subject: Special Asset 4-N-SH Special Interview Resources: None [BEGIN TRANSCRIPT] 4-N-SH: Again? Isleton: The higher-ups have asked me to, uh, see if I can get a better picture of your mental state. 4-N-SH: Worried I'll turn on them? Isleton: Uhm. Not really. [Pause.] 4-N-SH: You can assure them I won't be disobeying any orders anytime soon. Isleton: That's good. [Pause.] [Special Asset 4-N-SH sighs.] 4-N-SH: It's not that I don't want to — to believe. It's just that, it seems that anything I look at, nowadays, and I think about what's behind it: What's really there? Why do we believe this? Why do we do these things? And there's nothing there. Isleton: [Murmuring] In believing we make things real. 4-N-SH: In believing we make fools of ourselves. [Pause.] Isleton: I think that's enough for today. [END TRANSCRIPT] Footnotes 1. The area over which a Noospheric entity has significant influence. 2. The Noosphere refers to the collective consciousness of humanity, commonly subdivided based on language group. Noospheric entities exist purely as ideas or thoughts, although they may have physical transmission vectors. 3. A Noospheric division is a region of the Noosphere within which thought patterns are relatively homogenous. They often match up with national or language separations in the physical world. 4. All information leaving the Noospheric field suffered from a fundamental ideatic incompatibility with the human ideatic space and was annihilated upon leaving the field. Electronic records of communications during this six-hour period still exist in a metastable state, but any attempt to access these records causes the information to destabilize and annihilate. 5. SOI/T cells are equipped with one (1) medium-strength Scranton Reality Anchor and are isolated from containment wings and essential personnel. In addition, up to six (6) further Scranton Reality Anchors can be installed, in the event of a high-output ontokinetic subject. Past versions of this file have been archived. You are viewing Iteration 1, version K-(en)8777-27/12/2014.scp > View iteration 2 ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8777" by humanoid_human, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8777. 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.
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SCP-8778
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safe
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. Swordlover87 SCP-8778 - The Writing on the Wall Contains a depiction of suicide; reader discretion is advised. This article was written for the SCP-8000 contest. The theme was Fantasy. More by this author ⚠ content warning ↑ Item №: SCP-8778 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8778 is contained at its location of discovery under the purview of the nearby Outpost 54. In order to discourage civilian cavers and geologists, the cavern containing SCP-8778 has been obstructed via an artificial rockfall. This blockage has been fitted with a hidden door so that observation, testing and maintenance may be conducted. Due to the difficulty of reaching the anomaly, further security measures are unnecessary. SCP-8778 may only be directly viewed by personnel carrying Level 5/8778 credentials. The research head of Outpost 54, currently Dr. Avtandil Khorava, is required to remain in close correspondence with Overwatch Command on a regular basis. Description: SCP-8778 is an expansive mural drawn with dark red pigment, located in an undocumented dead-end branch of the Veryovkina Cave in Abkhazia. The rock stratum containing SCP-8778 is roughly sixty thousand years old, a figure which is considered the closest approximation of SCP-8778's age, as carbon dating of the mural itself has consistently failed to yield valid results. The pigment that comprises SCP-8778 is capable of moving autonomously, as well as removing and replenishing parts of itself through unknown means.1 Thus, rather than a static image, SCP-8778 displays a continuously repeating sequence of animated scenes. A written summary of SCP-8778 is attached below. <00:00:01> Sequence begins. The majority of the pigment composing SCP-8778 is shapeless, save for a small amount on the back wall of the cave. This pigment outlines a circular shape with a jagged corona that is likely meant to represent the Sun. Markings inside the circle suggest a smiling face. The Sun remains on the back wall for nearly the entirety of the sequence. <00:04:37> More pigment becomes active on the rightmost and leftmost cave walls, as well as the cave ceiling, taking a number of shifting, abstract forms. Comprehensible images gradually arise. Most are silhouettes of humanoid or quasi-humanoid figures, although many possess abnormal features and/or body plans.2 The figures are spread widely across the cave walls; they engage in a variety of activities, including hunting, farming and architecture. Notably, the beings appear to use supernatural abilities extensively in accomplishing their tasks. For example, a scene on the right wall displays a horned quadrupedal entity seemingly summoning a storm to water a field of crops. Scenes and environments merge and reshape themselves fluidly; the overall narrative suggested is that of a civilization's slow rise. The Sun remains the only image on the back wall of the cave until <00:10:27>, at which time a winged humanoid figure appears, gliding directly below it. The figure swoops in an arc around the Sun, its body language indicating jubilation, before flying across the ceiling onto the left wall and disappearing into the larger collective. <00:16:03> Pigment in the upper middle of the right wall resolves into a single unchanging image, depicting a humanoid figure standing on a balcony. The figure is posed as if overlooking the other scenes, which are still rapidly changing. A crown forms on the figure's head. The scene then reshapes itself to depict a throne, upon which the crowned figure is seated. The surrounding pigment begins to produce new images which contain the same assortment of humanoid and non-humanoid beings but are more distressing in nature, featuring depictions of injustice, social unrest, war, and death.3 These scenes are drawn in thicker, darker, and more erratic strokes than those seen previously. As this occurs, the crowned humanoid on the throne hunches forward and holds its head in its hands. <00:23:12> Primary scene changes. The surrounding images persist and continue to alter themselves, but with reduced coherence. Focus and increasing detail are given to the crowned humanoid, which is now depicted descending a set of steps into a cave. The humanoid reaches an expansive cavern. It produces a small blade, and cuts the palm of its hand before drawing a circular sigil on the cavern floor with what is evidently its own blood. The sigil bears a resemblance to [REDACTED - CLEARANCE L5/8778], possibly coincidental. <00:27:06> The floor of the cavern depicted in SCP-8778 becomes translucent. An enormous, dark mass can be seen beneath it. Although the overall shape of this mass constantly changes, parts of its body appear similar to smoke, flames, metal chains, and cephalopodic anatomy. A number of corpses are partially subsumed within it, all marked with the circular sigil seen before. There is a larger version of the same sigil in the mass's center, intricately shaded so that it appears to glow; the sigil dilates in a manner similar to an eye, and focuses on the humanoid figure above. More scenes of violence and unrest appear around the humanoid figure. They escalate rapidly in severity. The final scene shows a vast field of corpses, a collapsing castle, and a crown smashed into pieces. The figure clenches its fist; the scenes break apart, and are replaced with a single distinct image of a throne, whole and undamaged. In response to this, the dark mass presses itself against the cavern floor from underneath. Several tendrils emerge from the mass, reaching through the cavern floor and up towards the crowned figure, which extends its still-bleeding hand to meet them. The tendrils wrap around the hand. <00:30:29> Entire scene abruptly changes. On the right and left cave walls as well as the ceiling, a large number of humanoid and non-humanoid entities are fleeing, many trampling one another in their haste to escape. The back wall of the cave is occupied largely by a dark, amorphous, slowly expanding shape. It is extending an enormous number of appendages4 across the walls and ceiling to ensnare the fleeing individuals. Captured entities are drawn into the mass, where they are marked with the circular sigil seen earlier before being fully enveloped and disappearing. Entities are frequently observed to lose their abnormal traits as they are overpowered. The crowned humanoid figure is visible in the center of the dark mass, partially incorporated into it. Its crown is lopsided and its body hangs limp. Drops of an unidentified liquid are falling from its face. <00:34:30> At this point, the dark, amorphous mass has expanded across nearly the entire cave. The Sun, which is still present on the back wall, is incorporated as well; its facial features contort in apparent pain and then disappear before it is consumed. Only two small areas are not completely covered by pigment. One contains the crowned figure, while the other contains the winged humanoid that appeared at the beginning of the sequence. The humanoid is curled in the fetal position with its wings extended. As the surrounding pigment encroaches on it, its wings crumble away, smearing until they are no longer visible. The formerly winged humanoid is enveloped by the pigment; it does not resist. <00:37:15> The crowned figure is now the only recognizable object in SCP-8778. The remainder of the cave, including the floor, is uniformly covered by pigment. <00:39:40> The figure displays its first movement since being incorporated into the dark mass. It shakes, straining with considerable effort until one of its arms is freed. In its hand, it is grasping the small blade it used earlier. It slowly raises the blade to its neck. <00:40:00> The figure cuts its own throat. A single drop of blood falls from the wound. A ripple passes through SCP-8778. The pigment covering the cavern pulls back, retreating onto the back wall of the cave and shrinking rapidly. It thrashes, projecting appendages from its mass at random, but appears incapable of resisting. This continues until it has become almost imperceptibly small, although it does not disappear. Almost no pigment is present for exactly seven minutes. <00:47:00> The Sun gradually reforms on the back wall. Its facial features are absent. Below the Sun, thirteen humanoid figures appear in a line. The figure standing in the center produces a pocket knife and cuts the palm of its hand. It kneels, using its own blood to draw a circular sigil on the ground at its feet. The others express various degrees of hesitation but follow suit. While no two sigils are exactly identical, the basic shape of each is the same: [REDACTED - CLEARANCE L5/8778]. The blood comprising the sigils begins to trickle away in small streams. It pools in the center of the scene, forming into another circular symbol akin to the previous but much larger in size. An amorphous, dark shape comes into visibility beneath the symbol, pressing up against it. <00:52:03> Sequence repeats. ▶ Remainder of file locked. Insert L5/8778 credentials to view. ▼ Credentials accepted. Welcome, Overseer. Symbol observed frequently throughout SCP-8778. Footnotes 1. Chemical analysis has been unable to determine the pigment's exact nature, as samples tend to denature until unrecognizable or vanish outright when they are taken. To date, the only component to be conclusively identified is iron. 2. Completely mundane human figures appear on occasion, but are given little focus. 3. One particularly drawn-out scene involves a group of figures on a watercraft using a net to capture a humanoid figure with a fish-like tail. When removed from the ocean, the entity appears to convulse and suffocate. The perpetrators are shown being arrested by guards, but the victim does not survive. 4. Of various shapes and sizes. Most resemble chains, ropes, tentacles, and/or distended human hands.
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SCP-8779
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safe
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YOUR GONE TO HOLYWOOD! An SCP-8779 cartridge. Item #: SCP-8779 Special Containment Procedures: All instances of SCP-8779 are to be secured in a standard containment locker at Site-59. Any copies discovered of SCP-8779 are to be confiscated immediately or are purchased using allotted funds. Description: SCP-8779 is an unlicensed video game titled "Americans Idel" created by the Totleigh Software Corporation for the Nintendo DS. SCP-8779 is a karaoke-style game designed after the American television series "American Idol." SCP-8779 comes with a game manual within its box alongside the game's cartridge. The manual consists of broken English and misspellings typical of TotleighSoft, detailing the game's basic controls and mechanics along with the following blurb: YOUR GONE TO HOLYWOOD! Youv'e seen AMERICANS IDEL. But asking, whach bout yuo? When are youre tim to shine? Shine is now! Make SIMNON COWBELL hapy ANYWERE! ANYTIME! ANYWAY! Very imersive. So SING now! Shwo HIM, what are you made off! Upon running an instance of SCP-8779, a catalog of song titles would appear on the lower screen of the console. This collection includes music released in the 1960s to the present day and is updated daily. While a search function is available, it is considered unreliable, as song titles are often misspelled or entirely different. Gameplay for SCP-8779 initiates once a song is selected, prompting an instrumental track of the selected song to play. On the lower screen of the console, a pulsating microphone icon appears at the center. Lyrics to the song are shown below the icon, scrolling horizontally from right to left, these lyrics are often incorrect. The upper screen of the console displays what appears to be live-action footage of Simon Cowell1, Paula Abdul, Randy Jackson, and a second instance of Simon Cowell2, all seated in this order. Ryan Seacrest is also shown to appear momentarily at times. The setting closely resembles a typical audition scene from the show "American Idol" as it aired in the early 2000s, all personalities featured in the video also reflect their appearances from that period. When asked, all individuals depicted and mentioned within the game claimed to be unaware of their involvement in its production or of any association with TotleighSoft. The judges are able to interact with players in real-time, as seen when they respond to a player's actions along with their usual comments. Gameplay for SCP-8779 culminates with either a positive or negative response from the judges, with each verdict and interaction producing varying effects on human players. Test Log 8779-59-1: Player: D-36921 Song: Man did ( "Mandy" by Barry Manilow ) Results: After the first chorus, both instances of Simon raise their hands, halting the performance. Paula greets D-36921 by his real name. Simon-1 proceeds to praise D-36921's voice, Simon-2 then objects, stating: "But Hollywood? Maybe Chicago." Randy boos at Simon-2's remarks. After the judges delivered their verdicts, Randy announces that D-36921 is "gone to Hollywood." D-36921 is given three yesses by the judges and earns a golden ticket, denoting success. D-36921 exhibited marked elation and improvement in mood during the following weeks. The subject had also taken interest in singing and songwriting. When asked about these newfound interests, the subject consistently responded that it was in preparation for "Hollywood." Player: D-63457 Song: Baby ( "Baby" by Justin Bieber ) Results: After thirty-one seconds, Simon-1 begins to stifle his laughter, followed by Simon-2, then the other two judges. Ryan is briefly shown mouthing the word "Yikes." The track then abruptly stops. Simon-1 mocks D-63457, saying: "Dinner's served, and serve is shit! Hollywood? Holly-shit!" Paula interjects and says: "Not American!" A close-up shot of Randy's mouth is then shown as he laughs. The judges continue to laugh and mock the subject for another minute as the subject begins to yell threats and profanities at the console. Simon-2 calls for security as the subject's outburst escalates. D-63457 then forcibly throws the console, causing it to break. Simultaneously, the subject falls to the ground, unconscious. The judges are unable to give their final verdicts. SCP-8779 instance inside the console was retrieved after the incident without damage. D-63457 regained consciousness after five minutes, still exhibiting signs of agitation. It is noted that multiple bruises were found on the subject's head and torso. When interviewed during post-test evaluation, subject adamantly protested that he was deserving of a "spot in Hollywood." The subject exhibited marked hostility and emotional volatility during the following weeks. Player: D-34522 Song: BOOMB ( "Grenade" by Bruno Mars ) Results: After forty-four seconds, Simon-1 waves his hand, halting the performance. Simon-2 then insults his performance, stating: "Who told be idol? Egad! Here I am become ridicule. Disappointment." Randy and Paula are shown nodding their heads. Randy then waves and says: "No Hollywood. Sorry much." After the judges delivered their verdicts, Ryan is briefly shown shaking his head. D-36921 is given four noes by the judges, denoting failure. Following the test, subject exhibited significant restlessness and marked signs of distress. Over the subsequent weeks, the subject submitted twenty-two requests to play the game again, all of which were denied. D-34522 has been observed to loudly sing "Grenade" by Bruno Mars on a daily basis, interspersed with repeated pleas for a second chance at "Hollywood". Amnestic treatments have failed to reverse SCP-8779's effects on D-34522. Due to multiple complaints regarding this behavior, subject has been relocated to a soundproofed room. Though suffering from severe throat damage caused by consistent strenuous singing, D-34522 shows no signs of stopping this behavior. Player: D-84833 Song: No Nono Way ( "Without You" by Mariah Carey ) Results: Thirty seconds into the subject's performance, the screen displays a close-up shot of Paula's eyes, visibly welling with tears. Both instances of Simon are then shown covering their faces with audible sobbing. Randy bows his head. Upon the song's conclusion, a somber background music begins to play as the judges clap in unison along with Ryan who is briefly shown. After the applause ended, Paula then wipes her tears and greets D-84833 with praise for her performance, stating: "Very brave! Very American! Even of you are hurting muchly with cancers. So yes, praise be! Praise be! You're gone to Hollywood!" All judges then say "You're gone to Hollywood!" in unison. After the judges delivered their verdicts, Ryan is briefly shown once more, clapping and weeping. D-84833 is given four yesses by the judges and earns a golden ticket, denoting success. It is noted that subject was cleared of any abnormalities during initial screenings prior to testing. Following the test, D-84833 was examined and was found to have developed stage 3C breast cancer. The subject exhibited marked elation and improvement in mood during the following weeks and has taken interest in singing and songwriting. When informed about this diagnosis, subject dismissed the topic and stated that "none of it mattered" because she was "going to Hollywood." Addendum: Incident 8779-59-1 On 12/18/2024, 40 days after initial tests with SCP-8779, multiple D-class personnel were reported missing. A search was immediately initiated. Consistent between recovered belongings of all missing personnel were handwritten song compositions expressing themes of praise and adoration directed to Paula Abdul, Randy Jackson, and most notably, Simon Cowell who are viewed as messianic figures. It is noted that all missing personnel received positive responses from SCP-8779 during previous tests. As of writing, their current whereabouts remain unknown. Footnotes 1. Referred to as Simon-1. Distinguished by wearing a white shirt. 2. Referred to as Simon-2. Distinguished by wearing a black shirt ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8779" by SrGunk, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8779. 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: AmericansIdel.png License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Notes: This image is a composite. Its components are listed below. Name: American Flag Author: U.S. Embassy Dhaka License: Public Domain Source Link: flickr Name: McDonalds Japan Nintendo DS eCDP cartridge Author: Emberwit License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: wikimedia commons
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SCP-8780
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neutralized
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close Info X SCP-8780 - Detonation Man A sequel to SCP-8870. IMAGE ATTRIBUTION | Image 1 | | Image 2 | | Image 3 | | Image 4 | Author: Doctor Scrappy + More SCPs by me! – hide block SCP-8138 Dead Man Walking SCP-8950 Itsy SCP-8870 The Controversy + TALES by me! – hide block A Girl that Died. Bananazilla, Coming to a Store Near YOU! The Reunion What You See Is What You Get Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit Beware! Walter, the Omniversal Rabbit Hell Hath No Fury than a Clown Scorned Circus of the Disquieting: Folie à Duhh Just Fragments Hub SCP ORIGINS HUB | > LOGIN: O5-13 | NOTICE: You are currently logging into an OVERSEER account. Proceed? | > PROCEED. | Enter password. | > ”foryou” | Thank you, Overseer. | DATE OF LOGIN: 05/01/2025 | > ACCESS: MEETING 8870-D | Accessing file… MEETING 8870-D DATE: 03/05/2025 LOCATION: [REDACTED] FOREWORD: Meeting of personnel in GREY MATTER Division. Led by Dr. Hakari Mimko. [BEGIN RECORDING] <The members of the GREY MATTER Division sit at a conference table. Senior Technician Dohn Cavollo and Dr. Laura Schneider sit next to each other, utterly silent.> <The last member and lead, Dr. Hakari Mimko, sits at the head of the table. She sits in a wheelchair, looking out onto the scenery.> <The trees outside are leaveless, morning dew still dripping from some branches.> <After a while, Dr. Mimko sighs, turns the wheelchair to face the others, and folds her arms on the table.> MIMKO: Glad you could come. I’m sure you’re already aware. <A long silence. Dr. Mimko retrieves files from under her chair and deposits them onto the table. The files are detailed files on Dr. Alto Clef.> MIMKO: O5-11 was SCP-8870. Agent Duvall suspected me, rest his soul, and when O5-11 saw our little struggle, he tried to swat both flies in one go. MIMKO: Then he killed himself. Whether voluntary or not, the coroner’s suspect that O5-11 saw his own reflection in the screen he was overwatching us from, and subsequently killed himself. <Silence. The others shift uncomfortably in their seats.> SCHNEIDER: So the case is done? MIMKO: They’re searching for possible accomplices. But our involvement with the anomaly is long done. CAVOLLO: I can’t believe 11 was 8870. Why? MIMKO: Well, (clears throat) I suspect that he saw the division as an opportunity to take down both the Foundation and the Coalition to gain custody of his daughter. This seems to be the most likely case at this moment. SCHNEIDER: So the division’s done? MIMKO: (pauses) I’m afraid so. CAVOLLO: Now what? We’re unemployed now? MIMKO: You’ll receive your transfer notices in due time. <Silence.> SCHNEIDER: And what about you? MIMKO: What about me? CAVOLLO: In your little project proposal, you said you were doing this for your siste— MIMKO: That is not relevant to the discussion at hand, Mr. Cavollo. (looks at Schneider) The same goes for you, Dr. Schneider. <They look at each other with a stern expression for quite more time. Eventually, Cavollo and Schneider leave without a word or without turning back.> <Once the others have left, tears begin streaming from Dr. Mimko’s eyes, which she silently wipes away. She sniffles. She puts her head in her hands and begins sobbing uncontrollably.> MIMKO: (sobs) I’m sorry, Tomo. I’m sorry. <She remains like this for quite a while.> [END RECORDING] | > ACCESS: SCP-8780 FILE. | Accessing file… Item #: SCP-8780 Level 5/8780 Classified Threat Level: None SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES Due to the nature of the subject, special containment procedures could not be enacted, nor drafted in the intervening time frame, before the subject’s self-termination on 04/07/2025. Efforts are currently focused on investigating the origins of SCP-8780. DESCRIPTION Westfield Centro mall, site of the incident. SCP-8780 designates a human subject, roughly 185 centimeters tall, aged at 35, and of African-American ethnicity. The subject self-terminated on 04/07/2025, in an incident gaining widespread media attention, tentatively designated Incident 8780-α. Further information regarding the subject’s origins will be added as investigations continue. APPENDIX [8780-001] - HISTORY SCP-8780 appeared on 04/07/2025. Further information is in the following appendix. APPENDIX [8780-002] INCIDENT 8780-α DATE: 04/07/2025 LOCATION: Oberhausen, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany FOREWORD: On the above mentioned date, SCP-8780 appeared within the Westfield Centro shopping mall, completely naked. Local authorities were dispatched to the scene to apprehend the subject, but called in the Foundation when the subject began emitting a faint orange glow from within its chest. Evacuation procedures on the location were enacted. A detachment of the Foundation’s German branch was sent in to handle the threat; Mobile Task Force Delta-2 (”Dachshunde”). The transcript has been translated from its original German. [BEGIN RECORDING] <Members of MTF Delta-2 converge around SCP-8780’s location. They remain positioned at various vantage points to be in direct shooting range of the subject, hidden from view.> <Captain of Delta-2, Henning Waggner, methodically approaches SCP-8780, unarmed. The subject notices and snaps to look at him.> 8780: Oh— oh, my God. WAGGNER: (calm) Relax, man. What’s going on? 8780: I— I— I— (hyperventilates) <An orange glow begins to be emitted from the interior of the subject’s chest. Its skin turns translucent; indistinct cuboid objects can be observed ’swimming’ inside.> <The subject winces, screaming loudly, clutching their chest tightly.> <After some time, the glow dissipates. The subject gasps for air.> WAGGNER: Woah! Take it slow. Deep breaths in and out. 8780: (sobs) Help me, please… Help me! WAGGNER: I am. I can help you. Come with me, I’ve got friends who can fix t— <The glow returns, shining at a greater luminescence this time. The subject falls to his feet collapsing onto the floor.> 8780: (strains) Tell Anna… t—tell her that I’m sorry… <The glow only greatens in luminescence by the second. A rise in surrounding temperature is being recorded by Captain Waggner’s equipment.> 8780: I’m sorry… <Rises in both luminescence and temperature do not cease.> <Waggner motions for Müller to take the shot. Müller, situated at the rooftop, takes the shot. The bullet bounces back on the subject’s skin, leaving no mark.> 8780: (gasps) Tell her I’m s— <Footage abruptly cuts here. Last frame is that of a large fireball being emitted from SCP-8780’s person.> [END RECORDING] The Westfield Centro shopping mall was engulfed in a large explosion, completely destroying the structure and the surrounding area in a kilometer radius. Due to the enacted evacuation procedures, total casualty count was minimal, with a majority of the casualties being the 4 members of MTF Delta-2 and SCP-8780 itself. APPENDIX [8780-003] DATE: 04/08/2025 MEDIUM: Newspaper PUBLISHED BY: Bild NOTES: Newspaper article has been translated from its original German. ★★★ TERROR BEFALLS GERMANY ANOMALY DESTROYS GIANT MALL ★★★ Oberhausen - North Rhine-Westphalia - TERROR! Sprawling city Oberhausen’s greatest shopping mall was torn apart by the largest explosion to hit Germany, ever since the second WORLD WAR. People are left in utter fear, as they look onto a crater of where their favorite shopping and hang-out place formerly stood. Rumors are circulating that this act of DEATH & DESTRUCTION was a deliberate terrorist attack. With the perpetrator identified as an African-American, restrictions on immigrant laws have yet again become a heated topic in the Bundestag. ”We have said it again and again. We cannot let […] foreigners into our beloved country!” voices Tino Chrupalla, representative of the Alternative für Deutschland political party. Lead of investigations, Director Karl Reinhardt of the SCP Foundation, has been cleared to conduct an interview on a later Continue reading on Page 2-> DATE: 04/10/2025 MEDIUM: News report PUBLISHED BY: ZDF NOTES: Interview has been translated from its original German. RECORDING 8780-001 DATE: 04/10/2025 LOCATION: Mainz, Rhineland-Palatinate FOREWORD: The following is the meeting of Karl Reinhardt, director of the Foundation’s German branch, with news outlet ZDF after Incident 8780-α. [BEGIN RECORDING] <Skip to 2 minutes, 42 seconds.> <Director Reinhardt and a reporter sit in two chairs, facing each other. Director Reinhardt has his legs crossed over each other and his hands folded.> REPORTER: … which brings us to the most heated question. REINHARDT: Yup. REPORTER: What happened there in Oberhausen? And most importantly, was it a terrorist, as many people have claimed? REINHARDT: Okay, so, first of all, what happened in Oberhausen was an explosive anomaly that leveled the entire mall. As to whether the person was a terrorist, investigations into this are uncertain as of right now— REPORTER: But you are the lead of investigations, right? REINHARDT: … yes? REPORTER: Then why haven’t your people figured it out yet? For all the citizens know, this might happen again in another shopping mall. Maybe even in the heads of senate in Berlin! REINHARDT: Well, the Foundation is doing the best it can to identify the origins of the subject and protect the citizens— REPORTER: You call a giant explosion that left a one kilometer crater protection? REINHARDT: Of course not— REPORTER: How is the public supposed to feel safe when you call this protection? <Extraneous footage removed. Remainder of interview continues on in this fashion.> [END RECORDING] APPENDIX [8780-004] TRANSFER REQUEST DATE: 04/09/2025 SUBJECT: Request of Transfer to SCP-8780 SUBMITTED BY: Dr. Hakari Mimko Dear O5-Council, I’d hereby like to request the transfer of my current menial records archivist assignment to lead researcher of investigations into SCP-8780. With my expertise leading a division and my indirect ’detainment’ of such a dangerous threat to the Foundation as SCP-8870, I think I’d be more than capable of handling these investigations. I know that my past actions have not been honest, and I’d sincerely apologize for my dishonesty. I do hope you forgive me and that we can set aside the past to venture into the future. - Dr. Hakari Mimko Secure. Contain. Protect. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY YES NAY ABSTAIN O5-1 O5-2 O5-3 O5-4 O5-5 O5-6 O5-7 O5-8 O5-9 O5-10 O5-12 O5-13 STATUS APPROVED CONCLUSION: By vote of the Overseer Council, your transfer request as lead of investigations into SCP-8780 has been APPROVED. The Council expects but total loyalty from you; failure to adhere to this will result in demotion or termination of employment with the Foundation. You have been warned. - O5-1 | > ACCESS: O5-13 E-MAIL CORRESPONDENCES. | Accessing relevant e-mails… | TO: tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc#tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|31.0#tni.pcs.tig|31.0 | SUBJECT: Mimko We should not be doing this. We cannot allow this transfer, no matter how fucking experienced or of value someone is. She is the lead suspect in the SCP-8870 case. Clef didn’t kill himself, and we all know this. Dr. Hakari Mimko has to be detained. - O5-13 Secure. Contain. Protect. | TO: tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc#tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|4.0#tni.pcs.tig|4.0 | SUBJECT: re:Mimko I fully support this. We should re-open the SCP-8870 case. - O5-4 Secure. Contain. Protect. | TO: tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc#tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|8.0#tni.pcs.tig|8.0 | SUBJECT: re:re:Mimko With what evidence? There are no leads, no hints to even point to that possibility. Clef killed himself, short and simple. Although his loss and betrayal was a tragedy, it is one we have to live with. - O5-8 Secure. Contain. Protect. | TO: tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc#tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|31.0#tni.pcs.tig|31.0 | SUBJECT: re:re:re:Mimko He had a daughter, for Christ’s sake! - O5-13 Secure. Contain. Protect. | TO: tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc#tni.pcs.tig|lla.licnuoc | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|1.0#tni.pcs.tig|1.0 | SUBJECT: re:re:re:re:Mimko Enough. The vote has already passed. Sophia, I know how close Clef was to you. But you cannot let your grief control your present actions. We hold the entire world on our shoulders. It is our responsibilty to remain level-headed even in the most fucked-up of situations. Refrain from making such accusations to your employees again. Otherwise, I see myself having to remove you from the Council. - O5-1 Secure. Contain. Protect. APPENDIX [8780-005] MEETING 8780-A DATE: 04/10/2025 LOCATION: [REDACTED] [BEGIN RECORDING] <Dr. Mimko opens the door to her office. The interior is dark. She turns the lights on.> <The office’s interior is small, almost claustrophobic. It is furnished with only the most necessary of objects; a chair, desk, bed, bookshelf and potted plant.> <Next to the framed image of Tomo Mimko on the desk rests a pamphlet. She examines it closer; it is a notice of her successful transfer.> <Dr. Mimko sighs, pressing the pamphlet against her chest. A slow clapping emanates from a corner of the office. Mimko tenses up immediately, shooting her head to the source of the sound.> O5-13: (slow claps) Bravado, Dr. Mimko! Bravo! <O5-13 approaches Mimko from the corner of the room. Dr. Mimko remains wary.> MIMKO: Sophia Light… O5-13: (gestures to herself) In the flesh. MIMKO: What are you doing here? O5-13: (smiles) Can’t a supervisor congratulate their dear colleague to their transfer? <O5-13 sits down beside Mimko on the desk. Mimko inhales greatly.> MIMKO: Is there anything I could do for you? O5-13: Oh, don’t be like that! Relax! I may be an Overseer and your supervisor in the 8780 investigations, but I’m still human! <O5-13 smiles. Dr. Mimko attempts to smile back.> O5-13: Oh, I wanted to say sorry. MIMKO: (silence) O5-13: For what happened to Duvall. And Clef. <Mimko tenses up.> O5-13: No one could’ve seen that coming. You know, Clef and me go all the way back to the Omega-7 days. MIMKO: … really? O5-13: Yep! Treated Iris like she were his own daughter! With all the restrictions keeping him from his real one. <Silence. O5-13 and Dr. Mimko stare each other deep in the eyes.> O5-13: (sighs) It’s a shame that a daughter has to grow up without her father. You wanna know what the last thing he said to me was? MIMKO: (silence) O5-13: Nothing. Well, not literally ’nothing’, but, nothing. He called me the day he committed suicide, or saw his own reflection, or whatever, and didn’t say a word. At first I thought the connection went dead, but, no, I could clearly hear his gasps for air, as he impacted the terminal and collapsed onto the floor. Probably in the processes of bleeding out to death. O5-13: One must wonder… why? Why call me? Why call me? What was the reason? <O5-13 turns to look at Dr. Mimko. Dr. Mimko does not falter in her stance, looking back at her.> MIMKO: One must wonder. <O5-13 smiles.> O5-13: Well, I came to say hi, so, hi. I expect great things from you. <O5-13 pats Dr. Mimko on the shoulder, before opening the door and closing it behind her.> <Once it is closed, Dr. Mimko lets out a long exhale. She clutches the pamphlet tightly.> [END RECORDING] APPENDIX [8780-006] INTERVIEW 8780.01 DATE: 04/13/2025 LOCATION: [CLASSIFIED PER ETHICS COMMITTEE] INTERVIEWER: Dr. Hakari Mimko INTERVIEWED: Anna Hetting FOREWORD: Analysis of the footage of Incident 8780-α identified SCP-8780 as Mr. Benjamin Hetting. Derived from statements by the subject, Anna Hetting, the wife, was located. An interview was arranged shortly afterward. The interview has been translated from its original German. [BEGIN RECORDING] <Dr. Mimko arrives at Anna Hetting’s residence. She inspects the area, before exiting the car and approaching the front door.> <She is walking with crutches, nearly falling over on multiple occasions.> <As she arrives at the front door, a figure is seen staring at Dr. Mimko, before walking by the curtains. Before she can ring the doorbell, the door is opened from the inside. Anna Hetting is on the other side.> <She does not look Dr. Mimko in the eyes.> MIMKO: Mrs. Hetting? HETTING: Foundation, right? (sniffles) MIMKO: Dr. Mimko. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband, then I’ll be gone. HETTING: (silence) MIMKO: May I come in? <Hetting remains completely silent, staring at the floor. She moves inside, to which Dr. Mimko also goes inside.> <The interior of the house is small, but well-furbished and cozy. Hetting sits down at a chair, stiffly. Dr. Mimko sits down opposite her.> MIMKO: (looks around) Very nice decorations you have here. HETTING: (pauses) Thanks. MIMKO: And the furnitu— HETTING: P—please. Please… <She looks Dr. Mimko directly in the eyes. Tears begin to well up. Dr. Mimko clears her throat, straightens her posture and moves on.> MIMKO: When was the last time you saw your husband? HETTING: About… two weeks ago. MIMKO: Where? HETTING: H—he went out with Jupiter — our dog — for a late night’s stroll. MIMKO: Do you know what route he took? HETTING: N—no. MIMKO: And you reported his disappearance to the police? HETTING: I did. I did. They couldn’t find him, didn’t know where h—he went. Until… (pauses) MIMKO: Did he seem strange to you before his disappearance? HETTING: Strange? (chuckles weakly) No. Not at all. I mean, he was strange, but not stranger than usual, no. <Dr. Mimko inscribes the information on a notepad. Hetting fiddles around with her fingers.> <Dr. Mimko finishes her notes.> MIMKO: That’d be all, Mrs. Hetting. Thank you for your time. <Hetting does not respond. Dr. Mimko stands up to leave.> MIMKO: And, Mrs. Hetting, I am sorry for your los— HETTING: (raises hand) Please… j—just leave… <Hetting begins to silently tear up. Dr. Mimko nods, turns away and exits the residence.> [END RECORDING] APPENDIX [8780-007] AUTOPSY REPORT #8780 DATE: 04/15/2025 LOCATION: Mortuary, Site-DE-54 FOREWORD: A sweep of the former site of the Westfield Centro mall was performed, whereupon remains of SCP-8780 were recovered. Remains were sent in for autopsy, where the coroner subsequently contacted the SCP-8780 investigations lead. [BEGIN RECORDING] <Dr. Mimko enters the mortuary. The giant door heaves shut behind her, as she turns her eyes forward. On a table, Coroner Gustav Jörgen operates on the remains of SCP-8780.> <He is holding an operation tool in one hand, and in the other a ham-chicken sandwich. Upon noticing Dr. Mimko, he hurriedly puts his sandwich aside, nearly choking.> JÖRGEN: (full mouth) Mhm— Doc Mimko! I thought the meet— (coughs loudly) I thought the meeting was supposed to be at six? MIMKO: Change of schedule. What did you find? JÖRGEN: Of course, of course! Come here! <Jörgen gestures for Mimko to come over.> <What remains of SCP-8780 are patches of loose skin, flesh and bone fragments, with most of them being severely charred. Of note is the presence of four metallic cuboid objects of various sizes. Mimko eyes the objects extensively.> MIMKO: What are these? JÖRGEN: (gulps down sandwich) What, those? Let me show you! <Coroner Jörgen hurries over TLA Model #3465,1 and prepares it. A low hum, increasing in frequency, becomes audible.> JÖRGEN: This’ll blow your mind! By the way, I’d just step away a few meters. Just saying. <The TLA finishes charging up and shoots a projectile at one of the cuboid objects. Dr. Mimko shields her eyes. Once the TLA decharges again, she looks back onto the cube.> <The cube emits a faint blue glow, which eventually dissipates. Temperature recording equipment does not indicate a change in temperature. Jörgen grins widely.> JÖRGEN: You know what that is? MIMKO: (under breath) Beryllium bronze. JÖRGEN: Exactly! MIMKO: But, why? JÖRGEN: The bronze is used to enhance magical spells and abilities; whatever happened to this guy, magicks were definitely involved. MIMKO: Any leads to where the bronze might’ve come from? JÖRGEN: Sadly not, though it’s suspected to have originated in Germany. MC&D controls all shipping of anomalous materials. With us covering their butts for their 2023 scandal, I doubt they’d be willing to break that partnership. <Jörgen retrieves another ham-chicken sandwich from a nearby tray.> JÖRGEN: I am so excited! (takes bite) Sorry, I eat a lot when I’m excited. And when I’m performing autopsies. I actually think it’s a coping mechanism. MIMKO: But where would there be beryllium bronze deposits? And who would… (trails off) <Dr. Mimko quickly turns around and exits the mortuary.> JÖRGEN: (full mouth) You can thank me later! I guess. (takes bite) [END RECORDING] APPENDIX [8780-008] INTERVIEW 8780.02 DATE: 04/17/2025 LOCATION: [CLASSIFIED PER ETHICS COMMITTEE] FOREWORD: Due to the presence of anomalous material beryllium bronze within SCP-8780, contact was established with an individual knowledgable on the topic. [BEGIN RECORDING] <Dr. Mimko arrives via helicopter to the site. The area is a farm, with a barn and a small house next to it. An indistinct figure is seen watching the helicopter from the front porch.> View taken from body-cam. <The helicopter lands. Mimko exits the craft. The figure slowly approaches.> <As the figure approaches, all plant-life in its vicinity begins to wither and quickly die out. Dr. Mimko stops a few meters away from the figure.> MIMKO: (holds out hand) The biblical Cain, I presume? <SCP-073 does not shake Mimko’s hand. She lowers her arm.> 073: Did he break out? MIMKO: No worries, Mr. Cain. Your brother’s still sleeping tight 200 meters below sea level. 073: (pauses) Then you have come to take me? MIMKO: (chuckles) I can assure you, there is nothing to worry about. <SCP-073 approaches Dr. Mimko. Security escorts at the helicopter raise their weapons, before lowering them again.> MIMKO: I’m just here to ask a few questions about your limbs. Specifically the material that they’re made out of. <SCP-073 looks down at its arms and legs.> 073: What of them? MIMKO: You’ve given us detailed information about beryllium bronze deposits all over the world; we’re wondering if you know of more, yet unmentioned deposits in Germany. 073: And help you create engines of war and slaughter? No, thank you. <SCP-073 turns away.> MIMKO: (shouts) Your cooperation would be helpful! <SCP-073 stops dead in its tracks. It turns back to look at Mimko.> 073: Did you know terrorist attacks rose when the Veil broke? When the public first gazed into the darkness? MIMKO: Yes. 073: Do you know… why? MIMKO: A rise in raids on Foundation installations occurred worldwide. They grabbed whatever they could get their hands on and turn them into weapons. 073: No— yes. But that’s not what I meant. <Silence.> 073: When people first found out about me, they rejoiced. I was happy… but then man did what it could do best. Kill. 073: They killed in the name of their religion. In the name of me. Thousands of innocents died. Why? Because I restored a little faith in the world. <Silence.> 073: That’s why I cannot help you. You pride yourselves of being the shining light in the darkness, but all you are are scared little men and women, who’d do anything to prove that you aren’t. I’m sorry. <SCP-073 walks back to its house.> MIMKO: … there was an explosion. At a mall. <SCP-073 stops. He looks at Dr. Mimko.> MIMKO: Only 5 people died, but still. We don’t know who caused it, or if it will happen again. For all we know, it won’t. For all we know, it might strike at an airport next — we do not know. MIMKO: That’s why we — I — need your help. For innocents’ lives. I… had a sister once. Tomo was her name. She died. An innocent’s life flushed down the drain. I don’t want it to happen again. For anybody. <There is a slight tremor in SCP-073’s expression, in its stance. Dr. Mimko looks at SCP-073 intently.> 073: [COORDINATES REDACTED]. There. Another deposit of beryllium bronze, untouched by anybody. Until now. MIMKO: Thank you, Cain. <SCP-073 remains silent.> <After a few seconds, Dr. Mimko returns to and boards the helicopter. The helicopter takes off. SCP-073 looks on at the craft.> <As the craft leaves the area, SCP-073 can be seen tending to some sheep in the distance.> [END RECORDING] APPENDIX [8780-009] MISSION LOG 8780-α DATE: 04/22/2025 LOCATION: [REDACTED] FOREWORD: With the coordinates given by SCP-073, an MTF detachment of the German branch was dispatched to the location; Mobile Task Force Lambda-9 (”Nacktmulle”). The members are λ9-1 | CAP, λ9-2 | KUN, λ9-3 | WOLF; Dr. Hakari Mimko is stationed at the command center. [BEGIN RECORDING] <MTF λ-9 arrives at an abandoned manufacturing plant. The sky is cloudy, with various crows cackling in the distance. They approach the large gate into the interior.> <Inside, they turn their head-mounted flashlights on. They begin carefully surveying the area.> Shot from λ-9 team. MIMKO: Contact me at the earliest sign of anything suspicious. λ9-1 | CAP: Got it. λ9-2 | KUN: Yep. λ9-3 | WOLF: Aye, aye. <The team proceeds further into the complex. What little of the outside light shone in, it is gone now.> λ9-3 | WOLF: Found a hatch! <MTF λ-9 converges around a floor-mounted hatch. It is severely rusted and wide open. A hallway is being dimly illuminated down there.> λ9-2 | KUN: I see a light down there… λ9-1 | CAP: Command, permission to venture down? MIMKO: Permission given. Proceed with caution. <The team ventures down into the hatch.> <They arrive in a narrow hallway. The walls are heavily withered, with equally as rusted pipes aligning the walls. There is a overhead lightbulb dimly illuminating the area around it. Faint dripping can be heard.> <The team continues down more corridors. On multiple occasions, they stumble upon doors with newly attached plaques on the frame, the words indescribable. These doors are locked.> <λ-9 arrives at an open door, which they enter.> <The room appears to be some sort of security station, with old monitors stacked up against a wall. There is a table and knocked-over swivel chair at the far end of it. Various documents litter the table and the area surrounding it.> <λ9-1 | CAP inspects these documents.> λ9-1 | CAP: (reads) ’… vitals appear to be stable…’, ’… 2 kilograms of beryllium bronze…’, ’SC-07534/844/9870…’ Command, we got any group that uses this classification scheme? λ9-2 | KUN: That’s the Insurgency. <The members of λ-9 begin to pay close attention to their surroundings.> λ9-3 | WOLF: Fucking hell… MIMKO: Captain, scan these documents. Then get out ASAP. λ9-1 | CAP: Already on it. <λ9-1 | CAP scans all documents as quickly as he can. He stumbles upon one document, [COGNITOHAZARD EXPUNGED].> <He is silent for a while. The others become confused and come to his side.> λ9-3 | WOLF: Thomas! You okay… λ9-2 | KUN: Holy shit… λ9-1 | CAP: You seeing this, Command? MIMKO: Affirmative. Transmitted data has already been archived. λ9-2 | KUN: That can’t be— λ9-3 | WOLF: You hear somethi— <A figure steps into view, standing at the door. The figure is a young boy, heavily bruised and malnourished.2> <λ-9 keep distance from the boy.> λ9-2 | KUN: (calm) Hey, young boy. Can we help you? BOY: (sobs) M—meine Mama… λ9-2 | KUN: (shushes) Du möchtest deine Mama wiedersehen? Wir können dir helfe— <A faint orange glow is being emitted by the boy. He clutches his chest tightly.> λ9-1 | CAP: Kun… λ9-2 | KUN: Du möchtest doch deine Mama wiedersehen, oder? BOY: (nods) λ9-2 | KUN: Dann lass uns vorbei. Dann können wir— <The orange glow increases in luminosity. The boy screams in pain.> <A large fireball is being emitted by the boy. Footage cuts out.> [END RECORDING] The entire underground portion of the area collapsed in on itself within a hundred meter radius. Above ground portions of the manufacturing plant collapsed into the resultant sinkhole. Total amount of casualties were 4. The data transmitted by MTF λ-9 Captain Thomas Meier was received by Command without issue. APPENDIX [8780-010] MEETING 8780-B DATE: 04/24/2025 LOCATION: [REDACTED] [BEGIN RECORDING] <Dr. Mimko is sorting through some files related to the case.> <Suddenly, the office door swings open. O5-13 stampedes inside, documents in hand. Mimko does not stop her ministrations.> <O5-13 stops right in front of her desk.> O5-13: What is this? MIMKO: What is what? <O5-13 deposits the documents on the desk.> O5-13: Why are there redacted portions in the mission log I can’t see? MIMKO: Cognitohazards. You know the gist. O5-13: Bullshit. MIMKO: It’s true. <O5-13 pounds her fist on the desk. She leans in her face so much, they are almost touching.> O5-13: If it were up to me, you’d be long gone. Holed up in a room, lying in a ditch somewhere. I know what you did, Dr. Mimko. I know it. <They stare at each other for quite a while.> MIMKO: I think it’s time you’ve gotten some fresh air. <She scoffs, before moving toward the door. She stops at the door.> O5-13: Clef wasn’t the greatest person, far from it. But at least he had a heart. <O5-13 exits the room. Dr. Mimko looks on aimlessly, before sorting through files again.> [END RECORDING] | > ACCESS: HAKARI MIMKO E-MAIL CORRESPONDENCES. | Accessing relevant e-mails… | TO: tni.pcs.tig|1.0#tni.pcs.tig|1.0 | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|okmim.h#tni.pcs.tig|okmim.h | SUBJECT: O5-13 Dear Overseer, I ask of you to handle the following data with the utmost of caution: attachment-scp-8780-mission-log-α-redacted-files.zip. These files were recovered in the exploration of the Chaos Insurgency facility, right before its destruction. Godspeed, O5-1. - Hakari Mimko Secure. Contain. Protect. | TO: tni.pcs.tig|okmim.h#tni.pcs.tig|okmim.h | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|1.0#tni.pcs.tig|1.0 | SUBJECT: re:O5-13 Are you certain? O5-1 Secure. Contain. Protect. | TO: tni.pcs.tig|1.0#tni.pcs.tig|1.0 | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|okmim.h#tni.pcs.tig|okmim.h | SUBJECT: re:re:O5-13 This is your choice to make. Hakari Mimko Secure. Contain. Protect. RECORDING 8780-0001 DATE: 04/25/2025 LOCATION: [REDACTED] [BEGIN RECORDING] <O5-13 sits at her desk, doing paperwork on SCP-2498 and SCP-5050.> <O5-1 enters the office. Accompanying him is an escort of Mobile Task Force Alpha-1 (”Red Right Hand”).> <O5-13 looks up from her desk, quite confused.> O5-13: What is this, One? O5-1: Sophia Light. You are hereby under arrest for treason against the Foundation. Your position as Overseer— O5-13: Wait— O5-1: —is revoked. You will be held in a holding cell at Site-01 as Level 0 personnel, until investigations can prove- O5-13: Aaron— O5-1: —your innocence otherwise. <O5-13 slams her hands onto the desk.> O5-13: Jesus Christ! What is this all for? O5-1: Dr. Light, you were involved in the creation of a highly dangerous anomaly, deliberately created to disrupt operations and public opinion of the SCP Foundation. You are a traitor. O5-13: Creation of… no… No! It wasn’t me! I— O5-1: Take her away. <Alpha-1 takes O5-13 out of the room.> O5-13: I didn’t do it, Aaron! You know this! I didn’t do jackshit! <As O5-13 is dragged out, the door is closed behind them.> <O5-1 rubs his temple, sighs, and looks onto O5-13’s desk silently for quite a while.> [END RECORDING] APPENDIX [8780-011] PROPOSAL DATE: 04/26/2025 SUBJECT: Open Position SUBMITTED BY: Dr. Hakari Mimko Dearest Council, I’d hereby like to announce that the culprit behind the terrorist attack of SCP-8780 has been put under rightful justice. Without the Foundation’s intervention, potentially hundreds of people could’ve died under these living weapons. That is what we do — secure, contain, protect. But there are many people out there who think otherwise. People that see us as ’evil’ and ’unethical’. And although that might be true to an outside observer, they are unable to realize the gravity of the decisions we have to make on a daily basis. For colleagues, friends and family. Yet these people still prevail, trying to take down our precious fortress that has stood against incomprehensible foes for decades. And if these people are not dealt with, our walls will crumble. The solution: The re-founding of my GREY MATTER Division. To filter out any hateful remarks toward us, and drip-feed the public media that shines us in a positive light. I would also propose myself for the open spot of O5-13, after Sophia Light’s recent outing. I’d like to think that I could handle the stresses that come with the duty as an Overseer; I hope you think this, too. I hope you take these words to heart, Overseers. - Dr. Hakari Mimko Secure. Contain. Protect. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY YES NAY ABSTAIN O5-1 O5-2 O5-3 O5-4 O5-5 O5-6 O5-7 O5-8 O5-9 O5-10 O5-12 STATUS INCONCLUSIVE CONCLUSION: None. | > ACCESS: O5-8 E-MAIL CORRESPONDENCES. | Enter password. | > ”therightthingtodo” | Thank you, Overseer. | Accessing relevant e-mails… | TO: tni.pcs.tig|1.0#tni.pcs.tig|1.0 | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|8.0#tni.pcs.tig|8.0 | SUBJECT: Vote I know what Light meant to you, One. But we cannot let emotions control our decisions. As Mimko said, we do the difficult decisions, so that others don’t have to. Because there is no one else. Whether you agree with it or not, it is the right thing to do. Vote for Mimko, One. - O5-8 Secure. Contain. Protect. COUNCIL VOTE SUMMARY YES NAY ABSTAIN O5-1 O5-2 O5-3 O5-4 O5-5 O5-6 O5-7 O5-8 O5-9 O5-10 O5-12 STATUS APPROVED CONCLUSION: By vote of the Overseer Council, the re-founding of the GREY MATTER Division and your promotion to OVERSEER #13 has been APPROVED. The Council expects but total loyalty from you; failure to adhere to this will result in demotion or termination of employment with the Foundation. We wish you best of luck. - O5-1 | NOTICE: You have received one (1) new mail. | Open? | Y/N | > Y | Opening mail… | TO: tni.pcs.tig|31.0#tni.pcs.tig|31.0 | FROM: tni.pcs.tig|8.0#tni.pcs.tig|8.0 | SUBJECT: Promotion Congratulations on your promotion, Dr. Mimko. It’s been a pleasure working with you. Contact us any time, and Delta Command will happily oblige. Should intermittent vengeance arm again his red right hand to plague us? - O5-8 Secure. Contain. Protect. | > SUBMIT: project-violin-proposal.zip | Submitting… | Submission successful. | > LOG-OUT: O5-13 | Initiate log-out? | Y/N | > Y | Initiating log-out… | Log-out successful. | Goodbye, Overseer. Footnotes 1. Thaumic Laser Arrays (TLAs) are devices capable of generating thaumaturgically charged projectiles. TLAs are utilized in the development of thaumaturgic equipment. 2. Later analysis matched appearance with Diirden Haml, who went missing on 03/15/2025. The Controversy Broken Masquerade Coming Soon... ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8780" by Doctor Scrappy , from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8780. 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.
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[Begin relevant footage] Dr. Smith: I am telling you, Jean, this is genuinely the spiciest fucking curry conceived by man, or well, woman. Not sure what my wife put into this stuff. Dr. Gusteau: Had you skipped your warm-up for this one, Mathew? (Dr. Gusteau reaches for a nearby ketchup bottle and hands it to Dr. Smith.) Dr. Gusteau: Next time, start small, yeah? (Dr. Smith grips the bottle tightly, squeezing a large portion into his mouth, not breaking eye contact with Dr. Gusteau the entire time. Dr. Gusteau gags, as Dr. Smith gulps it down.) Dr. Smith: Satisfied? Dr. Gusteau: You’re disgusting, you know that? Dr. Smith: You challenged me, and clearly my wife did too; this butter chicken is diabolical. (Dr. Gusteau perks up.) Dr. Gusteau: Butter chicken? Not even Vindaloo or something? Oh come on, Mathew! Even I expect more from you. Dr. Smith: This isn’t your average butter chicken, Jean. God knows what she must’ve put into this stuff. Dr. Gusteau: TWO chilies?!? What, she take out a life insurance policy on you or something? Dr. Smith: Listen, I used to take out Indian all the time during my college days. This is different. Dr. Gusteau: Yeah right, you must’ve been the least white guy at that restaurant. Dr. Smith: The food was hot, okay? They spiced it up real good. Dr. Gusteau: Alright, take another bite then. I oughta see this. Dr. Smith: If that’s what it takes to convince you. Maybe it won’t be so bad now that I’m used to it. (Dr. Smith proceeds to eat a small spoonful of butter chicken, before immediately spitting it out onto the table. He rushes to grab a carton of milk from the nearby refrigerator, as Dr. Gusteau begins to crack up.) Dr. Gusteau: Fucking hell, what’d she put in there, a ghost pepper? At least your wife’s got some comedy chops, I’ll give her that. (Dr. Smith is frantically chugging the freshly grabbed milk, panting in between each sip, fanning himself with a napkin.) Dr. Gusteau: Come on, I was just busting your balls before, but this is getting ridiculous, even for you. (Dr. Smith finishes the carton of milk and slams it onto the floor, beginning to hack and cough, keeling over in the process. Sweat is running down his forehead, dripping onto his lab coat.) Dr. Gusteau: Ah fuck. (Dr. Gusteau gets up and walks over to Dr. Smith, grabbing another carton of milk on his way. He crouches down and hands it to him. Dr. Gusteau whispers something, before being pushed away by Dr. Smith. Dr. Smith returns to his seat, while panting heavily. Dr. Gusteau follows.) Dr. Gusteau: You okay? Dr. Smith: (In a raspy voice) God. I think I’m okay, I just need a minute. Dr. Gusteau: Fuck man, I kinda wanna try it now. You’ve got me all curious. Dr. Smith: You just saw me almost die out there, why would you ever wanna try it? Dr. Gusteau: Come on, the pain’s half the fun. Dr. Smith: I genuinely don’t think you should have any. Dr. Gusteau: Only fair for me to give it a shot after busting your balls about it. Besides, I’ve handled much worse. I practically eat ghost peppers for breakfast. (Dr. Gusteau eats a heaping spoonful with no notable reaction.) Dr. Gusteau: This is like, unironically really, really mild. Think the spiciest thing in here is the heavy cream. (Dr. Gusteau grabs another helping, audibly smacking his lips after swallowing.) Dr. Gusteau: It’s really good, though! [End relevant footage] There is an untested and unregistered food based anomaly on this site, and I require YOUR help to put the nail in the coffin and get this thing classified. An array of salted snacks and rice cakes will be provided for any willing test subject. The flavor of the anomaly has been described as "Mild" and "Really good though", so if you think you're up for the task, come down to Test-Room 92B at 15:30. Dr. Smith Anomalous Item Testing Log Subject Name: Dr. Wilbur Subject Age: 34 Position: Junior Researcher Statement Upon Consuming Suspected Anomaly: Are you expecting like a food review or something? Uhh, it's creamy? Subject Name: Dr. Morrison Subject Age: 54 Position: Senior Researcher Statement Upon Consuming Suspected Anomaly: It's even better with the rice cakes! You got any more of this stuff? The rice cakes, I mean. Subject Name: Poncey Subject Age: 19 Position: Intern Statement Upon Consuming Suspected Anomaly: This is why I get butter chicken every single time. Real flavor, no pain. Subject Name: Dr. Flagherty Subject Age: 28 Position: Junior Researcher Statement Upon Consuming Suspected Anomaly: Jesus Christ, that's spicy. Whoo that is really fucking hot. God, I can't believe you were able to get a spoonful down of this stuff, Mathew. This is crazy hot. Note: Testing results aren't at all consistent with what I've been eating. Dr. Flagherty seemed at first to be the only other subject that has been officially challenged by the curry, yet upon further questioning has admitted Dr. Gusteau put him up to this and slipped him a 20 for his efforts. I'll talk to him later. I know these guys are weaker than me, and you want to tell me this is "normal"? I don't buy it. Notice: The Following File Is Outdated This file was originally submitted by Dr. Smith regarding a potential anomalous phenomenon. While its content is mostly inaccurate, it has been retained for posterity. Item#: 8785 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: warning link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8785 is to stay in Dr. Smith's possession until it deems another member of Foundation personnel as worthy. SCP-8785 prior to consumption. Description: SCP-8785 is a butter chicken curry intended to have been consumed by Dr. Smith for lunch. Accounts of SCP-8785’s flavor profile have been erratic throughout testing, with only Dr. Smith having been capable of offering a consistent description of the true nature of SCP-8785. Whether or not SCP-8785 is sentient and specifically challenges Dr. Smith’s ability or elects to spare other Foundation personnel is unknown and is subject of further testing. Addendum SCP-8785-A: Incident Report The following surveillance footage was pulled from Site-54’s director’s office. [Begin Relevant Footage] (A hyperventilating Dr. Smith is seen bursting into the office, a knock was not heard on camera.) Dr. Smith: Director Kingston, I need to speak with you immediately! This is Class-A Urgent! (Director Kingston sighs heavily, before quickly waving his hand.) Director Kingston: What’s it this time, Smith? Dr. Smith: We’ve got an unregistered anomaly impeding my work and damaging my good reputation. (Director Kingston lays back into his chair, hands crossed at the lap.) Director Kingston: I'm listening. (Dr. Smith pulls out a Tupperware container of SCP-8785 and slams it down on Director Kingston’s desk.) Dr. Smith: This curry’s got a mind of its own. It’s edible hellfire. The most miniscule of bites and BOOM! (Dr. Smith mimics an explosion erupting from his mouth, accompanied by a quiet whooshing sound.) Dr. Smith: It’s got me down for the count. Director Kingston: Aha, right. Dr. Gusteau mentioned something like that… and you’re certain this is ano- Dr. Smith: Yes, yes, yes, it’s anomalous. I know my spice tolerance is a running joke at this point, but I promise you, I absolutely can handle my spice, and this curry knows it. It’s testing me. Director Kingston: Testing you? Dr. Smith: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Basically, almost everyone at the site thinks that it's mild, but we know that's not the case based on what I've experienced and- (Director Kingston pinches his forehead, before taking a deep breath.) Director Kingston: And this curry has it out for you, right? It was just waiting around waiting for a true challenger to step up to it, right? Everyone knows Dr. Smith is the perfect fit for that, right? (Dr. Smith tilts his head before scratching the backside of it.) Dr. Smith: Yeah, um, that's sort of it, yeah. Director Kingston: (Under his breath) Fuck me. (Director Kingston attempts to slide the Tupperware container to his person, but Dr. Smith quickly snatches it away before tucking it back into his bag.) Director Kingston: What the hell’s the matter with you? Dr. Smith: This thing almost murdered me. It’s flavor has been inconsistent. If it deems you worthy just like me and things go south… well, next thing I know they’ll have me packing my bags for almost killing a director. Just trust me on this one. Director Kingston: I'd trust a freshly pressed out infant to put up more of a fight against some heat than you. (Dr. Smith points at a can of pringles set aside Director Kingston’s lunch.) Dr. Smith: Those are really hot, right? I am always up for a hot-chip challenge, best believe me. (Director Kingston scoffs.) Director Kingston: They are labeled Hot and Spicy Pringles, yes. They’re not really meant to be hot tho- (Dr. Smith grabs a singular chip and crams it down his mouth, before immediately falling over, and writhing on the floor. Dr. Smith proceeds to slam his fist into the ground in quick succession. A small puddle of sweat begins to accumulate beneath his head.) Director Kingston: Well, congratulations, Dr. Smith, you’ve not wasted my time for once. [Extraneous footage cut] Item#: 8785 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: warning link to memo Dr. Smith five minutes after eating smoked paprika peanuts. Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-8785's anomalous trigger isn't fully understood, Dr. Smith may only consume lightly seasoned meals to avoid further incidents. In order to accommodate Dr. Smith, a specialty menu has been designed: it includes mildly salted chicken breast with a side of rice and green beans as a main, a side of mayonnaise based pasta salad and a cup of Jell-O as a dessert. Description: SCP-8785 is Dr. Smith’s exaggerated lack of spice tolerance when confronted with a lightly seasoned meal while in the presence of his peers. Consumption of any slightly spiced meal leads to great bodily harm and discomfort for Dr. Smith. The exact conditions of this trigger are not fully understood, as further testing following Incident-8785-F has been suspended due to ethical concerns. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8785" by Not Noodles, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8785. 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: Butter Chicken with Naan.JPG Author: Hubie License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 **Source Link:*https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Butter_Chicken_with_Naan.JPG Filename: Sweat.PNG Author: Ryan McFarland License: Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic Source Link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/zieak/2874580849/in/photostream/
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padding: 2vw; } …the ultimate human fantasy is just… living a life that's not too complicated, where you don't have to worry about the bills, or about whether or not your kids are doing well in school, or about how the whole fucking world is going to Hell in a handbasket… close Info X SCP-8787: The Roast Not Taken More by Ihp More S & C Plastics SCP-8787 The Roast Not Taken By: Ihp Published 12 February, 2024 Head Archivist Sage, This is everything we've found so far pertaining to Case-2022-002. Per Acting Director Leigh, we aren't getting any non-anomalous law enforcement involved, including the SPPD, mostly for the safety of the missing person; cops react badly to normal runaway cases, imagine if they drew their gun on a Type-Blue. I didn't think that she'd just… do that. She loved this place more than anything. Reynolds is heartbroken, but we're making sure he and his kid get the best care they can. Leigh won't let you file this under Priority Alpha, but she was basically everyone's friend here, before she broke down. At the very least, make it Priority Gamma. Also enclosed are a few copies of the most current missing persons poster for her. Everyone around 87 knows her, but you have family in the Upper Peninsula, and we think she may have headed there. If you could maybe get a few of them up in that direction, it would be appreciated. Col. Malcolm Guillard Department Head, Investigations and Retrieval Site-87 Section Found Highlighted in Personal Collection of Dr. K. Sinclair One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. - Hans Christian Andersen, The Snow Queen Search Engine Log, Notable Queries, 07/2021-08/2022 SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity leave SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity leave for anomalous individuals SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity Leave For anomalous Foundation personnel SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity leave for anomalous Foundation personnel -containment GOOGLE QUERY 09/15/2021: Best maternity center Douglas County WI SCiPNET QUERY 09/15/2021: how to access Goldbaker-Reinz Insurance Plan GOOGLE QUERY 09/19/2021: cesarian section painful SCiPNET QUERY 10/15/2021: foundation emergency medical leave GOOGLE QUERY 10/16/2021: how to obtain birth certificate wisconsin GOOGLE QUERY 10/19/2021: symptoms of post-partum depression GOOGLE QUERY 12/01/2021: best baby gifts for girls [INSIGNIFICANT ENTRIES PRUNED] GOOGLE QUERY 08/29/2022: day cares Sloth's Pit Wisconsin SCiPNET QUERY 08/29/2022: anomalous activity associated with day cares in Sloth's Pit Wisconsin SCiPNET QUERY 08/29/2022: mass-scale exorcism of civilian buildings SCiPNET EMAIL, DATED 08/25/2022 Director Bailey, Thank you for the flowers. They've helped liven up the place a bit. All I wanted was a clarification on how long my maternity leave was, and… well, you've certainly helped with that. I'm not going to lie, Tristan: my life is kind of hell right now. Phoenix isn't sleeping, and neither are we. A few rudimentary rites to keep us awake are not a substitute for sleep. We don't know if she has colic or what; the doctors can't find anything wrong with her, but the instant I'm out of her sight, she starts bawling like a banshee. I know this is probably out of her wheelhouse, but I'm wondering if there's not something anomalously wrong with her. If you could maybe see about getting Dr. Liao over here one day, I know i'm asking a lot but tristan please i havent' slept since july and monty and i are fighting every day now please help us Katherine Sinclair, PhD Department Head, Thaumatology and Occult Studies Site-87 GOOGLE QUERY 8/30/2022: Hotels in Superior WI SCiPNET QUERY 8/30/2022: marriage counseling within foundation 9-1-1 Call, 11:35 PM, August 30th, 2022 Dispatch: Douglas County 9-1-1, do you require police, fire, or ambulance? Caller: I… ambulance. I crashed my car. Ah! Dispatch: Ma'am, are you hurt? Caller: My… my left hand. The steering wheel got torn out of it. I… I can't feel it. Ow. Dispatch: Ma'am, do you see a mile marker? Any indication of where you are? Caller: I… I think I was… I was driving down Bray Road, out of… out of Sloth's Pit. Fucking deer came in front of the car and… oh god I'm in the woods. Dispatch: What's the make and model of your car, ma'am? Caller: It's a Volvo. Red… no, burgundy station wagon. It… before the turn of the century. Okay, I think I can walk. Dispatch: Ma'am, stay close to the car. Caller: I can't. I lost my damn eye. Dispatch: Your… eye? Caller: It's fake. Wait… what's that? Dispatch: Ma'am, do not leave the vicinity of your car. There are dangerous animals in the woods surrounding Sloth's Pit. Caller: God, 'dangerous animals' is the excuse we gave you? I think it might be someone from work… Hello? Hello! Are you… what the hell are you? Dispatch: Ma'am, do not leave the area— Caller: …what the fuck is… oh, I… yeah, that makes sense. Dispatch: Ma'am, stay on the line. Ma'am? God dammit. [DISPATCH NOTES: "CODE SP87 BRAY ROAD IN WOODS NEAR SLOTHS PIT. NEED AMBULANCE, POLICE, CLEANERS"] Head Archivist's Note: Aside from a piece of plastic that may have been part of the front left headlight, no trace of Dr. Sinclair, or her vehicle, were discovered by either Foundation or civilian forces. MISSING DR. KATHERINE JEAN SINCLAIR Date of Birth: 06/17/1982 Age: 43 Sex or gender: Female Race: White Hair: Red Eyes: Green (right) teal (left) Height: 5'7" Weight: 240 (est.) Distinguishing Marks: Left eye is a plastic prosthetic Burn scars on both forearms from laboratory accident Last seen heading northbound out of Douglas County, Wisconsin, driving a 1995 burgundy Volvo Station Wagon with Wisconsin plates (title expiry January 2023) Last Seen August 30th, 2022 IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, PLEASE CONTACT: STRAUSS CONTRACT POLICING 15 WEST MAIN STREET SLOTH'S PIT, WI 54887 (715) 555-0173 Bleeding and bleary, the woman went to the first light she saw in the distance. She knew she was in pain, but she knew that she had been in worse. Her legs still worked, she could flex all her fing— no, that was a lie. Her left hand made an unnatural popping noise when she tried flexing the thumb. The steering wheel had been wrenched from her hand when she crashed, and at the very least, it was sprained. She had swerved to miss a deer in the middle of the road. Idiot. She knew that she should have just plowed through Bambi, but she wasn't thinking straight. She had been driving for six… eight? Ten hours? When had she seen the sunset? Where was she? The building came into focus. It was a diner? No, it was a coffee shop. It looked like it had been ripped out of the center of main street back home. But it was just sitting here, on the side of the highway. She couldn't make out the sign through the rain and her tears and the fact that she only had one eye didn't help matters, either. She shoved open the door— "Kat! You're late." Kathryn Sinclair blinked as she walked through the door of Sid's Coffee Place. It was mid-morning, her apron was on backwards, and there was a line. She blinked at her boss, Sidney Charmer, as if she didn't know what was happening. After a moment, her brain fog lifted; it always happened when she was late to a shift, everything about the day got discombobulated. "Sorry, sorry," she said, getting behind the counter. "Car blew up on me and I had to take the metro." "Couldn't have called?" Sid grimaced, eyebrows knitting together under their green hair. "Out of minutes for the month." Sidney shook their head. "Well, the BARI-STAR's on the fritz, and you're a wizard when it comes to fixing this thing. It's been house blend only for the last half hour." "On it, boss." Kat went into the back closet, got her hair in a net, and got out some tools. She found the manual for the BARI-STAR easily enough— Sidney had written it themselves— and though she had read it hundreds of times, thought it was a good idea to get a refresher. Serial #: SCP-8787 Specifications for Cheap Patching: One of the milk steaming wands just doesn't work. Don't bother trying to repair it. Anything else: Is the boiler working? Check that first. Stop and turn off all heating elements, we don't want a repeat of what happened with Quinn. The tubes get clogged a lot, make sure they're unclogged. Halve the amount of coffee brewed for a while; sometimes the machine just gets tired. If all else fails, whack it with a wrench. STOP! Don't do that, they don't make parts for these anymore. Description: SCP-8787 is the serial number of a BARI-STAR Galactic Three-Cup Espresso and Latte Machine in Sid's Coffee Place, the best place to get coffee in Philadelphia. Manufactured in 1995, SCP-8787 includes the following deluxe features: 15-liter boiler 1 hot water outlet 2 milk steaming wands (leftmost is non-functional) Stainless steel body Gas heating system Electric cup warmer Lifetime warranty SCP-8787 has been serving Sid's Coffee Place since its founding in 2022, and serves almost 200 gallons of our finest brew every week. It had always struck Kat as odd that a machine this old was still in service; it was top-of-the line, thanks in no small part to her repair skills, and the lifetime warranty certainly helped. She wondered at what point the BARI-STAR stopped being the same coffee machine it was back in the 90's. A Coffee Maker of Theseus. On some level, it was still the original machine; the fact that the left coffee steamer hadn't worked since she started working here, and that she never could get it working, was evidence of that. She exited the back room and set about to repairing the machine, while Sid kept serving customers. "Hey, Sid?" "Hmm?" "When are you going to change the signs? I thought you renamed the place." "They're on back order," Sidney admitted with a sigh. "Haven't been able to get someone out here to paint the window either." "I'm still shocked they wouldn't let you keep the name 'Sid's Coffee Place'." "Well apparently there's a 'Sid's Coffee Place' in some backwoods town in Wisconsin, and I'm not allowed to use the name because they filed their trademark a year before I did." "That's bullshit. We should sue." "With what money, Kat? You willing to give up your paycheck?" "Fair point." Kat set to the task of disassembling the BARI-STAR. The inside of the establishment formerly known as Sid's Coffee Place was a modest affair, but it was cozy enough. Tables along the front windows and in each corner, a small room off to the side for 'private functions' (which got a surprising amount of use post-pandemic), a fireplace, and perhaps inadvisably, a small bookshelf next to the aforementioned fireplace. Kat swore up and down one day that she would read every book on the shelf, but Sidney had a strange taste in books; he had The Complete Works of Franz Kafka on the same shelf as Tamsyn Muir, and nobody wanted anything to do with the works of Charles Stross on the shelf below it, but the copies of The Handmaid's Tale and John Dies At The End were read so frequently that their back covers were held on by tape. Philadelphia's coffee crowd had an eclectic taste in books, according to Sid, but she never— She was screaming again. Always with the screaming, she never stopped. How could someone that young survive for so long without sleep, without air? The earplugs didn't help, nor did the coffee. She'd grown to hate the drink so much— Kat blinked. The BARI-STAR was fixed, except for that stupid steam wand. She brewed an experimental cup of espresso just to make sure, and everything was working fine. The shop was full of people. Everything was going okay. "You ever regret dropping out?" Sid asked as the lunchtime rush finished a few hours later. Kathryn rolled her eyes. Sid asked the same question at least once every three months— it was like he had amnesia! She had to come up with a unique answer each time. "I was getting an anthropology degree, Sid. Not exactly a lot of places hiring for the humanities around here." "Could've gone abroad." "And done what?" "I dunno. The Philippines have some pretty cool folklore. You could've studied there." "I'd have to learn at least two different languages. Hard pass." Kat shook her head. "No, if I hadn't dropped out, I wouldn't be here, and I'm glad for that." Sid looked at her skeptically. "You don't want to do anything else except work here?" "I mean, eventually I want to find someone and settle down, but… I can't have kids." "Right… with the…" Sid rubbed their midsection, their face a grimace of sympathy. "Would you want to have kids, if you could?" "Don't know," Kat admitted. "I was born without a soul, and I'm not sure I'd want to risk a child with the same." Sid looked at her quizzically. They were sometimes slow on getting jokes. "That was a joke about… your hair?" "Yeah. Redheads don't have souls, dontchaknow." She grinned. Someone knocked on the counter with all of the tact of someone inviting Sidney to a gender reveal party. Kathryn recognized him, and suppressed a groan; she recognized this customer, but hadn't seen him in about a year. It was Mr. Wet, so called because that was all that was ever legible on his cups, no matter what she did. He was heavyset but tall, and looked like he was wearing his own skin wrong. Mr. Wet was whiter than a mayonnaise and marble sandwich, with hair that stuck out in every direction but the correct one, a beard in the process of exploding, glasses with a prescription so thick that they could be used as a microscope, and clip-on tie that, somehow, was on backwards. His hair was at least styled a bit more neatly this year. Him being in town meant that it was time for the annual Symposium on the Cessation of Petroleum, a conference hosted in Philadelphia where a bunch of eggheads, hippies, and hippies who had egghead DNA got together and talked about phasing out fossil fuels. A noble goal, but she had gotten better tips from politicians than she got from these people. "Good to see you again," Kathryn said, ice in her voice. "…do I know you?" Mr. Wet asked, looking around as if he were disoriented. "Motherfucker, you come in here every year to get coffee before the symposium begins," Kathryn said, tactfully omitting the 'motherfucker'. "Oh. Huh. Coulda sworn this place had a different name last year…" Mr. Wet frowned. "Well, I'll have black, one sugar." "Name for that?" "William Wettle." If that's your real name, I'm Cindy Crawford, Kathryn thought as she went about making the order. But the name sounded… familiar to her somehow. She was distracted by the thought of Where have I heard that name before? so thoroughly that she put in a cream instead of a sugar, before handing the coffee to him. He took out a chalky Lactaid pill, swallowed it, and then downed the coffee. "I asked for sugar, and you gave me cream." "Oh, sh— sorry," Kat winced. "Happens every time. When I'm in the mood for cream, I ask for sugar, and vice-versa. Ain't your fault…" He looked at her nametag and frowned. "Why is your name spelled like a character out of Snow Crash?" "From what my mom told me? The 'E' key on the keyboard when they were typing out my birth certificate didn't work. Now I'm stuck with this." "Huh." Wettle looked up at her, squinting. "…your eyes… what's…" "Lost it in a car wreck. $7.90." "Your board says—" "That was before you made a comment about my eye, jackass." She did not omit the jackass here. "Were you raised in a barn?" "I… was raised in Peoria…" Wettle reluctantly surrendered eight dollars, muttered 'keep the change', and left. As he toddled down the street, Kathryn heard a yelp; the dumb motherfucker had probably spilled coffee on himself. "Classic Wettle," she snorted. "You know him?" Sid asked, as the front of the counter became a void of customers. "He's in here every year for that eco-conference. Pretty sure he's spilled his coffee every time he comes in here." She frowned. "Guy must have crazy bad luck." Sidney paused. "Don't you think it's a bit odd that we share initials?" "Who?" "Sid's Coffee Place, Symposium for the Cessation of Petroleum…" "I mean, more words in English start with those three letters than any others, Sid. Besides, you're changing the name soon. What's it— matter? The matter is, Monty, that I can't fucking do this! I've tried splitting myself in two in every sense but the literal one, and I can't FUCKING do it! You know what my mother was like! You've seen her in the home! Why did I think it was going to be any— —different today, Alie?" Kat blinked; she was talking to one of her regulars, a woman who, no matter what the weather, was wearing a leather jacket, tight jeans, and a wide-brimmed fedora. She looked somewhat alarmed that Kathryn had remembered her name. "Sorry, what?" Alie asked. "Would you like to try something different today? The BARI-STAR is a bit on the fritz, and I don't want it to break making your order." Allie Carol looked at Kathryn, then over her shoulder at Sidney, furrowing her eyebrow. Kat looked over her shoulder, and Sid just shrugged. "Uh, yeah." Alie blinked. "I'm in the mood for tea. Can you make a chai latte?" "Was there a snake in the garden?" Kat turned to make the latte. "There was…" Alie frowned. "She's actually not half-bad once you get to know her, but I wish I didn't see her smut collection." "What?" "What?" Alison Carol was prone to odd exchanges like this. Kat handed her the chai latte about a minute later. "Here we go, chai latte." Alison pulled out her credit card and swiped it, leaving a large tip seemingly more out of bewilderment than anything. "It's… good to see you, Doc." She sipped her tea. "How's the eye?" "Still missing. Maybe when I'm in my eighties, they can 3D print me a new one, and I can look at all the grandkids I don't have with 20/20 vision." "Right." Alison nodded. "Well… I'd best be off. I want to avoid the people from the 'Symposium' as much as possible." She waved her hand through the air. "Did Wettle come through here?" "Oh god, you know that clown?" Kathryn sighed. "How?" "By reputation. Long story, but… be careful out there, Katherine." Kat blinked; she didn't know how, but she had a feeling that Alison had just spelled her name wrong. Before she could correct her, the bell over the door was ringing, and she was gone. "Let's get you home early tonight," Sid said. "Going to have to deal with a bunch of clowns from the Symposium tomorrow, and I want you well-rested for that." "You good to close up?" Kat started stripping out of her apron. "When have I never not been, Kit-Kat?" "Don't," she snapped. "…sorry. Jackass of an ex used to call me that." "Sorry. What happened to him?" "Not 'him or her'?" "You're not that adventurous, Kathryn." Sid grinned, and by the way the light hit his teeth, they seemed to be pointed. Kat swallowed. "He died in a fire. Real asshole of a person." "You sure about that?" "…positive," Kat said. "He had no next of kin, so I had to ID him. Can I go, Sid?" "Sure." Kat exited into the Philadelphian winter, caught the metro back to her apartment, and slept. Her dreams weren't pretty. Foundation Department of Discipline and Correction Incident Report Lead Investigating Agent: Ethel Kursh Psychological Evaluator: Dr. Merrick Palmer Details of Incident: On January 22nd, 2024, at the Annual Foundation Inter-Disciplinary Symposium in Philadelphia, Dr. William Wallace Wettle (SCP-7000, Site-43, henceforth victim) approached Researcher Montgomery Reynolds (Site-87, henceforth assailant) at the opening dinner. Following an exchange of dialogue between the two (unrecorded) the assailant began an argument with the victim, during which the victim tripped over a banana peel and hit his head on the side of the table. Charges: 1 count of threatening a sapient SCP 1 count of threatening Foundation personnel 1 count disruption of decorum Evaluation: Rsr. Reynolds: Neither of us look good here, do we? Dr. Merrick Palmer: Honestly, Reynolds, you're lucky that Wettle's such an ass that you have likely have justification for screaming at him. But I'd like to know what that justification is. Rsr. Reynolds: I want to know you're not just speaking as a friend. Cronyism has been… Dr. Palmer: I'm speaking as someone who is helping decide whether or not you get to keep your job, Montgomery. Researcher Reynolds Personnel ID Photo. Rsr. Reynolds: Wettle… he said he saw my wife. He said he saw Katherine, Merr. She… she's been gone for over a year. I thought he was making fun of me. Dr. Palmer: Dr. Wettle is several things, but he is not a fabulist— he lacks the imagination for it. But how would he recognize your wife? Have they met? Rsr. Reynolds: Katherine was born in Philadelphia. I brought a few missing persons posters to the city, posted them in a few different metro stations, around a few parks… I even made the trip up to Upper Darby, where her mother used to live, just in case. He must have happened by one of them. Dr. Palmer: You put up missing person's posters… in this weather? Reynolds, the temperature hasn't risen above zero centigrade in the last month. Rsr. Reynolds: I grew up in New York. I'm used to a bit of cold. Dr. Palmer: Did he tell you where he saw your wife? Rsr. Reynolds: I didn't give him a chance to say. Dr. Palmer: I have him in the other room. Would you like me to fetch him? Rsr. Reynolds: If he'll even be in the same room as me. Dr. Palmer: I'm sure he'll understand. Dr. Palmer exits the holding cell and re-enters approximately five minutes later with Dr. Wettle in tow. Dr. Wettle: I'm not gonna press charges. It's my own damn luck I dinged my head. Rsr. Reynolds: You said you saw Katherine. Where? Dr. Wettle: There's this coffee shop I go to every year. Had a different name a year ago, but I think it still has the same owner. She was working there as a barista. Seemed to recognize me, but didn't know who I was, if that makes sense. Rsr. Reynolds: What was the name of this place? Dr. Wettle: Sidney… no, Sid's Coffee Place. Rsr. Reynolds: …say that again. Dr. Wettle: Sid's Coffee P— what the fuck are you doing?! Rsr. Reynolds conjures a minor rite of thaumaturgy. Rsr. Reynolds: I'm analyzing the language. Say it again. Dr. Wettle: S-Sid's Coffee Place. The fuck is that?! Using thaumaturgy, Rsr. Reynolds highlights a memetic complex present in the name of 'Sid's Coffee Place'. Rsr. Reynolds: That's… the Frontispiece.1 Dr. Wettle: Euler, Scout and company lobotomizing the human race on a linguistic level. Silence on the recording. Dr. Wettle: What? Like a quarter of my job is making sure that the Frontispiece works, regardless of context. Rsr. Reynolds: But… I don't recognize the front. We have a front that's a coffee shop, Solo Café Panama.2 Why have two? Dr. Wettle: Because the Department of Redundancy Department still has a budget? Rsr. Reynolds: Wettle. Now is not the time to pull my leg. Dr. Wettle: I wish I was. A search of the Foundation's database found no records for a Foundation front named "Sid's Coffee Place," making the presence of the Frontispiece, without a Foundation front behind it, inexplicable. The following day, January 24th, Reynolds attempted to make contact with the entity who resembled Dr. Sinclair. Sid's Coffee Place was eerily vacant the next day. Kathryn had no problem getting there, but for about five blocks around the cafe, there was no traffic, no people walking, no lights on in the buildings… but Sid was still there when she clocked in. Sid was always there. "I miss a national tragedy or something?" she asked. "Where is everyone?" "Got me," Sid shrugged inside their thick, green jacket. "Been here since six and I ain't seen a soul." "Maybe you scared them off, ya creep." "I'm not creepy," Sidney frowned. With a flourish, hand on their chest, they declared, "I am delightful." "You're a creep, and you're so hammy that a Rabbi would call you trefah." "Firstly: ouch. Second: since when do you know Yiddish?" Sid frowned, left eyebrow raised. "Hebrew, actually. Dated a guy after I dropped out." Kathryn shivered, and realized, her teeth chattering hard enough to make her head rattle, that she could see her breath. "F-f-fucking hell, S-s-Sid, did the furnace go out a-a-again?!" "Super said he'd be by to fix it in an hour." "H-how l-long ago was t-that?" "…two hours." Kathryn rolled her eyes, made her way into the backroom, and got the tool kit and the manual for the furnace. She frowned. "That's w-weird." "What?" "F-furnace has the same s-serial number as the c-coffee maker. SCP-8787." Sid squinted. "You implying something." "I just think it's odd." Serial #: SCP-8787 Safe Cleaning Protocols: To ensure that the SCP-8787 furnace does not cause harm to— "D-don't need to know how to clean it…" She flipped through the manual until she hit "Safely Causing Phosphorescence." She fished her gloves out of her pocket and put them on. "J-Jesus, Sid, did you get this translated from Bulgarian or something? Who says 'Phosphorescence' outside of a bad fantasy novel anymore?" "Can you fix it or not?" "Assuming the problem is the pilot light going out and not you being delinquent on our gas bill again, yes." Her hands starting to numb, she took out a candle lighter and opened the door that led to the coffee shop's basement. She sang to herself as she headed down to dissipate the gloom and cold— "Do You Believe In Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonfuls. As she sang, she sat down by the furnace to do a quick repair job. A few minutes alter, Kathryn was still shivering, but the furnace was working, thank god. "Still fucking cold. Goddammit if the HVAC's broken too, I'm going home…" She trudged back upstairs just as the heating system kicked on. "We gotta tell the Super to replace the pilot light. Fifth time it's gone out since the start of the year, and I'm not interested in serving frappucuinos." She realized she was talking to herself; Sid had left a note on the counter that simply read 'Milk's bad, getting more'. "No it's not." Kat picked up the milk from the fridge, held it to her nose, and retched. Like something out of a story where a fairy had been pissed off, the milk had curdled overnight. "Well, fuck." The bell over the door ringed, and in walked a portly man with dark skin, his hair in greying dreadlocks. He was dressed in a leather trenchcoat, which was at least appropriate for the weather, and Kathryn thought he looked kind of handsome — and then she saw the ring on his finger and immediately lost interest. All the men even remotely close to her age were married. Wasn't fair. "Hi," Kat said. "We can't do lattes right now. Milk's gone bad. But I can make you some tea or… cof…fee…" Kathryn was taken aback by the man's behavior. "Are… are you okay?" The man had tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he looked at her, and his mouth was hanging open slightly. He was mouthing words, but nothing came out. He looked like he was in shock or — Kathryn thought back to finding her grandfather slumped over in the arm chair at home — having a stroke. "Hey, hey. Let's… let's get you sat down, okay?" Kat crossed from behind the counter and pulled out a chair for him. He sat down in it, shock present on his face, and wiped some snow off of his coat. Her hand brushed against something firm and plastic, and she stared — she was looking at a button camera on his coat. "Are you recording this? What the fu—" The bell over the door rang again, and Sidney returned, with a bottle of milk. "Ah, Kat! You've met our newest hire, I see." "Wh—" Kathryn looked down at the man. The look of shock had vanished, and was replaced by first confusion, and then a warm, handsome smile. "Oh, yeah, sorry. She thought I was a customer, wouldn't let me get a word in." He stood up and extended his hand to her. "Monty Reynolds. Just moved here with my daughter." Kathryn felt a fog intrude upon her mind, one she had let in before, one that took away the pain associated with working in a shitty coffee parlor. She let it wash over her, and took the hand. "Kat Sinclair. Good to meet you." She looked at his hand; she swore there was a ring on it, but it seemed to be absent. "You're not married?" "Nicky is from a previous marriage," Reynolds explained. "I'm single at the moment. You like kids?" "I don't think I'd be good with them." "Ever try?" He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Not since I babysat for six bucks an hour in high school," she admitted. "You already met Sid, then?" "Oh, Monty and I go way back," Sidney admitted. "Now, let's get you out of that coat and into your uniform, all right?" "I'm not going to have to wear a hairnet, am I?" Reynolds touched his dreadlocks. "I worked so hard getting these right…." "Only when you're in the kitchen. You'll be manning the counter for the first couple of weeks, and Kat'll be teaching you how to make the best cup of joe in central Philly." "I think we have an apron in your size," Kat said. "Follow me… uh…" She frowned. "Sorry, I'm shit with names." "Montgomery. Monty for short." "Like Monty Python? I think I can remember that." As they headed into the back room, Sid looked at the palm of his hand. They held a button camera, still transmitting to Reynold's original employers. "I'm only going to say this once," Sidney said, staring straight into the camera. "Don't interfere, for their sakes. I don't want any more people to get folded into what's happening here. Too many cooks, etc. Capisce?" With that, Sidney folded the camera into half, then into quarters, then into eighths, until it folded out of existence. Elsewhere, baffled agents were staring at a notification: SIGNAL LOST. Date: January 24th, 2024 Location: Urban Site-56, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; site of the annual Foundation inter-disciplinary symposium. In Attendance: Rsr. Claire Sage, Head Archivist, Site-87; Dr. Django Bridge, Archivist, Site-17; Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Director, Site-120; Dr. Udo Okorie, Thaumaturge, Site-43; Dr. Ilse Reynders, Acroamatic Abatement, Site-43. Rsr. Sage: Good evening, everyone. For those of you who don't know me — which I am now realizing is the majority of you — I'm Site-87's head archivist, and I've been assigned to take charge on this in the absence of… other parties that are qualified. Dr. Reynders: Where's Director Bailey? Sinclair worked under him, he should be here. Rsr. Sage: He's… indisposed. Dr. Asheworth: A word which here means, what, exactly? Rsr. Sage: It means that Dr. Willow Leigh is Acting Director of Site-87, and has been for the last six months. Dr. Okorie: Genuine question: how does 87 go from having a Director serve for thirty years to having one that only lasts three? Rsr. Sage: Officially, Director Bailey hasn't stepped down. He's just… attending to other duties. In any case, if you could all take a moment to read over your dossiers… All in attendance open the dossiers in front of them. Dr. Bridge raises their hand. Dr. Bridge: Can I just ask what I'm doing here? I'm missing a seminar on eschatological prevention for this. Rsr. Sage: You're the only member of the Epimetheus Commission3 that could be reached in a timely manner, and given the nature of the anomaly… Dr. Bridge: I don't see how this pertains to Omega-7. Or Alpha-9, for that matter. Rsr. Sage: We think what's happening here is a manifestation of SCP-8787. Silence on the recording. Dr. Bridge: I'm sorry, what?! Dr. Asheworth: I'm not familiar with 8787. Dr. Bridge: It would be easier to pull up the file. Can you pull down that screen, Sage? Rsr. Sage deploys a projector screen from the ceiling of the meeting room. Dr. Bridge pulls up SCP-8787's file on their laptop, before connecting it to the projector. An image of SCP-8787's interior, captured 2017. Item #: SCP-8787 Special Containment Procedures: Physical containment of SCP-8787 is currently believed to be impossible. Instead, containment efforts are to take the form of information suppression and, in the event that members of the Foundation become SCP-8787-B instances, personnel recovery. At no point is SCP-8787-A to be engaged in direct combat. Doing so in the past has proved detrimental to local reality in the short term, and it is currently unknown what the full extent of SCP-8787-A's ontokinesis is. They are to be treated as a potential Type Black threat until further information on them can be gained. Description: SCP-8787 refers to an entity which, at last sighting, resembled an American coffee house. Since its discovery, SCP-8787 has taken on a variety of names, including: Sidney's House of Brews The Coffee Shack Michigan Brew Hut Grounds For Love The most recent manifestation of SCP-8787 known to the Foundation was in 2019 in Boston, Massachusetts, where it took the form of a cafe called 'Lit Lattes'. SCP-8787 is operated by two distinct entities; SCP-8787-A and SCP-8787-B. SCP-8787-A refers to a genderless humanoid of indeterminate age, standing at approximately 1.8m in height with green hair. SCP-8787-A is a Type-Green, potentially Type-Black entity, that has shown properties of being a mnemonomorph4 and potential imperfect chronokinetic5 that allow it to recruit SCP-8787-B. SCP-8787-B refers to humans that have been affected by SCP-8787-A's anomalous abilities. SCP-8787-B instances have intact explicit memories until the ages of 18-22; after this point, their accounts will diverge from reality. SCP-8787-B instances routinely claim that: They work at SCP-8787, and have since the point of divergence; Their job at SCP-8787 is either the only job they have ever had, or one of very few; They met at least one significant other while working at SCP-8787, either a fellow SCP-8787-B instance or a customer; They live near where SCP-8787 has manifested, either being local to the area or having recently moved there. This is aided by SCP-8787-A's chronokinetic properties; They have no desire to cease employment at SCP-8787. SCP-8787-A does not appear to have a finite range on its abilities, but will typically choose local members of the population to act as SCP-8787-B instances, only rarely selecting individuals from further afield. SCP-8787 was discovered following a string of disappearances in Boston, Massachusetts in 1947. All of the individuals who had disappeared were discovered in a coffee shop called Sidney's House of Brews in Scollay Square. An engagement between agents of the Foundation and SCP-8787-A resulted in what is now understood as damage to the semantic and psychic underpinnings of the concept of 'Scollay Square', necessitating its demolition and redevelopment into Government Center. SCP-8787's most infamous interaction with the Foundation occurred in 2006, when seven members of Mobile Task Force Omega-7 ("Pandora's Box") disappeared following a plane crash in the Antarctic, including two humanoid SCP objects; they were discovered in a manifestation of SCP-8787 in Sandusky, Ohio in 2007, when an early Youtube video showcased a humanoid resembling SCP-076-2 working behind the counter at a coffee shop called "Water Street Cafe." Addendum: Mobile Task Force Omega-7 Recovery Log: Begin Log Agent Rhys Porter and Agent Dashell Cameron stand outside the Water Street Cafe, looking through the windows. SCP-076-2 is visible, conversing with SCP-105. Porter: Is it just me, or does Able look… happy? Cameron: It's just you. The thought of 076-2 being happy is… kind of disturbing, if I'm being honest. Let's hope they don't— SCP-076-2 embraces SCP-105. SCP-105 returns the gesture. Porter: Oh, what fresh hell is this? Cameron: Let's get in there. Don't drink anything. Just pretend you're a disaffected writer getting on your laptop. Porter: Fuck you, my novel's going to be finished one day. Cameron: Sure it is. The agents enter SCP-8787 and sit at a table. Porter sets up recording equipment to eavesdrop on SCP-076-2 and SCP-105's conversation. SCP-076-2: No, I'm serious. SCP-105: How would we afford it? We're barely making enough for our apartment right now. SCP-076-2: Well, I got a college fund that's collecting dust since I dropped out… SCP-105: I thought that was for your brother once he got out of jail? SCP-076-2: <Sighing> Cain's parole got denied. He's not getting out for at least another ten years. SCP-105: Aww, Abe… Porter: Abe? SCP-076-2: Look, how often do we get to leave this dicktown? I got about $20k in the fund. That's enough for a trip around Europe. You've always wanted to add photos of the Eiffel Tower to your collection… Cameron: Shit, he's not just happy, he's in love. Porter: Do you think he still has his… like, the connection to the sarcophagus? Cameron: What, are you going to shoot him and find out? Porter: What? No. Cameron: Why not? Might help snap 105 out of it. You… think anyone else works here? Porter: Check out the employees of the month. Cameron turns their attention to a board on the wall with photographs of employees of the month of months past. SCP-076-2 was given the award in January of 2007, and several other missing members of Omega-7 are photographed. Cameron: Christ. Okay, we run through the standard array of trigger phrases? Porter: Sounds good. Cameron and Porter stand and approach the counter. SCP-076-2 is manning the register. SCP-076-2: Welcome to the Water Street Cafe. What can we— Porter: It is raining in Gilgamesh, Ohio. SCP-076-2: I'm… sorry? Cameron: The wagtail has returned. SCP-076-2: Ah, dammit. Is this some weird role-play thing? Colossalcon's not until June, guys. Porter: Hope I can get the pronunciation on this right… Orresh lagh dhan.6 SCP-076-2: What… what are you… wait. What am I doing here? SCP-076-2 looks down at their uniform, eyes widening. A look of abject horror is on their face. SCP-076-2: What in the name of the Eight Saints? SCP-105: Abe? You good? SCP-076-2: No. I'm not. This… this is wrong. Iris. I'm sorry. I have… I have to go. SCP-105: Your… planet needs you? SCP-076-2 produces a broadsword using its anomalous capabilities and stabs itself through the chest, returning to SCP-076-1. SCP-105: What the fuck? What the fuck?! What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK?! Porter: SCP-1— fuck, Iris, calm down. SCP-105: Calm down? Calm down?! You said some words in goddamn Mongolian or something and my boyfriend of seven years just fucking stabbed himself with a sword he pulled out of thin air! Cameron: Stop Constantly Panicking. SCP-105 seizes up and looks forward, eyes glazing over. Drool falls from her mouth. Seventeen seconds later, she resumes normal neurological activity. SCP-105: …Rhys? Dash? What… what the fuck is… oh God. Porter: What? SCP-105: We… we got brought here a-after the crash. I… I don't know how. One second Able had gone berserk and we were all rushing towards the tundra, the next— SCP-8787-A rises up from behind the counter. SCP-8787-A: Well. Shit. Porter and Rhys draw their weapons. SCP-8787-A: Man knew how to make the best goddamn green tea latte I've ever tasted, and you went and gave him a fatal panic attack. Great job. Goddammit, you're lucky nobody else is in here. Less witnesses for you to pour brain bleach onto. Porter pulls the trigger. His weapon jams. SCP-8787-A: Gentlemen, please. We all know that won't work. Iris, I see you reaching for my photo, that won't work either. SCP-105: You… why? Why me and… and that thing? SCP-105 indicates the rapidly-disintegrating remains of SCP-076-2. SCP-8787-A: You had a lot in common, honestly. Both of you are slaves to a cause you don't comprehend, both of you are gifted, and both of you deeply miss your mothers. It wouldn't kill to call her once in a while, Iris. SCP-105: My… my mom's dead. Heart attack, six years ago. I saw the obituary… SCP-8787-A: If your mother's dead, then I'm O5-7. Sorry to break it to you, kid, but the Foundation has been lying to you. Dash, stop trying to shoot me, you're making yourself look like a jackass. Agent Cameron has disassembled their gun twice at this point to attempt to clear the jam affecting it. SCP-8787-A: Iris, I'm sad to say you and everyone else on the team are fired, and this shop is closed. You fascist motherfuckers really know how to spoil my good times, you know that? SCP-105: We're not fascis— SCP-8787-A: Fascist, totalitarian, authoritarian, you're run by a council of thirteen anonymous motherfuckers who are accountable to literally nobody, not even god. You're bad news and I hope that when the Feast starts, you make the right decision. SCP-8787-A turns to SCP-105. SCP-8787-A: You'll all be getting a severance package of course. I'm not a monster. Toodle-loo. SCP-105, Porter, Cameron, and all other missing Omega-7 agents are abruptly teleported to a wheat field approximately 28 kilometers south of their previous location. Investigation of the location of Water Street Cafe showed that it had been an unrelated bakery for the last fifteen years. Following this incident SCP-105 repeatedly requested contact with her mother. This was eventually granted in 2015, after the creation of Mobile Task Force Alpha-9. End Log Dr. Bridge: I would like to thank everyone present for not laughing at that… last report. Dr. Asheworth: I'm just wondering how you didn't find them sooner. Dr. Bridge: YouTube was small back then. Half the reason the Foundation helped bankroll it was so it could be used to help identify anomalies in the wild. Rsr. Sage: Good to know that my teenage years were defined by helping this place aggregate data on the anomalous. That aside, last time we had a run in with 8787, it was a humiliation. Dr. Bridge: Worse than that. 076-2 didn't become active for over a year after that. It was almost like he was… I don't know, depressed? We were afraid of a repeat of — that's classified, actually. Dr. Sage: Well, it's back, and it's kidnapped at least two Foundation personnel. Sinclair and Reynolds retrieved the Orykalkos Codex and helped restore anomalous activity to the world during the SCP-6500 crisis. Sinclair experienced a breakdown about eighteen months later and went missing. Now she's turned up here. Dr. Reynders: Doesn't she have a daughter? What's the status on her? Rsr. Sage: As of right now? In an apartment in East Philadelphia, with a babysitter. She was relocated there when Reynolds got caught up in this mess. Dr. Okorie: Sinclair's a capable thaumaturge. She'd have wards up against any sort of mental alteration. Dr. Asheworth: We're assuming this is magical in nature. Bridge, don't give me that look, it's accepted nomenclature post-6500. This thing could be affecting her memory with pheromones, or… I don't know. Is this really all the Foundation has on it? Dr. Bridge: 8787 is a clusterfuck. There are some archaeologists who think that it used to be a pub before Prohibition happened in the US, but we don't know. Dr Reynders: I'm wondering why a coffee shop, myself. Baristas always seem slightly miserable to me. Rsr. Sage: I paid for some of my tuition by working at the Starbucks in my college. No 'slightly' about it. But… when Reynolds came to try and confront his wife, he got pulled into it. If 8787 is capable of pulling people in on a whim, why start now? Dr. Reynders: There has to be some sort of limit to its capabilities. Maybe it can only take on willing parties? Dr. Bridge: I don't see why Able would want to work in a coffee shop. Dr. Asheworth: No, I think Dr. Reynders might be onto something. Maybe it needs permission? Wettle didn't get dragged into it, and presumably, nor did most of the Foundation agents we've sent to it over the years. Dr. Okorie: A mind-affecting anomaly needing consent. First time for everything, I suppose. But this is still woefully incomplete, as a file goes. Dr. Bridge: We haven't seen much of it since 2007. Dr. Okorie: Maybe other groups have? Rsr. Sage: I can start putting out feelers. The GOC is probably going to be as cooperative as a hernia, but my contact in the Horizon Initiative owes me a favor. Dr. Reynders: If there's anything about this in records prior to 1943, I've probably read it at some point. Give me a day or two. Dr. Bridge: I'll see if Iris is in a talkative mood. Maybe she can shed some light on what it was like being there. Dr. Okorie: I want to see if I can't conduct a thaumic analysis on-site. If Sinclair and Reynolds are ensorcelled, I might be able to snap them out of it. Dr. Asheworth: I don't think you should do that alone, Doctor. I have wards on me that will likely help prevent my own seizure by this object. Dr. Okorie: …the ones that make you meow and talk with a speech impediment when they're tripped? Dr. Asheworth: That was an unfortunate side effect we have agreed to nya— never mention again. Rsr. Sage: We'll re-convene tomorrow with our findings. One last thing: try not to drink the coffee. We don't know if that's a component or not, but just in case, try to avoid consuming anything. Okay, that's all. You're dismissed. The next morning would be dedicated to getting the new hire trained. Kat had taken a shine to the tall, handsome stranger that had walked in through the front door of her coffee shop, but she couldn't help but shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. "You've never been to Philly before?" "Grew up in New York. Worked as a consultant at this place in Wisconsin for a bit, but the company went under when they tried to open a new branch here." "Economy's bullshit, don't care what people say. If I didn't already have this job, I probably couldn't get one. What kind of consultancy?" "Government work. Under an NDA." "Eesh, fair." The pair of them were standing behind the counter; Sid had gone to see about trying to find the Superintendent of the building in person, because the heat had crapped out again overnight, forcing Kat to give Monty a crash course in furnace repair. Now that they were settled, Kathryn was showing him the finer points of the cash register. "We use a Square POS system. Pretty simple to understand." "…you use a piece of sh—" "Don't. Sid'll can ya if they hear you it call you that. Point Of Service." She squinted. "Never run a cash register before?" "No. You?" "Been running it since I was twenty…one? Yeah, that's when I dropped out." The bell over the door rang, and a pair of people walked in. One was a pale man with dark hair that seemed to be standing up in spikes. The other was a woman with dark skin, her hair in braids going down past her waist, with glasses that were big enough that they seemed to magnify her eyes. They sat opposite each other in a far corner of the establishment, with the man pulling out a laptop, his back to the wall. Kat rolled her eyes, and called over, "Hey, if you're going to work on your magnum opus in here, you could at least buy a coffee." The man stared at her, eyes wide. He sighed, stood, and came up to the counter, taking out his wallet. "Two coffees, one with cream, one without." "Hot or iced?" Monty asked. "Hot. It's -3 centigrade outside." The man muttered something. "Co to za idiotyczne pytanie?" "Jeśli chcesz być dupkiem, to płacisz podwójnie." Kathryn said. The man blinked. "You… speak Polish?" "…no," Kathryn said, shrinking into herself. "I don't." There was an awkward pause, before Monty coughed. "Uh, two coffees, that'll be $6.50." "You didn't use the POS," Kat frowned. "I memorized the prices on the board." Kat rolled her eyes, and walked Monty through putting it into the actual register. It took about six minutes, but preparing the drinks only took an additional two. "Dziękuję," the rude customer said, before returning back to his seat. The dark-skinned woman had a look of intense concentration on her face. "She looks like she has a migraine," Monty frowned, before he turned to Kat. "You don't speak Polish? Bull." "Never have," Kat frowned. "I guess I picked up a bit before I dropped out. Wasn't hard to tell he was calling you an idiot, anyway." "I have a degree," he sighed. "I'm just… I need this to get back on my feet, you know?" "What's the degree in?" "Thaumatology. Study of magic." Reynolds blinked. "That's… not really something I should be telling you, I think?" "How can you study magic? It's not real." Kat wrinkled her nose. "Like, I liked Bedknobs and Broomsticks as much as any other kid, but magic doesn't exist." "The cultural practices that people think are magic do." "Oh." Kat wrinkled her nose. "So it's a subset of anthropology?" "I suppose you could think of it as that." Monty looked at the clock on the wall. "Shouldn't Sidney be back by now?" "Traffic's been weird lately. Who knows." "What kind of car does he drive?" "They go by they. I know, it's weird for me, too." "All right. What kind of car do they drive, then?" "They…" Kat blinked at the question. "I… huh." "What?" "I've worked for them for over twenty years and I can't tell you that." Kathryn scratched her head. "I mean, they don't have a SEPTA pass, so they have to drive. That's basically the only way to get around this part of the city. I…" Kat frowned. "They don't own the building, they can't. Why would they need to talk to the Super?" Reynolds stared at her. "…Kathryn, twenty years? Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?" "Yeah. I started working here when I was twenty-one, after I dropped out. Why?" "Then I have to ask what kind of moisturizer he— they use, because I'll be damned if Sidney's a day over thirty." Kathryn breathed in deeply. She knew the onset of a panic attack when she felt it. One thing she could taste: the filling in her back tooth. Two things she could smell: the coffee and… Monty smelled very nice for some reason. Three she could touch: the EVE in the air, the coffee milk sitting out, that stupid BARI-STAR machine that always broke. Four she could— Her eyes landed on the two in the corner. The woman was muttering something to herself, just under her breath, while the man was on his laptop, typing away frantically but muttering in concert. She recognized him from another life, one that wasn't, that couldn't, be hers. "…Daniel?" She asked. "Dr. Asheworth?" Asheworth's eyes met hers, recognition crossing his face. "Keep at it, Udo," he said, crossing the distance. "Doctor Sinclair, you recognize me?" "I… maybe? I'm not a doctor, though. But I…" her vision swam, before fading to— white was an awful color for a wedding dress, she had decided. It went with everything, but it also showed every single stain and speck of dust. Pink wasn't her color either, and black was too funereal, so Sinclair decided on a lilac blue dress. And now, as she got ready to enter the chapel at St. John's Church in downtown Sloth's Pit, a chill ran through her. What was she doing? She was too old to start a family. If she had a child, they could have all sorts of complications at her age. And her husband-to-be… she'd read horror stories about women marrying older men, about how they always fell out of love, how the younger bride would have to care for the elderly groom when he got senile, and… "Catastrophizing again, are we?" Sinclair looked up, her eyes widening as she saw— she was outside, in the cold, coughing. There was a firefighter holding an oxygen mask over her face, and smoke was pouring out of the front of the cafe. "I'm fine," she insisted, sitting up and brushing away the fireman. Her job had just gone up in flames. "What the fuck happened?!" Sidney was there, talking with Monty, who was talking with a cop. Kat made her way over to them. "What the hell happened?" "Some idiot's laptop caught fire," Sid sighed. "Monty saw the whole thing. Kat, I'm afraid to say, but we're going to be closed for a bit." "Dammit…" she groaned. "Fuck, can I at least get paid for the rest of the day? My rent's due soon." "'course." "I feel awful," Monty said as the cop snapped their notepad shut and stepped away. "Maybe I could've asked them who the fuck they were, to leave their laptop smoldering like that? You think this was intentional?" "Shitty accident. Super'll be by to inspect the building, and I've got insurance to cover the fire damage." Sid groaned, looking down. They kicked some snow off of their boots. "It's not supposed to go like this, god dammit all." "Hey, look on the bright side," Kat said. "Maybe those new signs'll come in by the time you're done?" "At this rate?" Sidney snorted. "I'll be surprised if I don't end up in the slammer." "…what have you done wrong?" Monty wrinkled his nose. "I got a history, and I don't want the feds lookin' too close into this. Fuckin' skippers…" "They didn't skip out, though?" Kat said. "Like, I remember the Polish dude paying for his coffee…" "Just… take the rest of the day off, you two." Sidney said. "Do what you like. I gotta look over the damage." They stepped into the cafe, and let out an "You've gotta be fucking—" before they devolved into incoherency. "…now what?" Kat frowned. "Well…. this might be a bit weird to ask but… you wanna meet my kid?" Monty asked. "She might like you. You kinda look like her mom." Ever hear of a rebound, jackass? Kat thought. But he seemed nice enough, and he was handsome, so… "All right. Lay on, MacDuff." Something strange happened on the way to Montgomery's apartment; they took the same line of the SEPTA Metro that Kat did. They got off at the same stop that Kat did. And by the time that they were in front of the building and Reynolds was looking for his key to buzz himself in, Kathryn was fully spooked. "Is this a joke?" "What?" Reynolds frowned. Kathryn pulled out her own key and used the fob to unlock the front door, holding it open. Reynolds stood there, stunned. "What… unit do you live in?" "78. You?" "87." "Fuck, you're a floor above me." Sinclair sighed. "This day's been weird. Let's just… let's say hi to your kid. What was her name?" "Phoenix. Her mother insisted on it." "Sounds like a hippy-dippy type," Kat said. "That why you broke it off with her?" "…she left me," Monty said, no small measure of pain in his voice. He entered the building, and Kathryn followed after. Elsewhere, interviews were being conducted. Addendum: Eyewitness Accounts of SCP-8787 Interviewer: Rsr. Claire Sage, Site-87 Head Archivist Subject: Mary-Ann Lewitt, retired member of Horizon Initiative Shepherd Corps, Chapterhouse 3. Lewitt frequented a previous iteration of SCP-8787 following Incident 089-D. <Begin Log> Rsr. Sage: I appreciate you taking time out of your day for this. Lewitt: I mean, I'm genuinely curious what the Foundation thinks is anomalous about the coffee shop that served the second-best breakfast burritos I've ever had. Rsr. Sage: Well… to be frank, we believe that it kidnaps people and forces them to act as staff. And that it… well, makes them… be in relationships. Lewitt: …what? Rsr. Sage: I know that sounds a bit goofy, but… Lewitt: Is it actively causing the end of the world? Rsr. Sage: It kidnapped a researcher, who hasn't seen her daughter in well over a year. And now it's done the same to her husband. We think it's a reality bender, maybe something more powerful. Lewitt: Welp. You certainly know how to push my buttons. Always thought Sid was a bit weird, but they were at least polite to me and Salah.7 A lot of places gave Salah the stink-eye because he's Pakistani. But Sid always liked us. Rsr. Sage: Sid being… the owner? Lewitt: I think their last name was Charmer? Probably doesn't give you anything to go off of if he's a local power.8 They're really an anomaly? Rsr. Sage: Afraid so. Did you notice anything odd when you interacted with him or his staff? Lewitt: You're barking up the wrong tree here. I don't generally pay attention to anomalous events because I don't think they should all be locked up in a supermax prison. That said… they did close pretty abruptly. Rsr. Sage: Oh? Lewitt: Yeah. They said that two of his employees had run away and gotten married, leaving them understaffed. So they just… closed up. I'd say that's pretty weird. Where are they now? Rsr. Sage: Philadelphia. That's where this researcher originally grew up, so we think it took her to somewhere familiar. Lewitt: Hmm. This researcher, what was she like before? Rsr. Sage: She's a thaumaturge. Type-Blue in GOC terms. She was getting pretty stressed before she vanished. Part of it was likely post-partum depression, and… well, we think that this anomaly might only take people who want to be taken in. You didn't notice any anomaly related to it? Lewitt: Well… there might have been something. After Salah and I resigned from the Initiative to care for Naomi9 we were tight on money for a bit. Sid let me start a tab at their place, never expected me to pay it off, and that was our breakfast for a couple of months. They offered me and Salah jobs there, and… I almost took them up on it. I wanted to take them up on it. Like, I worked at the first Starbucks in Pittsburgh when I was sixteen and I hated it, but I wanted to take them up on the offer, just so there would be a little less stress in our lives. You know? Then Salah got a job as a professor at U.P.10 and we didn't need it. Rsr. Sage: How is your daughter doing, by the way? I read the file on what happened, with— Lewitt: She's the smartest kid in the world. Probably going to end up saving it some day. Anything else? Rsr. Sage: One last thing, because I'm genuinely curious: where was the best breakfast burrito you've ever had, if this was only the second-best? Lewitt: That, I'm afraid, will remain a secret. <End Log> Interviewer: Dr. Django Bridge Subject: SCP-105 <Begin Log> Dr. Bridge: Have a seat, Iris. SCP-105: The fact that you're calling me by my name is concerning… Dr. Bridge: I'd just like to discuss something with you. SCP-8787 has popped back up. SCP-105 laughs. SCP-105: Fuck me, that was a nightmare. Who got caught up in it this time? Dr. Bridge: Two members of the Foundation partially responsible for ending 6500. SCP-105: Ones who don't have memetic conditioning? Dr. Bridge: Some of our people tried thaumic means to snap them out of it, but… it's smarter than we think. Set fire to itself just so we couldn't get to them as easily. SCP-105: Okay, what do you want to know? Dr. Bridge: What do you remember about 8787? SCP-105: Well, after Able broke out and made the transport crash, I was positive we were going to die. I remember praying for someone, anyone to save us… and then the next thing I know, I'm waking up in an apartment in Ohio, that, by all accounts, is where I've been living since I dropped out. I looked at the clock and realized I was late for a job interview. Ran down to the Water Street Cafe, and… well, the whole crew was already there. Dr. Bridge: Including 076-2? SCP-105: Yeah. Customers couldn't stop staring at his tattoos. It's a wonder we weren't found out sooner. But I got hired, and… in all honesty, I kinda liked working there. I didn't know anything else, granted, but… is anything I say going in my file? Dr. Bridge: It's going in 8787's file. SCP-105: …it was fun, working there. Everyone says that working in a coffee shop is the worst thing you can do, and we had some asshole customers, sure, but… I had friends there. And I had… well… Dr. Bridge: You had 076-2? SCP-105: Yeah. Without the whole… without his anomaly, he's honestly really… he's not a bad person. Something happened to him to make him the way he is now, and… he doesn't want to be like that. He was actually happy. And that just… got taken from him. Dr. Bridge: If he was happy, then… why did he self-terminate once the code phrase was spoken? SCP-105: Because he knew that… what we had wasn't real. It was fucking Sidney messing around with our heads. But… if they had asked first, asked 'hey, how would you feel being together for a little bit'? Maybe… maybe he wouldn't have. Silence on the recording. SCP-105: You know how long it's been since I've seen him? Since before Alpha-9 was a thing. I… I want to apologize to him, if I can. Maybe… I don't know, maybe we'd be… Dr. Bridge: Iris, I don't think that'd be a good idea. SCP-105: …he's dead, isn't he? Silence on the recording. SCP-105: The Impasse. It killed him, didn't it? Dr. Bridge: That's… SCP-105: Classified? God dammit, Django! Why can't you tell me? We worked together! We… he was… Dr. Bridge: Take all the time you need, Iris. I'm sorry to bother you. <End Log> Interviewer: Dr. Ilse Reynders Subject: Dr. Justine Everwood. Dr. Everwood unknowingly entered a previous manifestation of SCP-8787 located in Boston in January of 2019. <Begin Log> Dr. Reynders: Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice, Dr. Everwood. Dr. Everwood: Call me Jay. But… 8787, really? Damn thing keeps popping up in my life. Dr. Reynders: Let's start from the top. How did you end up in 8787? Dr. Everwood: I was supposed to be meeting with an informant from a cell of SAPPHIRE that was behind that incident at Trinity Church in August 2018. Dr. Reynders: You mean the theft of— Dr. Everwood: Hey, that's classified. Anyway, they named the time and place. I'd never heard of it before, 'Lit Lattes'. Did they even use 'lit' back in 2019? Anyway, I got there along with Rex — Rex Alces, my research assistant — and… something was up. Dr. Reynders: How so? Dr. Everwood: My informant was this guy who went by Marcel Lupin — I doubt that was his real name. We waited there for half an hour for him… and then Rex looks over the counter, and realizes that he's working behind it. I figured, 'Okay, atheist terrorists need a day job, maybe he just hasn't realized we've come in yet'. I go up to him, and he acts like he doesn't know me. But you know what tipped me off to the weird bullshit going in? Dr. Reynders: What? Dr. Everwood: Lupin was wearing a pentacle necklace. Unless he was trying to infiltrate a religious institution, SAPPHIRE would have put a bullet in his skull, accused him of having 'found faith'. But he was just standing there making a latte! Dr. Reynders: What did you do? Dr. Everwood: Well, I looked at the Employee of the Month photos, had Rex analyze them, and… they were all there. Every member of the SAPPHIRE cell we were tracking. We did a bit of recon after that, and they didn't even know what SAPPHIRE was. Three of them went to church. I didn't know what to make of it. Dr. Reynders: How would you characterize SAPPHIRE? The individual members, I mean. Dr. Everwood: Honestly, must be fucking miserable to be part of it. They go on and on about logic and reason and how everything anomalous must be understood and used to fight against the erosion of society, but they use anomalies that, by definition, defy logic and reason. That's a staggering amount of DoubleThink that I don't even think Big Brother would find sustainable. Dr. Reynders: What happened to this manifestation of 8787? Dr. Everwood: It just vanished one day. Mid-February, must've been? We were still keeping tabs on the ex-SAPPHIRE members, and… they didn't revert. They seemed to remember, but they seemed happier now that they were… deprogrammed, I guess it was the right word? The object they stole was returned to Trinity Church anonymously at the end of February. Dr. Reynders: So… they changed because of what happened in SCP-8787. Dr. Everwood: Reminded me of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez quote. "What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it." They remembered how they were better people without SAPPHIRE in their lives, and grew past it. Dr. Reynders: And there was no retaliation from SAPPHIRE as a whole? Dr. Everwood: Last I checked on them, they were all still alive. SAPPHIRE doesn't take kindly to traitors or deserters, so… not sure what to make of it. Dr. Reynders: One final thing: did you ever make visual contact with the entity that's operating SCP-8787? Dr. Everwood: Yes, but… not in 8787 itself. Dr. Everwood sighs. Dr. Everwood: …during the Impasse, I remembered how I lost my arm. That put me into a fugue state. I wandered around the city for a couple of hours and ended up in a bar near Bunker Hill, too scared to think straight. When I looked behind the bar, SCP-8787-A was behind it. Dr. Reynders: It has been theorized that SCP-8787 previously took the form of a bar or a public house before Prohibition… Dr. Everwood: It wasn't anything like that. The bar's ancient, early 1800s, and it's still there now. But they saw me come in, poured me a cocktail that I wish I had gotten a recipe for, and… Dr. Reynders: Hmm? Dr. Everwood: They told me 'It's going to be okay'. I still don't know what they meant, but… I calmed down, finished the cocktail, and left. By the time I got out, I'd forgotten what happened to my arm again, and haven't remembered since. Dr. Reynders: Thank you, Jay. That will be all. <End Log> Requested Revision to the SCP-8787 File Item #: SCP-8787 Special Containment Procedures: Physical containment of SCP-8787 is currently believed to be impossible. Instead, containment efforts are to take the form of information suppression and, in the event that members of the Foundation become SCP-8787-B instances, personnel recovery. At no point is SCP-8787-A to be engaged in direct combat. Doing so in the past has proved detrimental to local reality in the short term, and it is currently unknown what the full extent of SCP-8787-A's ontokinesis is. They are to be treated as a potential Type Black threat until further information on them can be gained. Description: SCP-8787 refers to an anomalous construct which resembles an American cafe or coffee house. The current manifestation of SCP-8787 takes the form of 'Sid's Coffee Place', a cafe located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. SCP-8787-A is an anomalous humanoid which operates SCP-8787; the only consistent descriptor of their appearance is their green hair. SCP-8787-A is capable of wide-scale reality alterations. SCP-8787-A can both rewrite human memory and alter causality in order to turn human beings, both with and without anomalous capabilities, into SCP-8787-B instances. SCP-8787-B instances are individuals that have been altered, both cognitively and chronologically, to believe that they are employees at SCP-8787. All SCP-8787-B instances appear to share a singular psychological factor: at the time of their cognitive alteration, they were experiencing some form of depressive episode or existential crisis. It has been theorized that this mental state causes SCP-8787-B instances to consent to their cognitive alteration, as the alternative in the short-term is a continual decline of mental health. SCP-8787 was first discovered in Boston, Massachusetts in 1947, following a string of disappearances. The Foundation's attempts to contain it, and rescue the SCP-8787-B instances within, led to the destruction of the concept of Scollay Square on a semantic level, necessitating its demolition and redevelopment. However, it is believed that SCP-8787 has existed in some form since at least the 1700s, but was changed into its current state during the Prohibition of Alcohol in the United States from 1920 to 1933. SCP-8787 has had several interactions with the Foundation in the past; in 2008, it used its anomalous properties to alter a squad of Mobile Task Force Omega-7 into SCP-8787-B instances, including two humanoid SCP objects. As of January 2024, two SCP-8787-B instances exist; these consist of Dr. Katherine Sinclair and her husband, Researcher Montgomery Reynolds. Dr. Sinclair went missing in August of 2022, following an episode of post-partum depression. Reynolds was affected by the anomaly upon encountering Dr. Sinclair after over a year of separation; neither seem aware of their previous marital status. Current containment efforts are focusing on the retrieval of these members of personnel by any means necessary. Further encounters with SCP-8787 can be found in Addendum 8787-03. Addendum: Deliberation RE: Current Containment of SCP-8787: Date: January 25th, 2024 Location: Urban Site-56, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; site of the annual Foundation inter-disciplinary symposium. In Attendance: Rsr. Claire Sage, Head Archivist, Site-87; Dr. Django Bridge, Archivist, Site-17; Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Director, Site-120; Dr. Udo Okorie, Thaumaturge, Site-43; Dr. Ilse Reynders, Acroamatic Abatement, Site-43. Rsr. Sage: All right, based on the information we've managed to glean, I've submitted an updated draft for 8787. It just needs to be rubber-stamped. Dr. Asheworth: I am slightly… what's the term? Bugged by something. Rsr. Sage: Do tell. Dr. Asheworth: Prior to this, 8787 seemed to be… well, not quite infallible, but harder to crack. Sinclair recognized me when she saw me. Based on surveillance of her and Reynolds' building, we think that something's wrong with 8787. Dr. Okorie: Wrong in the sense that it doesn't seem entirely whole. Weaker, almost. Dr. Reynders: I'm a tad troubled by Dr. Everwood's testimony, as well. 8787-A appearing outside of 8787 during the Impasse… Dr. Bridge: Maybe it regained its anomalous properties after it ended, but not to full capacity? Dr. Okorie: We haven't had any record of biological anomalies doing that. Most of them just died. Dr. Bridge: You're assuming 8787-A is the core component to this, and not 8787 itself. For all we know, 8787-A is an unwilling participant in all of this. Dr. Asheworth: Bit of a conclusion to jump to. Dr. Okorie: He… might have a point. Dr. Asheworth: You're seriously considering that theory, Udo? I thought you were joking. Rsr. Sage: What theory? Dr. Okorie: Who here is familiar with the concept of 'fan fiction'? Silence on the recording. Rsr. Sage: I wrote some when I was like, fifteen, but… nothing since. Don't see what it has to do with— Dr. Okorie: I have a niece, Onyeka, who is very enthusiastic about this Disney show. The Cowl House or The Owl Shack or something. She's written a very specific type of fan fiction about it, where… Silence on the recording. Dr. Okorie: Sage, why are you giving me the stink eye? Rsr. Sage: Because if this is a pataphysical anomaly, I owe Dr. McDoctorate fifty dollars. Dr. Bridge: Wait, he only bet you fifty? Dr. Okorie: I'm not sure it is pataphysical, but… there's apparently a trope in fanfiction, one that I've read several dozen times at her request, where the characters from a work have the same basic personalities, but… they all work or go to a coffee shop. The two main romantic objects will typically be on opposite sides of the counter, is the thing— one a barista, one a customer. This seems to make everyone into workers, which… doesn't seem to fit in with the trope. Dr. Bridge: This thing predates the concept of fanfiction. Dr. Okorie: It predates this particular trope. But this is, I think, the best way we can contextualize it. It's a coffee shop that makes people believe they've always worked there. Maybe it draws information from alternate realities where that is the case. Dr. Reynders: What about the thaumic analysis you tried to conduct? Dr. Okorie: Got interrupted when our fire-proof Foundation-issue laptop exploded into flames. I wasn't able to glean much. Asheworth? Dr. Asheworth: I… had to double-check the analysis, but… I found something odd. The current iteration of SCP-8787 utilizes the Frontispiece in its name, and that might be part of the reason why the effect around Sinclair seems to be failing. Dr. Bridge: I don't follow. Dr. Asheworth: I believe that 8787 is attempting to utilize the anomalous effects of the Frontispiece as an improvised battery, and… it's not designed to do that. But it's a thaumic anomaly that affects the entirety of the human psyche, so it's giving 8787 some juice, but it's not enough to sustain it. Sage, pull down the screen, I need to show some data. Sage pulls down the projector screen, and Asheworth plugs his phone into the projector. Dr. Asheworth: This is the building where Sinclair and Reynolds both reside, one floor apart from each other. As near as we can tell, apart from the landlord, they are the only residents. Insurance records that SCP-8787-A provided to the Engine Company that responded to the fire indicates that every piece of equipment in there more complex than the hinges on the door has the same serial number: SCP-8787. There's been maybe twenty or thirty customers in a day, in one of the busiest parts of Philadelphia, since Wettle walked in. It's like it's not functioning at full capacity. Rsr. Sage: So we've got a Keter-class on the fritz. What does that mean? Dr. Asheworth: I'm not sure, but… given what happened when we first discovered it, I'm not sure it means anything good. We could be looking at a potential Code Quiet in the next seventy-two hours. Spontaneous, destructive neutralization of an anomaly. Basically what happened to everything that was affected by the Impasse. Dr. Reynders: Meaning we need to attempt to establish containment now. Dr. Bridge: It means we needed to establish containment five days ago. Let's get the City Slickers out here before anything else happens. Rsr. Sage: They're dealing with an outbreak of urban blight in Minneapolis. Psi-7 might be available. I just hope we're not too late. Apartment 87 was quaint and cozy. Monty said hello to the babysitter when he got up there, apologized for returning too early, and paid her the full amount. "Have you been able to stop her from crying?" Monty asked. "No, I'm sorry," the babysitter replied. "Are you sure you can't get into contact with her mother?" "I'm positive," Monty said, looking downcast. "I haven't seen her in over a year." The babysitter nodded sympathetically, and patted Reynolds on the arm, before heading out. Kathryn frowned as she left. "…Monty? Can you do something for me?" "What?" "Describe the woman who just left." Monty opened his mouth, shut it, frowned, and opened it again. "She… well, she lives a few floors down. Blonde hair, green eyes, has a scar on her…" he paused. "No, wait. That's… what's happening here?" "We've had a long day. Our jobs have burned down. Can I meet your kid?" Monty took Kathryn into a room that he had made into a makeshift nursery. It was covered with glow-in-the-dark stars to replace the ones that couldn't be seen with the light pollution, and was painted a deep, royal shade of purple. The crib that still served as her bed was made of oak, and within it was a child that had worn herself out from wailing. She had sepia-colored skin and curly hair that, while short, was in a startlingly familiar shade of red. She was wearing a green onesie, a red, plush dragon-like creature at her side. Kathryn walked over to the crib, and with each step, she found it harder to move forward. Mere inches from the edge of the child's bed, she stopped completely, her heart in her throat. "…Katherine?" Monty asked. He had said her name wrong. "Is something wrong?" "Why does she have my hair?" The question came out in a rasping whisper. "Why does… why can't I…" She rested her hand on the edge of the crib, the motion rocking it. Startled, she stepped back. Phoenix looked up, bleary-eyed, and burbled briefly, before standing up. She looked Kathryn dead in the eyes, and asked, "Mama?" "…no." Kathryn said. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't be a good mother. I… sorry, kiddo. I'm not your—" —mother's been picked up by the police again," Richard Sinclair told his daughter. They had been woken up by another phone call at 4:00 AM on a school night. "I'm going to go pick her up. Kiddo, you… you just try sleeping, okay? You got school tomorrow." "Is mom going to have to go back to Pennhurst?" Katherine asked. "Pennhurst got shut down a few years ago, honey. We… don't know where she's going to go this time. But… from the sound of it, she hurt someone again." Katherine Sinclair held onto her favorite soft toy, a white tiger named Snowball that her grandmother had given her. "Am I going to be like that when I'm a mom, dad?" Richard Sinclair gripped the siding on the doorway hard enough that his nails dug into it. "I don't know, Kat. I don't think so. You… don't have the problems she has. With any luck, you never will." Kathryn found her fingers pinned under the incomparable strength of an insistent toddler's hand. Phoenix's other hand was reaching out, as if she was expecting Kathryn to pick her up. "Why does she have my hair?" she asked, eyes filling with tears. "Why does she have my eyes?" "She can't…" Monty said. "Her mother… she ran away from us years ago and…" "What was her name?" Kathryn asked, barely able to hold back tears. Monty didn't respond. "What was your wife's name?" "…I can't remember." Kat didn't need to look to know that he was crying too. "Something's wrong. Something…. something's happened to me. To us." Katherine Sinclair obeyed the inviolable command of her daughter and picked her up, holding her close. Something was at the edge of her mind, a block of some form, preventing her from remembering anything else. "…Monty?" she asked, turning towards the man. "What… what happened to me?" The man she now knew was her husband took several gasping breaths, put his hand over his mouth, unable to stem the tears. For the first time in over a year, they were a family again, but… they weren't whole. He carefully held onto his wife, who held onto their child, and all but little Phoenix, who wasn't quite old enough to understand anything about the world, couldn't contain their emotions. There was joy, there was grief, there was anger… but that anger was directed inwards. "I just… I'm sorry I got so… so mad." Katherine said. "I couldn't handle it. I couldn't sleep. I just… I just wanted one night to myself. I was going to come back! And then… I crashed my car and… and then…" "I should have done more. I… I left so much to you. I didn't… I was scared." Reynolds touched his greying hair. "I'm old, Katherine. I don't… I don't want her to spend the most important years of her life without… without a father. I don't want to die before she's started to live. I was scared. I still am." "Mama?" Phoenix asked again. "…yeah, kiddo." Sinclair held onto her daughter. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't remember. I'm…" she sobbed. "How did we forget, Monty? You… you looked like you recognized me, the other day. You looked like you were starting to… to break down." "I was. And then… Sidney came in and…" he paused. "How long have you known Sidney for?" "…I don't know. My mind says twenty years, but… that can't be right. I didn't drop out. I… I got my doctorate… I… I…" She winced. "There's something in the way, still. I remember you, but I don't remember how I know you." Reynolds reached out to squeeze her hand, and Katherine— groaned. "Director Weiss, you can't be serious." "You've wanted a lab assistant for years, Researcher Sinclair." "I was hoping I could get someone from Sigma-3. This guy is ex-GOC?" "Technically. He was found as part of their Sunspotting program. Their attempt to search for, and recruit, Type-Blues." Nina Weiss sat with her hands folded. "He's probably down in the lab right now, getting set up." "The GOC see everything as a nail, and thaumaturgy is the ultimate hammer. I'm not going to be partnered with some militaristic asshole for the next five years." "Mr. Reynolds actually has more training in alchemy than anything. All I'm asking is that you give him a chance, Katherine. Who knows? He might be able to help you earn your doctorate." Sinclair stood and rolled her shoulders. "Okay, fine. I'll give it a chance." She exited the office, a sour expression on her face the whole elevator ride down to Sublevel 5. When she found herself in front of the door to the Thaumaturgy & Occult Studies lab, she expected to walk in and find a complete disaster area as a result of some inexperienced mage poking around at the wards. Instead, she walked in to find a man in his late thirties with dark skin, his hair styled in dreadlocks, wearing a pass on a lanyard around his neck, writing items down on a clipboard. He had a pair of squarish glasses on, and was muttering to himself as he took notes. Katherine had to clear her throat three times before he noticed her presence. He turned to face her, and was stunned silent for a moment, before he said, "You… must be Katherine." "That's Researcher Sinclair to you. What are you doing?" He held up the clipboard. "I'm taking inventory. I noticed a few discrepancies, and I wanted to make sure you didn't have something like Jeremiah's Multiplicative Grimoire interfering with your supplies." Sinclair crossed over and looked at the clipboard, frowning. "I've… been meaning to do that," she admitted. "But this place has been so under-funded since Dr. Euler left." She looked over the list, her eyebrows climbing up her head. "Wait, where did you find my copy of Trans-Neptunian Magic? I've been looking for that for six months!" "I brought my own copy. Integrated it into the collection. Do you mind?" "…no," Sinclair said. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." "Montgomery Reynolds. My friends call me Monty." "Well, Mr. Reynolds, let me give you the tour. Over here we have the testing chamber…" "You saw that, too, didn't you?" Monty asked. "That flash. Of our old lives." "It's Sid, isn't it?" Katherine worried her lip. "They're doing this to us. We… we have to do something." "I'm not leaving Phoenix here alone," Reynolds said. "I can't even be sure the babysitter I left her with is real. We need—" There was a knock on the front door of the apartment. They went and opened it after the knocking grew more insistent, and found a woman standing out there, with a black fedora, a leather jacket, and dark-colored jeans. Katherine recognized her immediately. "Alison? What are you doing here?" "If you can still remember me, there's something very wrong," she sighed. "You literally are not supposed to be able to perceive me." "You…" Reynolds frowned. "Wait, no. You're… dead, aren't you? Or… something happened to you. Why can we only just now…" "My mortal status is up for debate," Alison sighed, her eyes turning towards the toddler Sinclair was carrying. "But for right now, I'm Nobody but a babysitter, if that's what you need." "Are you sure?" Reynolds asked. "Trust me, this is easy compared to what I've been doing for the last three years." Alison Carol stepped inside, putting her hat on the coat rack by the door. "Go out there and set things right." The two of them nodded, took up their own coats, and headed back down through the largely empty building, onto the metro, back towards downtown. The fire had done a number on Sid's Coffee Place. Part of the wall had burned down, revealing the wooden struts beneath. Three tables had been reduced to charcoal, and the smell of smoke permeated the structure. Yellow caution tape was in front of the door; Katherine and Monty ducked under it. "You think they're here?" Katherine asked. "I'm not sure they can leave," Monty said. "I'm remembering some more things. I think they're linked to this place." On cue, Sidney rose from behind the counter, as if an elevator was taking them up to ground level. They regarded Sinclair and Reynolds with no small measure of sadness in their eyes. "I suppose I'm rumbled, then." Sinclair marched up to the owner of the coffee shop, grabbed them by the shirt collar, and tried punching them across the face. The instant she swung, her grip was vacant, and she was holding thin air. "What the fuck are you?" "Is that what you want to know?" Sidney was now sitting by the window. "What answer would make sense to you? I'm a fourth absolute? I'm a manifestation of the Serpent? I'm a Swann entity that's been forced into a lower narrative layer? Maybe I'm God! Maybe I'm one of the Nameless! Maybe I'm from the void between realities!" "How are you doing that with your voice?" Reynolds asked, looking around for anything that could be used as a weapon. "It doesn't matter. None of this fucking matters. It hasn't mattered in a long fucking time." Sidney sighed. "I can't give you an answer as to what I am. Because I don't know at this point." "…how long has this been going on?" Sinclair asked, balling her fist. "How long have you been abducting people and forcing them to—" Sidney made a 'bzzt' noise. "Wrong question. I'm not doing jack shit. Have either of you ever actually seen me leave this place?" "…to get milk…" Sinclair said. Sidney waved their hand, and the store was inundated by hundreds of gallons of milk of all flavors, in both cartons and bottles. "I can make it so I can't be perceived for a little bit. But I'm more stuck here than you, or anyone else that's been trapped here, ever has been." They groaned, a cup of coffee appearing in their hand. "At least back before Prohibition, I ran a goddamn pub and could get drunk to forget what I've been put in. I can't even do that anymore." "We saw you outside after the fire…" Reynolds said. "Domain extends a bit onto the sidewalk. Not far, only up to the curb." They sipped at their drink. "And then, a few years ago, the greatest thing in the fucking world happened: I was free! The Impasse happened! Magic had gone belly-up, and with it, this place! I could go out of it for the first time since… fuck, the Fifth Occult War, I think?" They chuckled, the sound lacking any mirth. "This place was a bar in France, back then. It only came to America after the Civil War ended." "What's… the Impasse?" Reynolds asked. "Oh, you don't— fuck, it really is on the fritz. Hold on." Sidney waved their hand and the pair of them reeled backwards. "Catastrophizing again, are we?" Sinclair looked up, eyes widening as she saw Monty, clad in an expensive tuxedo that, after today, he would likely never wear again. She turned away, face flush. "Bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony, hon." "I… well, I'm… I had trouble going in. I…" Monty paused. "It's not cold feet. I just…" He looked around. "I take it your father couldn't make it, then?" "He tried," Sinclair shook her head. "He really did. Got as far as the bar in the terminal." "I'm sorry." "To hell with him." She turned to face her husband-to-be. "My mother's been out of my life for almost thirty years. Dad's been a lush for the better part of twenty. But… it's going to be awkward, walking down the aisle alone." Reynolds said nothing, and just extended his hand. Katherine took it, and knocked on the door to the chapel proper. It opened, and a few minutes later, lengthy vows were exchanged, which ended in mutual 'I do's. "There," Sidney said as their memories reeled back into focus. "You're welcome." Sinclair was nauseated by the migraine resulting from the sudden flood of knowledge. Reynolds grabbed her as she started to fall, keeping her upright. "So, the Impasse… neutralized this place?" he asked. "Killed it dead," Sidney confirmed. "I ran across the street one day to give someone change they left behind, realized that I could run across the street, closed up shop, moved to Boston, became a barback." They shook their head and chugged their latte. "Then, in October, I woke up and found myself back in here all over again. But it wasn't… right." They waved their hand. "People it pulled in started to remember. Started to break because of it. Couldn't reconcile two different lives, two different sets of memories." They looked at the sign on the window, their hands tracing the capital 'S' in 'Sid's'. "So, I figured, since there was an entire cryptomantic web over reality… maybe I could draw power from it? Revitalize it a little?" "Why?" Reynolds asked. "Why not let it decay again so you could live a normal life?" "This place… whatever it is, it's… not cruel. It tries to make people live somewhat decent lives. Or it tried." Sinclair scoffed. "You— no, this place stole me away from my family for over a year! Monty was heartbroken, and… oh, I don't want to know what… my poor… what did Phoenix go through without me?" She wrung her hands together. "What I know is this:" Sidney stood and started walking around. "This place draws in people who are at rock bottom, worst time of their life. Maybe they're literally about to die. Maybe they're broke. Maybe they think everyone in the world has given up on them because they were in a manic episode and decided to say several dozen unkind things all at once." Sidney reappeared behind the counter. "This place gives them somewhere they can be without pain. It gives them what most people want at the end of the day: a decent job that pays well, a roof over their heads, friends to be with, a simple, quiet life without too much drama." Sidney snorted. "Everyone says they want to be in Narnia or Middle-Earth or on the Enterprise. No, the ultimate human fantasy is just… living a life that's not too complicated, where you don't have to worry about the bills, or about whether or not your kids are doing well in school, or about how the whole fucking world is going to Hell in a handbasket, and how the people who have the power to stop it are instead just pushing us closer to the edge." They sighed. "That's what this place gives everyone but me: safety. Comfort. Peace. It's why I'm letting myself be tortured by it— if someone, anyone can… can escape from the bullshit in their lives for even a few days by working here… then it's worth it." "I think you'd have better luck improving lives outside of the USA," Sinclair pointed out. "I barely have any control over where this thing ends up. It's sheer dumb luck that we're in your hometown, Katherine. I could just as easily have ended up in Toronto, or Kyiv, or Seoul… I ended up in Gaborone once. Botswana's a pretty nice place." Sidney paced. "Now that I don't have anyone working for me anymore… I'm going to move on. Don't know where, but hopefully I don't run into you guys again." Reynolds frowned, an idea forming behind his eyes. "Do you know what a Nexus is?" "This place was in Three Portlands from 1993 to 1997. Of course I know." "What if we could make SCP-8787 move to one?" he asked. "They're wellsprings of energy, and have a relatively low Hume level. It could restore the power, and… maybe you'd be able to get into the Nexus, at least?" "Monty…" Sinclair said. "After what this place did to us? You want to help it?" "This place brought us back together, Katherine." He smiled. "You seem… better, now, than you were a year ago. Stressed, not sleeping… we were all worried about you back at 87." "…the shop doesn't like being contained," Sidney said. "It wouldn't like being in the Foundation's purview." "You've got our initialism on your shop," Sinclair pointed out, not unkindly. "It kind of already is." Sidney thought for a moment, and shook their head. "Well, it's going to be moot, because in about thirty minutes, your guys are going to kick down the door, bust down the windows, and try to contain me. I suggest you get out before then — you've got a family, and I don't want any more blood on my hands." "That won't happen," Sinclair said. "But… do you really want this to be your life?" Sidney thought for a moment. "If just one person is made happy by what I do here, by me keeping this thing alive. Then it's going to be worth it." "Don't be a martyr, Sidney," Sinclair said. "What do you want?" Sidney swallowed, and then answered, "I… I want to see the world. All of it. I want to be able to sit down in a library and read a book. I want to have a hamburger. I want to go to a movie. I want… I want to live my own life. I…" Their breathing grew shallow, panicked. "I don't want to be here forever." "What else can you make with your abilities?" Sinclair asked. "Anything that can be found in a coffee shop, conceivably." "Does that include chalk?" The bottles and cartons of milk vanished, and a box of colored sidewalk chalk appeared on the counter. "Need them to update prices on the signs. What are you thinking?" Sinclair took a piece of chalk, throwing another to her husband. "We're going to try to hijack this place as it moves and get it somewhere where you might be able to leave." "…what about Phoenix?" Reynolds asked. "She's… going to be here, all alone…" Sinclair looked at the coffee-shop's prisoner. "Do you have my phone? The one from when I crashed, not the one I have now." Sidney produced it. "What are you going to do?" "Phone a friend. A few of them, actually." Date: January 26th, 2024 Location: Urban Site-56 Strategic Command Center, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania In Attendance: Rsr. Claire Sage, Head Archivist, Site-87; Dr. Django Bridge, Archivist, Site-17; Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Director, Site-120; Dr. Udo Okorie, Thaumatologist, Site-43; Dr. Ilse Reynders, Acroamatic Abatement, Site-43. Dr. Bridge: Psi-7 should be breaching within the next twenty-five minutes. Dr. Okorie: Think we'll be able to contain it? Rsr. Sage: If containing a Keter were as easy as sending in Psycho Psi-7, we wouldn't have a single anomaly breaching, ever. Dr. Asheworth: Let's just hope they don't raze the entire block in the process. Dr. Reynders: Does… Psi-7 have a reputation for doing that? Dr. Bridge: The Alcatraz Incident wasn't the first time a task force crashed a ship into civilian infrastructure. Dr. Reynders: …oh. A phone is heard ringing. Dr. Asheworth: Who the hell is calling? It's past midnight over in Poland… let me take this. Dr. Asheworth stands to exit the room, putting the phone to his ear. As his hand is on the door handle, he stops. Dr. Asheworth: What? What?! Rsr. Sage: What's going on? Dr. Asheworth: Let me put you on speaker, hold on. Dr. Asheworth puts his phone on the table, turning on the speaker. Dr. Asheworth: You're live. Dr. Katherine Sinclair: Hello? Am I presuming this is the group trying to get me out of SCP-8787's grasp? Rsr. Sage: Dr. Sinclair?! Rsr. Montgomery Reynolds: And family. Dr. Bridge: You're out from under it. Good. Are you somewhere safe? Dr. Sinclair: Well, that's the thing. From what I understand, this place is going to be hit by the military equivalent of a wrecking ball in less than half an hour, and we're trying to stop that from happening. Dr. Okorie: You're still on-site? Dr. Sinclair: Yes, and we're going to need someone to go and check on our daughter. What we're doing is going to be a massive drain on the power of myself, Monty, and 8787 itself. Rsr. Sage: I'll go check on her ASAP. We have your address. Dr. Asheworth: What are you intending to do, Sinclair? Dr. Sinclair: We're going to open a Way. Put 8787 in containment using it. Dr. Okorie: How? Dr. Sinclair: I was hoping you and Daniel could help on that front, Udo. We're debating between the Pseudo-Alighieri Configuration, or Rania's Gateway. Dr. Asheworth: Mmn, no. The building you're in's over eighty years old. You might end up under the Atlantic if you use the second one. Dr. Okorie: Trying to do the first one in this Hemisphere will just teleport you to Undervegas. Not a good idea. Dr. Sinclair: We're a bit strapped for supplies at the moment. If I could open a Maylon Aperture straight to Sloth's Pit, I would, but we don't have enough garnet for that. Dr. Reynders: Why use either of them? Why not use a nomenclative link? Dr. Sinclair: …what? How would… Dr. Reynders: You worked at a Site with a Foundation front protected by the Frontispiece— the same one on SCP-8787 at the moment, yes? Why not link the two and move through them that way? Dr. Bridge: Like how Three Portlands is linked together? Dr. Reynolds: Exactly, Dr. Bridge. But.. we could risk creating a spatial link to every Foundation site that's under a front if we do that. It would be… I don't know, like Four-Hundred-and-Six Portlands? Dr. Asheworth: It would cut down on travel expenses… Rsr. Sage: I don't think Site-34 would be happy about having its one unique thing stolen from it. Dr. Okorie: They still have the talking cat… Dr. Asheworth: Psi-7 will be there in ten minutes. I concur with Reynders. A nomenclative link would be your best option. Dr. Okorie: You're familiar with both locations, they're both linked by the Frontispiece, and all it really needs is some energy. Dr. Bridge: Hold on. Will this put it in proper containment, or… Rsr. Sage: What do you mean? Dr. Bridge: Doesn't Site-87 have aboveground offices? Rsr. Sage: They haven't been used for years. It's mainly just the lobby, and the upper levels are for storage. Dr. Bridge: Does the magic know that? Does SCP-8787 know that? Silence on the recording. Dr. Okorie: I think you might want to— Dr. Sinclair: Too late, we've already formed a link. Dr. Asheworth: That quickly?! Dr. Reynders: It is the most efficient path of energy, so it's not surprising… Dr. Okorie: Kat, if we have to set up passport control at 43, I'm never going to forgive you. Dr. Sinclair: No promises, Udo. Dr. Reynolds: Sid— SCP-8787-A, I suggest you hold onto something, this is going to be rough. Dr. Asheworth's phone emits a screeching sound, before the call disconnects. Dr. Bridge: That's… ominous. Rsr. Sage: I'm going to check on their daughter. Bridge, you mind driving? Dr. Bridge: Do you not have a license? Rsr. Sage: It's suspended. I rear ended the chief of police back in Sloth's Pit. Dr. Bridge: All right. Come on. Call us if you hear anything further. Bridge and Sage exit. They confirm the well-being of Sinclair and Reynold's daughter, Phoenix Reynolds, within twenty minutes. Irrelevant conversation has been excised; after approximately one half hour, Dr. Asheworth's phone rings again. Dr. Asheworth: Sinclair? Dr. Sinclair: Sorry it took so long, my phone got fried by the jump, had to find a landline. So… good news, we didn't create a spatial tunnel to every Foundation site protected by a front organization. Dr. Okorie: What's the bad news? Dr. Sinclair: I… think we may have just put one of the only decent cafe's in Sloth's Pit out of business. Dr. Reynders: How do you mean? Dr. Sinclair: Okay, you know how Wettle used to have that joke about Site-43 having a Tim Horton's in Habitation and Sustenance? Dr. Asheworth: Oh no… Rsr. Reynolds: On the bright side… we're home. Item#: 8787 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo The interior of SCP-8787, viewed from Site-87's lobby. Window in background does not correspond to any exterior aperture on Site-87. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8787 is allowed to operate as a cafe and eatery within Site-87's lobby. In the event a non-approved SCP-8787-B instance appears, Site-87 staff are to ascertain their identity, as well as attempt to relocate them outside of the anomaly. SCP-8787 is to be monitored for spikes in anomalous energy, including EVE, Akiva radiation, and memetic particles such as phonemes. It is currently drawing energy from Nexus-18 to sustain its anomalous properties, but to date, this drain has been negligible. The former SCP-8787-A instance is considered non-anomalous, but is being monitored by Foundation forces. It has been allowed a level of autonomy under Reintegration Protocols, provided they return to Site-87 at least once every two months. Description: SCP-8787 refers to an anomalous construct resembling an American cafe. Since January of 2024, SCP-8787 has occupied a previously vacant portion of Site-87's ground floor, off the side of the main lobby. Currently, SCP-8787 uses the name "The Roast Not Taken" for its business, which is supported by tax documents it has generated anomalously. Currently, SCP-8787's primary anomaly is the fact that is capable of generating any supplies needed for the continued maintenance of a coffee shop of its size, including foodstuffs, drinks, cleaning solutions, tools needed to conduct repairs, and paychecks. SCP-8787 is capable of anomalously recruiting individuals and transforming them into SCP-8787-B instances. SCP-8787-B instances are humans that have been mentally conditioned into believing they have always worked in SCP-8787 as a server or barista. Current SCP-8787-B instances — consisting of a crew of ten E-Class personnel from Nexus-18, with rotating shifts — are cognizant of the fact that SCP-8787 is anomalous, and do not appear to have had any mental conditioning placed upon them. SCP-8787-A referred to Sidney Charmer, who, prior to the current iteration of containment procedures, was believed to the proprietor of SCP-8787. In reality, Charmer was beholden to SCP-8787 and had been for several centuries. SCP-8787-A was aware of its anomalous properties and could exert some form of control over it, but could not leave the establishment. Following current containment efforts, SCP-8787-A lost all anomalous properties. SCP-8787 was contained in Site-87's lobby on January 26th, 2024, after two Foundation personnel who had been converted into SCP-8787-B instances — thaumaturge Dr. Katherine Sinclair and her husband, Dr. Montgomery Reynolds — formed a nomenclative link between the previous iteration of SCP-8787 ("Sid's Coffee Place") and Site-87 (which uses the front "S & C Plastics") using the Foundation-created memetic complex known as the Frontispiece to transport SCP-8787 from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin. Since this transportation, SCP-8787's anomalous properties have greatly diminished; previously, it was capable of transforming any human, regardless of distance to itself, into an SCP-8787-B instance. Following its relocation, it seems to draw on the population of Nexus-18 for its employees, who are aware of its anomalous properties. The exact nature of SCP-8787's anomaly remains unknown to the Foundation. However, due to the ease of its containment and relatively benign anomaly, its containment is no longer a top priority. Addendum: Debriefing Interviews: Interviewer: Rsr. Montgomery Reynolds Subject: SCP-8787-A SCP-8787-A: So. Am I going to be in a cell for the rest of my life? Rsr. Reynolds: Depends on how you answer my questions. SCP-8787-A: Where's your wife? Rsr. Reynolds: Being debriefed by someone else. She'll probaby lose access to the site for a while, which is a pity; I'd loved to have shown her that submarine we have in containment. SCP-8787-A: And you're not? Rsr. Reynolds: I was under the effects for less than seventy-two hours. You had her in there for almost a year and a half. It's a small miracle she's not lost her job. Now… do you have any anomalous capabilities? SCP-8787-A: What, are you expecting me to conjure you a chai latte with two pumps of almond milk out of thin air? Rsr. Reynolds: …that's my favorite thing to get. How… SCP-8787-A: As far as I can tell, the most I have right now is a weak telepathy that tells me what someone's favorite drink is. As can be evidenced by the fact that I'm inside an interrogation room— SCP-8787-A knocks on the wall. SCP-8787-A: —and not in the cafe, I'm not rooted to it any longer. But… c'mon. Is the Foundation really going to lock someone up because they have fucking barista telepathy? Rsr. Reynolds: Not my call to make. But… the Foundation doesn't… how do I describe this… SCP-8787-A: Hmm? Rsr. Reynolds: The Foundation doesn't seem to be able to… function properly here. There was this guy a decade ago, no-nonsense type of person, who tried to audit the site. His name was Matthew… something-or-other. Tried to get us all fired for 'unprofessional behavior'. SCP-8787-A: What happened? Rsr. Reynolds: The official story is that he was run out of town by the Goatman. But there have been rumors that our head of security, Nick Ewell, helped scare him off. In short, there's something about Sloth's Pit… something that I think happens in most Nexuses, come to think of it, that kind of just… makes the Foundation's core ideals break down. By all rights, this town should be under an impenetrable acrylic dome, and every citizen should be in containment or dead for what they know. SCP-8787-A: Seems impractical. Rsr. Reynolds: That's my pet theory, that the Foundation finds it more practical to let people live their lives. Don't tell Katherine this, but I do not put any stock in pataphysics. SCP-8787-A: So what you're saying is… it would be more practical to let me out of here than to keep me in a cell? Rsr. Reynolds: That's not the only thing they could do. The Foundation could always grind you into a pulp and feed you to SCP-10███. SCP-8787-A: What?! Rsr. Reynolds: Bit of dark humor. I think I'm entitled to a bit of it after what I've been through. SCP-8787-A: Look, it's not my fault you got drawn into it. Rsr. Reynolds: That's the only instance of it I'll allow. Have you retained any anomalous knowledge? SCP-8787-A: You mean like… how I got in there? Fuck if I know. Once you live a few centuries, your mind starts to blur everything together. Rsr. Reynolds: What's the oldest thing you can remember? SCP-8787-A stands and paces. SCP-8787-A: I think… I remember killing the previous owner of the shop, back when it was a bar. But that was yonks ago. Rsr. Reynolds: Can you pin a year to it? SCP-8787-A: …uh, shit. Maybe… thirteen? Rsr. Reynolds: Thirteen… hundred? SCP-8787-A: No, thirteen. Rsr. Reynolds: B.C.? A.D.? SCP-8787-A: Monty… you mind if I call you that? I don't fucking know because, when I set up shop in Rome for the first time, Yeshua bin Yusuf was just some a hillbilly cult leader who occasionally tried to peddle some really watered-down booze to me. Silence on the recording. SCP-8787-A: Ha! The look on your face. <SCP-8787-A laughs.> Sorry, couldn't resist. Nah, I'm fuckin' with ya. 1307, I think. Somewhere in Wales? I can't remember much beyond that, I'm afraid. Sorry. Rsr. Reynolds: We'll take the information into consideration. But like I said.. there's something about this place that makes the Foundation's hoarding behavior break down. There's a good chance you're going to be able to… live a normal life. Or what passes for it here. SCP-8787-A: I'll stop by whenever I can. For old times' sake. Rsr. Reynolds: Any other pertinent information? SCP-8787-A: You able to contact SCP-105 at all? Iris? Rsr. Reynolds: I know someone who knows someone on ETTRA. Why? SCP-8787-A: Tell her that Abe misses her dearly, if you can. O5 Command, ETTRA, and Alpha-9 are currently debating whether this message should be delivered to SCP-105. Interviewer: Colonel Malcolm Guillard, Section Head, Investigations & Retrieval, Site-87 Subject: Dr. Katherine Jean Sinclair Dr. Sinclair: So… what's the damage? Col. Guillard: A lot. Dr. Sinclair: Am I being terminated? Col. Guillard: From what I understand, Director Bailey called in every favor but one to make sure that didn't happen. But… Sinclair, what you did was profoundly unprofessional and fucked up. Dr. Sinclair: Is this you talking to me as a member of the Foundation, or— Col. Guillard: This is me talking to you as the guy who used to play Hammerheart the Broad in Bailey's Pathfinder game. Silence on the recording. Col. Guillard: You vanished for over a year, Katherine. Dr. Sinclair: It was hardly my fault that 8787 drew me in. Col. Guillard: Which is about half of the reason why you're being allowed to stay in the Foundation. But… you abandoned your husband. Your kid. That doesn't sound like you. That isn't you. What happened, Katherine? Silence on the recording. Dr. Sinclair: …do you know anything about my mother, Malcolm? Col. Guillard: I saw in her file that you're estranged from her. Dr. Sinclair: She's… not well. She had episodes when I was younger, and eventually, she… hurt someone. Col. Guillard: Hurt how? Dr. Sinclair: She got rear-ended driving home with groceries and got out of the car, started attacking the driver. It was just a fender-bender, and she dislocated his jaw. She was committed to Belmont, a mental health center in Philadelphia. Claims to not even remember it. I… I'm afraid of turning out like her. Col. Guillard: You've… never been diagnosed with any mood disorders, have you? Dr. Sinclair: A shrink I saw at my college diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder. Dr. Palmer doesn't seem to think so, but he goes easy on everyone here. Col. Guillard: What do you think? Dr. Sinclair: I think that… there's no excusing what I did. I failed as a mother, and I failed my duty to this place, and to these people. What sort of punishment am I getting, exactly? Col. Guillard: A few things. Let me read out the report. Col. Guillard produces the minutes of a disciplinary hearing on Dr. Sinclair. Col. Guillard: "Disappointed by this behavior in a loyal member of Foundation personnel", "meritorious actions in the past have been taken into account"… "Actions Taken: 1) Dr. Sinclair is to be demoted from head of Occult Studies and Thaumaturgy at Site-87, and is not allowed to hold the position of Department Head for five calendar years. 2) For a period of two calendar years, any egress from Nexus-18 must be undertaken with a Foundation escort to ensure that this behavior is not repeated. 3) Mandatory psychiatric counseling, twice a week, for three calendar years and 4) Mandatory leave of absence for a period of two weeks." Dr. Sinclair: Could be worse. Could be put on thaumosuppressants. Who's going to be the new OS&T head? Col. Guillard: A couple of people are coming on. Rudolph Carmichael from Site-91, he's… Dr. Sinclair: I'm aware of his condition. Worked with him a couple of times. He's department head, though? With how his brand of thaumaturgy behaves— Col. Guillard: He's not. Do you remember Matthew Broderick? Dr. Sinclair: What does the most wooden actor in— wait, you mean the Tax Man? That asshole who tried to audit 87 a decade ago?! Col. Gullard: He goes by Matthew Richardson now. Got tired of the jokes. Dr. Sinclair: He's a thaumaturge?! How? I didn't detect a lick of aura on him when he tried to read me the riot act— Col. Guillard: Apparently a few months after the audit, he [DATA EXPUNGED]. Dr. Sinclair: …on accident? Col. Guillard: That's what his file says. Dr. Sinclair: How do you accidentally [REDACTED]? They wriggle around when you— Col. Guillard: He was doing an audit on Site-55 at the time, during the whole thing with the— Dr. Sinclair: Jay told me about that a few years ago. Poor bastard. Hell of a way to have an awakening. Silence on the recording. Dr. Sinclair: Do you need anything else? I have to go pick up my daughter from daycare. If I'm on mandatory LOA, I might as well make the most of it. Make up for lost time. Col. Guillard: Are you allergic to anything? Nuts, chocolate? Dr. Sinclair: What? Col. Guillard: Liao refuses to cough up your medical file, and we need to make sure that the 'welcome back' cake we're buying you isn't going to kill you. Dr. Sinclair laughs. Dr. Sinclair: As long as you don't bake it with dust mites, I should be fine. Col. Guillard: Good to have you back, Katherine. Dr. Sinclair: Good to be back. Footnotes 1. A memetic aegis that protects the Foundation from discovery from outside groups, embedded in the "SCP" initialism used in several front companies. 2. A chain of coffee shops largely present in the Southern United States, Japan, and South Korea, acting as Foundation resupply stations for field agents. 3. A joint investigative committee of Foundation and USGOV forces that formed following the collapse of MTF-Omega-7 ("Pandora's Box") in order to investigate the circumstances that led to its failure; the committee briefly reformed in 2022 to investigate the Alcatraz Island Incident. 4. An individual that can modify, create, or erase memories. 5. An individual capable of manipulating and traversing time without the need for exterior equipment; imperfect chronokinesis is demonstrated through evidence left in the timeline of their alterations. 6. Old Daevite phrase. Approximate meaning is 'Wake and serve'. 7. Salah Zairi, Lewitt's husband since 2011. 8. Deprecated Horizon Initiative terminology for a divine entity. 9. Naomi Ibtisam Lewitt-Zairi, born December 2013. 10. The University of Pittsburgh. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8787" by Ihp, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8787. 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. This article contains an excerpt from The Snow Queen (1872) by Hans Christien Anderson(Public Domain). Filename: sinclair.png Author: Ihp; Anathea Utley (original) License: CC BY 2.0 DEED Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/fragment%3Asid-s-coffee-place-1/sinclair.png Derivative Of: https://www.flickr.com/photos/anathea/3547470714// Filename: Green_House_Coffee_Shops.jpg Author: Barrwk License: CY BY 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Green_House_Coffee_Shops.jpg Filename: montyreynolds.jpg Author: jalexartis Photography, ihp License: CY BY 4.0 Derivative Of:*https://flic.kr/p/rmjwK7 Filename:** Min_Min_Store_Camel%27s_Rest_Coffee_Shop_Herbert_St_Boulia_Central_Western_Queensland_P1080727.jpg Author: John Robert McPherson License: CC BY 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Min_Min_Store_Camel%27s_Rest_Coffee_Shop_Herbert_St_Boulia_Central_Western_Queensland_P1080727.jpg Filename: New_Orleans_Lakefront_Airport,_Main_Terminal_Building_interior,_August_2016_-_23.jpg Author: Infrogmation of New Orleans License: CY 2.0 Generic Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:New_Orleans_Lakefront_Airport,_Main_Terminal_Building_interior,_August_2016_-_23.jpg
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padding: 2vw; } …the ultimate human fantasy is just… living a life that's not too complicated, where you don't have to worry about the bills, or about whether or not your kids are doing well in school, or about how the whole fucking world is going to Hell in a handbasket… close Info X SCP-8787: The Roast Not Taken More by Ihp More S & C Plastics SCP-8787 The Roast Not Taken By: Ihp Published 12 February, 2024 Head Archivist Sage, This is everything we've found so far pertaining to Case-2022-002. Per Acting Director Leigh, we aren't getting any non-anomalous law enforcement involved, including the SPPD, mostly for the safety of the missing person; cops react badly to normal runaway cases, imagine if they drew their gun on a Type-Blue. I didn't think that she'd just… do that. She loved this place more than anything. Reynolds is heartbroken, but we're making sure he and his kid get the best care they can. Leigh won't let you file this under Priority Alpha, but she was basically everyone's friend here, before she broke down. At the very least, make it Priority Gamma. Also enclosed are a few copies of the most current missing persons poster for her. Everyone around 87 knows her, but you have family in the Upper Peninsula, and we think she may have headed there. If you could maybe get a few of them up in that direction, it would be appreciated. Col. Malcolm Guillard Department Head, Investigations and Retrieval Site-87 Section Found Highlighted in Personal Collection of Dr. K. Sinclair One day, when he was in a merry mood, he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it almost shrink to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad looked increased in size and worse than ever. - Hans Christian Andersen, The Snow Queen Search Engine Log, Notable Queries, 07/2021-08/2022 SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity leave SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity leave for anomalous individuals SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity Leave For anomalous Foundation personnel SCiPNET QUERY 07/15/2021: Maternity leave for anomalous Foundation personnel -containment GOOGLE QUERY 09/15/2021: Best maternity center Douglas County WI SCiPNET QUERY 09/15/2021: how to access Goldbaker-Reinz Insurance Plan GOOGLE QUERY 09/19/2021: cesarian section painful SCiPNET QUERY 10/15/2021: foundation emergency medical leave GOOGLE QUERY 10/16/2021: how to obtain birth certificate wisconsin GOOGLE QUERY 10/19/2021: symptoms of post-partum depression GOOGLE QUERY 12/01/2021: best baby gifts for girls [INSIGNIFICANT ENTRIES PRUNED] GOOGLE QUERY 08/29/2022: day cares Sloth's Pit Wisconsin SCiPNET QUERY 08/29/2022: anomalous activity associated with day cares in Sloth's Pit Wisconsin SCiPNET QUERY 08/29/2022: mass-scale exorcism of civilian buildings SCiPNET EMAIL, DATED 08/25/2022 Director Bailey, Thank you for the flowers. They've helped liven up the place a bit. All I wanted was a clarification on how long my maternity leave was, and… well, you've certainly helped with that. I'm not going to lie, Tristan: my life is kind of hell right now. Phoenix isn't sleeping, and neither are we. A few rudimentary rites to keep us awake are not a substitute for sleep. We don't know if she has colic or what; the doctors can't find anything wrong with her, but the instant I'm out of her sight, she starts bawling like a banshee. I know this is probably out of her wheelhouse, but I'm wondering if there's not something anomalously wrong with her. If you could maybe see about getting Dr. Liao over here one day, I know i'm asking a lot but tristan please i havent' slept since july and monty and i are fighting every day now please help us Katherine Sinclair, PhD Department Head, Thaumatology and Occult Studies Site-87 GOOGLE QUERY 8/30/2022: Hotels in Superior WI SCiPNET QUERY 8/30/2022: marriage counseling within foundation 9-1-1 Call, 11:35 PM, August 30th, 2022 Dispatch: Douglas County 9-1-1, do you require police, fire, or ambulance? Caller: I… ambulance. I crashed my car. Ah! Dispatch: Ma'am, are you hurt? Caller: My… my left hand. The steering wheel got torn out of it. I… I can't feel it. Ow. Dispatch: Ma'am, do you see a mile marker? Any indication of where you are? Caller: I… I think I was… I was driving down Bray Road, out of… out of Sloth's Pit. Fucking deer came in front of the car and… oh god I'm in the woods. Dispatch: What's the make and model of your car, ma'am? Caller: It's a Volvo. Red… no, burgundy station wagon. It… before the turn of the century. Okay, I think I can walk. Dispatch: Ma'am, stay close to the car. Caller: I can't. I lost my damn eye. Dispatch: Your… eye? Caller: It's fake. Wait… what's that? Dispatch: Ma'am, do not leave the vicinity of your car. There are dangerous animals in the woods surrounding Sloth's Pit. Caller: God, 'dangerous animals' is the excuse we gave you? I think it might be someone from work… Hello? Hello! Are you… what the hell are you? Dispatch: Ma'am, do not leave the area— Caller: …what the fuck is… oh, I… yeah, that makes sense. Dispatch: Ma'am, stay on the line. Ma'am? God dammit. [DISPATCH NOTES: "CODE SP87 BRAY ROAD IN WOODS NEAR SLOTHS PIT. NEED AMBULANCE, POLICE, CLEANERS"] Head Archivist's Note: Aside from a piece of plastic that may have been part of the front left headlight, no trace of Dr. Sinclair, or her vehicle, were discovered by either Foundation or civilian forces. MISSING DR. KATHERINE JEAN SINCLAIR Date of Birth: 06/17/1982 Age: 43 Sex or gender: Female Race: White Hair: Red Eyes: Green (right) teal (left) Height: 5'7" Weight: 240 (est.) Distinguishing Marks: Left eye is a plastic prosthetic Burn scars on both forearms from laboratory accident Last seen heading northbound out of Douglas County, Wisconsin, driving a 1995 burgundy Volvo Station Wagon with Wisconsin plates (title expiry January 2023) Last Seen August 30th, 2022 IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, PLEASE CONTACT: STRAUSS CONTRACT POLICING 15 WEST MAIN STREET SLOTH'S PIT, WI 54887 (715) 555-0173 Bleeding and bleary, the woman went to the first light she saw in the distance. She knew she was in pain, but she knew that she had been in worse. Her legs still worked, she could flex all her fing— no, that was a lie. Her left hand made an unnatural popping noise when she tried flexing the thumb. The steering wheel had been wrenched from her hand when she crashed, and at the very least, it was sprained. She had swerved to miss a deer in the middle of the road. Idiot. She knew that she should have just plowed through Bambi, but she wasn't thinking straight. She had been driving for six… eight? Ten hours? When had she seen the sunset? Where was she? The building came into focus. It was a diner? No, it was a coffee shop. It looked like it had been ripped out of the center of main street back home. But it was just sitting here, on the side of the highway. She couldn't make out the sign through the rain and her tears and the fact that she only had one eye didn't help matters, either. She shoved open the door— "Kat! You're late." Kathryn Sinclair blinked as she walked through the door of Sid's Coffee Place. It was mid-morning, her apron was on backwards, and there was a line. She blinked at her boss, Sidney Charmer, as if she didn't know what was happening. After a moment, her brain fog lifted; it always happened when she was late to a shift, everything about the day got discombobulated. "Sorry, sorry," she said, getting behind the counter. "Car blew up on me and I had to take the metro." "Couldn't have called?" Sid grimaced, eyebrows knitting together under their green hair. "Out of minutes for the month." Sidney shook their head. "Well, the BARI-STAR's on the fritz, and you're a wizard when it comes to fixing this thing. It's been house blend only for the last half hour." "On it, boss." Kat went into the back closet, got her hair in a net, and got out some tools. She found the manual for the BARI-STAR easily enough— Sidney had written it themselves— and though she had read it hundreds of times, thought it was a good idea to get a refresher. Serial #: SCP-8787 Specifications for Cheap Patching: One of the milk steaming wands just doesn't work. Don't bother trying to repair it. Anything else: Is the boiler working? Check that first. Stop and turn off all heating elements, we don't want a repeat of what happened with Quinn. The tubes get clogged a lot, make sure they're unclogged. Halve the amount of coffee brewed for a while; sometimes the machine just gets tired. If all else fails, whack it with a wrench. STOP! Don't do that, they don't make parts for these anymore. Description: SCP-8787 is the serial number of a BARI-STAR Galactic Three-Cup Espresso and Latte Machine in Sid's Coffee Place, the best place to get coffee in Philadelphia. Manufactured in 1995, SCP-8787 includes the following deluxe features: 15-liter boiler 1 hot water outlet 2 milk steaming wands (leftmost is non-functional) Stainless steel body Gas heating system Electric cup warmer Lifetime warranty SCP-8787 has been serving Sid's Coffee Place since its founding in 2022, and serves almost 200 gallons of our finest brew every week. It had always struck Kat as odd that a machine this old was still in service; it was top-of-the line, thanks in no small part to her repair skills, and the lifetime warranty certainly helped. She wondered at what point the BARI-STAR stopped being the same coffee machine it was back in the 90's. A Coffee Maker of Theseus. On some level, it was still the original machine; the fact that the left coffee steamer hadn't worked since she started working here, and that she never could get it working, was evidence of that. She exited the back room and set about to repairing the machine, while Sid kept serving customers. "Hey, Sid?" "Hmm?" "When are you going to change the signs? I thought you renamed the place." "They're on back order," Sidney admitted with a sigh. "Haven't been able to get someone out here to paint the window either." "I'm still shocked they wouldn't let you keep the name 'Sid's Coffee Place'." "Well apparently there's a 'Sid's Coffee Place' in some backwoods town in Wisconsin, and I'm not allowed to use the name because they filed their trademark a year before I did." "That's bullshit. We should sue." "With what money, Kat? You willing to give up your paycheck?" "Fair point." Kat set to the task of disassembling the BARI-STAR. The inside of the establishment formerly known as Sid's Coffee Place was a modest affair, but it was cozy enough. Tables along the front windows and in each corner, a small room off to the side for 'private functions' (which got a surprising amount of use post-pandemic), a fireplace, and perhaps inadvisably, a small bookshelf next to the aforementioned fireplace. Kat swore up and down one day that she would read every book on the shelf, but Sidney had a strange taste in books; he had The Complete Works of Franz Kafka on the same shelf as Tamsyn Muir, and nobody wanted anything to do with the works of Charles Stross on the shelf below it, but the copies of The Handmaid's Tale and John Dies At The End were read so frequently that their back covers were held on by tape. Philadelphia's coffee crowd had an eclectic taste in books, according to Sid, but she never— She was screaming again. Always with the screaming, she never stopped. How could someone that young survive for so long without sleep, without air? The earplugs didn't help, nor did the coffee. She'd grown to hate the drink so much— Kat blinked. The BARI-STAR was fixed, except for that stupid steam wand. She brewed an experimental cup of espresso just to make sure, and everything was working fine. The shop was full of people. Everything was going okay. "You ever regret dropping out?" Sid asked as the lunchtime rush finished a few hours later. Kathryn rolled her eyes. Sid asked the same question at least once every three months— it was like he had amnesia! She had to come up with a unique answer each time. "I was getting an anthropology degree, Sid. Not exactly a lot of places hiring for the humanities around here." "Could've gone abroad." "And done what?" "I dunno. The Philippines have some pretty cool folklore. You could've studied there." "I'd have to learn at least two different languages. Hard pass." Kat shook her head. "No, if I hadn't dropped out, I wouldn't be here, and I'm glad for that." Sid looked at her skeptically. "You don't want to do anything else except work here?" "I mean, eventually I want to find someone and settle down, but… I can't have kids." "Right… with the…" Sid rubbed their midsection, their face a grimace of sympathy. "Would you want to have kids, if you could?" "Don't know," Kat admitted. "I was born without a soul, and I'm not sure I'd want to risk a child with the same." Sid looked at her quizzically. They were sometimes slow on getting jokes. "That was a joke about… your hair?" "Yeah. Redheads don't have souls, dontchaknow." She grinned. Someone knocked on the counter with all of the tact of someone inviting Sidney to a gender reveal party. Kathryn recognized him, and suppressed a groan; she recognized this customer, but hadn't seen him in about a year. It was Mr. Wet, so called because that was all that was ever legible on his cups, no matter what she did. He was heavyset but tall, and looked like he was wearing his own skin wrong. Mr. Wet was whiter than a mayonnaise and marble sandwich, with hair that stuck out in every direction but the correct one, a beard in the process of exploding, glasses with a prescription so thick that they could be used as a microscope, and clip-on tie that, somehow, was on backwards. His hair was at least styled a bit more neatly this year. Him being in town meant that it was time for the annual Symposium on the Cessation of Petroleum, a conference hosted in Philadelphia where a bunch of eggheads, hippies, and hippies who had egghead DNA got together and talked about phasing out fossil fuels. A noble goal, but she had gotten better tips from politicians than she got from these people. "Good to see you again," Kathryn said, ice in her voice. "…do I know you?" Mr. Wet asked, looking around as if he were disoriented. "Motherfucker, you come in here every year to get coffee before the symposium begins," Kathryn said, tactfully omitting the 'motherfucker'. "Oh. Huh. Coulda sworn this place had a different name last year…" Mr. Wet frowned. "Well, I'll have black, one sugar." "Name for that?" "William Wettle." If that's your real name, I'm Cindy Crawford, Kathryn thought as she went about making the order. But the name sounded… familiar to her somehow. She was distracted by the thought of Where have I heard that name before? so thoroughly that she put in a cream instead of a sugar, before handing the coffee to him. He took out a chalky Lactaid pill, swallowed it, and then downed the coffee. "I asked for sugar, and you gave me cream." "Oh, sh— sorry," Kat winced. "Happens every time. When I'm in the mood for cream, I ask for sugar, and vice-versa. Ain't your fault…" He looked at her nametag and frowned. "Why is your name spelled like a character out of Snow Crash?" "From what my mom told me? The 'E' key on the keyboard when they were typing out my birth certificate didn't work. Now I'm stuck with this." "Huh." Wettle looked up at her, squinting. "…your eyes… what's…" "Lost it in a car wreck. $7.90." "Your board says—" "That was before you made a comment about my eye, jackass." She did not omit the jackass here. "Were you raised in a barn?" "I… was raised in Peoria…" Wettle reluctantly surrendered eight dollars, muttered 'keep the change', and left. As he toddled down the street, Kathryn heard a yelp; the dumb motherfucker had probably spilled coffee on himself. "Classic Wettle," she snorted. "You know him?" Sid asked, as the front of the counter became a void of customers. "He's in here every year for that eco-conference. Pretty sure he's spilled his coffee every time he comes in here." She frowned. "Guy must have crazy bad luck." Sidney paused. "Don't you think it's a bit odd that we share initials?" "Who?" "Sid's Coffee Place, Symposium for the Cessation of Petroleum…" "I mean, more words in English start with those three letters than any others, Sid. Besides, you're changing the name soon. What's it— matter? The matter is, Monty, that I can't fucking do this! I've tried splitting myself in two in every sense but the literal one, and I can't FUCKING do it! You know what my mother was like! You've seen her in the home! Why did I think it was going to be any— —different today, Alie?" Kat blinked; she was talking to one of her regulars, a woman who, no matter what the weather, was wearing a leather jacket, tight jeans, and a wide-brimmed fedora. She looked somewhat alarmed that Kathryn had remembered her name. "Sorry, what?" Alie asked. "Would you like to try something different today? The BARI-STAR is a bit on the fritz, and I don't want it to break making your order." Allie Carol looked at Kathryn, then over her shoulder at Sidney, furrowing her eyebrow. Kat looked over her shoulder, and Sid just shrugged. "Uh, yeah." Alie blinked. "I'm in the mood for tea. Can you make a chai latte?" "Was there a snake in the garden?" Kat turned to make the latte. "There was…" Alie frowned. "She's actually not half-bad once you get to know her, but I wish I didn't see her smut collection." "What?" "What?" Alison Carol was prone to odd exchanges like this. Kat handed her the chai latte about a minute later. "Here we go, chai latte." Alison pulled out her credit card and swiped it, leaving a large tip seemingly more out of bewilderment than anything. "It's… good to see you, Doc." She sipped her tea. "How's the eye?" "Still missing. Maybe when I'm in my eighties, they can 3D print me a new one, and I can look at all the grandkids I don't have with 20/20 vision." "Right." Alison nodded. "Well… I'd best be off. I want to avoid the people from the 'Symposium' as much as possible." She waved her hand through the air. "Did Wettle come through here?" "Oh god, you know that clown?" Kathryn sighed. "How?" "By reputation. Long story, but… be careful out there, Katherine." Kat blinked; she didn't know how, but she had a feeling that Alison had just spelled her name wrong. Before she could correct her, the bell over the door was ringing, and she was gone. "Let's get you home early tonight," Sid said. "Going to have to deal with a bunch of clowns from the Symposium tomorrow, and I want you well-rested for that." "You good to close up?" Kat started stripping out of her apron. "When have I never not been, Kit-Kat?" "Don't," she snapped. "…sorry. Jackass of an ex used to call me that." "Sorry. What happened to him?" "Not 'him or her'?" "You're not that adventurous, Kathryn." Sid grinned, and by the way the light hit his teeth, they seemed to be pointed. Kat swallowed. "He died in a fire. Real asshole of a person." "You sure about that?" "…positive," Kat said. "He had no next of kin, so I had to ID him. Can I go, Sid?" "Sure." Kat exited into the Philadelphian winter, caught the metro back to her apartment, and slept. Her dreams weren't pretty. Foundation Department of Discipline and Correction Incident Report Lead Investigating Agent: Ethel Kursh Psychological Evaluator: Dr. Merrick Palmer Details of Incident: On January 22nd, 2024, at the Annual Foundation Inter-Disciplinary Symposium in Philadelphia, Dr. William Wallace Wettle (SCP-7000, Site-43, henceforth victim) approached Researcher Montgomery Reynolds (Site-87, henceforth assailant) at the opening dinner. Following an exchange of dialogue between the two (unrecorded) the assailant began an argument with the victim, during which the victim tripped over a banana peel and hit his head on the side of the table. Charges: 1 count of threatening a sapient SCP 1 count of threatening Foundation personnel 1 count disruption of decorum Evaluation: Rsr. Reynolds: Neither of us look good here, do we? Dr. Merrick Palmer: Honestly, Reynolds, you're lucky that Wettle's such an ass that you have likely have justification for screaming at him. But I'd like to know what that justification is. Rsr. Reynolds: I want to know you're not just speaking as a friend. Cronyism has been… Dr. Palmer: I'm speaking as someone who is helping decide whether or not you get to keep your job, Montgomery. Researcher Reynolds Personnel ID Photo. Rsr. Reynolds: Wettle… he said he saw my wife. He said he saw Katherine, Merr. She… she's been gone for over a year. I thought he was making fun of me. Dr. Palmer: Dr. Wettle is several things, but he is not a fabulist— he lacks the imagination for it. But how would he recognize your wife? Have they met? Rsr. Reynolds: Katherine was born in Philadelphia. I brought a few missing persons posters to the city, posted them in a few different metro stations, around a few parks… I even made the trip up to Upper Darby, where her mother used to live, just in case. He must have happened by one of them. Dr. Palmer: You put up missing person's posters… in this weather? Reynolds, the temperature hasn't risen above zero centigrade in the last month. Rsr. Reynolds: I grew up in New York. I'm used to a bit of cold. Dr. Palmer: Did he tell you where he saw your wife? Rsr. Reynolds: I didn't give him a chance to say. Dr. Palmer: I have him in the other room. Would you like me to fetch him? Rsr. Reynolds: If he'll even be in the same room as me. Dr. Palmer: I'm sure he'll understand. Dr. Palmer exits the holding cell and re-enters approximately five minutes later with Dr. Wettle in tow. Dr. Wettle: I'm not gonna press charges. It's my own damn luck I dinged my head. Rsr. Reynolds: You said you saw Katherine. Where? Dr. Wettle: There's this coffee shop I go to every year. Had a different name a year ago, but I think it still has the same owner. She was working there as a barista. Seemed to recognize me, but didn't know who I was, if that makes sense. Rsr. Reynolds: What was the name of this place? Dr. Wettle: Sidney… no, Sid's Coffee Place. Rsr. Reynolds: …say that again. Dr. Wettle: Sid's Coffee P— what the fuck are you doing?! Rsr. Reynolds conjures a minor rite of thaumaturgy. Rsr. Reynolds: I'm analyzing the language. Say it again. Dr. Wettle: S-Sid's Coffee Place. The fuck is that?! Using thaumaturgy, Rsr. Reynolds highlights a memetic complex present in the name of 'Sid's Coffee Place'. Rsr. Reynolds: That's… the Frontispiece.1 Dr. Wettle: Euler, Scout and company lobotomizing the human race on a linguistic level. Silence on the recording. Dr. Wettle: What? Like a quarter of my job is making sure that the Frontispiece works, regardless of context. Rsr. Reynolds: But… I don't recognize the front. We have a front that's a coffee shop, Solo Café Panama.2 Why have two? Dr. Wettle: Because the Department of Redundancy Department still has a budget? Rsr. Reynolds: Wettle. Now is not the time to pull my leg. Dr. Wettle: I wish I was. A search of the Foundation's database found no records for a Foundation front named "Sid's Coffee Place," making the presence of the Frontispiece, without a Foundation front behind it, inexplicable. The following day, January 24th, Reynolds attempted to make contact with the entity who resembled Dr. Sinclair. Sid's Coffee Place was eerily vacant the next day. Kathryn had no problem getting there, but for about five blocks around the cafe, there was no traffic, no people walking, no lights on in the buildings… but Sid was still there when she clocked in. Sid was always there. "I miss a national tragedy or something?" she asked. "Where is everyone?" "Got me," Sid shrugged inside their thick, green jacket. "Been here since six and I ain't seen a soul." "Maybe you scared them off, ya creep." "I'm not creepy," Sidney frowned. With a flourish, hand on their chest, they declared, "I am delightful." "You're a creep, and you're so hammy that a Rabbi would call you trefah." "Firstly: ouch. Second: since when do you know Yiddish?" Sid frowned, left eyebrow raised. "Hebrew, actually. Dated a guy after I dropped out." Kathryn shivered, and realized, her teeth chattering hard enough to make her head rattle, that she could see her breath. "F-f-fucking hell, S-s-Sid, did the furnace go out a-a-again?!" "Super said he'd be by to fix it in an hour." "H-how l-long ago was t-that?" "…two hours." Kathryn rolled her eyes, made her way into the backroom, and got the tool kit and the manual for the furnace. She frowned. "That's w-weird." "What?" "F-furnace has the same s-serial number as the c-coffee maker. SCP-8787." Sid squinted. "You implying something." "I just think it's odd." Serial #: SCP-8787 Safe Cleaning Protocols: To ensure that the SCP-8787 furnace does not cause harm to— "D-don't need to know how to clean it…" She flipped through the manual until she hit "Safely Causing Phosphorescence." She fished her gloves out of her pocket and put them on. "J-Jesus, Sid, did you get this translated from Bulgarian or something? Who says 'Phosphorescence' outside of a bad fantasy novel anymore?" "Can you fix it or not?" "Assuming the problem is the pilot light going out and not you being delinquent on our gas bill again, yes." Her hands starting to numb, she took out a candle lighter and opened the door that led to the coffee shop's basement. She sang to herself as she headed down to dissipate the gloom and cold— "Do You Believe In Magic" by the Lovin' Spoonfuls. As she sang, she sat down by the furnace to do a quick repair job. A few minutes alter, Kathryn was still shivering, but the furnace was working, thank god. "Still fucking cold. Goddammit if the HVAC's broken too, I'm going home…" She trudged back upstairs just as the heating system kicked on. "We gotta tell the Super to replace the pilot light. Fifth time it's gone out since the start of the year, and I'm not interested in serving frappucuinos." She realized she was talking to herself; Sid had left a note on the counter that simply read 'Milk's bad, getting more'. "No it's not." Kat picked up the milk from the fridge, held it to her nose, and retched. Like something out of a story where a fairy had been pissed off, the milk had curdled overnight. "Well, fuck." The bell over the door ringed, and in walked a portly man with dark skin, his hair in greying dreadlocks. He was dressed in a leather trenchcoat, which was at least appropriate for the weather, and Kathryn thought he looked kind of handsome — and then she saw the ring on his finger and immediately lost interest. All the men even remotely close to her age were married. Wasn't fair. "Hi," Kat said. "We can't do lattes right now. Milk's gone bad. But I can make you some tea or… cof…fee…" Kathryn was taken aback by the man's behavior. "Are… are you okay?" The man had tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he looked at her, and his mouth was hanging open slightly. He was mouthing words, but nothing came out. He looked like he was in shock or — Kathryn thought back to finding her grandfather slumped over in the arm chair at home — having a stroke. "Hey, hey. Let's… let's get you sat down, okay?" Kat crossed from behind the counter and pulled out a chair for him. He sat down in it, shock present on his face, and wiped some snow off of his coat. Her hand brushed against something firm and plastic, and she stared — she was looking at a button camera on his coat. "Are you recording this? What the fu—" The bell over the door rang again, and Sidney returned, with a bottle of milk. "Ah, Kat! You've met our newest hire, I see." "Wh—" Kathryn looked down at the man. The look of shock had vanished, and was replaced by first confusion, and then a warm, handsome smile. "Oh, yeah, sorry. She thought I was a customer, wouldn't let me get a word in." He stood up and extended his hand to her. "Monty Reynolds. Just moved here with my daughter." Kathryn felt a fog intrude upon her mind, one she had let in before, one that took away the pain associated with working in a shitty coffee parlor. She let it wash over her, and took the hand. "Kat Sinclair. Good to meet you." She looked at his hand; she swore there was a ring on it, but it seemed to be absent. "You're not married?" "Nicky is from a previous marriage," Reynolds explained. "I'm single at the moment. You like kids?" "I don't think I'd be good with them." "Ever try?" He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Not since I babysat for six bucks an hour in high school," she admitted. "You already met Sid, then?" "Oh, Monty and I go way back," Sidney admitted. "Now, let's get you out of that coat and into your uniform, all right?" "I'm not going to have to wear a hairnet, am I?" Reynolds touched his dreadlocks. "I worked so hard getting these right…." "Only when you're in the kitchen. You'll be manning the counter for the first couple of weeks, and Kat'll be teaching you how to make the best cup of joe in central Philly." "I think we have an apron in your size," Kat said. "Follow me… uh…" She frowned. "Sorry, I'm shit with names." "Montgomery. Monty for short." "Like Monty Python? I think I can remember that." As they headed into the back room, Sid looked at the palm of his hand. They held a button camera, still transmitting to Reynold's original employers. "I'm only going to say this once," Sidney said, staring straight into the camera. "Don't interfere, for their sakes. I don't want any more people to get folded into what's happening here. Too many cooks, etc. Capisce?" With that, Sidney folded the camera into half, then into quarters, then into eighths, until it folded out of existence. Elsewhere, baffled agents were staring at a notification: SIGNAL LOST. Date: January 24th, 2024 Location: Urban Site-56, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; site of the annual Foundation inter-disciplinary symposium. In Attendance: Rsr. Claire Sage, Head Archivist, Site-87; Dr. Django Bridge, Archivist, Site-17; Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Director, Site-120; Dr. Udo Okorie, Thaumaturge, Site-43; Dr. Ilse Reynders, Acroamatic Abatement, Site-43. Rsr. Sage: Good evening, everyone. For those of you who don't know me — which I am now realizing is the majority of you — I'm Site-87's head archivist, and I've been assigned to take charge on this in the absence of… other parties that are qualified. Dr. Reynders: Where's Director Bailey? Sinclair worked under him, he should be here. Rsr. Sage: He's… indisposed. Dr. Asheworth: A word which here means, what, exactly? Rsr. Sage: It means that Dr. Willow Leigh is Acting Director of Site-87, and has been for the last six months. Dr. Okorie: Genuine question: how does 87 go from having a Director serve for thirty years to having one that only lasts three? Rsr. Sage: Officially, Director Bailey hasn't stepped down. He's just… attending to other duties. In any case, if you could all take a moment to read over your dossiers… All in attendance open the dossiers in front of them. Dr. Bridge raises their hand. Dr. Bridge: Can I just ask what I'm doing here? I'm missing a seminar on eschatological prevention for this. Rsr. Sage: You're the only member of the Epimetheus Commission3 that could be reached in a timely manner, and given the nature of the anomaly… Dr. Bridge: I don't see how this pertains to Omega-7. Or Alpha-9, for that matter. Rsr. Sage: We think what's happening here is a manifestation of SCP-8787. Silence on the recording. Dr. Bridge: I'm sorry, what?! Dr. Asheworth: I'm not familiar with 8787. Dr. Bridge: It would be easier to pull up the file. Can you pull down that screen, Sage? Rsr. Sage deploys a projector screen from the ceiling of the meeting room. Dr. Bridge pulls up SCP-8787's file on their laptop, before connecting it to the projector. An image of SCP-8787's interior, captured 2017. Item #: SCP-8787 Special Containment Procedures: Physical containment of SCP-8787 is currently believed to be impossible. Instead, containment efforts are to take the form of information suppression and, in the event that members of the Foundation become SCP-8787-B instances, personnel recovery. At no point is SCP-8787-A to be engaged in direct combat. Doing so in the past has proved detrimental to local reality in the short term, and it is currently unknown what the full extent of SCP-8787-A's ontokinesis is. They are to be treated as a potential Type Black threat until further information on them can be gained. Description: SCP-8787 refers to an entity which, at last sighting, resembled an American coffee house. Since its discovery, SCP-8787 has taken on a variety of names, including: Sidney's House of Brews The Coffee Shack Michigan Brew Hut Grounds For Love The most recent manifestation of SCP-8787 known to the Foundation was in 2019 in Boston, Massachusetts, where it took the form of a cafe called 'Lit Lattes'. SCP-8787 is operated by two distinct entities; SCP-8787-A and SCP-8787-B. SCP-8787-A refers to a genderless humanoid of indeterminate age, standing at approximately 1.8m in height with green hair. SCP-8787-A is a Type-Green, potentially Type-Black entity, that has shown properties of being a mnemonomorph4 and potential imperfect chronokinetic5 that allow it to recruit SCP-8787-B. SCP-8787-B refers to humans that have been affected by SCP-8787-A's anomalous abilities. SCP-8787-B instances have intact explicit memories until the ages of 18-22; after this point, their accounts will diverge from reality. SCP-8787-B instances routinely claim that: They work at SCP-8787, and have since the point of divergence; Their job at SCP-8787 is either the only job they have ever had, or one of very few; They met at least one significant other while working at SCP-8787, either a fellow SCP-8787-B instance or a customer; They live near where SCP-8787 has manifested, either being local to the area or having recently moved there. This is aided by SCP-8787-A's chronokinetic properties; They have no desire to cease employment at SCP-8787. SCP-8787-A does not appear to have a finite range on its abilities, but will typically choose local members of the population to act as SCP-8787-B instances, only rarely selecting individuals from further afield. SCP-8787 was discovered following a string of disappearances in Boston, Massachusetts in 1947. All of the individuals who had disappeared were discovered in a coffee shop called Sidney's House of Brews in Scollay Square. An engagement between agents of the Foundation and SCP-8787-A resulted in what is now understood as damage to the semantic and psychic underpinnings of the concept of 'Scollay Square', necessitating its demolition and redevelopment into Government Center. SCP-8787's most infamous interaction with the Foundation occurred in 2006, when seven members of Mobile Task Force Omega-7 ("Pandora's Box") disappeared following a plane crash in the Antarctic, including two humanoid SCP objects; they were discovered in a manifestation of SCP-8787 in Sandusky, Ohio in 2007, when an early Youtube video showcased a humanoid resembling SCP-076-2 working behind the counter at a coffee shop called "Water Street Cafe." Addendum: Mobile Task Force Omega-7 Recovery Log: Begin Log Agent Rhys Porter and Agent Dashell Cameron stand outside the Water Street Cafe, looking through the windows. SCP-076-2 is visible, conversing with SCP-105. Porter: Is it just me, or does Able look… happy? Cameron: It's just you. The thought of 076-2 being happy is… kind of disturbing, if I'm being honest. Let's hope they don't— SCP-076-2 embraces SCP-105. SCP-105 returns the gesture. Porter: Oh, what fresh hell is this? Cameron: Let's get in there. Don't drink anything. Just pretend you're a disaffected writer getting on your laptop. Porter: Fuck you, my novel's going to be finished one day. Cameron: Sure it is. The agents enter SCP-8787 and sit at a table. Porter sets up recording equipment to eavesdrop on SCP-076-2 and SCP-105's conversation. SCP-076-2: No, I'm serious. SCP-105: How would we afford it? We're barely making enough for our apartment right now. SCP-076-2: Well, I got a college fund that's collecting dust since I dropped out… SCP-105: I thought that was for your brother once he got out of jail? SCP-076-2: <Sighing> Cain's parole got denied. He's not getting out for at least another ten years. SCP-105: Aww, Abe… Porter: Abe? SCP-076-2: Look, how often do we get to leave this dicktown? I got about $20k in the fund. That's enough for a trip around Europe. You've always wanted to add photos of the Eiffel Tower to your collection… Cameron: Shit, he's not just happy, he's in love. Porter: Do you think he still has his… like, the connection to the sarcophagus? Cameron: What, are you going to shoot him and find out? Porter: What? No. Cameron: Why not? Might help snap 105 out of it. You… think anyone else works here? Porter: Check out the employees of the month. Cameron turns their attention to a board on the wall with photographs of employees of the month of months past. SCP-076-2 was given the award in January of 2007, and several other missing members of Omega-7 are photographed. Cameron: Christ. Okay, we run through the standard array of trigger phrases? Porter: Sounds good. Cameron and Porter stand and approach the counter. SCP-076-2 is manning the register. SCP-076-2: Welcome to the Water Street Cafe. What can we— Porter: It is raining in Gilgamesh, Ohio. SCP-076-2: I'm… sorry? Cameron: The wagtail has returned. SCP-076-2: Ah, dammit. Is this some weird role-play thing? Colossalcon's not until June, guys. Porter: Hope I can get the pronunciation on this right… Orresh lagh dhan.6 SCP-076-2: What… what are you… wait. What am I doing here? SCP-076-2 looks down at their uniform, eyes widening. A look of abject horror is on their face. SCP-076-2: What in the name of the Eight Saints? SCP-105: Abe? You good? SCP-076-2: No. I'm not. This… this is wrong. Iris. I'm sorry. I have… I have to go. SCP-105: Your… planet needs you? SCP-076-2 produces a broadsword using its anomalous capabilities and stabs itself through the chest, returning to SCP-076-1. SCP-105: What the fuck? What the fuck?! What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK?! Porter: SCP-1— fuck, Iris, calm down. SCP-105: Calm down? Calm down?! You said some words in goddamn Mongolian or something and my boyfriend of seven years just fucking stabbed himself with a sword he pulled out of thin air! Cameron: Stop Constantly Panicking. SCP-105 seizes up and looks forward, eyes glazing over. Drool falls from her mouth. Seventeen seconds later, she resumes normal neurological activity. SCP-105: …Rhys? Dash? What… what the fuck is… oh God. Porter: What? SCP-105: We… we got brought here a-after the crash. I… I don't know how. One second Able had gone berserk and we were all rushing towards the tundra, the next— SCP-8787-A rises up from behind the counter. SCP-8787-A: Well. Shit. Porter and Rhys draw their weapons. SCP-8787-A: Man knew how to make the best goddamn green tea latte I've ever tasted, and you went and gave him a fatal panic attack. Great job. Goddammit, you're lucky nobody else is in here. Less witnesses for you to pour brain bleach onto. Porter pulls the trigger. His weapon jams. SCP-8787-A: Gentlemen, please. We all know that won't work. Iris, I see you reaching for my photo, that won't work either. SCP-105: You… why? Why me and… and that thing? SCP-105 indicates the rapidly-disintegrating remains of SCP-076-2. SCP-8787-A: You had a lot in common, honestly. Both of you are slaves to a cause you don't comprehend, both of you are gifted, and both of you deeply miss your mothers. It wouldn't kill to call her once in a while, Iris. SCP-105: My… my mom's dead. Heart attack, six years ago. I saw the obituary… SCP-8787-A: If your mother's dead, then I'm O5-7. Sorry to break it to you, kid, but the Foundation has been lying to you. Dash, stop trying to shoot me, you're making yourself look like a jackass. Agent Cameron has disassembled their gun twice at this point to attempt to clear the jam affecting it. SCP-8787-A: Iris, I'm sad to say you and everyone else on the team are fired, and this shop is closed. You fascist motherfuckers really know how to spoil my good times, you know that? SCP-105: We're not fascis— SCP-8787-A: Fascist, totalitarian, authoritarian, you're run by a council of thirteen anonymous motherfuckers who are accountable to literally nobody, not even god. You're bad news and I hope that when the Feast starts, you make the right decision. SCP-8787-A turns to SCP-105. SCP-8787-A: You'll all be getting a severance package of course. I'm not a monster. Toodle-loo. SCP-105, Porter, Cameron, and all other missing Omega-7 agents are abruptly teleported to a wheat field approximately 28 kilometers south of their previous location. Investigation of the location of Water Street Cafe showed that it had been an unrelated bakery for the last fifteen years. Following this incident SCP-105 repeatedly requested contact with her mother. This was eventually granted in 2015, after the creation of Mobile Task Force Alpha-9. End Log Dr. Bridge: I would like to thank everyone present for not laughing at that… last report. Dr. Asheworth: I'm just wondering how you didn't find them sooner. Dr. Bridge: YouTube was small back then. Half the reason the Foundation helped bankroll it was so it could be used to help identify anomalies in the wild. Rsr. Sage: Good to know that my teenage years were defined by helping this place aggregate data on the anomalous. That aside, last time we had a run in with 8787, it was a humiliation. Dr. Bridge: Worse than that. 076-2 didn't become active for over a year after that. It was almost like he was… I don't know, depressed? We were afraid of a repeat of — that's classified, actually. Dr. Sage: Well, it's back, and it's kidnapped at least two Foundation personnel. Sinclair and Reynolds retrieved the Orykalkos Codex and helped restore anomalous activity to the world during the SCP-6500 crisis. Sinclair experienced a breakdown about eighteen months later and went missing. Now she's turned up here. Dr. Reynders: Doesn't she have a daughter? What's the status on her? Rsr. Sage: As of right now? In an apartment in East Philadelphia, with a babysitter. She was relocated there when Reynolds got caught up in this mess. Dr. Okorie: Sinclair's a capable thaumaturge. She'd have wards up against any sort of mental alteration. Dr. Asheworth: We're assuming this is magical in nature. Bridge, don't give me that look, it's accepted nomenclature post-6500. This thing could be affecting her memory with pheromones, or… I don't know. Is this really all the Foundation has on it? Dr. Bridge: 8787 is a clusterfuck. There are some archaeologists who think that it used to be a pub before Prohibition happened in the US, but we don't know. Dr Reynders: I'm wondering why a coffee shop, myself. Baristas always seem slightly miserable to me. Rsr. Sage: I paid for some of my tuition by working at the Starbucks in my college. No 'slightly' about it. But… when Reynolds came to try and confront his wife, he got pulled into it. If 8787 is capable of pulling people in on a whim, why start now? Dr. Reynders: There has to be some sort of limit to its capabilities. Maybe it can only take on willing parties? Dr. Bridge: I don't see why Able would want to work in a coffee shop. Dr. Asheworth: No, I think Dr. Reynders might be onto something. Maybe it needs permission? Wettle didn't get dragged into it, and presumably, nor did most of the Foundation agents we've sent to it over the years. Dr. Okorie: A mind-affecting anomaly needing consent. First time for everything, I suppose. But this is still woefully incomplete, as a file goes. Dr. Bridge: We haven't seen much of it since 2007. Dr. Okorie: Maybe other groups have? Rsr. Sage: I can start putting out feelers. The GOC is probably going to be as cooperative as a hernia, but my contact in the Horizon Initiative owes me a favor. Dr. Reynders: If there's anything about this in records prior to 1943, I've probably read it at some point. Give me a day or two. Dr. Bridge: I'll see if Iris is in a talkative mood. Maybe she can shed some light on what it was like being there. Dr. Okorie: I want to see if I can't conduct a thaumic analysis on-site. If Sinclair and Reynolds are ensorcelled, I might be able to snap them out of it. Dr. Asheworth: I don't think you should do that alone, Doctor. I have wards on me that will likely help prevent my own seizure by this object. Dr. Okorie: …the ones that make you meow and talk with a speech impediment when they're tripped? Dr. Asheworth: That was an unfortunate side effect we have agreed to nya— never mention again. Rsr. Sage: We'll re-convene tomorrow with our findings. One last thing: try not to drink the coffee. We don't know if that's a component or not, but just in case, try to avoid consuming anything. Okay, that's all. You're dismissed. The next morning would be dedicated to getting the new hire trained. Kat had taken a shine to the tall, handsome stranger that had walked in through the front door of her coffee shop, but she couldn't help but shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. "You've never been to Philly before?" "Grew up in New York. Worked as a consultant at this place in Wisconsin for a bit, but the company went under when they tried to open a new branch here." "Economy's bullshit, don't care what people say. If I didn't already have this job, I probably couldn't get one. What kind of consultancy?" "Government work. Under an NDA." "Eesh, fair." The pair of them were standing behind the counter; Sid had gone to see about trying to find the Superintendent of the building in person, because the heat had crapped out again overnight, forcing Kat to give Monty a crash course in furnace repair. Now that they were settled, Kathryn was showing him the finer points of the cash register. "We use a Square POS system. Pretty simple to understand." "…you use a piece of sh—" "Don't. Sid'll can ya if they hear you it call you that. Point Of Service." She squinted. "Never run a cash register before?" "No. You?" "Been running it since I was twenty…one? Yeah, that's when I dropped out." The bell over the door rang, and a pair of people walked in. One was a pale man with dark hair that seemed to be standing up in spikes. The other was a woman with dark skin, her hair in braids going down past her waist, with glasses that were big enough that they seemed to magnify her eyes. They sat opposite each other in a far corner of the establishment, with the man pulling out a laptop, his back to the wall. Kat rolled her eyes, and called over, "Hey, if you're going to work on your magnum opus in here, you could at least buy a coffee." The man stared at her, eyes wide. He sighed, stood, and came up to the counter, taking out his wallet. "Two coffees, one with cream, one without." "Hot or iced?" Monty asked. "Hot. It's -3 centigrade outside." The man muttered something. "Co to za idiotyczne pytanie?" "Jeśli chcesz być dupkiem, to płacisz podwójnie." Kathryn said. The man blinked. "You… speak Polish?" "…no," Kathryn said, shrinking into herself. "I don't." There was an awkward pause, before Monty coughed. "Uh, two coffees, that'll be $6.50." "You didn't use the POS," Kat frowned. "I memorized the prices on the board." Kat rolled her eyes, and walked Monty through putting it into the actual register. It took about six minutes, but preparing the drinks only took an additional two. "Dziękuję," the rude customer said, before returning back to his seat. The dark-skinned woman had a look of intense concentration on her face. "She looks like she has a migraine," Monty frowned, before he turned to Kat. "You don't speak Polish? Bull." "Never have," Kat frowned. "I guess I picked up a bit before I dropped out. Wasn't hard to tell he was calling you an idiot, anyway." "I have a degree," he sighed. "I'm just… I need this to get back on my feet, you know?" "What's the degree in?" "Thaumatology. Study of magic." Reynolds blinked. "That's… not really something I should be telling you, I think?" "How can you study magic? It's not real." Kat wrinkled her nose. "Like, I liked Bedknobs and Broomsticks as much as any other kid, but magic doesn't exist." "The cultural practices that people think are magic do." "Oh." Kat wrinkled her nose. "So it's a subset of anthropology?" "I suppose you could think of it as that." Monty looked at the clock on the wall. "Shouldn't Sidney be back by now?" "Traffic's been weird lately. Who knows." "What kind of car does he drive?" "They go by they. I know, it's weird for me, too." "All right. What kind of car do they drive, then?" "They…" Kat blinked at the question. "I… huh." "What?" "I've worked for them for over twenty years and I can't tell you that." Kathryn scratched her head. "I mean, they don't have a SEPTA pass, so they have to drive. That's basically the only way to get around this part of the city. I…" Kat frowned. "They don't own the building, they can't. Why would they need to talk to the Super?" Reynolds stared at her. "…Kathryn, twenty years? Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?" "Yeah. I started working here when I was twenty-one, after I dropped out. Why?" "Then I have to ask what kind of moisturizer he— they use, because I'll be damned if Sidney's a day over thirty." Kathryn breathed in deeply. She knew the onset of a panic attack when she felt it. One thing she could taste: the filling in her back tooth. Two things she could smell: the coffee and… Monty smelled very nice for some reason. Three she could touch: the EVE in the air, the coffee milk sitting out, that stupid BARI-STAR machine that always broke. Four she could— Her eyes landed on the two in the corner. The woman was muttering something to herself, just under her breath, while the man was on his laptop, typing away frantically but muttering in concert. She recognized him from another life, one that wasn't, that couldn't, be hers. "…Daniel?" She asked. "Dr. Asheworth?" Asheworth's eyes met hers, recognition crossing his face. "Keep at it, Udo," he said, crossing the distance. "Doctor Sinclair, you recognize me?" "I… maybe? I'm not a doctor, though. But I…" her vision swam, before fading to— white was an awful color for a wedding dress, she had decided. It went with everything, but it also showed every single stain and speck of dust. Pink wasn't her color either, and black was too funereal, so Sinclair decided on a lilac blue dress. And now, as she got ready to enter the chapel at St. John's Church in downtown Sloth's Pit, a chill ran through her. What was she doing? She was too old to start a family. If she had a child, they could have all sorts of complications at her age. And her husband-to-be… she'd read horror stories about women marrying older men, about how they always fell out of love, how the younger bride would have to care for the elderly groom when he got senile, and… "Catastrophizing again, are we?" Sinclair looked up, her eyes widening as she saw— she was outside, in the cold, coughing. There was a firefighter holding an oxygen mask over her face, and smoke was pouring out of the front of the cafe. "I'm fine," she insisted, sitting up and brushing away the fireman. Her job had just gone up in flames. "What the fuck happened?!" Sidney was there, talking with Monty, who was talking with a cop. Kat made her way over to them. "What the hell happened?" "Some idiot's laptop caught fire," Sid sighed. "Monty saw the whole thing. Kat, I'm afraid to say, but we're going to be closed for a bit." "Dammit…" she groaned. "Fuck, can I at least get paid for the rest of the day? My rent's due soon." "'course." "I feel awful," Monty said as the cop snapped their notepad shut and stepped away. "Maybe I could've asked them who the fuck they were, to leave their laptop smoldering like that? You think this was intentional?" "Shitty accident. Super'll be by to inspect the building, and I've got insurance to cover the fire damage." Sid groaned, looking down. They kicked some snow off of their boots. "It's not supposed to go like this, god dammit all." "Hey, look on the bright side," Kat said. "Maybe those new signs'll come in by the time you're done?" "At this rate?" Sidney snorted. "I'll be surprised if I don't end up in the slammer." "…what have you done wrong?" Monty wrinkled his nose. "I got a history, and I don't want the feds lookin' too close into this. Fuckin' skippers…" "They didn't skip out, though?" Kat said. "Like, I remember the Polish dude paying for his coffee…" "Just… take the rest of the day off, you two." Sidney said. "Do what you like. I gotta look over the damage." They stepped into the cafe, and let out an "You've gotta be fucking—" before they devolved into incoherency. "…now what?" Kat frowned. "Well…. this might be a bit weird to ask but… you wanna meet my kid?" Monty asked. "She might like you. You kinda look like her mom." Ever hear of a rebound, jackass? Kat thought. But he seemed nice enough, and he was handsome, so… "All right. Lay on, MacDuff." Something strange happened on the way to Montgomery's apartment; they took the same line of the SEPTA Metro that Kat did. They got off at the same stop that Kat did. And by the time that they were in front of the building and Reynolds was looking for his key to buzz himself in, Kathryn was fully spooked. "Is this a joke?" "What?" Reynolds frowned. Kathryn pulled out her own key and used the fob to unlock the front door, holding it open. Reynolds stood there, stunned. "What… unit do you live in?" "78. You?" "87." "Fuck, you're a floor above me." Sinclair sighed. "This day's been weird. Let's just… let's say hi to your kid. What was her name?" "Phoenix. Her mother insisted on it." "Sounds like a hippy-dippy type," Kat said. "That why you broke it off with her?" "…she left me," Monty said, no small measure of pain in his voice. He entered the building, and Kathryn followed after. Elsewhere, interviews were being conducted. Addendum: Eyewitness Accounts of SCP-8787 Interviewer: Rsr. Claire Sage, Site-87 Head Archivist Subject: Mary-Ann Lewitt, retired member of Horizon Initiative Shepherd Corps, Chapterhouse 3. Lewitt frequented a previous iteration of SCP-8787 following Incident 089-D. <Begin Log> Rsr. Sage: I appreciate you taking time out of your day for this. Lewitt: I mean, I'm genuinely curious what the Foundation thinks is anomalous about the coffee shop that served the second-best breakfast burritos I've ever had. Rsr. Sage: Well… to be frank, we believe that it kidnaps people and forces them to act as staff. And that it… well, makes them… be in relationships. Lewitt: …what? Rsr. Sage: I know that sounds a bit goofy, but… Lewitt: Is it actively causing the end of the world? Rsr. Sage: It kidnapped a researcher, who hasn't seen her daughter in well over a year. And now it's done the same to her husband. We think it's a reality bender, maybe something more powerful. Lewitt: Welp. You certainly know how to push my buttons. Always thought Sid was a bit weird, but they were at least polite to me and Salah.7 A lot of places gave Salah the stink-eye because he's Pakistani. But Sid always liked us. Rsr. Sage: Sid being… the owner? Lewitt: I think their last name was Charmer? Probably doesn't give you anything to go off of if he's a local power.8 They're really an anomaly? Rsr. Sage: Afraid so. Did you notice anything odd when you interacted with him or his staff? Lewitt: You're barking up the wrong tree here. I don't generally pay attention to anomalous events because I don't think they should all be locked up in a supermax prison. That said… they did close pretty abruptly. Rsr. Sage: Oh? Lewitt: Yeah. They said that two of his employees had run away and gotten married, leaving them understaffed. So they just… closed up. I'd say that's pretty weird. Where are they now? Rsr. Sage: Philadelphia. That's where this researcher originally grew up, so we think it took her to somewhere familiar. Lewitt: Hmm. This researcher, what was she like before? Rsr. Sage: She's a thaumaturge. Type-Blue in GOC terms. She was getting pretty stressed before she vanished. Part of it was likely post-partum depression, and… well, we think that this anomaly might only take people who want to be taken in. You didn't notice any anomaly related to it? Lewitt: Well… there might have been something. After Salah and I resigned from the Initiative to care for Naomi9 we were tight on money for a bit. Sid let me start a tab at their place, never expected me to pay it off, and that was our breakfast for a couple of months. They offered me and Salah jobs there, and… I almost took them up on it. I wanted to take them up on it. Like, I worked at the first Starbucks in Pittsburgh when I was sixteen and I hated it, but I wanted to take them up on the offer, just so there would be a little less stress in our lives. You know? Then Salah got a job as a professor at U.P.10 and we didn't need it. Rsr. Sage: How is your daughter doing, by the way? I read the file on what happened, with— Lewitt: She's the smartest kid in the world. Probably going to end up saving it some day. Anything else? Rsr. Sage: One last thing, because I'm genuinely curious: where was the best breakfast burrito you've ever had, if this was only the second-best? Lewitt: That, I'm afraid, will remain a secret. <End Log> Interviewer: Dr. Django Bridge Subject: SCP-105 <Begin Log> Dr. Bridge: Have a seat, Iris. SCP-105: The fact that you're calling me by my name is concerning… Dr. Bridge: I'd just like to discuss something with you. SCP-8787 has popped back up. SCP-105 laughs. SCP-105: Fuck me, that was a nightmare. Who got caught up in it this time? Dr. Bridge: Two members of the Foundation partially responsible for ending 6500. SCP-105: Ones who don't have memetic conditioning? Dr. Bridge: Some of our people tried thaumic means to snap them out of it, but… it's smarter than we think. Set fire to itself just so we couldn't get to them as easily. SCP-105: Okay, what do you want to know? Dr. Bridge: What do you remember about 8787? SCP-105: Well, after Able broke out and made the transport crash, I was positive we were going to die. I remember praying for someone, anyone to save us… and then the next thing I know, I'm waking up in an apartment in Ohio, that, by all accounts, is where I've been living since I dropped out. I looked at the clock and realized I was late for a job interview. Ran down to the Water Street Cafe, and… well, the whole crew was already there. Dr. Bridge: Including 076-2? SCP-105: Yeah. Customers couldn't stop staring at his tattoos. It's a wonder we weren't found out sooner. But I got hired, and… in all honesty, I kinda liked working there. I didn't know anything else, granted, but… is anything I say going in my file? Dr. Bridge: It's going in 8787's file. SCP-105: …it was fun, working there. Everyone says that working in a coffee shop is the worst thing you can do, and we had some asshole customers, sure, but… I had friends there. And I had… well… Dr. Bridge: You had 076-2? SCP-105: Yeah. Without the whole… without his anomaly, he's honestly really… he's not a bad person. Something happened to him to make him the way he is now, and… he doesn't want to be like that. He was actually happy. And that just… got taken from him. Dr. Bridge: If he was happy, then… why did he self-terminate once the code phrase was spoken? SCP-105: Because he knew that… what we had wasn't real. It was fucking Sidney messing around with our heads. But… if they had asked first, asked 'hey, how would you feel being together for a little bit'? Maybe… maybe he wouldn't have. Silence on the recording. SCP-105: You know how long it's been since I've seen him? Since before Alpha-9 was a thing. I… I want to apologize to him, if I can. Maybe… I don't know, maybe we'd be… Dr. Bridge: Iris, I don't think that'd be a good idea. SCP-105: …he's dead, isn't he? Silence on the recording. SCP-105: The Impasse. It killed him, didn't it? Dr. Bridge: That's… SCP-105: Classified? God dammit, Django! Why can't you tell me? We worked together! We… he was… Dr. Bridge: Take all the time you need, Iris. I'm sorry to bother you. <End Log> Interviewer: Dr. Ilse Reynders Subject: Dr. Justine Everwood. Dr. Everwood unknowingly entered a previous manifestation of SCP-8787 located in Boston in January of 2019. <Begin Log> Dr. Reynders: Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice, Dr. Everwood. Dr. Everwood: Call me Jay. But… 8787, really? Damn thing keeps popping up in my life. Dr. Reynders: Let's start from the top. How did you end up in 8787? Dr. Everwood: I was supposed to be meeting with an informant from a cell of SAPPHIRE that was behind that incident at Trinity Church in August 2018. Dr. Reynders: You mean the theft of— Dr. Everwood: Hey, that's classified. Anyway, they named the time and place. I'd never heard of it before, 'Lit Lattes'. Did they even use 'lit' back in 2019? Anyway, I got there along with Rex — Rex Alces, my research assistant — and… something was up. Dr. Reynders: How so? Dr. Everwood: My informant was this guy who went by Marcel Lupin — I doubt that was his real name. We waited there for half an hour for him… and then Rex looks over the counter, and realizes that he's working behind it. I figured, 'Okay, atheist terrorists need a day job, maybe he just hasn't realized we've come in yet'. I go up to him, and he acts like he doesn't know me. But you know what tipped me off to the weird bullshit going in? Dr. Reynders: What? Dr. Everwood: Lupin was wearing a pentacle necklace. Unless he was trying to infiltrate a religious institution, SAPPHIRE would have put a bullet in his skull, accused him of having 'found faith'. But he was just standing there making a latte! Dr. Reynders: What did you do? Dr. Everwood: Well, I looked at the Employee of the Month photos, had Rex analyze them, and… they were all there. Every member of the SAPPHIRE cell we were tracking. We did a bit of recon after that, and they didn't even know what SAPPHIRE was. Three of them went to church. I didn't know what to make of it. Dr. Reynders: How would you characterize SAPPHIRE? The individual members, I mean. Dr. Everwood: Honestly, must be fucking miserable to be part of it. They go on and on about logic and reason and how everything anomalous must be understood and used to fight against the erosion of society, but they use anomalies that, by definition, defy logic and reason. That's a staggering amount of DoubleThink that I don't even think Big Brother would find sustainable. Dr. Reynders: What happened to this manifestation of 8787? Dr. Everwood: It just vanished one day. Mid-February, must've been? We were still keeping tabs on the ex-SAPPHIRE members, and… they didn't revert. They seemed to remember, but they seemed happier now that they were… deprogrammed, I guess it was the right word? The object they stole was returned to Trinity Church anonymously at the end of February. Dr. Reynders: So… they changed because of what happened in SCP-8787. Dr. Everwood: Reminded me of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez quote. "What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it." They remembered how they were better people without SAPPHIRE in their lives, and grew past it. Dr. Reynders: And there was no retaliation from SAPPHIRE as a whole? Dr. Everwood: Last I checked on them, they were all still alive. SAPPHIRE doesn't take kindly to traitors or deserters, so… not sure what to make of it. Dr. Reynders: One final thing: did you ever make visual contact with the entity that's operating SCP-8787? Dr. Everwood: Yes, but… not in 8787 itself. Dr. Everwood sighs. Dr. Everwood: …during the Impasse, I remembered how I lost my arm. That put me into a fugue state. I wandered around the city for a couple of hours and ended up in a bar near Bunker Hill, too scared to think straight. When I looked behind the bar, SCP-8787-A was behind it. Dr. Reynders: It has been theorized that SCP-8787 previously took the form of a bar or a public house before Prohibition… Dr. Everwood: It wasn't anything like that. The bar's ancient, early 1800s, and it's still there now. But they saw me come in, poured me a cocktail that I wish I had gotten a recipe for, and… Dr. Reynders: Hmm? Dr. Everwood: They told me 'It's going to be okay'. I still don't know what they meant, but… I calmed down, finished the cocktail, and left. By the time I got out, I'd forgotten what happened to my arm again, and haven't remembered since. Dr. Reynders: Thank you, Jay. That will be all. <End Log> Requested Revision to the SCP-8787 File Item #: SCP-8787 Special Containment Procedures: Physical containment of SCP-8787 is currently believed to be impossible. Instead, containment efforts are to take the form of information suppression and, in the event that members of the Foundation become SCP-8787-B instances, personnel recovery. At no point is SCP-8787-A to be engaged in direct combat. Doing so in the past has proved detrimental to local reality in the short term, and it is currently unknown what the full extent of SCP-8787-A's ontokinesis is. They are to be treated as a potential Type Black threat until further information on them can be gained. Description: SCP-8787 refers to an anomalous construct which resembles an American cafe or coffee house. The current manifestation of SCP-8787 takes the form of 'Sid's Coffee Place', a cafe located in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. SCP-8787-A is an anomalous humanoid which operates SCP-8787; the only consistent descriptor of their appearance is their green hair. SCP-8787-A is capable of wide-scale reality alterations. SCP-8787-A can both rewrite human memory and alter causality in order to turn human beings, both with and without anomalous capabilities, into SCP-8787-B instances. SCP-8787-B instances are individuals that have been altered, both cognitively and chronologically, to believe that they are employees at SCP-8787. All SCP-8787-B instances appear to share a singular psychological factor: at the time of their cognitive alteration, they were experiencing some form of depressive episode or existential crisis. It has been theorized that this mental state causes SCP-8787-B instances to consent to their cognitive alteration, as the alternative in the short-term is a continual decline of mental health. SCP-8787 was first discovered in Boston, Massachusetts in 1947, following a string of disappearances. The Foundation's attempts to contain it, and rescue the SCP-8787-B instances within, led to the destruction of the concept of Scollay Square on a semantic level, necessitating its demolition and redevelopment. However, it is believed that SCP-8787 has existed in some form since at least the 1700s, but was changed into its current state during the Prohibition of Alcohol in the United States from 1920 to 1933. SCP-8787 has had several interactions with the Foundation in the past; in 2008, it used its anomalous properties to alter a squad of Mobile Task Force Omega-7 into SCP-8787-B instances, including two humanoid SCP objects. As of January 2024, two SCP-8787-B instances exist; these consist of Dr. Katherine Sinclair and her husband, Researcher Montgomery Reynolds. Dr. Sinclair went missing in August of 2022, following an episode of post-partum depression. Reynolds was affected by the anomaly upon encountering Dr. Sinclair after over a year of separation; neither seem aware of their previous marital status. Current containment efforts are focusing on the retrieval of these members of personnel by any means necessary. Further encounters with SCP-8787 can be found in Addendum 8787-03. Addendum: Deliberation RE: Current Containment of SCP-8787: Date: January 25th, 2024 Location: Urban Site-56, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; site of the annual Foundation inter-disciplinary symposium. In Attendance: Rsr. Claire Sage, Head Archivist, Site-87; Dr. Django Bridge, Archivist, Site-17; Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Director, Site-120; Dr. Udo Okorie, Thaumaturge, Site-43; Dr. Ilse Reynders, Acroamatic Abatement, Site-43. Rsr. Sage: All right, based on the information we've managed to glean, I've submitted an updated draft for 8787. It just needs to be rubber-stamped. Dr. Asheworth: I am slightly… what's the term? Bugged by something. Rsr. Sage: Do tell. Dr. Asheworth: Prior to this, 8787 seemed to be… well, not quite infallible, but harder to crack. Sinclair recognized me when she saw me. Based on surveillance of her and Reynolds' building, we think that something's wrong with 8787. Dr. Okorie: Wrong in the sense that it doesn't seem entirely whole. Weaker, almost. Dr. Reynders: I'm a tad troubled by Dr. Everwood's testimony, as well. 8787-A appearing outside of 8787 during the Impasse… Dr. Bridge: Maybe it regained its anomalous properties after it ended, but not to full capacity? Dr. Okorie: We haven't had any record of biological anomalies doing that. Most of them just died. Dr. Bridge: You're assuming 8787-A is the core component to this, and not 8787 itself. For all we know, 8787-A is an unwilling participant in all of this. Dr. Asheworth: Bit of a conclusion to jump to. Dr. Okorie: He… might have a point. Dr. Asheworth: You're seriously considering that theory, Udo? I thought you were joking. Rsr. Sage: What theory? Dr. Okorie: Who here is familiar with the concept of 'fan fiction'? Silence on the recording. Rsr. Sage: I wrote some when I was like, fifteen, but… nothing since. Don't see what it has to do with— Dr. Okorie: I have a niece, Onyeka, who is very enthusiastic about this Disney show. The Cowl House or The Owl Shack or something. She's written a very specific type of fan fiction about it, where… Silence on the recording. Dr. Okorie: Sage, why are you giving me the stink eye? Rsr. Sage: Because if this is a pataphysical anomaly, I owe Dr. McDoctorate fifty dollars. Dr. Bridge: Wait, he only bet you fifty? Dr. Okorie: I'm not sure it is pataphysical, but… there's apparently a trope in fanfiction, one that I've read several dozen times at her request, where the characters from a work have the same basic personalities, but… they all work or go to a coffee shop. The two main romantic objects will typically be on opposite sides of the counter, is the thing— one a barista, one a customer. This seems to make everyone into workers, which… doesn't seem to fit in with the trope. Dr. Bridge: This thing predates the concept of fanfiction. Dr. Okorie: It predates this particular trope. But this is, I think, the best way we can contextualize it. It's a coffee shop that makes people believe they've always worked there. Maybe it draws information from alternate realities where that is the case. Dr. Reynders: What about the thaumic analysis you tried to conduct? Dr. Okorie: Got interrupted when our fire-proof Foundation-issue laptop exploded into flames. I wasn't able to glean much. Asheworth? Dr. Asheworth: I… had to double-check the analysis, but… I found something odd. The current iteration of SCP-8787 utilizes the Frontispiece in its name, and that might be part of the reason why the effect around Sinclair seems to be failing. Dr. Bridge: I don't follow. Dr. Asheworth: I believe that 8787 is attempting to utilize the anomalous effects of the Frontispiece as an improvised battery, and… it's not designed to do that. But it's a thaumic anomaly that affects the entirety of the human psyche, so it's giving 8787 some juice, but it's not enough to sustain it. Sage, pull down the screen, I need to show some data. Sage pulls down the projector screen, and Asheworth plugs his phone into the projector. Dr. Asheworth: This is the building where Sinclair and Reynolds both reside, one floor apart from each other. As near as we can tell, apart from the landlord, they are the only residents. Insurance records that SCP-8787-A provided to the Engine Company that responded to the fire indicates that every piece of equipment in there more complex than the hinges on the door has the same serial number: SCP-8787. There's been maybe twenty or thirty customers in a day, in one of the busiest parts of Philadelphia, since Wettle walked in. It's like it's not functioning at full capacity. Rsr. Sage: So we've got a Keter-class on the fritz. What does that mean? Dr. Asheworth: I'm not sure, but… given what happened when we first discovered it, I'm not sure it means anything good. We could be looking at a potential Code Quiet in the next seventy-two hours. Spontaneous, destructive neutralization of an anomaly. Basically what happened to everything that was affected by the Impasse. Dr. Reynders: Meaning we need to attempt to establish containment now. Dr. Bridge: It means we needed to establish containment five days ago. Let's get the City Slickers out here before anything else happens. Rsr. Sage: They're dealing with an outbreak of urban blight in Minneapolis. Psi-7 might be available. I just hope we're not too late. Apartment 87 was quaint and cozy. Monty said hello to the babysitter when he got up there, apologized for returning too early, and paid her the full amount. "Have you been able to stop her from crying?" Monty asked. "No, I'm sorry," the babysitter replied. "Are you sure you can't get into contact with her mother?" "I'm positive," Monty said, looking downcast. "I haven't seen her in over a year." The babysitter nodded sympathetically, and patted Reynolds on the arm, before heading out. Kathryn frowned as she left. "…Monty? Can you do something for me?" "What?" "Describe the woman who just left." Monty opened his mouth, shut it, frowned, and opened it again. "She… well, she lives a few floors down. Blonde hair, green eyes, has a scar on her…" he paused. "No, wait. That's… what's happening here?" "We've had a long day. Our jobs have burned down. Can I meet your kid?" Monty took Kathryn into a room that he had made into a makeshift nursery. It was covered with glow-in-the-dark stars to replace the ones that couldn't be seen with the light pollution, and was painted a deep, royal shade of purple. The crib that still served as her bed was made of oak, and within it was a child that had worn herself out from wailing. She had sepia-colored skin and curly hair that, while short, was in a startlingly familiar shade of red. She was wearing a green onesie, a red, plush dragon-like creature at her side. Kathryn walked over to the crib, and with each step, she found it harder to move forward. Mere inches from the edge of the child's bed, she stopped completely, her heart in her throat. "…Katherine?" Monty asked. He had said her name wrong. "Is something wrong?" "Why does she have my hair?" The question came out in a rasping whisper. "Why does… why can't I…" She rested her hand on the edge of the crib, the motion rocking it. Startled, she stepped back. Phoenix looked up, bleary-eyed, and burbled briefly, before standing up. She looked Kathryn dead in the eyes, and asked, "Mama?" "…no." Kathryn said. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't be a good mother. I… sorry, kiddo. I'm not your—" —mother's been picked up by the police again," Richard Sinclair told his daughter. They had been woken up by another phone call at 4:00 AM on a school night. "I'm going to go pick her up. Kiddo, you… you just try sleeping, okay? You got school tomorrow." "Is mom going to have to go back to Pennhurst?" Katherine asked. "Pennhurst got shut down a few years ago, honey. We… don't know where she's going to go this time. But… from the sound of it, she hurt someone again." Katherine Sinclair held onto her favorite soft toy, a white tiger named Snowball that her grandmother had given her. "Am I going to be like that when I'm a mom, dad?" Richard Sinclair gripped the siding on the doorway hard enough that his nails dug into it. "I don't know, Kat. I don't think so. You… don't have the problems she has. With any luck, you never will." Kathryn found her fingers pinned under the incomparable strength of an insistent toddler's hand. Phoenix's other hand was reaching out, as if she was expecting Kathryn to pick her up. "Why does she have my hair?" she asked, eyes filling with tears. "Why does she have my eyes?" "She can't…" Monty said. "Her mother… she ran away from us years ago and…" "What was her name?" Kathryn asked, barely able to hold back tears. Monty didn't respond. "What was your wife's name?" "…I can't remember." Kat didn't need to look to know that he was crying too. "Something's wrong. Something…. something's happened to me. To us." Katherine Sinclair obeyed the inviolable command of her daughter and picked her up, holding her close. Something was at the edge of her mind, a block of some form, preventing her from remembering anything else. "…Monty?" she asked, turning towards the man. "What… what happened to me?" The man she now knew was her husband took several gasping breaths, put his hand over his mouth, unable to stem the tears. For the first time in over a year, they were a family again, but… they weren't whole. He carefully held onto his wife, who held onto their child, and all but little Phoenix, who wasn't quite old enough to understand anything about the world, couldn't contain their emotions. There was joy, there was grief, there was anger… but that anger was directed inwards. "I just… I'm sorry I got so… so mad." Katherine said. "I couldn't handle it. I couldn't sleep. I just… I just wanted one night to myself. I was going to come back! And then… I crashed my car and… and then…" "I should have done more. I… I left so much to you. I didn't… I was scared." Reynolds touched his greying hair. "I'm old, Katherine. I don't… I don't want her to spend the most important years of her life without… without a father. I don't want to die before she's started to live. I was scared. I still am." "Mama?" Phoenix asked again. "…yeah, kiddo." Sinclair held onto her daughter. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't remember. I'm…" she sobbed. "How did we forget, Monty? You… you looked like you recognized me, the other day. You looked like you were starting to… to break down." "I was. And then… Sidney came in and…" he paused. "How long have you known Sidney for?" "…I don't know. My mind says twenty years, but… that can't be right. I didn't drop out. I… I got my doctorate… I… I…" She winced. "There's something in the way, still. I remember you, but I don't remember how I know you." Reynolds reached out to squeeze her hand, and Katherine— groaned. "Director Weiss, you can't be serious." "You've wanted a lab assistant for years, Researcher Sinclair." "I was hoping I could get someone from Sigma-3. This guy is ex-GOC?" "Technically. He was found as part of their Sunspotting program. Their attempt to search for, and recruit, Type-Blues." Nina Weiss sat with her hands folded. "He's probably down in the lab right now, getting set up." "The GOC see everything as a nail, and thaumaturgy is the ultimate hammer. I'm not going to be partnered with some militaristic asshole for the next five years." "Mr. Reynolds actually has more training in alchemy than anything. All I'm asking is that you give him a chance, Katherine. Who knows? He might be able to help you earn your doctorate." Sinclair stood and rolled her shoulders. "Okay, fine. I'll give it a chance." She exited the office, a sour expression on her face the whole elevator ride down to Sublevel 5. When she found herself in front of the door to the Thaumaturgy & Occult Studies lab, she expected to walk in and find a complete disaster area as a result of some inexperienced mage poking around at the wards. Instead, she walked in to find a man in his late thirties with dark skin, his hair styled in dreadlocks, wearing a pass on a lanyard around his neck, writing items down on a clipboard. He had a pair of squarish glasses on, and was muttering to himself as he took notes. Katherine had to clear her throat three times before he noticed her presence. He turned to face her, and was stunned silent for a moment, before he said, "You… must be Katherine." "That's Researcher Sinclair to you. What are you doing?" He held up the clipboard. "I'm taking inventory. I noticed a few discrepancies, and I wanted to make sure you didn't have something like Jeremiah's Multiplicative Grimoire interfering with your supplies." Sinclair crossed over and looked at the clipboard, frowning. "I've… been meaning to do that," she admitted. "But this place has been so under-funded since Dr. Euler left." She looked over the list, her eyebrows climbing up her head. "Wait, where did you find my copy of Trans-Neptunian Magic? I've been looking for that for six months!" "I brought my own copy. Integrated it into the collection. Do you mind?" "…no," Sinclair said. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." "Montgomery Reynolds. My friends call me Monty." "Well, Mr. Reynolds, let me give you the tour. Over here we have the testing chamber…" "You saw that, too, didn't you?" Monty asked. "That flash. Of our old lives." "It's Sid, isn't it?" Katherine worried her lip. "They're doing this to us. We… we have to do something." "I'm not leaving Phoenix here alone," Reynolds said. "I can't even be sure the babysitter I left her with is real. We need—" There was a knock on the front door of the apartment. They went and opened it after the knocking grew more insistent, and found a woman standing out there, with a black fedora, a leather jacket, and dark-colored jeans. Katherine recognized her immediately. "Alison? What are you doing here?" "If you can still remember me, there's something very wrong," she sighed. "You literally are not supposed to be able to perceive me." "You…" Reynolds frowned. "Wait, no. You're… dead, aren't you? Or… something happened to you. Why can we only just now…" "My mortal status is up for debate," Alison sighed, her eyes turning towards the toddler Sinclair was carrying. "But for right now, I'm Nobody but a babysitter, if that's what you need." "Are you sure?" Reynolds asked. "Trust me, this is easy compared to what I've been doing for the last three years." Alison Carol stepped inside, putting her hat on the coat rack by the door. "Go out there and set things right." The two of them nodded, took up their own coats, and headed back down through the largely empty building, onto the metro, back towards downtown. The fire had done a number on Sid's Coffee Place. Part of the wall had burned down, revealing the wooden struts beneath. Three tables had been reduced to charcoal, and the smell of smoke permeated the structure. Yellow caution tape was in front of the door; Katherine and Monty ducked under it. "You think they're here?" Katherine asked. "I'm not sure they can leave," Monty said. "I'm remembering some more things. I think they're linked to this place." On cue, Sidney rose from behind the counter, as if an elevator was taking them up to ground level. They regarded Sinclair and Reynolds with no small measure of sadness in their eyes. "I suppose I'm rumbled, then." Sinclair marched up to the owner of the coffee shop, grabbed them by the shirt collar, and tried punching them across the face. The instant she swung, her grip was vacant, and she was holding thin air. "What the fuck are you?" "Is that what you want to know?" Sidney was now sitting by the window. "What answer would make sense to you? I'm a fourth absolute? I'm a manifestation of the Serpent? I'm a Swann entity that's been forced into a lower narrative layer? Maybe I'm God! Maybe I'm one of the Nameless! Maybe I'm from the void between realities!" "How are you doing that with your voice?" Reynolds asked, looking around for anything that could be used as a weapon. "It doesn't matter. None of this fucking matters. It hasn't mattered in a long fucking time." Sidney sighed. "I can't give you an answer as to what I am. Because I don't know at this point." "…how long has this been going on?" Sinclair asked, balling her fist. "How long have you been abducting people and forcing them to—" Sidney made a 'bzzt' noise. "Wrong question. I'm not doing jack shit. Have either of you ever actually seen me leave this place?" "…to get milk…" Sinclair said. Sidney waved their hand, and the store was inundated by hundreds of gallons of milk of all flavors, in both cartons and bottles. "I can make it so I can't be perceived for a little bit. But I'm more stuck here than you, or anyone else that's been trapped here, ever has been." They groaned, a cup of coffee appearing in their hand. "At least back before Prohibition, I ran a goddamn pub and could get drunk to forget what I've been put in. I can't even do that anymore." "We saw you outside after the fire…" Reynolds said. "Domain extends a bit onto the sidewalk. Not far, only up to the curb." They sipped at their drink. "And then, a few years ago, the greatest thing in the fucking world happened: I was free! The Impasse happened! Magic had gone belly-up, and with it, this place! I could go out of it for the first time since… fuck, the Fifth Occult War, I think?" They chuckled, the sound lacking any mirth. "This place was a bar in France, back then. It only came to America after the Civil War ended." "What's… the Impasse?" Reynolds asked. "Oh, you don't— fuck, it really is on the fritz. Hold on." Sidney waved their hand and the pair of them reeled backwards. "Catastrophizing again, are we?" Sinclair looked up, eyes widening as she saw Monty, clad in an expensive tuxedo that, after today, he would likely never wear again. She turned away, face flush. "Bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony, hon." "I… well, I'm… I had trouble going in. I…" Monty paused. "It's not cold feet. I just…" He looked around. "I take it your father couldn't make it, then?" "He tried," Sinclair shook her head. "He really did. Got as far as the bar in the terminal." "I'm sorry." "To hell with him." She turned to face her husband-to-be. "My mother's been out of my life for almost thirty years. Dad's been a lush for the better part of twenty. But… it's going to be awkward, walking down the aisle alone." Reynolds said nothing, and just extended his hand. Katherine took it, and knocked on the door to the chapel proper. It opened, and a few minutes later, lengthy vows were exchanged, which ended in mutual 'I do's. "There," Sidney said as their memories reeled back into focus. "You're welcome." Sinclair was nauseated by the migraine resulting from the sudden flood of knowledge. Reynolds grabbed her as she started to fall, keeping her upright. "So, the Impasse… neutralized this place?" he asked. "Killed it dead," Sidney confirmed. "I ran across the street one day to give someone change they left behind, realized that I could run across the street, closed up shop, moved to Boston, became a barback." They shook their head and chugged their latte. "Then, in October, I woke up and found myself back in here all over again. But it wasn't… right." They waved their hand. "People it pulled in started to remember. Started to break because of it. Couldn't reconcile two different lives, two different sets of memories." They looked at the sign on the window, their hands tracing the capital 'S' in 'Sid's'. "So, I figured, since there was an entire cryptomantic web over reality… maybe I could draw power from it? Revitalize it a little?" "Why?" Reynolds asked. "Why not let it decay again so you could live a normal life?" "This place… whatever it is, it's… not cruel. It tries to make people live somewhat decent lives. Or it tried." Sinclair scoffed. "You— no, this place stole me away from my family for over a year! Monty was heartbroken, and… oh, I don't want to know what… my poor… what did Phoenix go through without me?" She wrung her hands together. "What I know is this:" Sidney stood and started walking around. "This place draws in people who are at rock bottom, worst time of their life. Maybe they're literally about to die. Maybe they're broke. Maybe they think everyone in the world has given up on them because they were in a manic episode and decided to say several dozen unkind things all at once." Sidney reappeared behind the counter. "This place gives them somewhere they can be without pain. It gives them what most people want at the end of the day: a decent job that pays well, a roof over their heads, friends to be with, a simple, quiet life without too much drama." Sidney snorted. "Everyone says they want to be in Narnia or Middle-Earth or on the Enterprise. No, the ultimate human fantasy is just… living a life that's not too complicated, where you don't have to worry about the bills, or about whether or not your kids are doing well in school, or about how the whole fucking world is going to Hell in a handbasket, and how the people who have the power to stop it are instead just pushing us closer to the edge." They sighed. "That's what this place gives everyone but me: safety. Comfort. Peace. It's why I'm letting myself be tortured by it— if someone, anyone can… can escape from the bullshit in their lives for even a few days by working here… then it's worth it." "I think you'd have better luck improving lives outside of the USA," Sinclair pointed out. "I barely have any control over where this thing ends up. It's sheer dumb luck that we're in your hometown, Katherine. I could just as easily have ended up in Toronto, or Kyiv, or Seoul… I ended up in Gaborone once. Botswana's a pretty nice place." Sidney paced. "Now that I don't have anyone working for me anymore… I'm going to move on. Don't know where, but hopefully I don't run into you guys again." Reynolds frowned, an idea forming behind his eyes. "Do you know what a Nexus is?" "This place was in Three Portlands from 1993 to 1997. Of course I know." "What if we could make SCP-8787 move to one?" he asked. "They're wellsprings of energy, and have a relatively low Hume level. It could restore the power, and… maybe you'd be able to get into the Nexus, at least?" "Monty…" Sinclair said. "After what this place did to us? You want to help it?" "This place brought us back together, Katherine." He smiled. "You seem… better, now, than you were a year ago. Stressed, not sleeping… we were all worried about you back at 87." "…the shop doesn't like being contained," Sidney said. "It wouldn't like being in the Foundation's purview." "You've got our initialism on your shop," Sinclair pointed out, not unkindly. "It kind of already is." Sidney thought for a moment, and shook their head. "Well, it's going to be moot, because in about thirty minutes, your guys are going to kick down the door, bust down the windows, and try to contain me. I suggest you get out before then — you've got a family, and I don't want any more blood on my hands." "That won't happen," Sinclair said. "But… do you really want this to be your life?" Sidney thought for a moment. "If just one person is made happy by what I do here, by me keeping this thing alive. Then it's going to be worth it." "Don't be a martyr, Sidney," Sinclair said. "What do you want?" Sidney swallowed, and then answered, "I… I want to see the world. All of it. I want to be able to sit down in a library and read a book. I want to have a hamburger. I want to go to a movie. I want… I want to live my own life. I…" Their breathing grew shallow, panicked. "I don't want to be here forever." "What else can you make with your abilities?" Sinclair asked. "Anything that can be found in a coffee shop, conceivably." "Does that include chalk?" The bottles and cartons of milk vanished, and a box of colored sidewalk chalk appeared on the counter. "Need them to update prices on the signs. What are you thinking?" Sinclair took a piece of chalk, throwing another to her husband. "We're going to try to hijack this place as it moves and get it somewhere where you might be able to leave." "…what about Phoenix?" Reynolds asked. "She's… going to be here, all alone…" Sinclair looked at the coffee-shop's prisoner. "Do you have my phone? The one from when I crashed, not the one I have now." Sidney produced it. "What are you going to do?" "Phone a friend. A few of them, actually." Date: January 26th, 2024 Location: Urban Site-56 Strategic Command Center, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania In Attendance: Rsr. Claire Sage, Head Archivist, Site-87; Dr. Django Bridge, Archivist, Site-17; Dr. Daniel Asheworth, Director, Site-120; Dr. Udo Okorie, Thaumatologist, Site-43; Dr. Ilse Reynders, Acroamatic Abatement, Site-43. Dr. Bridge: Psi-7 should be breaching within the next twenty-five minutes. Dr. Okorie: Think we'll be able to contain it? Rsr. Sage: If containing a Keter were as easy as sending in Psycho Psi-7, we wouldn't have a single anomaly breaching, ever. Dr. Asheworth: Let's just hope they don't raze the entire block in the process. Dr. Reynders: Does… Psi-7 have a reputation for doing that? Dr. Bridge: The Alcatraz Incident wasn't the first time a task force crashed a ship into civilian infrastructure. Dr. Reynders: …oh. A phone is heard ringing. Dr. Asheworth: Who the hell is calling? It's past midnight over in Poland… let me take this. Dr. Asheworth stands to exit the room, putting the phone to his ear. As his hand is on the door handle, he stops. Dr. Asheworth: What? What?! Rsr. Sage: What's going on? Dr. Asheworth: Let me put you on speaker, hold on. Dr. Asheworth puts his phone on the table, turning on the speaker. Dr. Asheworth: You're live. Dr. Katherine Sinclair: Hello? Am I presuming this is the group trying to get me out of SCP-8787's grasp? Rsr. Sage: Dr. Sinclair?! Rsr. Montgomery Reynolds: And family. Dr. Bridge: You're out from under it. Good. Are you somewhere safe? Dr. Sinclair: Well, that's the thing. From what I understand, this place is going to be hit by the military equivalent of a wrecking ball in less than half an hour, and we're trying to stop that from happening. Dr. Okorie: You're still on-site? Dr. Sinclair: Yes, and we're going to need someone to go and check on our daughter. What we're doing is going to be a massive drain on the power of myself, Monty, and 8787 itself. Rsr. Sage: I'll go check on her ASAP. We have your address. Dr. Asheworth: What are you intending to do, Sinclair? Dr. Sinclair: We're going to open a Way. Put 8787 in containment using it. Dr. Okorie: How? Dr. Sinclair: I was hoping you and Daniel could help on that front, Udo. We're debating between the Pseudo-Alighieri Configuration, or Rania's Gateway. Dr. Asheworth: Mmn, no. The building you're in's over eighty years old. You might end up under the Atlantic if you use the second one. Dr. Okorie: Trying to do the first one in this Hemisphere will just teleport you to Undervegas. Not a good idea. Dr. Sinclair: We're a bit strapped for supplies at the moment. If I could open a Maylon Aperture straight to Sloth's Pit, I would, but we don't have enough garnet for that. Dr. Reynders: Why use either of them? Why not use a nomenclative link? Dr. Sinclair: …what? How would… Dr. Reynders: You worked at a Site with a Foundation front protected by the Frontispiece— the same one on SCP-8787 at the moment, yes? Why not link the two and move through them that way? Dr. Bridge: Like how Three Portlands is linked together? Dr. Reynolds: Exactly, Dr. Bridge. But.. we could risk creating a spatial link to every Foundation site that's under a front if we do that. It would be… I don't know, like Four-Hundred-and-Six Portlands? Dr. Asheworth: It would cut down on travel expenses… Rsr. Sage: I don't think Site-34 would be happy about having its one unique thing stolen from it. Dr. Okorie: They still have the talking cat… Dr. Asheworth: Psi-7 will be there in ten minutes. I concur with Reynders. A nomenclative link would be your best option. Dr. Okorie: You're familiar with both locations, they're both linked by the Frontispiece, and all it really needs is some energy. Dr. Bridge: Hold on. Will this put it in proper containment, or… Rsr. Sage: What do you mean? Dr. Bridge: Doesn't Site-87 have aboveground offices? Rsr. Sage: They haven't been used for years. It's mainly just the lobby, and the upper levels are for storage. Dr. Bridge: Does the magic know that? Does SCP-8787 know that? Silence on the recording. Dr. Okorie: I think you might want to— Dr. Sinclair: Too late, we've already formed a link. Dr. Asheworth: That quickly?! Dr. Reynders: It is the most efficient path of energy, so it's not surprising… Dr. Okorie: Kat, if we have to set up passport control at 43, I'm never going to forgive you. Dr. Sinclair: No promises, Udo. Dr. Reynolds: Sid— SCP-8787-A, I suggest you hold onto something, this is going to be rough. Dr. Asheworth's phone emits a screeching sound, before the call disconnects. Dr. Bridge: That's… ominous. Rsr. Sage: I'm going to check on their daughter. Bridge, you mind driving? Dr. Bridge: Do you not have a license? Rsr. Sage: It's suspended. I rear ended the chief of police back in Sloth's Pit. Dr. Bridge: All right. Come on. Call us if you hear anything further. Bridge and Sage exit. They confirm the well-being of Sinclair and Reynold's daughter, Phoenix Reynolds, within twenty minutes. Irrelevant conversation has been excised; after approximately one half hour, Dr. Asheworth's phone rings again. Dr. Asheworth: Sinclair? Dr. Sinclair: Sorry it took so long, my phone got fried by the jump, had to find a landline. So… good news, we didn't create a spatial tunnel to every Foundation site protected by a front organization. Dr. Okorie: What's the bad news? Dr. Sinclair: I… think we may have just put one of the only decent cafe's in Sloth's Pit out of business. Dr. Reynders: How do you mean? Dr. Sinclair: Okay, you know how Wettle used to have that joke about Site-43 having a Tim Horton's in Habitation and Sustenance? Dr. Asheworth: Oh no… Rsr. Reynolds: On the bright side… we're home. Item#: 8787 Level1 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo The interior of SCP-8787, viewed from Site-87's lobby. Window in background does not correspond to any exterior aperture on Site-87. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8787 is allowed to operate as a cafe and eatery within Site-87's lobby. In the event a non-approved SCP-8787-B instance appears, Site-87 staff are to ascertain their identity, as well as attempt to relocate them outside of the anomaly. SCP-8787 is to be monitored for spikes in anomalous energy, including EVE, Akiva radiation, and memetic particles such as phonemes. It is currently drawing energy from Nexus-18 to sustain its anomalous properties, but to date, this drain has been negligible. The former SCP-8787-A instance is considered non-anomalous, but is being monitored by Foundation forces. It has been allowed a level of autonomy under Reintegration Protocols, provided they return to Site-87 at least once every two months. Description: SCP-8787 refers to an anomalous construct resembling an American cafe. Since January of 2024, SCP-8787 has occupied a previously vacant portion of Site-87's ground floor, off the side of the main lobby. Currently, SCP-8787 uses the name "The Roast Not Taken" for its business, which is supported by tax documents it has generated anomalously. Currently, SCP-8787's primary anomaly is the fact that is capable of generating any supplies needed for the continued maintenance of a coffee shop of its size, including foodstuffs, drinks, cleaning solutions, tools needed to conduct repairs, and paychecks. SCP-8787 is capable of anomalously recruiting individuals and transforming them into SCP-8787-B instances. SCP-8787-B instances are humans that have been mentally conditioned into believing they have always worked in SCP-8787 as a server or barista. Current SCP-8787-B instances — consisting of a crew of ten E-Class personnel from Nexus-18, with rotating shifts — are cognizant of the fact that SCP-8787 is anomalous, and do not appear to have had any mental conditioning placed upon them. SCP-8787-A referred to Sidney Charmer, who, prior to the current iteration of containment procedures, was believed to the proprietor of SCP-8787. In reality, Charmer was beholden to SCP-8787 and had been for several centuries. SCP-8787-A was aware of its anomalous properties and could exert some form of control over it, but could not leave the establishment. Following current containment efforts, SCP-8787-A lost all anomalous properties. SCP-8787 was contained in Site-87's lobby on January 26th, 2024, after two Foundation personnel who had been converted into SCP-8787-B instances — thaumaturge Dr. Katherine Sinclair and her husband, Dr. Montgomery Reynolds — formed a nomenclative link between the previous iteration of SCP-8787 ("Sid's Coffee Place") and Site-87 (which uses the front "S & C Plastics") using the Foundation-created memetic complex known as the Frontispiece to transport SCP-8787 from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Sloth's Pit, Wisconsin. Since this transportation, SCP-8787's anomalous properties have greatly diminished; previously, it was capable of transforming any human, regardless of distance to itself, into an SCP-8787-B instance. Following its relocation, it seems to draw on the population of Nexus-18 for its employees, who are aware of its anomalous properties. The exact nature of SCP-8787's anomaly remains unknown to the Foundation. However, due to the ease of its containment and relatively benign anomaly, its containment is no longer a top priority. Addendum: Debriefing Interviews: Interviewer: Rsr. Montgomery Reynolds Subject: SCP-8787-A SCP-8787-A: So. Am I going to be in a cell for the rest of my life? Rsr. Reynolds: Depends on how you answer my questions. SCP-8787-A: Where's your wife? Rsr. Reynolds: Being debriefed by someone else. She'll probaby lose access to the site for a while, which is a pity; I'd loved to have shown her that submarine we have in containment. SCP-8787-A: And you're not? Rsr. Reynolds: I was under the effects for less than seventy-two hours. You had her in there for almost a year and a half. It's a small miracle she's not lost her job. Now… do you have any anomalous capabilities? SCP-8787-A: What, are you expecting me to conjure you a chai latte with two pumps of almond milk out of thin air? Rsr. Reynolds: …that's my favorite thing to get. How… SCP-8787-A: As far as I can tell, the most I have right now is a weak telepathy that tells me what someone's favorite drink is. As can be evidenced by the fact that I'm inside an interrogation room— SCP-8787-A knocks on the wall. SCP-8787-A: —and not in the cafe, I'm not rooted to it any longer. But… c'mon. Is the Foundation really going to lock someone up because they have fucking barista telepathy? Rsr. Reynolds: Not my call to make. But… the Foundation doesn't… how do I describe this… SCP-8787-A: Hmm? Rsr. Reynolds: The Foundation doesn't seem to be able to… function properly here. There was this guy a decade ago, no-nonsense type of person, who tried to audit the site. His name was Matthew… something-or-other. Tried to get us all fired for 'unprofessional behavior'. SCP-8787-A: What happened? Rsr. Reynolds: The official story is that he was run out of town by the Goatman. But there have been rumors that our head of security, Nick Ewell, helped scare him off. In short, there's something about Sloth's Pit… something that I think happens in most Nexuses, come to think of it, that kind of just… makes the Foundation's core ideals break down. By all rights, this town should be under an impenetrable acrylic dome, and every citizen should be in containment or dead for what they know. SCP-8787-A: Seems impractical. Rsr. Reynolds: That's my pet theory, that the Foundation finds it more practical to let people live their lives. Don't tell Katherine this, but I do not put any stock in pataphysics. SCP-8787-A: So what you're saying is… it would be more practical to let me out of here than to keep me in a cell? Rsr. Reynolds: That's not the only thing they could do. The Foundation could always grind you into a pulp and feed you to SCP-10███. SCP-8787-A: What?! Rsr. Reynolds: Bit of dark humor. I think I'm entitled to a bit of it after what I've been through. SCP-8787-A: Look, it's not my fault you got drawn into it. Rsr. Reynolds: That's the only instance of it I'll allow. Have you retained any anomalous knowledge? SCP-8787-A: You mean like… how I got in there? Fuck if I know. Once you live a few centuries, your mind starts to blur everything together. Rsr. Reynolds: What's the oldest thing you can remember? SCP-8787-A stands and paces. SCP-8787-A: I think… I remember killing the previous owner of the shop, back when it was a bar. But that was yonks ago. Rsr. Reynolds: Can you pin a year to it? SCP-8787-A: …uh, shit. Maybe… thirteen? Rsr. Reynolds: Thirteen… hundred? SCP-8787-A: No, thirteen. Rsr. Reynolds: B.C.? A.D.? SCP-8787-A: Monty… you mind if I call you that? I don't fucking know because, when I set up shop in Rome for the first time, Yeshua bin Yusuf was just some a hillbilly cult leader who occasionally tried to peddle some really watered-down booze to me. Silence on the recording. SCP-8787-A: Ha! The look on your face. <SCP-8787-A laughs.> Sorry, couldn't resist. Nah, I'm fuckin' with ya. 1307, I think. Somewhere in Wales? I can't remember much beyond that, I'm afraid. Sorry. Rsr. Reynolds: We'll take the information into consideration. But like I said.. there's something about this place that makes the Foundation's hoarding behavior break down. There's a good chance you're going to be able to… live a normal life. Or what passes for it here. SCP-8787-A: I'll stop by whenever I can. For old times' sake. Rsr. Reynolds: Any other pertinent information? SCP-8787-A: You able to contact SCP-105 at all? Iris? Rsr. Reynolds: I know someone who knows someone on ETTRA. Why? SCP-8787-A: Tell her that Abe misses her dearly, if you can. O5 Command, ETTRA, and Alpha-9 are currently debating whether this message should be delivered to SCP-105. Interviewer: Colonel Malcolm Guillard, Section Head, Investigations & Retrieval, Site-87 Subject: Dr. Katherine Jean Sinclair Dr. Sinclair: So… what's the damage? Col. Guillard: A lot. Dr. Sinclair: Am I being terminated? Col. Guillard: From what I understand, Director Bailey called in every favor but one to make sure that didn't happen. But… Sinclair, what you did was profoundly unprofessional and fucked up. Dr. Sinclair: Is this you talking to me as a member of the Foundation, or— Col. Guillard: This is me talking to you as the guy who used to play Hammerheart the Broad in Bailey's Pathfinder game. Silence on the recording. Col. Guillard: You vanished for over a year, Katherine. Dr. Sinclair: It was hardly my fault that 8787 drew me in. Col. Guillard: Which is about half of the reason why you're being allowed to stay in the Foundation. But… you abandoned your husband. Your kid. That doesn't sound like you. That isn't you. What happened, Katherine? Silence on the recording. Dr. Sinclair: …do you know anything about my mother, Malcolm? Col. Guillard: I saw in her file that you're estranged from her. Dr. Sinclair: She's… not well. She had episodes when I was younger, and eventually, she… hurt someone. Col. Guillard: Hurt how? Dr. Sinclair: She got rear-ended driving home with groceries and got out of the car, started attacking the driver. It was just a fender-bender, and she dislocated his jaw. She was committed to Belmont, a mental health center in Philadelphia. Claims to not even remember it. I… I'm afraid of turning out like her. Col. Guillard: You've… never been diagnosed with any mood disorders, have you? Dr. Sinclair: A shrink I saw at my college diagnosed me with borderline personality disorder. Dr. Palmer doesn't seem to think so, but he goes easy on everyone here. Col. Guillard: What do you think? Dr. Sinclair: I think that… there's no excusing what I did. I failed as a mother, and I failed my duty to this place, and to these people. What sort of punishment am I getting, exactly? Col. Guillard: A few things. Let me read out the report. Col. Guillard produces the minutes of a disciplinary hearing on Dr. Sinclair. Col. Guillard: "Disappointed by this behavior in a loyal member of Foundation personnel", "meritorious actions in the past have been taken into account"… "Actions Taken: 1) Dr. Sinclair is to be demoted from head of Occult Studies and Thaumaturgy at Site-87, and is not allowed to hold the position of Department Head for five calendar years. 2) For a period of two calendar years, any egress from Nexus-18 must be undertaken with a Foundation escort to ensure that this behavior is not repeated. 3) Mandatory psychiatric counseling, twice a week, for three calendar years and 4) Mandatory leave of absence for a period of two weeks." Dr. Sinclair: Could be worse. Could be put on thaumosuppressants. Who's going to be the new OS&T head? Col. Guillard: A couple of people are coming on. Rudolph Carmichael from Site-91, he's… Dr. Sinclair: I'm aware of his condition. Worked with him a couple of times. He's department head, though? With how his brand of thaumaturgy behaves— Col. Guillard: He's not. Do you remember Matthew Broderick? Dr. Sinclair: What does the most wooden actor in— wait, you mean the Tax Man? That asshole who tried to audit 87 a decade ago?! Col. Gullard: He goes by Matthew Richardson now. Got tired of the jokes. Dr. Sinclair: He's a thaumaturge?! How? I didn't detect a lick of aura on him when he tried to read me the riot act— Col. Guillard: Apparently a few months after the audit, he [DATA EXPUNGED]. Dr. Sinclair: …on accident? Col. Guillard: That's what his file says. Dr. Sinclair: How do you accidentally [REDACTED]? They wriggle around when you— Col. Guillard: He was doing an audit on Site-55 at the time, during the whole thing with the— Dr. Sinclair: Jay told me about that a few years ago. Poor bastard. Hell of a way to have an awakening. Silence on the recording. Dr. Sinclair: Do you need anything else? I have to go pick up my daughter from daycare. If I'm on mandatory LOA, I might as well make the most of it. Make up for lost time. Col. Guillard: Are you allergic to anything? Nuts, chocolate? Dr. Sinclair: What? Col. Guillard: Liao refuses to cough up your medical file, and we need to make sure that the 'welcome back' cake we're buying you isn't going to kill you. Dr. Sinclair laughs. Dr. Sinclair: As long as you don't bake it with dust mites, I should be fine. Col. Guillard: Good to have you back, Katherine. Dr. Sinclair: Good to be back. Footnotes 1. A memetic aegis that protects the Foundation from discovery from outside groups, embedded in the "SCP" initialism used in several front companies. 2. A chain of coffee shops largely present in the Southern United States, Japan, and South Korea, acting as Foundation resupply stations for field agents. 3. A joint investigative committee of Foundation and USGOV forces that formed following the collapse of MTF-Omega-7 ("Pandora's Box") in order to investigate the circumstances that led to its failure; the committee briefly reformed in 2022 to investigate the Alcatraz Island Incident. 4. An individual that can modify, create, or erase memories. 5. An individual capable of manipulating and traversing time without the need for exterior equipment; imperfect chronokinesis is demonstrated through evidence left in the timeline of their alterations. 6. Old Daevite phrase. Approximate meaning is 'Wake and serve'. 7. Salah Zairi, Lewitt's husband since 2011. 8. Deprecated Horizon Initiative terminology for a divine entity. 9. Naomi Ibtisam Lewitt-Zairi, born December 2013. 10. The University of Pittsburgh. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8787" by Ihp, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8787. 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. This article contains an excerpt from The Snow Queen (1872) by Hans Christien Anderson(Public Domain). Filename: sinclair.png Author: Ihp; Anathea Utley (original) License: CC BY 2.0 DEED Source Link: http://scp-sandbox-3.wdfiles.com/local--files/fragment%3Asid-s-coffee-place-1/sinclair.png Derivative Of: https://www.flickr.com/photos/anathea/3547470714// Filename: Green_House_Coffee_Shops.jpg Author: Barrwk License: CY BY 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Green_House_Coffee_Shops.jpg Filename: montyreynolds.jpg Author: jalexartis Photography, ihp License: CY BY 4.0 Derivative Of:*https://flic.kr/p/rmjwK7 Filename:** Min_Min_Store_Camel%27s_Rest_Coffee_Shop_Herbert_St_Boulia_Central_Western_Queensland_P1080727.jpg Author: John Robert McPherson License: CC BY 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Min_Min_Store_Camel%27s_Rest_Coffee_Shop_Herbert_St_Boulia_Central_Western_Queensland_P1080727.jpg Filename: New_Orleans_Lakefront_Airport,_Main_Terminal_Building_interior,_August_2016_-_23.jpg Author: Infrogmation of New Orleans License: CY 2.0 Generic Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:New_Orleans_Lakefront_Airport,_Main_Terminal_Building_interior,_August_2016_-_23.jpg
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SCP-8788
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keter
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To pee or not to pee close Info X ⚠️ Content warning: NSFW - sexual references SCP-8788: Dihydrogen Monoxide Author: Anonymodesu ⚠️ content warning Item#: 8788 Level2 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: ekhi Risk Class: notice link to memo Victim of SCP-8788. Special Containment Procedures: Hidden cameras monitor Foundation-owned and high-traffic public restrooms. Individuals suspected to have ingested SCP-8788 are transferred to the nearest Foundation site, where they undergo Operation Dehydration. Specialty-class UR-1-NE centrifuges are installed in both public-sector and Foundation-owned water treatment facilities, where SCP-8788 is filtered out and delivered to the nearest Foundation site. SCP-8788 is provided as drinking water for select D-Class personnel, and supervising wardens assume the full-time responsibility for the continuous enactment of Operation Dehydration. The following containment procedures are conditionally executed, until SCP-8788's global manifestation frequency has been limited below certain thresholds:1 SCP-8788 is publicly advertised and sold as healthy bottled formula for infants. Operation Siccitas is performed on Exspes-Class population centres. Automated tasers are installed in Foundation restrooms. Personnel assigned to SCP-8788 may request a project transfer after twelve weeks of service. Description: SCP-8788 is a variant of water, with a density of 985kg/m3 at room temperature2. Its anomalous effects manifest when any human in a populated restroom has a bladder containing at least 72ml of SCP-8788.3 A successful manifestation compels all present individuals to use adjacent toilets and engage in pleasant conversation, with a strong tendency to expose personal information. Throughout the conversation, SCP-8788 would self-replicate in each individual's urinary system to sustain the discharge of urine. In most recorded cases, the total discharge far exceeds the capacity of any human bladder. Urinary excretion wanes as the conversation naturally concludes, signalling the end of the manifestation. Interviews with affected subjects afterward suggest that their interpersonal relationships have improved, and that they aren't troubled by their anomalous urinary performance. In the event where SCP-8788 attempts to manifest, but there exists a language barrier between the individuals involved, the volume of SCP-8788 in their bladders is neutralised into non-anomalous water upon urination. Addendum: The following logs are a representative sample of incidents caused by SCP-8788. For access to the full collection, consult Dr. Nations Dr. Pi. Incident 8788.12564 Men's restroom, Macon Mall, Georgia, United States Three men discuss their medical issues. Field agents are dispatched and the affected subjects are delivered to Site-242 for Operation Dehydration. Participant Duration (min) Est. Volume (L) Est. Constituent SCP-8788 T. Lambert 20.57 16.66 0.55% S. Avery 20.67 14.88 0.00% P. Foster 20.72 15.92 0.00% [ VIDEO LOG ] Foster shoves Avery against the wall. Avery: Dude, I'm sorry alright? It was a mistake. Foster: A mistake, happens fucking once. You've been fucking her for the past fucking 3 years. Avery: Look, I've known her since we were kids. She had a problem, and I helped her through it. Foster: If Sandra has a problem, she needs to take it up with me. It's none of your fucking busi- Lambert sprints into the restroom. The trio unzip their trousers and begin peeing. Lambert: Shit shit shit! Ahhh…made it. Foster: You alright buddy? Lambert: Infected urethra. Hard to control the urges. Avery: Oh, it burns as well doesn't it? I've got to help my dad when the nurse isn't around. Foster: I'm fine with holding it in, but I have trouble getting it up. Avery: Sandra did mention something of the sort. Lambert: I've got pills for that back at my place, if you guys wanna come hang. [ Remaining discussion omitted ] Incident 8788.13588 Women's restroom, Westfield, London, England Women discuss childcare in the restroom. There is a surplus of women, hence latecomers need to wait for a toilet. Field agents are dispatched and the affected subjects are delivered to Site-44 for Operation Dehydration. External witnesses of the event are administered Class A amnestics. Participant Duration (min) Est. Volume (L) Est. Constituent SCP-8788 Y. Nakamura 10.54 7.88 5.86% A. Hassan 32.24 24.92 3.21% M. Chen 12.24 10.21 3.05% G. Laurent 10.20 8.95 0.45% N. Sokolov 18.24 15.14 0.00% [ 13 civilians omitted for brevity ] [ VIDEO LOG ] Miller is standing beside Chen, watching her. Chen: So my doctor was like, "no, you'll get incontinence in your third trimester, you should take your meds." Simpson is standing at Nakamura's cubicle entrance, watching her. Nakamura: But look at you now! You've been peeing for the last 5 minutes. Laurent: You go girl! I love seeing me some good bladder control. Wyatt is lying underneath Sokolov's cubicle door, watching her. Sokolov: It's been amazing to get to know you ladies, but my boyfriend's going to yap at me for taking so long. Chen: Ugh, can relate. My husband complains so much. Sokolov leaves. Wyatt stands up and takes her place. Wyatt: You know, when the little guy comes out, you could try giving him SCP-F. Chen: Ah, I think I saw it on TV. What was it again? Safe Controlled Pee Formula? Barclay: Whoever came up with that name is a dumbass. Lachlan: Isn't it weird it comes bottled? Isn't formula usually powdered? Wyatt: I heard it's pretty good at balancing the baby's hydration levels. Hassan: Perhaps a little too good. Alice wets herself whenever I take her to the changeroom. [ Remaining discussions omitted ] Incident 8788.17894 Private Bathroom, Site 19 F-6 Department Director H. Silva enters her office bathroom. An unidentified man steps out of a locker, decloaks his camo-tech and holsters his firearm. They share origami techniques, before being interrupted by the automated security system. Participant Duration (min) Est. Volume (L) Est. Constituent SCP-8788 Dir. Silva 2.56 2.01 6.54% Man 2.55 2.21 0.00% Addendum: The man has been identified as a Chaos Insurgency operative. He is detained and scheduled for interrogation. [ DEBRIEFING LOG ] Agent Bravo: Sorry about that ma'am. We'll get you cleaned up. Dir. Silva: Why. The hell. Are there tasers in my toilet. Agent Bravo: New site protocol while you were on sabbatical. Handed down by O5-█. Dir. Silva: What? Okay, well let's get into that later. Help me up. Agent Bravo: Negative on that order. As per protocol, I must remain outside this bathroom. Dir. Silva: There's literally a man in the shower, with a gun. What if he wakes up? Agent Bravo: Rest assured he's harmless while you remain in your bathroom. We'll deal with him after the drone arrives to deliver you to Operation Dehydration. Dir. Silva: …operation what? OPERATION DEHYDRATION - Foreword I know most of you complained once you were assigned to SCP-8788. Look, I get it, studying urine isn't anyone's cup of tea. Suck it up. You're given the option to rotate out after 3 months anyway. There are far worse things you could be doing in the Foundation. Worse things such as Operation Dehydration. Unfortunately, it's the most reliable method we've got to keep manifestation numbers down. For whatever reason, the skip turns to regular water if the people can't speak with each other. So we've arranged for some special D-Class to act as water purifiers, and you'll be making sure they're peeing right, 10 hours a day. Same applies if a civilian wanders to a toilet and starts announcing their life story. We snatch them and flush SCP-8788 from their system. Some of you might ask, what's the point? Why go to such lengths to stop a bit of gossiping? Well just like gossip, this piss spreads. And spreads fast. Worst case: LK-Class scenario. Elimination of privacy, and our precious veil becomes as flimsy as soggy toilet paper. On top of that, each manifestation effectively grows the volume of water on Earth, a net increase in global sea levels. So unless you want to drown the planet in humanity's piss, do your job. - Dr. Y. Nations The following is provided as an audiovisual aid to onboard staff onto Operation Dehydration. Subjects suspected to have ingested SCP-8788 are moved to the nearest Foundation site. To improve efficiency of the operation, civilians are exposed to a Class I Obedience cognitohazard. [VIDEO LOG] Dr. Pi: Are you ready to begin? Rogan: I just woke up, so it's hard. Dr. Pi: … Rogan: … D-3523: … Dr. Pi: Have you calmed down? Rogan: Uhh, a little. Dr. Pi: Proceed. Rogan and D-3523 start doing their business. D-3523: … Rogan: … Dr. Pi: Flow is at a steady 14ml/s. Rogan: … D-3523: … Rogan: … D-3523: Scheiße!4 Dr. Nations: Spillage identified. Please aim your discharge. Rogan: Sorry. D-3523: … Rogan: … Dr. Pi: Total volume measures 229.6ml. Elapsed time is 16.4s. Is that alright, Yuri? Dr. Nations: It is within acceptable parameters. Rogan: So, when can I go home? Dr. Pi (off-mic): From his blood test, the anomaly constituted 18% of his bloodstream. Dr. Nations: Based on your historical metrics, we predict another 33 iterations before you're cleared. The following is provided as an audiovisual aid to onboard staff onto Operation Dehydration. Water treatment facilities divert SCP-8788 from public sector use, where it is instead delivered to Foundation sites and provided as potable water for select D-Class personnel. D-Class wardens marshal their personnel into groups of mutually exclusive language backgrounds for toilet breaks. [VIDEO LOG] Moreau: Ahem. Urinate. 排尿. التبول. Мочиться. ปัสสาวะ. Urineren. The D-Class personnel enter the restroom. D-2332: … D-1134: … D-8456: … D-3254: … D-0013: … D-8688: … Dr. Pi: 3254. Moreau: Hmm, I'll go with 8688. Dr. Pi: By the way, your Chinese improved. Moreau: I've been practising. D-2332: … D-1134: … D-8456: … D-3254: … D-0013: … D-8688: … Moreau: Ha! 8688 outlasted everyone. That's 88 wins for me. Against what, 31? Dr. Pi: What did you bribe them with this time? 2-ply toilet paper? Moreau: Don't be a sore loser. You just need to pay better attention. Dr. Pi: Whatever. I'll catch up eventually. Bring in the next batch Moreau. Incident 8788.18012 Women's restroom, Site 19 A-23 A captured Chaos Insurgency operative has resisted standard interrogation strategies. To identify his rationale and methods for infiltrating Site-19, SCP-8788 is provisionally approved as an interrogation aid. MTF Sigma-3 is requested for assistance, given their experience with espionage. A large restroom is selected to fulfil the seating requirements. Participant Duration (min) Est. Volume (L) Est. Constituent SCP-8788 CI Operative 58.02 49.93 0.54% Agent Alpha 58.02 51.23 0.00% Agent Bravo 54.21 46.51 0.00% Agent Charlie 51.79 41.02 0.00% Agent Delta 49.83 39.64 0.00% [ 22 agents omitted for brevity ] [ VIDEO LOG ] CI Operative: Yes, this is great. A whole squadron wants to watch me take a whiz. Agent Alpha: Shut it. CI Operative: I might have been caught, but at least I can make you Foundation fucks waste time. Agent Alpha: Step inside before I waste your as- Agent Alpha and the CI Operative cross the boundary of the restroom. Agent Alpha: Man, you look terrible. Johnston didn't pull his punches. CI Operative: The interrogator? Yeah, well, he's just doing his job right? Agent Alpha: As are we all. Got to put food on the table for the family. Somehow. CI Operative: Family. I'm surprised Johnston didn't try to pull that card. Agent Alpha: How do you mean? CI Operative: Not that it would've worked on me, but when the Insurgency captures one of you folks, your family is like, the third thing we threaten you with. Agent Alpha: That's pretty lame. Back when I was interrogator, we started with sleep deprivation and starvation. CI Operative: Pfft. Those are training wheels. Went through 6 months of that for orientation. Agent Alpha: Alright then, tough guy. What would it take to break you? CI Operative: You could [REDACTED]. Or if I'm feeling stubborn, try [REDACTED] through my intestines. And shoot me up with adrenaline to keep me conscious. Agent Alpha and the CI operative exchange interrogation techniques. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Agent Bravo is asked to interrupt them. ] CI Operative: Huh. Didn't know you could use honey like that. Agent Bravo: Speaking of honey, I smeared it onto a foot infection in our last assignment. Worked like a charm. The agents and the CI operative discuss feet. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Agent Charlie is asked to interrupt them. ] Agent Charlie: When Alex twisted his ankle, I just told him to get over it. Kids heal up fast. The agents and the CI operative share parenting tips. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Agent Delta is asked to interrupt them. ] The agents and the CI operative provide the extent of what they know about [REDACTED]. [ Discussion omitted. Agent Echo is asked to interrupt them. ] The agents and the CI operative debate pineapple on pizza. [ 19 discussions omitted. Simultaneous urination and the restroom's reverb has led to an ambient noise level of 71 decibels. ] Agent Bravo: AND THAT'S HOW WHISKEY GOT LOST ON HER FIRST DAY ON THE JOB. Agent Xray: CAN'T BLAME HER. SITE-19 IS A MAZE. Agent Charlie: YO! XRAY! WELCOME TO THE PARTY. Agent Lima: IT'S A MAZE FOR A REASON. MAKES IT HARDER FOR GUYS LIKE SULLIVAN TO FIND THEIR WAY AROUND. Sullivan: SECURITY BY OBSCURITY. THAT'S HARDLY RELIABLE. Agent Bravo: THAT'S WHY WE HAVE 24/7 SECURITY DETAIL, BIOMETRIC SCANS, AND SURVEILLANCE, EVEN IN THE TOILETS. Sullivan: HEY, WE'VE GOT THAT TOO, BACK AT FIREBASE-8. WELL, SORTA. CONTROL ROOM STAFF ROTATE AT 2AM SHARP, SO SOMEONE COULD SNEAK IN THEN. Agent Whiskey: I'VE HEARD OUR CONTROL ROOM SYSTEMS GET SHUT OFF AT 2AM AS WELL. FOR SOFTWARE UPDATES OR SOME SUCH. The agents and Sullivan share security loopholes in their respective facilities. [ Remaining discussion omitted. ] Sullivan: REALLY. I LOOPED AROUND YOUR BASE, TWICE, LOOKING FOR THE OPENING TO THAT TUNNEL. Agent Sierra: WE CAN SHOW YOU IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE US. Addendum: The agents file out of the room with Sullivan. Agents Yankee and Zulu attempt to stop them, but they assert, "they're giving their friend a tour of the site." The affected subjects are stopped by security before reaching Evac Route F6, and amnesticised. 680 litres of SCP-8788 is produced by this incident. Sullivan's entry route into Site-19 remains unclear. 18 members of MTF Sigma-3 are treated for minor dysphonia and hearing loss. SCP-8788 is prohibited from future experimentation. Addendum: MTF Omega-45 is deployed following Sullivan's account of Insurgency Firebase-8. The base is raided, recovering SCP-████, SCP-████ and [REDACTED], with no casualties. SCP-8788 may be procured with approval from personnel with Level 4 clearance. Incident 8788.33253 The following news excerpt is found in the April 2022 print edition of the Wall Street Journal. Twitter acquisition by business magnate Elon Musk announced. Twitter CEO, Parag Agrawal, believes that Musk is a passionate believer in the platform, and will support its longevity and growth. When asked about what precipitated this unprecedented event, Agrawal claims, "We bumped into each other at the NYC Tech Forum, when we were preparing for our talks. We ended up having a mature conversation and settled our differences." OPERATION SICCITAS - Foreword It pains me to say this, but Incident 64466 ███████ █████████ ███-████ ██ █ ███████ ██ █████, ████ █ ███████ ██ █████ ██ ████ ███████████. ███ █████████ ███████ ████████ ████ ███ █████ ██ █ █████████ ████████ ███ █ ███████ ██████████ ██ █████ ████ ██ ███-████: █ ██████████ █████████████ ███████ ███ ███████ ███████████ ██ ███ ████████ ███████ ███ ██████. ██ ████████ ████████████, ████ █ ██████ ████████ ██ ██████ ████████ ███████████. ██████████. ███ ████████████, ███-████ █████ ████-█████████ ██ ████ ██████████'█ ███████ ██████ ██. ███████ ███ █████████ ██ █████. ██ ████ ████████ █████, ███ █████ █████████ ███ ███████ ███ ████████ ██ ███ █████ ███████. ███████ █████████ █████ ██ ███ ████████████ █████████ █████████, ██████████ ███ ███ ██ ███ █████████████. ██████████ ████ ████████ ████████ █████████ ███████ ████ █████ █████████████ █████████████ ████ ████████, ███ ████ ████ ████'█ ████████ ██ █████ █████████ ███████ ███████████. ██ ███ █████ █████ ███-████ ████████ ██ ████████, ███ █████ ██████ █ ████████ ███████ ███████ ███ ███████████ ████████, ███ ██████ ██ ███-████. ██ █████ ████████ ██ ███████████ ████ ███-█████████ █████ ████ █████████.5 - Dr. Y. Nations Addendum: Operation Siccitas is no longer necessary. To preserve employee morale, its details are memetically sealed, and those involved are amnesticised. Contingent on the emergence of another Exspes-Class population centre, its anti-memetic encryption may be lifted with approval from Level 4 personnel or Dr. Nations Dr. Pi. Alice Springs. Incident 8788.64466 Alice Springs, Northern Territory, Australia 03/07/2023: Rio Tinto, a mining company, reports 8% lower productivity for the 2023 fiscal year. Managers claim employees are taking longer than average bathroom breaks. 12/08/2023: The Hot Topic, a sensationalist news tabloid, lampoons the poor construction of septic tanks in the region, citing 8 tanks that overflowed in the past 2 weeks. 12/09/2023: Incident 8788.64466.1 Boy's restroom, Bloomfield Primary School Civilians discuss various topics. Since this restroom was not monitored, the Foundation was alerted to the manifestation by several reports of missing children. A recovery team arrives 1 hour, 49 minutes later, and external witnesses are amnesticised. Survivors are delivered to Site-84 for Operation Dehydration and medical treatment. Note: Some values below are lower bounds, based on available video evidence. Participant Duration (min) Est. Volume (L) Est. Constituent SCP-8788 Z. Fowley > 355.53 > 370.18 55.54% G. Goodwin > 120.53 > 110.10 50.01% Const. Murray 0.30 0.22 48.34% A. Quill 122.53 99.34 47.24% J. Green 0.00 0.00 43.05% [ 98 civilians omitted for brevity ] The footage below is recovered from Constable F. Murray's bodycam. [ VIDEO LOG ] A police car pulls up to the scene. Const. Murray: Oi! Johno! Bloody scorcher today aye? Green: Huh? Just you Fred? The chick told me there'd be a whole unit swingin' by. Const. Murray: Well it's hittin' 40 degrees, and the air-con in the car's still busted so the guys weren't too keen on- Green: You know what? Doesn't matter. I gotta get back to the classroom before the principal puts me through the wringer. Const: Murray: Hol' up. I'll need your ID and- Green: You fuckin' know who I am. Const. Murray: And you haven't explained nothin'. Green: Yeah nah so earlier this mornin' the kids started disappearin' into this toilet. Two teachers gone off to look into it, but haven't seen 'em since. Const. Murray: You pulling me leg Johno? Green: At first I thought it was the kids gettin' into another fight. Animals, the lot of 'em. But now I reckon it gotta be some voodoo black magic goin' on. Const. Murray: I ain't getting paid enough for this. Green: Me neither mate. Well give it a crack, and I'll catch you at the pub t'night yeah? Const. Murray: Yeah brah. Green leaves. Murray ventures closer to the restroom. Const. Murray: Farkin 'ell. Stinks worse than a wombat's nutsa- Murray steps onto a bathroom tile and walks into the restroom. A few urinating teachers and students come into view, with several others watching them. Murray joins as a spectator. Fowley: There's Ruby over at Barker Street. She cleans a mean pipe for just thirty bucks. A. Marlin: H-hey Georgie? What's Mr. Fowley and Mr. Jones talking about? G. Marlin: Silly Archie. Don'tcha remember Ruby? Daddy gets her to help the chores when mum's away. Thomson: Oh yeah… my dad, my pa, went. Ask her help… yesterday. Jones: What about Amber two blocks away? Bit fat but great at wringin' the ol' tea towel. The civilians share their preferred sex workers. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Thomson collapses6 and Elias takes his place. ] The civilians discuss which female teachers are the most attractive. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Williamson collapses, and Belle takes his place. ] The civilians discuss which female students are the most attractive. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Abraham vomits and collapses, and Norton takes his place. ] The civilians analyse the safest routes to commute to the school. [ Remaining discussion omitted. Elias collapses on top of Thomson, and Gregson takes his place. Williamson regains consciousness and watches Jones briefly before collapsing again. ] Jones describes his affair with Marlin's mother. [ 8 more discussions complete and 15 more civilians enter the restroom before Murray collapses and his bodycam is disconnected. ] 28/09/2023: Surveillance cameras are set up in public restrooms throughout Alice Springs.7 26/10/2023: 1,340 manifestations are observed over the past 4 weeks. Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects measures 42.44%. Site-84 is unable to accommodate all subjects and sustainably perform Operation Dehydration. Proposal: Request for 500 more personnel to assist containment of SCP-8788. Status: Accepted - O5-█ 12/11/2023: 8 SCP-8788 researchers, 85 multilingual field agents and 410 non-English-speaking D-Class personnel are transferred to Site-84. Proposal: Civilians are to conform to their allotted urination schedules, whereby Foundation staff enact Operation Dehydration in their domiciles. Civilians are exposed to a Class I Obedience cognitohazard to ensure compliance. Status: Accepted - Site 84 Ethics Committee Liaison Incident.64466 - Preliminary research notes Alright, I admit I might have objected a little too strongly against moving 15,000km across the globe into the middle of bumfuck nowhere. However, even ignoring the fact that the toilets here flush backwards, this place is pretty interesting. Because it's so remote, most of the drinking water comes from recycled sewerage. Yes, the people here are drinking their own piss, and because of SCP-8788, they piss a whole lot more than they drink. Undoing this funky feedback loop could help my case for a promotion. I'll apologise to Director Moose when this is over. - Dr. Y. Nations 20/11/2023: The UR-1-NE centrifuge at Site-84 is relocated to a civilian water treatment plant. Foundation staff are advised against entering any restroom when someone else is present. A replacement centrifuge is ordered. 22/11/2023: Concentration of SCP-8788 in sewerage exceeds the filtration capacity of a single UR-1-NE centrifuge. 4 more centrifuges are ordered. 28/11/2023: Department Director Walker and her daughter share fairy tales in Site-84's living quarters. They refer to [REDACTED] by its numerical designation, causing Building C-23 to arborise into a 120-metre tree-like structure, and transfiguring indoor personnel into [REDACTED]. The structure is incinerated and the UR-1-NE centrifuge is moved back to Site-84. Following this incident, the surveillance of domestic bathrooms belonging to Foundation staff is no longer voluntary. 01/12/2023: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects reaches 55.67%. Alice Springs is placed under quarantine. A cover story is provided, justifying the quarantine due to a COVID-19 outbreak in the town. 07/12/2023: Field agents note an increasing trend of civilians seeking out public restrooms, unwilling to urinate by themselves. 14/12/2023: Volume of SCP-8788 exceeds storage capacity of Site-84. Excess SCP-8788 is dumped into the surrounding desert. 01/01/2024: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects reaches 63.44%. Subjects exceeding 70% constituent SCP-8788 express reluctance to use a toilet without a capable conversation partner. Proposal: Civilians are exposed to a Class II Obedience cognitohazard to ensure compliance. Status: Accepted - Site 84 Ethics Commitee Liaison 15/01/2024: 5 UR-1-NE centrifuges arrive and are installed in local water treatment facilities. Filtration is capable of diverting 83% of SCP-8788 from the town's main water supply. 19/01/2024: Excess dumping of SCP-8788 in the surrounding desert has led to desert blooms outside of standard seasonal patterns, attracting non-native species. Proposal: Makeshift infant nurseries are built near water treatment plants. The "Sensible Children's Predevelopment Foundation" is cognitohazardously advertised to parents. Field agents masquerading as caregivers assume the full-time responsibility for the continuous enactment of Operation Dehydration. Status: Accepted - Site 84 Ethics Commitee Liaison 25/01/2024: 25 civilians collapse from heat stroke in a government hospital. Interruption of the manifestation was delayed due to staff shortages. Proposal: Request for 1,000 more personnel to enable neutralisation of SCP-8788. Status: Rejected - O5-█ Reasoning: Insufficient non-English-speaking D-Class. Proposal would compromise containment in other sites. 01/02/2024: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects reaches 67.22%. Subjects exceeding 85% constituent SCP-8788 express reluctance to use a toilet without a capable conversation partner. Proposal: Civilians are exposed to a Class III Obedience cognitohazard to ensure compliance. Status: Rejected - Site 84 Ethics Commitee Liaison Reasoning: Adverse health effects from medium-term exposure. 11/02/2024: A civilian with 94.24% constituent SCP-8788 refuses Operation Dehydration, and wets himself outside of a bathroom. Proposal: Request for 1,000 more personnel to enable neutralisation of SCP-8788. English-speaking D-Class may be procured, provided they are administered Class DX amnestics targeting the frontal lobe, disabling speech production. Status: Rejected - Site 84 Ethics Commitee Liaison Reasoning: Dismantling such fundamental neural pathways would risk reducing personnel to a vegetative state. Status: Accepted - Overruled by O5 Council vote 24/02/2024: 120 field agents and 720 D-Class personnel are transferred to Site-84. 01/03/2024: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects drops to 65.69%. 12/03/2024: Excess dumping of SCP-8788 in the surrounding desert has led to the formation of quicksand deposits and algal blooms. 21/03/2024: Multiple civilians protest against poor treatment. Firearm use is authorised to quell potential riots. 01/04/2024: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects drops to 64.21%. 23/04/2024: A manifestation occurs between Agent Chalmers and 23 civilians in a public restroom. Afterward, Chalmers attempts to help civilians abscond from containment protocol. A firefight ensues, resulting in ███ casualties among civilians and Foundation staff. 28/04/2024: A civilian with 99.34% constituent SCP-8788 refuses Operation Dehydration. He is unable to relax his bladder muscles without a capable conversation partner. He expires after [REDACTED] from the water pressure. 01/05/2024: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects drops to 63.01%. Cost of maintaining containment in Alice Springs exceeds $15,000,000 per month. O5-█ requests the research team to seek alternative methods to neutralise SCP-8788. Proposal: Disperse residents of Alice Springs to available Foundation facilities, and enact Operation Dehydration. This would be conducted piecemeal since the global on-site capacity for Operation Dehydration is 9,400 individuals. Cost for long-distance transport and Operation Dehydration of 36,000 people is estimated to be $70,000,000. Status: Pending Proposal: Blood transfusion of all residents to artificially reduce constituent SCP-8788 to 0.00%. 180,000L of blood is required. Process to procure this volume of blood is under development. Status: Pending Proposal: Withdraw containment operations in Alice Springs and quarantine indefinitely. Status: Denied - Dr. Y. Nations Reasoning: Left unchecked, an estimated 5,184,000L of SCP-8788 would be produced per day. 01/06/2024: Average constituent SCP-8788 in affected subjects drops to 61.96%. 07/06/2024: Excess dumping of SCP-8788 has led to higher than average rainfall in the Northern Territory. Manifestations of SCP-8788 are reported in other towns in the region. Proposal: Terminate all residents. Alice Springs provides little economic value. Status: Pending Proposal: Clone all residents with SCP-████. Repurpose the originals to D-Class personnel, and globally distribute them to Foundation facilities. Excess personnel are culled. This would help recoup the prior expenditure used for containment. Status: Pending Proposal: Administer Class DX amnestics to disable speech production for 22.55% (8,100 individuals) of the population. According to stochastic models, this will naturally reduce average constituent SCP-8788 below 1.00% within 4 weeks, without further Foundation intervention. Status: Pending 25/06/2024: Proposal to [REDACTED] is accepted. Operation Siccitas is drafted to implement the proposal, and Alice Springs is cleared of SCP-8788 after three weeks. 19/07/2024: The SCP-8788 research team is tasked with identifying population centres with a similar hydrological profile to Alice Springs. Those with prevalence of SCP-8788 are designated as Exspes-Class, and Operation Siccitas is to be likewise implemented to ensure containment. Incident 8788.201983 Bathroom, Nations Residence Dr. Nations flushes his toilet after urinating. The toilet explodes, decimating both the bathroom and Dr. Nations. The following note is found in the rubble: CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR PEE-RRHIC VICTORY. WE KNOW HUMANITY'S SECRETS. WE ARE COMING. Footnotes 1. Current heuristic target is 252 observed manifestations per year. 2. For reference, the density of water is 997 kg/m3 3. Kidneys anomalously prioritise SCP-8788 when filtering for urine. 4. Roughly translates to: "shit". 5. ███ █████████, ███ ███████ ██ █████ ██ ███ ██ 6. Post-mortem analysis indicates heat stroke. 7. Due to the low population density of the Northern Territory, enactment of containment procedures in the region was not prioritised. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8788" by Anonymodesu, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8788. 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_man_using_a_urinal.jpg Author: Amin License: CC-BY-SA-4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Filename: 640px-Alice_Springs_Australia.jpg Author: Johannes Püller License: CC-BY-SA-2.0-AT Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8790
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safe
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"FOR THE BETTERMENT OF ALL." The ragged ends of your summer dress You want them to see you Like they see every other girl (Transgender Dysphoria Blues - Against Me!) SCP-8790 - Surrender Your Sons ▸ More by this Author ◂ {$comments2} F.A.Q. {$doesthisfixthebug} Item #: 8790⠀ Level 5 ⠀ Object Class: safe SCP-8790 Special Containment Procedures: The entrance to SCP-8790 has been locked and all potential entrances boarded up. A single armed guard is to be constantly patrolling SCP-8790. All access is forbidden. Description: SCP-8790 is an abandoned facility located in ████████, Alabama, constructed sometime within the late 19th century. The building spans approximately 3,800 square meters and contains dormitories, administrative offices, communal areas, and other rooms with unclear purposes. Inside one of the offices, a metal placard is affixed to the wall, which reads: DEPARTMENT OF ABNORMALITIES FOR THE BETTERMENT OF ALL No department of this name exists within Foundation archives. The original purpose of the facility remains unknown, as most documents and identifying materials are completely absent. Some examples of rooms within SCP-8790 include: A large, bare room with two rows of metal chairs facing a faded emblem on the wall. The room shows signs of extensive use, with visible scuff marks on the floor and remnants of a long-destroyed filing cabinet. Two rusted observation windows are located at either end of the room. Recovered artifacts include a rusted ledger containing lists of names alongside the notations "H2," "H3," and "Corrected." A room nearly filled with burnt documents and broken filing cabinets. While most papers are heavily redacted or entirely destroyed, a few intact files reference "Postwar advancements in psycho-██████ anomalies" and "Candidate irrecoverable. Decommissioned per final resolution protocol." A dimly lit room with a single chair bolted to the center of the floor. Wires run from the chair to an adjacent wall, where several broken devices and crude mechanical instruments are mounted.1 The walls are covered in peeling paint, and faint traces of ash are visible in the corners of the room. Behind the chair is a projector.2 A small, circular room featuring a cracked but functional full-length mirror. The walls are draped in thick, faded red curtains that block out most light. Small remnants of cloth and hair are lodged in the cracks of the mirror. A rectangular room featuring faded murals resembling winged figures. On the left side of the room is a podium with a crucifix etched onto the base. Behind it are several paddles, whips, and clamps, all highly damaged. The center of the room has stains of blood within the carpeting. The room is always lit despite the lack of windows. A hallway of 12 small cells, each containing a cot, a non-functional surveillance camera, and a feeding hatch built into the door. Scratch marks on the walls and ceilings spell out various words and phrases, although most are intelligible. Personnel exposed to the interior of SCP-8790 for extended periods report difficulty forming or maintaining personal relationships. This effect is often permanent among individuals attracted to the same sex. Footnotes 1. The purpose of the tools are unknown, but they are covered in an unknown, dried substance and hair. 2. Most of the film is indecipherable, save for a clip of women dancing. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8790" by TroutMaskReplica, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8790. 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: facility.jpg Name: Abandoned military facilities on Adak Island. Author: Paxson Woelber License: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8798
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thaumiel
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The details of their beliefs are unimportant. close Info X SCP-8798: The Old Country Author: Tufto. More of their work can be found here. Item #: SCP-8798 Special Containment Procedures: The entrance to SCP-8798 is to be guarded at all times from internal and external interlopers. Guards are to be stationed at SCP-8798's rim, but not inside SCP-8798 itself beyond the Upper Caverns. Fourteen staircases currently connect the Upper Caverns to the lower districts; no personnel except for D-Class residents are to enter the lower districts without the express permission of the Administrator or one of the surviving members of the O5 Council. The sole exception to this is MTF-245, "That Which Descends". MTF-245 is to be composed of 100-150 agents trained in espionage, political agitation and strikebreaking tactics. As the number of eligible candidates decreases, plans for recruitment of D-Class personnel to the taskforce are currently under review. The two current strategies proposed are A) an offer of a light source, and B) widespread religious inculcation of the populace into believing that the Foundation's role is messianic in nature. The latter is favoured as more reliable. MTF-245's exact orders are not to be released to general review. For their own safety, no non-D-Class personnel may leave the area around SCP-8798 or its designated farmland, except to receive SCP-8798-1 and deliver it onwards. SCP-8798-1 is to be extracted at a rate of 17,000 kg per quarter. Food and water is to be delivered into the lower districts by the existing winch system, contingent on delivery to the surface via that same system of SCP-8798-1. Should the quantity of SCP-8798-1 extracted be lower than 14,000 kg in any given quarter, it will not provide enough power. This is designated an unacceptable outcome, and the following measures are to be taken, in order, until the situation is rectified: An armed incursion by MTF-562, "That Which Remains", to force a short-term, rapid increase in production or to collect any hoarded SCP-8798-1. Negotiation with D-Class personnel to increase production. A store of food and other goods has been set aside to provide incentives for this eventuality, and production currently outstrips the goods provided by 240%, allowing negotiatiors considerable leeway. The removal of up to 30% of the D-Class population as a compliance strategy. This is highly discouraged, as it will necessitate a significant per-person increase in production among the remaining population; it is not currently known if this is feasible owing to the constraints of the human body. The extermination of remaining D-Class personnel and the use of Foundation personnel other than D-Class to extract SCP-8798-1. This is highly discouraged by the Ethics Committee, and will have to undergo review by them, the Administrator and the surviving members of the O5 Council. This outcome is considered unlikely, however, as the present political conditions and mental deterioration of D-Class personnel are not conducive to a decrease in production. Reports of SCP-8798-1 consumption by D-Class personnel remain unverified, but such a practice has been theorised as helping to maintain the current production quota. According to data gathered by MTF-245, the current status of SCP-8798-2 outbreaks is as follows: The Upper Caverns are not at risk. The Central Warrens are at limited risk. The population is large, but the exits are inaccessible and the air is only partially conducive to permanent habitation. The Eastern Warrens1 are at low risk, but limited habitation makes this a useful target for diverting outbreaks without a significant decrease in the rate of extraction. The Western Warrens are at high risk, with seven outbreaks and three deaths reported in the last quarter. The Southern Depths2 have been rendered uninhabitable but do contain several vital extraction points, with many D-Class personnel working temporary shifts here. SCP-8798-2 has not operated in this area for several months, but dead instances have been reportedly observed by D-Class personnel.3 The Southern Warrens are at high risk, with sixteen outbreaks and twenty deaths reported in the last quarter. In the event that SCP-8798-1 does not provide enough power, the Nagasaki Protocol will come into effect. SCP-8798 will be filled with concrete following the extraction of any non-D-Class personnel4. Any surviving personnel involved with SCP-8798 will be amnesticised. In this scenario, it is imperative that any surviving humans do not rediscover SCP-8798-1. An internal portion of SCP-8798. Note the unusual presence of light. Description: [DATA EXPUNGED] Footnotes 1. Official Foundation nomenclature; most personnel informally designate this area as the Heavenly Ladder. This is a discouraged practice and observed instances should result in a reprimand. 2. Official Foundation nomenclature; most non-D-Class personnel informally use its old designation as the Arrival Point, while D-Class personnel refer to it as the Old Country. These are discouraged practices and observed instances should result in a reprimand. 3. It should be noted that most D-Class personnel within SCP-8798 hold a religious veneration for the Southern Depths and the SCP-8798-2 corpses found therein. The details of their beliefs are unimportant, but any proposals for diverting outbreaks to this region must take the social ramifications on extraction into account. 4. Extraction of D-Class personnel was proposed but vetoed at the insistence of the Ethics Committee. Although the D-Class represent 89% of the surviving human population, they are not considered eligible for reclamation due to overexposure to SCP-8798-1. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8798" by Tufto, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8798. 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: pit.JPG Name: Natural_Bridge_Cavern_Grendel's_Canyon.JPG Author: James Sumner License: CC-BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Natural_Bridge_Cavern_Grendel%27s_Canyon.jpg
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SCP-8799
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keter
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I want to cast you into a pit of snakes, I want to bind you with chains beneath Mount Damavand until the end of time. close Info X SCP-8799: A Book of Kings Author: Tufto. This is their entry for the SCP-8000 competition. More of their work can be found here. Images: Image #1 (gayumars.jpg) is a cropped version of an image in the public domain that can be found here. Image #2 (sohrab.jpg) is a cropped version of an image in the public domain that can be found here. Image #3 (dragon.jpg) is a cropped version of an image in the public domain that can be found here. Image #4 (iraj.jpg) is a cropped version of an image in the public domain that can be found here. Image #5 (daeva.jpg) is a cropped version of an image in the public domain that can be found here. Image #6 (alexander.jpg) is a cropped version of an image in the public domain that can be found here. NOTICE FROM THE FOUNDATION RECORDS AND INFORMATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION Significant alterations have been made to this document by anomalous means - these alterations have been coloured blue. Attempts to remove these alterations have not only proven ineffective but have expanded the quantity of added material and contributed to [DATA REMOVED]. Research into methods for a full removal is ongoing; however, as the material does not possess any anomalous properties beyond its existence, the document has been cleared for general reading. — Maria Jones, Director, RAISA, 12/02/2025 SCP-8799 BY ORDER OF THE O5 COUNCIL The following file is Level 5/8799 classified. Unauthorized access is forbidden. 8799 Item #: SCP-8799 Level 5/8799 Classified Part of Painting #1 from SCP-8799, identical to a page from the Tahmasp Shahname depicting the Court of Kayumars. Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8799 is held in Security Locker 662 in Site-19. The object itself does not require extensive containment, but a heightened threat exists that the Office for the Reclamation of Islamic Artifacts (the ORIA) will attempt to steal the item. Consequently, Security Protocol Kappa-12 has been enacted across Secure Containment Wing 600. Following Incident 8799-2, any contact from SCP-8799-1 is to be forwarded to the office of Director Egon Kohl. No further incursions into SCP-8799-1 are currently planned due to the non-cooperation of the ORIA. The ORIA appears to have effectively contained the Sayyid Ali Shrine, preventing all public knowledge of its existence. The location of Agent Nodira Jo'rayeva is unknown. All reports concerning her whereabouts are to be delivered directly to Director Kohl. Description: SCP-8799 is a manuscript copy of the Shahnameh, or the "Book of Kings", a Persian-language epic poem from the 10th century written by the Khorasani poet Ferdowsi. One of the foundational works of Persian literature, the work is a mythical history of Iran from the beginning of creation to the Islamic conquest in the 7th century CE. Absolute dating methods have demonstrated that SCP-8799 was created over 10,000 years ago, long before the Shahnameh's composition in the 10th and 11th centuries. It contains a number of paintings within it, all identical copies of a number of non-anomalous Shahnameh manuscripts from across Iranian history since the 10th century, thus representing a broad range of chronological and stylistic variants; paleographic analysis, however, has determined that all were created at the same time as the book. The object's primary anomalous effect is that these images all contain movement, with scenes, individuals and objects acting out the scenes they depict before reverting to their original forms1. SCP-8799 came into Foundation possession in 1895, after the death of Foundation operative and Orientalist John Callaghan in Tus, Iran in 1894. Callaghan discovered the book in 1871 but kept it in his personal possession bequeathing the book to the Foundation in his will. Researchers have noticed that, in the 129 years the object has been in Foundation custody, the animation of the images has slowed by an average of 0.33 milliseconds per painting. Addendum 8799-1: As of 09/05/2023, SCP-8799 has been seconded to the Department of External Affairs for use in Operation al-Baqara. The changing nature of the anomalous world we inhabit requires a changing response. Foundation superiority over other anomalous groups is by no means as assured as it once was. Nowhere is this more evident than in our presence - or lack of one - in the Middle East, where most anomalous affairs are entirely out of our purview. Partly, this is attributable to hostile governments and a poor reputation with local anomalous groups, but it is principally down to our relations with a single organisation: the ORIA. The ORIA's pre-eminence in anomalous affairs in the Islamic world is well established, but in the last five years, its activities have expanded enormously. Governments across the Middle East, regardless of their position on Iran more generally, have been turning to it, rather than us, for help with outbreaks of anomalous activity. This is partially down to a vigorous campaign of reform within the ORIA itself, with the organisation utilising its limited assets far more effectively and ruthlessly than in the past, but the truth of the matter is that we have brought this on our own heads. The Foundation does not command the same level of trust as it once did. Our associations with Western governments and the geographically uneven nature of our operations has changed the perception of us in the eyes of many. We are no longer seen as a neutral force, above politics and political involvement. We are seen as a colonial power, a benighted, arrogant, even fascistic group bent on using the anomalous to assert American foreign policy interests. This is, of course, a gross mischaracterisation of our mission, but we have not done enough to combat this perception, and the ORIA has taken full advantage of it. Its dominance in the Middle East is assured, we have been all but forced out of Central Asia, and, most worryingly, its influence in Russia is increasing rapidly. Consequently, there are two options before us. We can try to destroy the ORIA, going toe-to-toe with it and initialising another round of conflict - but I don't think many of us want this. Those of us from the older generations remember the bitter days of the late 80s, and the losses we suffered in attempting to contain the Risen Ctesiphon and the Black Div. We might prevail, but the ORIA will be expecting us, and there's a strong chance we'll lose our global preeminence in the process. The second option is that we engage the ORIA in a rapproachment. I know the dangers involved in this; the ORIA's mission of widespread utilisation of anomalies and "respect" for local cultural institutions is anathema to our core values. But I fear we have little choice. After several instances of mutual cooperation - the Bagration Incident, Operation Calico, the study of the Complete Avesta- the time is ripe for a new chapter in our relations. I know many in the ORIA are of a same mind; if we are both willing to compromise, we can create a safer, more harmonious, more contained world for us all. ~ Director Egon Kohl, Head of the ORIA Affairs Division, Department of External Affairs. As one of a number of small-scale collaborations with the ORIA, the Foundation has agreed to perform an experiment utilising SCP-8799. Several Persian and Arabic manuscripts dating as far back as the 11th century in the ORIA's possession appear to mention SCP-8799, describing the nature, style and anomalous effects of SCP-8799 in remarkable details. All of these associate SCP-8799 with a shrine outside the city of Tus, where one Sayyid Ali ibn Ni'matullah ibn Reza al-Nishapuri, a Sufi of the Chisti Order, would place the book upon "a rock made of gold, with inlaid turquoise and lapis lazuli" and "enter a place of union with the divine, through which he alone was able to pass; for the path was burnt, and ringed with strange fire." Remarkably, not only has the Sayyid Ali Shrine (constructed c. 980) survived to the present day, but a golden lectern inlaid with turquoise and lapis lazuli also survives within it. Considering the dilapidated state of the building, it is not known why this artefact has not been looted or damaged; it is in near-perfect condition. The ORIA and the Foundation have thus agreed to take SCP-8799 to the Sayyid Ali Shrine and place it on the lectern as part of a joint operation to determine if any further anomalous effects are present or possible to induce. While few tangible results are expected, this nevertheless constitutes a prime opportunity for the establishment of research ties and greater trust between our organisations. Addendum 2: Incident 8799-1 On 18/05/2023, a joint ORIA-Foundation taskforce arrived at the Sayyid Ali Shrine. Following preliminary scans, SCP-8799 was placed on the golden lectern by ORIA scientist Dr Parviz Sadr. He had been handed the book by Foundation agent Nodira Jo'rayeva, who was standing "a couple of feet" from him when the book was put down. As soon as this happened, both individuals disappared. This disappearance caused the rapid breakdown of the mission, with ORIA members accusing the Foundation of causing the disappearance and initiating hostilities. Although Foundation personnel were able to recover SCP-8799, they were forced to leave the scene immediately. The whereabouts of both individuals were unknown. However, analysis of readings recovered from Foundation equipment indicated an unusual fluctuation in Hume particles when the book was placed, indicative of a dimensional shift. The working theory was that Dr Sadr and Agent Jo'rayeva had been taken to another dimension, provisionally named SCP-8799-1. Although Agent Jo'rayeva's feeds cut off immediately, Foundation agents within the ORIA were able to provide the logs from Dr Sadr's feeds2. The feeds only transmitted sporadically; seven broadcasts survive in all, spread over the course of several months. These are presented below, interspersed with relevant Foundation logs concerning SCP-8799 and the ORIA in chronological order. Log 1: 18/05/2023 <Begin Log> The events of the following log took place immediately after the disappearance of Dr Sadr and Agent Jo'rayeva. The camera appears to show a painting, an Iranian miniature. Specifically, it is Sultan Muhammad's early 16th-century illustration of the Court of Kayumars. Kayumars is the first story in the Shahnameh, so I suppose it was appropriate. You probably had something terribly dry and entirely unclear that you wanted to say here, didn't you, Director? But that wouldn't have worked. Nobody would have been able to picture it in their mind. If you want to understand the psyche of your subjects, then describing physical matter does nothing; you have to describe the pattern. This is something the Foundation, with its clinical tone, has never grasped; when dealing with the anomalous, you must become it, or you end up just ticking boxes. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The two of them found themselves inside a painting. The sky was painted gold, swirling circular clouds all around. Vegetation - blue, purple, pink, the colours rising from a relaxed, lethargic white - was erupting around them. They were standing on a circular patch of green, on plants that had the properties of ink and brushstroke. It was beautiful for them. You've very kindly put part of the picture at the top of this page, for the reader's comfort and convenience. Jo'rayeva: -trick. Sadr: I assure you, I know as much as you. You saw me - I placed the book on the lectern, and here we were! Please believe me. Jo'rayeva: Why should I? You're ORIA. Sadr: And you're Foundation. For all I know, you summoned some piece of invisible arcano-tech I was unable to see, and then whisked me away here to interrogate me. Jo'rayeva: Why would I do that? Do you have something we'd want? Sadr: There you go, see? Already asking questions of me. Another devious Foundation plot. Jo'rayeva: I didn't - that's not - Sadr laughs. Sadr: Relax, Agent, I was joking. If you wanted to capture and interrogate us, I'm sure there are far easier and less baroque ways to do it. Similarly, can you not see that, if we wished to abduct you, we would not bring you inside what seems to be a 16th-century painting? Agent Jo'rayeva lowers her weapon slowly. Jo'rayeva: I have no idea what an ORIA agent would do. Sadr: Agent, I assure you, I didn't do this. At least, not intentionally. But I'm not very surprised. Sadr walks to a waterfall, carved from orange vegetation from which water is falling; but the water looks like black ink, splotching and cascading down onto the greenery below. Sadr: The surviving material surrounding Sayyid Ali's experiments with the book talked about a "place of union with the divine". Maybe this is that place; maybe he entered the book, and believed the beauty of the place was, itself, divine. Jo'rayeva: You think we're in the book? Sadr: Do you have a better idea? We're underneath a paper sky. Everything here looks identical to the painting, the copy from the Tahmasp Shahnameh that dominates the first pages of the narrative proper. It seems to me to be the most obvious solution. Jo'rayeva: But it's all - all in 3D. We're walking around the place like it's normal. Wouldn't we also be changed? Sadr: Maybe. Maybe not. I'm an expert on reality measurement, not on how people appear when placed inside paintings. Jo'rayeva looks sharply at Sadr. Jo'rayeva: You're being extremely… glib about all this. Sadr: Would you prefer I was some other way? We're students of the anomalous, Agent. Jo'rayeva moves off camera. Sadr: I have been in pocket universes before, and I'm sure you have too. It's part and parcel of our work. I don't think I've been inside a book before. Have you? I know of a piece in the Foundation archives, a work similar to this one, that moves with t- Jo'rayeva: Doctor. Sadr: Yes? Jo'rayeva: Take a look at this. Sadr moves towards Jo'rayeva. Jo'rayeva is standing at the edge of the plateau, staring down. Spread out on the plain below are what appear to be a series of small islands or hillocks, each containing architecture, greenery, small mountains, and each of which has been drawn in a different style. Miniature painting flourished in Iran from the 13th century to the present; there are those early Mongol works, with their minimal, cruder designs that nonetheless hold charm; the strange, geometric patterns of Behzad and the other Timurid painters; the lush, pastel-like colours of the early Safavid works, at the height of the classical style; the flowing lines of the later Safavids; the strange, Europe-tinged works of the Qajars, with their staring eyes and elegant poses. All of them, an entire history of painting, spread out before our heroes… And between each scene, only burnt paper. Huge reams of it, singed, scorched, ashen. An unrecognisable black mass, collapsing into oblivion. A few pathways have survived, here and there; a few patches of earth remain. But so much has gone. So much of this world has gone. But there, if you look closely, you can see flashes of colour… Jo'rayeva: It's all burnt. Sadr: Not quite. Jo'rayeva: Just little islands, just… Sadr: Look closely at the edges. There, on the edges of the islands, are tiny, thin bands of flame. They're burning. They're burning extremely slowly, but the fire rings them, surrounding them. It creeps in, year by year, slower than either of them could possibly see, teasing and scorching its way inwards. Nothing escapes it. Sadr: This isn't right. This isn't what - what anything should look like. Jo'rayeva: A pocket universe degrades over time… Sadr: But look how far it spreads out! This isn't a pocket universe - or, if it is, it's far bigger than any I've ever seen. I can't even see the horizon. Jo'rayeva: I've been in some before, recursive ones. Self-generating, memetic… Sadr: You have been in a pocket universe before! Why didn't you say so? Jo'rayeva: But this isn't like that, is it? You're right. Each of these islands is unique, each of them - Sadr: They're scenes from the Shahnameh. I recognise some of them. Over there, see? Sadr points towards an island containing a mass of twisted wood. Sadr: That's the Simorgh's nest, where she raised Zal. But there's no Simorgh, and no Zal. And there - He points again, offscreen. Sadr: That's Mount Damavand - it's a real mountain in Iran, but beneath it is where the demon-king Zahhak is bound until the end of time. Jo'rayeva: Maybe he's not bound there any more, then. The two are silent for some time. Jo'rayeva: We should stay here. Sadr: That would be the sensible option. Jo'rayeva: It's what we're going to do, Doctor. As far as I'm concerned, you're still a suspect. I need to keep a close eye on you. Sadr: If we wait here, we're waiting on the side of a mountain, out in the open. It's not a safe place to stay. And besides - we could be here for who knows how long. Nobody has come for us yet. They've probably started shooting at one another. Jo'rayeva: That does sound like the kind of thing the ORIA would do. Sadr: I could say it sounds like the kind of thing the Foundation would do. Don't you want to see what's out there? Isn't that why we're here? There's no sign of entry or exit here, and this doesn't seem like the kind of world where a precise sense of place matters. Jo'rayeva looks out over the landscape. Jo'rayeva: …Fine. We can explore. A little. Sadr: Excellent! Then I suggest we forage for what we can here, the- The feed cuts out. And all around them, in the shadow, can you see? On the edges of the frame. Red eyes, staring, watching. <End Log> The following emails were exchanged between Farhad Esfandiari, ORIA liason officer, and Egon Kohl, director of the ORIA Affairs Division of the Department of External Affairs and Acting Project Lead on SCP-8799. To: Egon Kohl <gro.tenpics|1.noge.lhok#gro.tenpics|1.noge.lhok> From: Farhad Esfandiari <gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse#gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse> Subject: Recent issues Director, I am writing to express, once again, my profound apologies for the events of last week. You may rest assured that the individuals responsible for firing on your troops have been disciplined. We presume you have done the same - after all, it was the Foundation who initiated hostilities. Over the course of the last several years, I like to think you and I have formed a close working relationship. The Bagration Incident, the Burnt Mace Affair - these and other incidents have really helped create a productive and mutually beneficial environment in which both the Foundation and ORIA can flourish. I would hate to see anything impair this relationship. Having spoken with the project leads on Operations 7, 12 and 16, I can confirm that our side remains 100% committed to the mandate. Cooperation is the only way forward, for both our organisations. We don't need to fall back into the suspicions of the recent past. This incident, though a setback, need not adversely affect our relations. In that spirit, we strongly suggest that work on Unreclaimed Item 1555 - your SCP-8799 - continue, and that we resume our joint operations at the Sayyid Ali shrine. What little work we were able to undertake proved fruitful and rewarding, and I'm eager to get our missing personnel back to us. We've received some interesting data from Dr Sadr's feeds (although we've been unable to make contact) that we'd be happy to share with you, and I'm certain that, together, we'll be able to get them out of wherever they're trapped. I await your reply with eagerness and interest. Very best wishes, Farhad Esfandiari To: Farhad Esfandiari <gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse#gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse> From: Egon Kohl <gro.tenpics|1.noge.lhok#gro.tenpics|1.noge.lhok> Subject: RE:Recent issues Farhad, Sorry for the late reply - it's been hectic over here, as ever. You saw what Site-19 is like from your visit the other year - I assure you, nothing's improved in that time. I couldn't agree more - the maintenance of this relationship is paramount. Neither of us wants to go back to the old days - we enjoy doing business with you, and the stuff we've come up with together has been critical in advancing both our interests. We're absolutely still committed to all our other joint operations. I've had a word with the O5s, and I'm afraid it's bad news - they're hesitant to resume operations with 8799. It's nothing bad - certainly nothing to do with your conduct, which has been impeccable - but there are some logistical concerns they have a few reservations about, and they're hoping we can get through to them here, as we have some advanced tech that might be able to help. Don't worry - we'll have Dr Sadr back in no time. It's been great working with you on this - here's to many more such projects in the future. Best, Egon The following email was recovered during the course of Operation Flaming Sword (see below) and has been translated from the original Persian. To: ALL_CLEAR1_ORIA <gro.ni-ro|airo.1raelc.lla#gro.ni-ro|airo.1raelc.lla>3 From: Farhad Esfandiari <gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse#gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse> Subject: Kohl emails Dear all, Attached is the email I received from Kohl. As you can see, the man is trying to fuck us. Place all research stations in Razavi Khorasan on high alert. Esfandiari Painting #21 in SCP-8799, identical to a page from a 17th-century Shahnameh manuscript. Log 2: 01/06/2023 <Begin Log> The camera opens on an open plain. It is similar in appearance to a Persian miniature painting, but this time it is reminiscent to Painting #21 in SCP-8799, an image of Rostam mourning for his son Sohrab identical to an image in a mid-17th century manuscript. Agent Jo'revaya is walking side-by-side with Dr Sadr. Her face is dirty and bruised. A cut can be seen on her right cheek. Sadr: You really should let me take a look at that. Jo'rayeva: No. Sadr: I'm a doctor! Jo'rayeva: Of science. Sadr: I have been in scrapes before, Nodira. Jo'rayeva: Agent Jo'rayeva. Sadr: For goodness' sake, Nodira, we've been travelling together for - Jo'rayeva: Wait! Jo'rayeva abruptly stops. She points off-camera; Sadr turns to look. A figure is lying on the ground several yards away, also appearing in the style of the miniature painting. Sadr: A person! Finally! Jo'rayeva: Stay behind me. Keep sharp. Could be a trap. Sadr: …As you say. The two of them approach the figure. It is lying on a hillock, next to a stream on one side and a rock on the other. A knife can be seen stabbed into its chest. It is breathing heavily. 8799-Sohrab: Ros… tam? Jo'rayeva: Who are you? Jo'rayeva begins to raise her weapon, but Sadr pushes it down. Sadr: Where's your training? This man is injured. He poses no threat. 8799-Sohrab: Why… do you look like… like paintings? Jo'rayeva: What do you mean? 8799-Sohrab: You don't look… like people, you look like paintings… Sadr: To us, you look like paintings. 8799-Sohrab: Ha… ha, of… course… The figure coughs several times, spitting up blood. Sadr approaches and kneels down beside it. Sadr: You're Sohrab, aren't you? 8799-Sohrab: Yes… you know my fame? Sadr: Millions do. Jo'rayeva: Sohrab? Sadr: Didn't you read the book? Jo'rayeva: I… didn't have time. Sadr: Well - Sohrab was the son of Rostam, the greatest hero of the epic. He was raised away from his father, who did not recognise him. He led an army to seize the throne for his father, but was stopped by the king's champion - Rostam. He killed his own son without realising it. 8799-Sohrab: Very… good. I am glad. Fame… fame is the only immortality we have… Sadr: Lie still. You'll be dead soon. 8799-Sohrab: No, I won't. And I… will, at the, the same time… Sadr: Don't try to talk. Jo'rayeva: What do you mean? 8799-Sohrab: You think… I can die? None of us… can… Jo'rayeva: Us? 8799-Sohrab: Everyone left… in this world. Everything's burnt, you see, everything… Sadr: And that - brings immortality? 8799-Sohrab: No, but it burnt time too. Nobody speaks for several moment. Sadr: Of course… Jo'rayeva: Don't say "of course" like you understand it. Sadr: No, it makes sense. The world is burnt, sure, but we keep coming across disconnected scenes, scenes that took place across time, place, history. And nobody is in any of them… maybe they're elsewhere? 8799-Sohrab: No… they were burnt… all of them burnt. A sorceror, in a cloak of silver and fine silk… a spell, in the caverns of Mazanderan… they told me… Sadr: Who told you? 8799-Sohrab: They did… the madness, the madness, I can't see, I can't - Poor Sohrab. A fearless and peerless youth, a lion, who could not die but at his father's hand, for none other was great enough to fell him. And even then, only by trickery, for Sohrab nearly felled him in their second bout. But Rostam won in the end, and the throne was safe. And he lies there, as he should, forgiving his father, understanding his role in events. His life was leading towards this point; every act, every movement one way or the other, led him to this point. Sohrab was born to die; his father, unwittingly, conceived him to kill him. This is the purpose of Sohrab, the literary device, the character. Imagine that. Imagine being a literary character. Imagine the madness. 8799-Sohrab: The king, in the mountain… 8799-Sohrab points towards a distant peak. 8799-Sohrab: You want to know, he will tell you… the king who vanished, they told me, he knows why… Jo'rayeva: What king? 8799-Sohrab: Water, please… water… Sadr: How long have you been here? 8799-Sohrab: No time at all… Rostam went to get help, realising… who I was, but… he will not return… Sadr: Why? 8799-Sohrab: He is burnt entire… 8799-Sohrab suddenly screams in pain. 8799-Sohrab: I did not scream in pain… I remember a life, a straightforward life, my rebellion, my pride, my death… and now… I am here, I am in my mother's palace, I am leading my army, I fight with the woman Gordafarid, I… I am all these things, and it's all in my head, my head… 8799-Sohrab moans, and falls unconscious. Sadr stands up. Sadr: What happened here? Jo'rayeva: I don't know. We should keep moving. Sadr: We can't just leave - Jo'rayeva: We don't know who is or is not "burnt", as he put it. Come on, Parviz, we shouldn't linger. We don't know this place. We need to find somewhere sheltered for the night. Sadr: The night? What night? It turns bright and dark at random. Jo'rayeva: Shut up and move. <End log> The following report was sent to O5-9 from Director Egon Kohl on 03/06/2023. It's been over two weeks now since the two agents disappeared. We received the second snippet of Dr Sadr's logs from our sources yesterday; it appears they've moved significantly from their earlier position. We do not know what, if anything, is driving them to act in such a reckless fashion; we can only assume the need for food, drink and shelter is forcing them from place to place. 8799-Sohrab appears to be the first "person" they've encountered since arriving in SCP-8799-1, but Agent Jo'rayeva still appears to be highly cagy. We're still unsure about where or what this dimension is. We're pretty sure it's not the book, despite Dr Sadr's speculations - we've analysed it a hundred times, although without access to the shrine, it's difficult to tell. They're stuck in some demented version of the Shahnameh, with no way out. With this in mind, I cannot stress enough the necessity of greenlighting Operation Flaming Sword. We need to know what the ORIA knows about this, and I can't believe they know nothing. This is their backyard; they must have spotted an unlootable lectern, must have known about the shadow world of Iran's national epic. I know we've spent a lot of time on rapproachment - me more than anyone - but a setback can be rectified. Our agent's life cannot. She's not a D-Class, and we look after our own. Please reconsider. ~ Egon Painting #7 in SCP-8799, identical to a page from a 15th-century Shahnameh manuscript. Log 3: 06/06/2023 Jo'rayeva is sitting by a campfire on a slope next to a flowing river, staring into the fire. Sadr is lying on a primitive bedroll and looking at the river. The scene appears to be derived from Painting #7 of SCP-8799, of Rostam fighting a dragon during his quest in Mazanderan, but neither Rostam nor the dragon can be seen. The painting was identical to one from the 15th century Shahnameh of Ibrahim Sultan. Sadr seems to shake himself and turns towards Jo'rayeva. Sadr: So how come you've never read the Shahnameh? Jo'rayeva sighs. Jo'rayeva: We're here to do a job, Parviz, and to get out. Let's stick to that. Sadr: Nodira, we're here for the - what's the phrase? The "long haul"? We must have some conversation. Rest assured that you are not my first choice, as we've been together for two weeks and you cannot muster anything better than "yes", "no" and "let's keep moving." Jo'rayeva: Why would I have read the Shahnameh? Sadr: You're Uzbek, aren't you? Jo'rayeva: I'm American. Sadr: But your parents… Jo'rayeva: I'm adopted. Sadr: Ah. There is a pause for several seconds. Sadr: So did they die, or…? Jo'rayeva: What the f- Sadr: Sorry! Sorry. I'm going a little, ah, "stir-crazy". I need to be able to talk. Jo'reyava sighs again. Jo'rayeva: My parents abandoned me when I was very young. I was adopted and raised by a Foundation researcher; I eventually joined it as an agent. I don't like to read the Shahnameh because I don't like to read anything that reminds me of my parents. My therapist thought it would be a good idea to take this assignment to "confront my baggage" about my origins. Are you happy now? Would you like my entire life history? Sadr: I am happy, yes. Thank you. You tell your therapist about the Foundation? Jo'rayeva: They provided one. Sadr: Ah. How luxurious. She is lying. Her therapist thought it would be a bad idea for her to go. He was appointed by the Foundation itself to make sure she was combat-ready and capable. He didn't want her psyche disturbed. He wanted her to be the instrument the Foundation needed, not a fully actualised human. But you, Director, you wanted her, didn't you? Don't think she didn't notice. She saw the confidence and trust in his eyes. He wanted people who weren't afraid of the ORIA. And she wasn't. At first. Several more seconds go by. Jo'rayeva: So… Sadr: So? Jo'rayeva: So, why did you join the ORIA? Sadr: There's not much to tell. Jo'rayeva: Oh, come on. I told you about my life, now you tell me about yours. Sadr: Alright. I wanted to make a difference. I'd done some interesting research during my doctorate that came extremely close to the ORIA's understanding of reality alteration, and they thought I'd be a good fit. They explained who they were, summoned a rokh through the faultlines into our reality to show that they weren't cranks, and I joined right away. He is lying. He came to them. He wanted to know, more than anything. And he wants her to know. He wants her to understand the Shahnameh - not its stories, but its inner meaning, its context, all that she has come from. He wants her to see that those certain narratives and truths are frail, suspended, without foundation… Jo'rayeva: How dull. Sadr: Not everything has to be exciting. What were you expecting? Jo'rayeva: Something else. Devotion. Undying loyalty to your fanatic cause. Sadr: Fanatic? Us? Jo'rayeva: We all know the lengths the ORIA goes to. How many people have died in your experiments? You fuck around with anomalies like they're toys. You're reckless. Sadr: How many people are alive because of us? Jo'rayeva: Alive? Who had the ORIA saved? Sadr sits up and stares hard at Jo'rayeva. Sadr: What do they tell you about us? Jo'rayeva: That you're fanatics, Islamists, Marxists. You're determined to win at all costs, no matter how many die. I've seen your handiwork, at Tbilisi, at Konya. You're small-time but have managed to keep us out of your back garden through sheer grit. Sadr: Fascinating. Sadr lies back down again. Sadr: You know nothing of who we are, of what we suffer. You know nothing… Parviz thinks of his friends, of Farhan's night terrors that he saw once, when they were both on an operation in Ashgabat, staking out a house in the dead of night, in the cold, in the dark. He heard him moan things in his sleep. He did not want to hear those things. He knows Nodira is speaking from a place of utter naivete; he does not judge her. But it stings, between his ribs, where it shouldn't sting. And Nodira, she thinks of the friends she has lost, eyes staring dead at the ceiling; this was not the ORIA's doing, but all enemies are one in her mind. She is still sitting on the fire escape in a New York apartment, the snow flaking down around her, falling in unseen patterns, hating her parents, hating them, cultivating a thought and feeling that would wrap around her and consume her- Jo'rayeva: I'm sorry. Sadr: Hm? Jo'rayeva: I don't really know what I'm talking about. I believe you. Sadr: …Thank you. I appreciate that. And this, Director, is why I hate you. You cannot see anything. Right as this was being recorded, where were you? In your office? Drinking whisky, or rum, or whichever spirit you take to "get through the night", or whatever it was? The ORIA is full of shattered men, broken men. So is the Foundation, but when they break, they fall into the abyss, into the sense of non-meaning it provides. You amnesticise them, you let them live out their days in material wealth. But the ORIA is different, isn't it? The ORIA believes in things. That's why they're a danger. That's why there's a threat. That's why, when we were sitting around that campfire and talking of our pasts, that irreversible gap springs up. To believe in anything is to be an unpredictable element. To be an unpredictable element is to be something to be shuffled out, to be shunted by an arrangement of puzzle pieces to slid you down alleyways and out until you fall, fall, onto the ground beneath. What stories do you tell yourself at night, Director? How do you justify your actions? The nobility of the Foundation? The inherent justice of your mission? Close your eyes, and feel it. Feel the contours of it; feel how small your stories are. Feel the shape of it, the metallic and iron shape, of the exercise of power. I hope the rum was worth it. <End Log> The following is a summary from MTF-Beta-9 "Leonidas's Angels" concerning the ORIA's Facility 828 "Kaveh" after a field operation to scout the surroundings on 08/06/2023. Entry: Four points identified. Point one: subterranean tunnel network has a weak point at R18 (see map for reference). A hole can be bored through between the two doors on the east side of the tunnel. Downside: will take a long time to reach the central compound, meaning longer time for potential discovery. Point two: A blind spot in the camera network on the western fence, X12, allows uninterrupted entry to the compound wall. Downside: easily noticeable by guards, both when cutting through fence and entering via wall. Point three is similar, but for the southern fence. Possible these gaps are deliberate; do not underestimate deliberate attempts to bait entry. Point four perhaps the most interesting. Potential links in their computer system may allow us entry using forged ID badges. This is the preferred option from our POV; unlikely that we will be noticed considering number of personnel that enter each day, and thanks to Cortez's team, forgery should not be an issue. Final decision in your hands. Infiltration: Should not pose a problem. Three information storage areas of interest identified; in sections Q12, R02 and G55. The first two are self-evidently accessible from point four; the latter may pose a minor problem getting past the inner security at L09, but at that stage termination will be an acceptable method. Planting the explosives before they are able to notice or evacuate might be a more difficult issue. Information extraction should be easy; preventing them from finding what we stole will be trivial with a Przewalski cipher, but physical destruction of the base still necessary. Extraction: Rooftop vastly preferred; please secure this well ahead of time, as Command has often proposed unrealistic patterns of exit in past in absence of air support. Line of passage to roof trivial from all three storage areas. Prognosis: Good, provided we are supplied with the necessary resources ahead of time. We are counting on you, director. Painting #3 in SCP-8799, identical to a page from the Ismail II Shahnameh manuscript from the late 16th century. Log 4: 15/06/2023 It's time we spoke about the Shahnameh itself. I have read it; it is a beautiful text. I always used to listen to baroque music - my father used to play it all the time. He was a lonely man, and I still don't know what he got from it, but what I heard was a gilded cage. It's intricate, beautiful, but always falls back on patterns and forms which are routine, conventional; except that, when those patterns are broken, the fact of the breaking makes the pathos and catharsis so much more intense. It moves me far more than Tchaikovsky or Brahms ever could, when it's done right. The Shahnameh is much the same. There are repeated motifs, ideas; the king, his divine farr or glory radiating from his face, the fact that only his line can rule despite his failings, the distributing of gold coins to the poor, the mammoth size and prowess of the champions. But then, within that framework, you have such ambiguity, such feeling; Sohrab's death, Zal's passion for Rubadeh, Feraydun and Kaveh's gathering of an army, Zahhak's binding, Iskander's search for truth, the vast face of the White Div as it rises from the pit… But that's my reading of it. What did I know? I am not Iranian; I am not from that part of the world. I only know the Shahnameh from my wanderings here, in this place. I don't know what it means to those raised with its stories, to a world using rhetoric and images and everything else based on it. I only see it through glass, the colours it produces, those colours of pain and sacrifice. Jo'reyava and Sadr are in a tent. Dried blood can be seen on the ground. Did you forget to say which painting it was copied from? I presume they're copies, or prophecies. It's from the Shahnameh manuscript of Isma'il II, a 16th century king who lasted two years before his vicious slaughter of his own family and his pro-Sunni tendencies saw him poisoned. Or at least, that's what the chroniclers say, who worked for other kings with other agendas. It's hard to say anything with any certainty. Sadr: Iraj's murder. Jo'rayeva: Parviz, you have to give me some context - Sadr: Iraj was killed by his brothers. Fereydun, king of the world, had divided his land into three parts: the west for his eldest son, Salm; Turan, which is your parents' country, and China, for the middle son, Tur; and Iran and the Middle East for Iraj, the youngest. But Iran was the centre of the world, the real prize, so Salm and Tur raised an army to take it. Jo'rayeva: And did they? Sadr: No. Iraj did not care about the throne; he wanted only peace with his brothers. He went to them unarmed and said they were welcome to it. But Tur hated hearing this, and he struck his brother down and killed him. Jo'rayeva: …Why did he hate hearing this? Sadr: Because Iraj's words shamed him, I suppose. I don't think it's made explicit. Jo'rayeva: How sad. Sadr: Yes. Sadr continues to stare at the blood. Jo'rayeva: We ought to go. Sadr: Why? This tent is a good shelter for the elements. Jo'rayeva: There's blood on the floor, Sadr. Sadr: Haven't you slept anywhere covered in blood? Jo'rayeva: Not if I can help it. Sadr turns to look at Jo'rayeva. Sadr: Likewise. But sometimes you can't help it. Sadr goes to the bed and lies down. Jo'rayeva sits on the bed next to him. Jo'rayeva: You're in a funny mood. Sadr: I always liked Iraj. There was something so gentle about him. I thought, if I ever had a son, I'd name him Iraj. Jo'rayeva: And did you? Sadr does not respond. Jo'rayeva: No wife? No girlfriend? Sadr: I am in the ORIA, Nodira. I can't think about things like that. Jo'rayeva: Why not? People in the Foundation have spouses, children. Sadr: We are not the Foundation. Jo'rayeva: Now who's making you sound like fanatics? Sadr gets off the bed and walks away, his back to Nodira. He stares at the blood again. Jo'rayeva: Sorry. Sadr: It's OK. There is a long pause. Sadr: Let's get some sleep. That night, as on many nights, Parviz got into a contemplative mood, and began to tell me stories of this world. He spoke of Feraydun, his three sons, the dragon and the king of Yemen; he spoke of Shirin and Khosrow, of Esfandiar, of the wars between Iran and Turan, Afrasyab and Kavus. His eyes sparkled; he moved brightly, expansively, making me laugh. The Shahnameh is not a simple collection of fairy stories; it is the matter of the Persianate world, a repository of its myths and legends. The stories were codified by Ferdowsi, but they predate him, exist around him, are told within families like our own legends. It belongs to it, is entwined with it. Kings and emperors have drawn their rhetoric, their sense of time from it; the Iranian people have shaped their identity from it. This world, this burnt world - it's like a twisted mockery of an entire people. This burnt paper, these painted skies… I did not want to know these stories, but Parviz told them to me all the same. He wanted me to know them, to feel them. I think it meant something to him - some private reclamation of his own. I started to understand him, understand the contours of another world, a place I could have belonged to if… I do not know what he was thinking, really. He told me bits and pieces, scraps, fragments, of who he was. But we did not have enough time. I remain suspended in that glass, looking out, trying to understand, but failing because of my own context. I wish we'd had more time. But time kept marching on, regardless of me. And that night, as we slept, our red-eyed friends gathered around, staring, watching. <End Log> The following is the log of a phone conversation between Director Egon Kohl and Farhad Esfandiari on 20/06/2023. <Begin Log> Esfandiari: Farhad here. Kohl: Farhad! It's Egon. Esfandiari: Ah, hello, Egon. How are things over there? Kohl: Wonderful, wonderful. I've got that progress report for Joint Operation 4 - the djinn, you know, in Kyrgyzstan? I'm amazed at how you fellows have managed to exploit their more slippery attributes. Esfandiari: It takes time. A bit of an art. Egon, can we talk about Sadr and Jo'rayeva? Kohl: I… Kohl sighs. Kohl: Look, you know I'd like to. But the O5s have said - Esfandiari: What have the O5s said, Kohl? There is a pause for several seconds. Kohl: Did you know Sadr well? Esfandiari: Yes. He was… engaged. Vigorous. He believed, really believed, not just as a - as an abstract idea, you know? Kohl: I might do. Esfandiari: Most of us, we know what the goal is - reclamation of our people's property, liberation against colonialism, all of that. But we usually suspend that for the day-to-day stuff. We have to kill, we kill, we're not thinking about liberation when we do. But Sadr, he'd think about it all the time. Constantly. It was a way of life to him. Do you get what I'm saying? Kohl: I… There is another pause. Esfandiari: I don't know what you're planning, Egon, but at least think it through. Consider every angle. Consider the human cost, the - Kohl: That's all I wanted to know, Farhad, thanks! Be seeing you, OK? <End Log> Log 5: 23/06/2023 We travelled light, by the end; I discarded my weapon, and Parviz exchanged his heavy clothes for something more suitable, a light leopard-skin we found, burnt and discarded, on the road. He said it probably belonged to Rostam. That disturbed him, I think; he was worried by the idea that Rostam was dead. We were travelling to the mountain the dying Sohrab had pointed out to us, where the "king who disappeared" could, he claimed, tell us why the world was burnt. We had nowhere else to go, and we'd been wandering for weeks. Nobody had come for us. It was difficult to find food, except in a handful of unburnt moments: the field of wheat where Rostam slept, after passing through the place of darkness; a palace, bedecked with fruits and wine. But so much of it was rotting. So we thought we'd find this king. We didn't think much would come of it. We trudged along the plain, limbs aching, minds dulled to a rhythmic thump of backwards and forwards, heading to our destination without even thinking about what it was any more. The sky was darkened with rain, a slow, sludging brown. Mud-caked our boots. And then we were climbing up, up, into the cold, into the snow, where five brave warriors tallied after the king left for the heavens, and died there, under the frost and ice. And we climbed further, and further, a mountain of utter desolation. I do not know how we made it - except that the logic of the place dictated that we would, broken though the world was. Finally, we reached the summit. And there, sitting on the ground, was - Sadr: Kay Khosrow! 8799-Khosrow: Hello. Sadr: You're - it's been so long since we saw another person. Who was it, Nodira? Jo'rayeva: Mehrab, outside Kabul, wandering in circles forever, searching for his daughter, Rudabeh. Sadr: Yes! Yes, that was it. But you're here! And you speak! So few of them do that. 8799-Khosrow: No, I don't imagine they do. 8799-Khosrow takes a teapot and a two cups, and pours them out. Jo'rayeva: You're the king of Iran? 8799-Khosrow: I was. I gave up that title - I did not want to fall prey to the same darkness of spirit, the loss of farr, that had afflicted so many of my forebears. Jamshid, Kavus, Afrasyab… kinds of pride, foolishness, wicked evil. No, I did not want that. So instead, I rose up into the sky, ascending to heaven. Jo'rayeva: And yet you're here. 8799-Khosrow: Yes. I came back again. Sadr: Why? 8799-Khosrow: Because. Tea? Jo'rayeva: Please. Jo'rayeva and Sadr each take a cup from 8799-Khosrow. Sadr: How on earth did you get tea? That wouldn't be popular in Iran for centuries after Ferdowsi. 8799-Khosrow: You're not the first to visit me. A Frankish man, Callaghan, he gave me this. I have rationed it carefully. Things do not go stale here. Jo'rayeva: How did Callaghan leave? 8799-Khosrow: I don't know. Maybe he didn't. Jo'rayeva: You didn't see him? 8799-Khosrow: I saw him climb down the mountain. All else is speculation. Perhaps he found something in this world with enough reality to burn. Perhaps he burnt himself. Jo'rayeva: But I know Callaghan survived. He died in our world. 8799-Khosrow: But how do you know your own mind? How do I know you are not lying? I could see him in the Cup of Scrying, but I have chosen not to. There is a pause for several seconds. Jo'rayeva: What… what happened to this world? 8799-Khosrow: I burnt it. Sadr: You…? Jo'rayeva: What? 8799-Khosrow: I burnt it. I travelled down from heaven, in disguise, and headed to Mazanderan, spoke with the divs, and found a spell. I learnt sorcery from them. I burnt it. Sadr: Why…? 8799-Khosrow: Because of the madness. 8799-Khosrow pours a third cup, and takes a sip from it. Jo'rayeva: What madness? 8799-Khosrow: When you were born, did you know your future? Not consciously, of course, but did you have a sense of its arc? Its inevitability? Jo'rayeva: I didn't have much of a sense of anything when I was born. 8799-Khosrow: Precisely. 8799-Khosrow takes another sip. 8799-Khosrow: I was born to this world, with good and evil binding me together. I was ignorant, I was free to make my own decisions, but any decision I made had not only been planned out ahead of time, it had been planned out for the sake of the story. The story that was not abstract and vast, containing multitudes within it, but singular. Complex, but singular. I was a piece of the narrative. Do you know how maddening that is? That still is? Sohrab died because of pathos and irony, which would infect the whole world. Jo'rayeva: So… so you destroyed it? 8799-Khosrow: No! Or, at least, I did not just destroy it. 8799-Khosrow sighs, stands up, and turns to look out over the plains. 8799-Khosrow: I had ascended into heaven. I watched the turning of the world. I watched Esfandyar, Rostam's death in the pit of poisoned spikes, Eskander the truth-seeker. I watched the times of myth fail and the Sasanians rise to power; I saw the end of the monarchy and the ascension of the pulpit, as Omar and Islam overtook the world. I saw it all. And I saw that it would never end. Sadr: The poem ends. 8799-Khosrow: Because of me. I burnt the world. I ensured that the narrative of good and evil would stop, or at least become hidden. A narrative in your world - is there one singular one? A singular good, evil, one way of doing things? Or are the hundred thousand perspectives within a single head capable of producing an infinity, enough fantasy to satisfy every taste? Jo'rayeva: I… suppose. 8799-Khosrow: Then my work has been fruitful. I burnt the world to create your own. There is a pause for several seconds. Sadr: You claim that you made our world? 8799-Khosrow: I do not claim, I know. I made that paradise you call home. This world, its stories, the flow of time itself, from Kayumars to Omar, became fuel. I burnt it all in one great conflagration, annihilating history, annihilating thought and memory, in an engine of creation, an act of takwin that dwarfs all things. I wrapped my arms in sorcery and magic from a single point in time and stretched it out, past and future, the big bang to the end of time. There was no sign of God in this world, except through fractured, unverifiable moments. You are my children. You exist for no reason beyond the whims of an ancient, maddened king. 8799-Khosrow turns around suddenly, staring at Sadr and smiling. 8799-Khosrow: Now, what do you say to that? Sadr: I would say it's a… bold claim. 8799-Khosrow laughs. 8799-Khosrow: Yes! You disbelieve! And I have no way of proving it, do I? But I assure you, I burnt the world. Sadr: But this is a world in which God interferes directly, in which his presence and existence are established fact. How could you do such a thing if it went against His will? 8799-Khosrow: Perhaps it was the will of God. He wanted this world gone as much as I; I simply acted as his conduit, his instrument. Sadr: Or perhaps what you saw as God was limited in his power. 8799-Khosrow's smile broadens. 8799-Khosrow: Or perhaps your world made mine, and I simply believe I made yours, when all I did was create fire. Sadr: Or perhaps you did make it, but your world was also made in ours, where it is only a poem, like a chicken and egg. 8799-Khosrow: Or perhaps neither of our worlds exist, but are a shared delusion. Sadr: Or perhaps both our worlds always existed, neither creating the other, only believing that one is a fantasy and the other reality. 8799-Khosrow: Or perhaps I am lying, and another burnt the world. Sadr: Or perhaps this world was always burnt, and you only believe it was ever whole. 8799-Khosrow lies back, still smiling. Sadr walks over and looks down at him. Sadr: I have decided I do not like you very much, Kay Khosrow. 8799-Khosrow: I am sorry to hear that. Sadr: If you did create our world, did you create Ferdowsi specifically to carry your poem? 8799-Khosrow: No, but I let it creep into his mind. I did not control all creation; I simply made our world a shadow in it. The true narrative was handed to Ferdowsi, but all that he did was his own choice, the consequence of his life, his poetic nature, the tales and legends which stretched back in time and which he codified in a way that was, coincidentally, the exact truth. Jo'rayeva: And what about the book? 8799-Khosrow frowns slightly. 8799-Khosrow: What book? Jo'rayeva: The way we came here. The way all your visitors came here, probably. A book with moving pictures. 8799-Khosrow: Moving… no… 8799-Khosrow sits up and looks at Jo'rayeva. 8799-Khosrow: There was no book. Oh, little bits of the old magic snuck through, in people, places, things. But I know of no books with moving pictures. That sounds like… like something else… 8799-Khosrow smiles again. 8799-Khosrow: It is no matter. That is a matter for your world. I no longer concern myself with the affairs of it, or this one. I have done my duty. My reign is over, my last act of kingship finished. Go in peace. Sadr stares at 8799-Khosrow for a long time, in nothing but disgust. What other emotion could there be? Parviz Sadr, a man who believed, who truly believed, staring at a man who had broken the back of all belief, who had left them cold, alone. At least, if what he was saying was true, and he had burnt the world and made our own. But if he wasn't telling the truth, here was a man who had burnt the world for nothing. Here was a man who had engineered a situation in which all he had to do, forever, to feel like a moral being, was sit upon a mountaintop and smile, while possibility after possibility cascaded past his face. It was hard to convince Parviz to come down from that slope. I think he might have committed an act of violence. But at least he is not you, Director. Do you think I've missed how you've organised this document? I see what is about to come - you are going to detail Operation Flaming Sword, but from the point of view of Farhad, his emotions, from an email he sent that you recovered years later. Where is the efficiency in that? Why not give the Foundation's own report on the matter? And later, when you justify your final actions, your alchemical nightmare - this isn't to provide a clinical look at events, it is to justify yourself. Or unburden yourself, perhaps - it is all the same, in the end. Kay Khosrow did not free us from the burden and expectation of narrative; that was his fantasy. He just made us slaves to a thousand, clashing, striking, hurting one another in a desperate desire to assert a single way of being on the world - But he would say, of course, that that is just one way of looking at it. The following is an email recovered from an ORIA information raid in 2027. To: Behzad Mirzaei<gro.ni-ro|590.ieazrim#gro.ni-ro|590.ieazrim> From: Farhad Esfandiari <gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse#gro.ni-ro|211.iraidnafse> Subject: Kaveh Behzad, I have been to the Kaveh facility. It's as Isma'il reported. 57 personnel dead, no sign of who it was, no way of identifying what they took. The place is a smoking ruin. I've talked to the families of the deceased - some of them, anyway. Mohammed Jahandar has done the rest. I've never got used to it. You walk in, you say some simple words in a clipped and straightforward way, and wreak unspeakable damage to them. The only reason to do it is knowing that the damage from not knowing, from waiting night after night for your wife or husband or parent to return, is so much worse, will end up wrecking them from the inside out. It's like cauterising a wound, or chopping off a leg; an act of violence inflicted to prevent further violence. I don't know why they've done this. We all know who did this. Egon did not bother to cover his tracks; he wanted us to know. And it's quite clear what they wanted to take, too; the alchemical experiments concerning the Shahnameh dimension, the burning of the clouds. But they still killed 57 people. I do not understand the Foundation. I have killed. I have committed acts of brutality. I have been ruthless, mocking, callous. I have done things deliberately to hurt people in the right way, in the right place and time. I have tortured people, and been tortured. I have never seen anything like this - deliberate, and purposeless. What was Egon thinking? Why can I not get into his mind? I picture him there, in New York, in his office, drinking Scotch whisky, stretching, refreshing his emails while our people scream and die on his orders. It's a banal image - look at the one who inflicts suffering, look at his uncaring heart! - but I can't stop it. Is this how they think? The ones we kill? What does Egon care for any of this? It's just a book to him. It's fairy stories. He doesn't see how they're our poems, does he? He doesn't see anything as ours. I'm sorry for writing like this. I just can't get over it. Farhad. Painting #11 in SCP-8799, identical to a page from a 16th century Shahnameh manuscript. Log 6: 30/06/2023 No, I'm not letting you introduce this one, either. This is my show. Did you ever wonder why these were the extracts you got? These little snippets that together tell a kind of story? We descended the mountain. Parviz seemed troubled. I tried to comfort him, to joke with him, to get his smile to come back, but I couldn't. I wanted to stroke his cheek until he was better again, but I could not. He was ORIA, I was Foundation. I don't know what I was thinking. I'd never had to think like this before. Kay Khosrow had raised possibility after possibility and told us nothing. This world, this storybook world made into a whole, real location, was not… right, but I didn't know why. I do now. It struck too close to home. And so we wandered, aimlessly, telling ourselves it was just a waiting game until you or Farhad got us home. We found ourselves crossing great mountains, more for the hell of it than anything else. My clothes began to rip and tear, so I exchanged them for fine, rugged robes, suited to this place. I would stand at the top of the Alborz's peaks and look down at Iran, this vast Iran, bigger than any country could or should be in our world, where it is one country among many. And all I saw, between sparks of colour, was the ash, ringing us all around. We entered a cave in a mountainside. Parviz was not talking that day. He'd been sick, coughing, over and over again. His face was pale. I wanted to reach out, but… And then we reached the pit. Parviz stopped, staring down at it. And all at once, slowly, inexorable, a white claw arose from it. Parviz gasped and stepped back; I slung my makeshift bow from my shoulder and aimed it high, safe in the knowledge that a single arrow, in the right moment, was all that was needed here. But even I quaked and knelt in fear. The thing that emerged had a form similar to a human, but with horns, a tail, a monstrous face. But that was not the source of the terror. It was vast, more like a mountain, its muscles huge and pale like chalk, almost sickly but ballooned to absurd proportions. Its throat was a passage for roars, and then it uncurled itself, its limbs moving like tubes and vines popping and spitting over themselves, its eyes burning hot and red and black, and it opened its mouth before us and - 8799-White: You should not be here. Sadr: You… you're the White Div… 8799-White: And you should not be here. Jo'rayeva: Are you going to kill us? 8799-White: I can't. Did I kill you in the story? No. You were not in that story. I fought with Rostam here, the two of us matched together like vipers of one brood, and he killed me. Do you know how? Do you know why? Sadr: He… he swore he would live forever… with such boldness, such brightness… Jo'rayeva: And you, with your leg severed off, knew that your authority was gone, even if you survived. You despaired. 8799-White laughs. 8799-White: The little one is learning. You have been telling her stories? Sadr: How… what do you know of us? 8799-White: I know what my divs have told me. All around, a series of red eyes blink, stare, seize, laugh. They are watching. They have been watching the whole time. 8799-White: You know what a div is, don't you? Jo'rayeva: A demon. 8799-White: Yes. And we are well-versed in the ways of sorcery. We are allies, in this world, to wicked kings; we offer terror, fear, death, rendering men asunder, but also temptation, power, strange magics. We are multifaceted and multifarious and almost always wicked. That is not our fault; it is our role in affairs. Sadr: Yes. I know. Nobody here has free will. 8799-White: Do you? All your affairs are predestined too, by God or by events, cause and effect. Sadr: But that doesn't mean anything. I still feel the things I do. Jo'rayeva: We still make decisions for ourselves. 8799-White: Yes. You do. Tell me, little ones, why are you here? Sadr: I don't know. 8799-White: Did you want me to kill you? Jo'rayeva: Parviz? Sadr: No, nothing like that. Jo'rayeva: Then what? Sadr: I just… Sadr sits down on the floor. Jo'rayeva moves over and places a hand on his shoulder. Sadr: Is Khosrow telling the truth? Did he create our world? 8799-White: I do not know. But he is right that he burnt this one. He came to us to learn the ways; ungodly ways, wicked ways. Perhaps this world was already starting to collapse. Jo'rayeva: Why should we believe you? 8799-White: Because Kay Khosrow, the good and wise king, burnt the world. If that is what he is willing to do, where else can you go but his inverse? The horrific monster, the White Div, general of the king of Mazanderan, the demon of the pit? If he makes no sense, perhaps I will. Sadr: And do you have any sense to give me? 8799-White: Concerning what? Sadr: Any of this! Sadr stands up, shouting. Sadr: Any of this! We have been taken from one world to another, resembling a storybook! A man within it claims that we are his storybook, and this is the real world! I want to know what's real and what isn't! There is a pause for several seconds. 8799-White: What do you think is real? Sadr: I… Sadr begins coughing extensively. Jo'rayeva moves to him and holds on to him and begins rubbing his back. Jo'rayeva: Stop it! Stop hurting him! 8799-White: I'm doing nothing. Jo'rayeva: Then what's causing it? He's been like this for - Sadr stops coughing, breathing heavily. Sadr: I'm fine. I'm - I'm fine. 8799-White: This world is not a fantasy, Parviz Sadr. I am made of flesh and blood, bound to an idea that is not my own. It is the poet's, or it is God's, or it is the burning designs of Kay Khosrow. But in your world, I am a fantasy, a form, a children's tale or a work of literature. Did you know my skull was once held by the Foundation? But not any more. Now, it never existed at all. SCP-8799-White spreads its arms outwards. 8799-White: I am a thing of terror and the dark. And had you never come here, had no visitors ever crossed the threshold, you would have been a fantasy to me; a world where God is silent, or where he speaks through more subtle paths. Sadr is silent for several seconds, staring at 8799-White. Sadr: What does this mean? What does any of this mean? That was what Sadr couldn't figure out. That was what plagued him. His was a simple world. He knew his enemies, his friends; his comrades, his weaknesses, his people. He saw mankind as redeemable, and him and the ORIA as the ones to do it, overthrowing the oppressor, reclaiming what was lost, establishing justice in the land. The divine farr radiated out of him, that royal charisma from which all that was good in the world shone. Maybe he was right to struggle in this way. Maybe something could have been done. Maybe he could have improved reality, this world, this everything. But we'll never know, will we, Director? Because we both know why he was coughing. We both know what you did. How could you do it to a man like that? I want to scream and spit at you. I want to come to your house, stretch out my hand, and rip your eyes from their sockets. I want to cast you into a pit of snakes, I want to bind you with chains beneath Mount Damavand until the end of time. I want to bring you before me, exiled like Jamshid, miserable and alone. I want you captured and bound and killed like Nowzar. I want the divs to enact their revenge. Perhaps, now, they will. The following is a log of a phone call between Director Kohl and Farhad Esfandiari on 05/07/2023. <Begin Log> Kohl: Farhad? There is no reponse. Kohl: Farhad, are you there? There is no response. Kohl: I know you're there. You picked up. Answer me, will you? There is no response. Kohl: I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry. I liked you - I still like you. We worked well together. But the Foundation, it has to come first. It's not like you haven't killed just as many of us. It's not like… There is no response. Kohl: I… I hope there weren't too many dead? I know the base was pretty full at the time, but… There is no response. Kohl: Look, don't you fucking judge me, OK? You were holding back! I couldn't trust you! If I gave you the book, I'd have - I'd have been going against orders. I had to do it! If you weren't so damn pugnacious, if you hadn't dug up everything, you wouldn't have known it was us! I didn't… I didn't want to… There is no response. Kohl: It had to be done right. I had to try to cover up our tracks, I had to - the Foundation has procedures. It has rules. We know what you are, how you think. We're the ones keeping the world safe, we're the ones who put our lives on the line - did you think that was just a story to us? There is no response. Kohl: We needed your information. And we can - I can get them back, now! Or - I can get one of them back, at any rate. I have it, Farhad, I have it. The way to burn things in their world, to make fuel for magic. They'll come home. I promise. They'll come home… Esfandiari hangs up. <End Log> Painting #27 in SCP-8799, identical to a page from the 14th-century Great Mongol Shahnameh. Log 7: 12/07/2023 <Begin Log> Sadr and Jo'rayeva are walking across a desert. They are approaching a tree, with two entwined trunks. Sadr is being supported by Jo'rayeva; he appears unwell, and is coughing frequently. They reach the tree. Jo'rayeva lowers him to the ground, looking at him with concern. Sadr looks up at the tree. Sadr: The talking tree… Jo'rayeva: What's its story? Sadr: You don't… need… to make me talk, Nodira, I'm quite alright, I won't… I'll be OK… Jo'rayeva: Just tell it to me. Please. Sadr: It's not just… about stories… It wasn't. I saw this world entire, now; its burnt pages, its paper skies. It was just matter. The Shahnameh is more than that. It's something intangible, the matter of nations, an anchor for identity and memory, a memory I never had. But you, director, can just see pages, words, a thing to be used. Sadr spends several seconds coughing. Jo'rayeva sits next to him and holds him until he is finished. Sadr: That's better… Sekander was a conqueror, but also a truth seeker. Near the end… of his life, he came here, and spoke to the tree. It only spoke at certain times of day, it had a male trunk and a female trunk and it told him of his death… The tree begins to move. Several of its branches reach out to Jo'rayeva. She moves back, surprised, but not apparently distressed; she moves a hand, and the branches follow it. Sadr: That's not in the poem… you have a way with trees… Jo'rayeva: How can you have a way with trees? Sadr: You tell me… Sadr begins coughing again. Jo'rayeva turns towards him. Jo'rayeva: Please don't go. I couldn't - I can't stand it, Parviz, I can't survive without- Sadr: Yes, you can… you don't need me… you're a person. You'll be OK. Thousands of people are OK, every day… Jo'rayeva: Tell me about Kerman again. Sadr: I've told you twice already… Jo'rayeva: Tell me again! Tell me about your siblings. Sadr: It doesn't matter… it's so hot inside…. Jo'rayeva: Please, just keep talking. Sadr: Why? Who will… it benefit, besides you? No, no, the Div was wrong, Khosrow was wrong, he… this tree, it marks the edge of the world, you know? And what's beyond it but black desert, stretching on forever? No, no, they were wrong. There are beginnings, there are ends, there are revolutions… He coughs again, but waves Jo'rayeva away. Sadr: And then there are the other things! The ones you stole, your Foundation! The picture books, the swords, the bejewelled Qu'rans, we could have reclaimed them, reclaimed them all.. Farhan and I, staking out those people for a month, in Bukhara… Jo'rayeva: You told me it was Ashgabat. Sadr: I don't remember, I… why don't I remember? Was that burnt too, I… I can't… I… Sadr screams, and writhes on the floor; black smoke emerges from his mouth, before the moment you'd been waiting for, Director. A fire burst from his chest, framing an image; your image, but you were real, a person, not a painted thing. The world behind you was real too. And you were smiling, relieved, stretching your arms out to me, but the fire was painted, it was still of this world, and I scrambled back, horrified… Kohl: Nodira! Come on! The portal won't last long! Jo'rayeva: What… what have you done to him? Kohl: We had to burn something! Please! He was the only thing that would still burn! Jo'rayeva: Stop it! Stop it now! Kohl: He's ORIA, Nodira! He's one of them, but we can still save y - And I took my bow from my shoulders, and I screamed, and I shot an arrow through the portal. It hit you in the arm, and you just stared at me, your eyes wide, your mouth open, uncomprehending - Kohl: Nodira? The portal disappears. Sadr screams once more, and expires. Jo'rayeva screams again, removes Sadr's earpiece and camera, and smashes them to pieces. The feeds cut out. <End Log> So, Director, what did we learn? A story should have a moral. It is how they're meant to end. Did you learn that you were a hero, that the Foundation is always right? I see you, in my mind's eye, your drunken late-night phone calls, your anger that you cannot understand. I hope your tragedy was worth it. The poet Ferdowsi wrote that this world is fleeting, and all that remains is our fame, our good reputation. Everything else dies. Kay Khosrow learnt that this was wrong, that meaning is infinite, multiplicitous, a painful search possessing precious worth. He created History. Was he right? Could he ever be right? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Parviz, now, he had a real trial. He believed in justice, in a redeemable world. He believed in the toppling of empires and the casting down of kings; and all of this was challenged, by a burnt and broken world. Perhaps he learnt the abyss of nothing. Perhaps he was confirmed in his views, strengthened by the trial. Perhaps he would have saved the world. Perhaps he learnt to love me back. But we won't know, now. Because you killed him. What is there left for me to learn? All of you, your little fantasies, of reality and narrative and justice, and I sit here, by this tree, alone and in pain. You hurt me, Director. I saw a world beyond your confines and you hurt me for trying to reach it. You killed Parviz, and tried to stuff me in your box again. The red-eyed divs have come to me. They taught me to control the living trees. They have taught me how to burn for power. They will teach me how to re-enter this world. And they have taught me to reach into another’s words and twist the pages to my will. Didn't we used to have a word for that? History may be Khosrow's fantasy. It may not be. I know not what is and is not real beyond the exercise of power. And I intend to exercise power. I will punch a hole in time, in memory, in space. I will burn and reave and sacrifice and claw, because I have nowhere else to turn, no narrative to cling to. And at the end of it all, director, I will have my revenge on you. If it takes ten thousand years. These paintings blare bright colour at me, reds, greens, yellows, golds; they sing in times gone, times to come, times that could be. They wave at me from across the page, these bright, man-made sirens. But I learn nothing from them. I understand nothing. Footnotes 1. The similarity between this object and its effects and SCP-4590 has been noted, although these paintings cannot be modified or communicated with. Readings from Scranton-Mochi particles found on the manuscript are identical to those in SCP-4590, suggesting a common origin. Further research underway. 2. Analysis of the footage indicates that the ORIA have been experimenting with technology replicating the mental patterns of the djinn, a species who only exist in a non-material plane; this is believed to have prevented the total cutoff of Dr Sadr's feed. Efforts to reverse-engineer this technology and incorporate it into Foundation ear/camera pieces are ongoing. 3. All internal ORIA emails are translated from the original Persian. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8799" by Tufto, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8799. 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: gayumars.jpg Name: The Court of Gayumars.jpg Author: Sultan Muhammad License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Court_of_Gayumars.jpg Filename: sohrab.jpg Name: RostamMournsSohrab.jpg Author: Unknown artist License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:RostamMournsSohrab.jpg Filename: dragon.jpg Name: Al-Soltani, Rostam and the Dragon.jpg Author: Nasr al-Soltani License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Al-Soltani,_Rostam_and_the_Dragon.jpg Filename: iraj.jpg Name: The murder of Iraj by his brothers Tur and Salm.jpg Author: Murad Daylami License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_murder_of_Iraj_by_his_brothers_Tur_and_Salm.jpg Filename: daeva.jpg Name: irdawsi - Rustam Slays the White Div (the 7th Feat) - Walters W60091A (cropped).jpg Author: anonymous 16th-century illustrator License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Firdawsi_-_Rustam_Slays_the_White_Div_(the_7th_Feat)_-_Walters_W60091A_(cropped).jpg Filename: alexander.jpg Name: Iskandar (Alexander) and the Talking Tree, Folio from a Great Mongol Shahnameh.jpg Author: Unknown License: Public Domain Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iskandar_(Alexander)_and_the_Talking_Tree,_Folio_from_a_Great_Mongol_Shahnameh.jpg
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SCP-8800
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neutralized
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Good morning, Earth. Are you receiving us? SCiPnet » S9 » AK591837 SCP-8800.ftml Item#: SCP-8800 Level3 Secondary Class: none Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo Special Containment Procedures A partial Lifted Veil Scenario was declared shortly after the occurrence of SCP-8800 – in cooperation with the Global Occult Coalition – primarily focused on addressing and resolving global satellite communication failures. All rocket launches have been delayed until further notice. Efforts to re-establish communications with facilities and installations outside the Earth's atmosphere are ongoing. Description SCP-8800 is an anomalous event occurring on 29th September, 2023, in which the Earth's atmosphere spontaneously assumed exotic geometries, resulting in all physical matter becoming unable to cross the Karman Line.1 All attempts to reach higher altitudes cause the travelling object to reappear elsewhere within the atmosphere at an inverted trajectory. Presently, only sunlight has been observed to be able to penetrate SCP-8800, as the apparent motion of the Sun continues without aberration.2 Conversely, the Moon, planets, and stars have not been observed since the occurrence of SCP-8800, as well as communications from all satellites, space stations, and other offworld facilities. Addendum I — Subsequent Incidents and Phenomena The Foundation and other normalcy organizations were notified of SCP-8800's occurrence after a SpaceX satellite launch spontaneously reappeared over the Korean Peninsula, where it was shot down by US surface-to-air missile installations in Incheon. While the United Nations successfully averted the resumption of the Korean War with assistance from the GOC, the trajectory of the launch and the disappearance of all night sky objects prompted the declaration of a partial Lifted Veil scenario. Subsequent incidents related to SCP-8800 were fortunately less significant. Aside from mundane civilian protests, there were several documented cases of GoIs and PoIs attempting to capitalize off the partial Lifted Veil scenario. The most notable of which was the sale of illegal esoteric drugs to members of the Baltimore Flat Earth Truthers Society, who had to be rescued from an outlaying equilibrium point in the stratosphere after they floated up there to check if the Earth was a flat circle this time. Multiple non-anomalous phenomena arising from the influence of SCP-8800 was also observed. Geomagnetic anomalies transmitted along the exotic geometries of the atmosphere heavily disrupted the behaviours of animal populations, leading to out-of-season migrations towards ephemeral false-magnetic-poles. Addendum II — Transmissions Archive SCP-8800 abruptly ceased on 8th November 2023, during which telecommunications systems worldwide suffered from catastrophic overload. The source of this incident was identified as a massive backlog of information and data transmitted towards Earth being received all at once, despite technological limitations on relevant infrastructure. An unmanned satellite launched shortly after confirmed the dissolution of exotic geometries as it successfully entered Low Earth Orbit. SCP-8800 was henceforth reclassified as Neutralized. Transmissions of extraplanetary origin received after the onset of SCP-8800 are currently being decrypted, organized, and archived by Foundation AICs. Excerpts from this rapidly expanding archive with inferred relevance3 to SCP-8800 are attached below. XXI Century BORISOV: Houston, this is Space Station. Do you hear us? BORISOV: I, uh, repeat. Do you hear us? [Audio becomes slightly muffled as BORISOV leans away from the mic.] BORISOV: Moghbeli, we may be having communications error presently. I can't seem to reach Earth. MOGHBELI: Hm. Let me run some checks. Comms might be on the fritz again. BORISOV: No chatter from Moscow also. Very unusual. I will try wide broadcast frequency. BORISOV: Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? MOGHBELI: Yeah. I'm not seeing any errors on the diagnostics. Let me try the— huh. No server connection. We can't make internet calls either. BORISOV: I will inform Commander. Still of video capture from Zvezda module. MOGENSEN: This is Commander Mogensen of Expedition 70 reporting from the ISS. Is anyone receiving us? [Several seconds of radio silence.] MOGENSEN: Anyone? [A voice crackles through.] TANG: This is Commander Tang of the Shenzhou 17 mission. We are reporting from Tiangong Space Station. We receive the message of the International Space Station loud and clear. MOGENSEN: Oh, thank god. We seem to be experiencing severe communications failure with Earth. Have you managed to contact your mission control in the past 2 hours? TANG: We have not. Our last communication was cut short without warning, and we have been unable to receive updates from Beijing since. Given that we are not observing mushroom clouds presently, we fear worse things may be afoot. MOGENSEN: Understandable. We are of the same mind here on the ISS. This comm channel will be kept open in case of any further developments. It's good to know there's still someone receiving out there. TANG: Likewise. We'll keep in touch. The Tiangong Space Station, as seen from the ISS. FURUKAWA: Commander? I don't mean to interrupt, but this is important. MOGENSEN: Go ahead, Furukawa. FURUKAWA: The video capture from the Zvezda module— Something's wrong. MOGENSEN: Receiving files… Three images of our flyby over the Pacific. What am I looking for? FURUKAWA: These weren't taken during the same flyby. This is a collage of the past three flybys. MOGENSEN: But that would mean— FURUKAWA: The clouds aren't moving, Commander. Above-ground photo of Lunar Site-01, located in a lava tube below. This is Comm. Tech. Kaugenbach, reporting from Lunar Site-01. I have been assigned to prepare updates for Foundation personnel back on Earth, and will be transmitting this message on all SCiPnet channels with the understanding that an anomalous incident, tentatively designated SCP-8800, has compromised the Foundation's earthside communications capabilities. It has been one week since the approximate occurrence of SCP-8800. Lunar Foundation administration voted in favour of implementing Lifted Veil protocols last night, although this only amounts to informing the crew of the ISS and Tiangong Space Station — a total of 10 people — of the existence of our lunar facilities and current state of affairs. Provisions for both mundane space stations should last for the duration of the mission periods, with additional supplies being organized from Foundation facility stockpiles if emergency resupply is needed. Investigative efforts regarding the current state of Earth are ongoing. A leading theory is that SCP-8800 is some form of temporal stasis having "frozen" the planet, although there is little we can do at present to test this. Fortunately, SCP-8800 has seemed to only affect Earth below the Karman Line. Our outposts and space stations within Earth's system and around other planets remain unaffected, and have also been briefed on the situation. This concludes the update. Comm. Tech. Kaugenbach, signing off. Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? This is Comm. Tech. Kaugenbach, reporting from Lunar Site-01. It has been a month since the occurrence of SCP-8800, and we've yet to hear back from Earth since. The Daedalus Protocol has been initiated. The Lunar Sites are currently drafting outlines for expansion and infrastructure development. In some cases, above and beyond the restrictions pertaining to the maintenance of the Veil, although that really isn't important anymore. The crew members of the two civilian space stations have agreed to cooperate with us for the time being, given that their governments are functionally non-existent now. They're our closest eyes on Earth for the duration of their respective missions, after which they'll be ferried over to one of the Lunar Sites. We're still shortlisting their replacements. We still have no idea what happened to Earth. A probe was launched towards the planet earlier today. It disappeared upon entering the atmosphere and reappeared on the other side. It's still oscillating back and forth. Lunar Site-05 suspects its a spatio-temporal anomaly, the consensus at -03 is that it's a hole in local reality, and -11 is trying to reconcile the two hypotheses. The rest of us are busy with carrying out the Daedalus Protocol. I realize that not everyone who will be able to receive this broadcast will have the necessary clearance for Daedalus Protocol documentation, but the idea is that even if Earth is lost, humanity will continue to reach for the heavens. The original Protocol saw mass evacuations to offworld sites, an exodus into space in escape of a dying world. But there's no one to evacuate. There is only us, little more than a thousand human beings scattered across the Solar System. We're all that's left. I pray this won't be the case forever. Tech. Comm. Kaugenbach, signing off. Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? This is Comm. Tech. Kaugenbach, reporting from Lunar Site-01. We're approaching the one year anniversary of the occurrence of SCP-8800. Still no progress on bringing you guys back, unfortunately. We have at least 15 probes hovering through the planet, beaming back inconsistent telemetry and a grand total of zero replies from Earth. Not sure if I should be proud of this, but the Veil has technically fallen. The 10 civilians we retrieved have since joined our ranks, so technically, the Veil has been rendered moot. We've expanded our operations to the space stations, and we're planning to launch more as observation outposts. Looking into the possibility of rotating habitats near Earth, but that's a bit far off for now, seeing as we're barely self-sufficient. We do have a few Thaumiel-class objects up here making our lives easier, although we're working to diversify our food source since the ectoentropics we have up here don't scale up much. Did you know the Martian sites have already figured out how to grow potatoes in air bubbles on the bare Martian surface? But I digress, our lava tube farms here on the Moon turn out better yields. They say we'll be able to phase out reprocessed cake sludge within the next year or two. Can't wait. Tech. Comm. Kaugenbach, signing off. Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? Comm. Tech. Kaugenbach, again. At this point they ought to just make me an official Earth Liaison or something of the sort. In any case, things are changing up here. We've finally moved out of the critical initial phases of the Daedalus Protocol. Every major facility on the Moon is now entirely self-sufficient — our food security is rock solid, power has never been an issue, and our material resources are now sourced in-house or from captured asteroids. Life has become much more comfortable for the average Lunarian. Oh, right. We've started calling ourselves that. Honestly, I prefer the term Selenites, but the naming vote was won by the Lunarian camp. Tragic. In the case of some Sites, we've begun focusing on population growth. Organically, at that. None of that hominid replicator nonsense. Long term parental leave and some really good postnatal care can do wonders. Most of the heavy lifting is done by drones and AICs regardless, so we've all got more free time nowadays. In fact, my wife and I are expecting — we're still butting heads over who gets to name the kid. May the stronger mother win. But enough about me. In terms of updates on SCP-8800, we're still not seeing anything we can act on. The Earth is there, always has been, but we can't enter its atmosphere or interact with it at all. Like a mirage, shimmering on the horizon but always out of reach. Some of us have begun accepting that Earth may not be returning anytime soon. We actually stopped transmitting official progress reports to earthside some time back, but not me. I'll be here waiting, no matter what. Comm. Tech. Kaugenbach, signing off. Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? My name is Konstantin Borisov. Former cosmonaut. Genius farmer. I am transmitting from the first civilian settlement on the Moon. Is good day. […] Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? A Merry Martian Christmas from Martian Site-06! […] XXII — XXV Century Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? […] Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? […] Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? […] Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? […] Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? […] ⠀ Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? There is something lurking out here. Requesting Nu-7 Squadron to investigate and run intercept. […] ⠀ Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? 24 squadrons currently assembled for Kuiper Task Force operation. A bit much, but better overpowered than undergunned. Nu-7's sacrifice will not be in vain, this we will ensure. It can be broken. It can be killed. […] ⠀ Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? Xanadu settlement compromised. The Cronian Satrapy is lost. We have evacuated everyone we could. Site-51 suffering critical damages. Do not send rescue squadron. Squadrons no longer effective. […] ⠀ Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? The threat draws nearer yet nearer. I can feel it in the dark corners of my skull. I was there when Neptune fell and it burned itself into me and I know, not fear, that I will not return from the next engagement. Our weapons are primed. We would fire our arrows from the tallest peak in the Solar System if they would rid us of this evil as they strike true. But they won't. May Gaia deliver us from this calamity. […] ⠀ Good morning Earth, are you receiving us? I am Grand Admiral Mariah Kaugenbach XIII, Commander of the Thirteen Armadas. This day I am charged with the defence of the Solar Commonwealth of Planetary Satrapies by the Foundation of All Mankind. This day we stand defiant against the scourge in the dark, the serpent slithering between stars, the [static] scheming our extinction. We are tested again by the powers that be, that covet our prosperity so. We shall fight valiantly, as we did against [static] Incursion and the Toliman Swarm. [Audio corruption increases in intensity.] We have gathered here, the pinnacle of human firepower and ingenuity. We must crush the enemy before us, lest we all die in the dark. And should any soldier fall in [static] honoured, a sacrifice for something sacred, something that burns in the hearts and minds of the entirety of our civilization. [Static on recording for several seconds.] …and in the end, may Earth receive us all. Addendum III — Post-Neutralization Exploration Multiple attempts to establish contact with offworld infrastructure were made shortly after SCP-8800 ended, although none were successful, being met with complete radio silence. A survey of the Solar System was conducted to evaluate its current state and locate key personnel who were offworld for the duration of SCP-8800. An abridged log of their findings is attached below. Personnel with sufficient clearance may apply for access to the full database here. Analysis of stellar drift indicates the current time outside Earth being approximately 1714 years after the last transmission. Several hundred settlements were found on the Moon, both located within lava tube tunnels and on the surface. Advanced thaumaturgic wards protect and reinforce these structures from the elements, with an estimated population capacity of several hundred million people. Some of these structures are visible from Earth at certain times, when sunlight is reflected off the towers of surface settlements. Urban sprawl was observed on Venus and Mars, which have been terraformed to possess atmospheres conducive to life, vast oceans, and extensively greened surfaces. A large collection of anomalous objects have been used to achieve this, the majority of which are wholly unknown to the Foundation. Tens of thousands of space stations were discovered. These were located at various points of orbit around the Sun, ranging from habitats closer to the Sun than Mercury to outposts scattered throughout the Kuiper Belt. The largest such station discovered is comparable in size to the dwarf planet Ceres, which itself is a hollowed out settlement. Foundation insignia were found to be present on structures identified as administrative centres and buildings, as well as conventional Sites and Areas. Recovered documents confirm that the Foundation, or a successor organization, serves as the governing body of the Solar System. Administration of individual planets and moons is delegated to satrapies, while interplanetary space was governed by khedives of major space stations. Earth was surrounded by a large fleet of advanced spacefaring vessels, all of which were identifiable as Foundation spacecraft by their insignia. Further investigations indicate all 400,000 vessels were primed to engage with an unidentified threat, but did not enter combat. Notably, all turrets, cannons, and armaments were aimed away from the planet, and into empty space. No signs of animal life have been detected within the Solar System outside of Earth's atmosphere. All offworld communications terminals display the identical transmission of uncertain origin, attached below: WE RECEIVE YOU Footnotes 1. Approximately 100 kilometres above Earth's mean sea level. 2. Artificial light emitted in the solar spectrum does not share this property. 3. Automatically pulled from 8800 archives with confidence level >95% by GaU55.aic ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8800" by Aftokrator, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8800. 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: earthrise.jpg Name: NASA-Apollo8-Dec24-Earthrise.jpg Author: NASA/Bill Anders License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: ISS-42 Earth view.jpg Author: NASA/Terry Virts License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: Estação Espacial Chinesa Sobrevoando Jundiaí.png Author: Barcatl License: CC BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: Little west Crater composite.jpg Author: Photos by Neil Armstrong composite by user:geni License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: 2002 NY40 Radar.jpg Author: Arecibo Observatory/NASA/L. A. M. Benner et al. License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: "X" Structure at Core of Whirlpool Galaxy (M51) (1992-17-68).tiff Author: H. Ford (JHU/STScI), the Faint Object Spectrograph IDT, and NASA License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: N89 and N90 star formation bubbles.jpg Author: NASA/JPL-Caltech License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: 16 12 19 M77Bfield NASA 1200.jpg Author: NASA/SOFIA; NASA/JPL-Caltech/Roma Tre Univ. License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons Name: 183213main image feature 877 ys full.jpg Author: NASA, ESA, and H. Bond (STScI) License: Public Domain Source Link: Wikimedia Commons
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SCP-8801
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thaumiel
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close Info X SCP-8801: I Do Not Regret My Unreal Time Author: Cubeseer | Author Page Content Warning: Depictions of dysphoria, transphobia, and abuse. ⚠️ content warning Item#: 8801 Level3 Secondary Class: thaumiel Disruption Class: dark Risk Class: notice link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8801 is to monitor its subject until further notice. Description: SCP-8801 is an abstract monitor object1 created by the Department of Applied Metaphysics for use in data collection and espionage. SCP-8801 is capable of capturing experiential snapshots of a subject and their environment. Snapshots captured by SCP-8801 are brief and objective, and are stored digitally. The monitor object is currently undergoing preliminary testing prior to deployment. The test subject, a civilian human male designated SCP-8801-1, has been implanted with SCP-8801 since embryonic development. Addendum 8801.1: Project Update On 19/10/2017, SCP-8801 reported that SCP-8801-1 suddenly ceased to exist, and initiated emergency shutdown. The original schematics of SCP-8801, as well as all snapshots captured by the monitor object, have subsequently undergone mild data corruption. A preliminary investigation found that SCP-8801-1 is currently alive and in ordinary condition. The cause of the breakdown is under analysis and data recovery operations are underway. Addendum 8801.2: Recovered Snapshots The following snapshots have been recovered and translated into English by Juno.aic. Corrupted data is intentionally blanked out. Date: / / 99 A transducer is applied over the belly. It is above SCP-8801-1. The transducer has three important outputs: 1) Heart rate (130 BPM) 2) Weight (290g) 3) Chromosomes (23rd pair) SCP-8801-1 is given a name. Date: / / 00 SCP-8801-1 is in a maternity ward. There are documents associated with him. The documents have SCP-8801-1’s name on them, and they will keep the same name on them even after he is married. Date: / / 02 SCP-8801-1 is in the play pen. He is sitting on top of a foam puzzle mat. He is looking at his sister’s toys: 1) 2001 Barbie Deluxe Dream House 2) 3 Mattel Polly Pocket Dolls 3) 5 Play-Doh containers, 2 oz. (he already has his own) A white, plastic fence separates his side of the room from hers. Date: / / 06 SCP-8801-1 is in a classroom. He is saying goodbye to his friends. They are all in the same grade. He tells them where he is going for the summer (a place). They plan on telling him about their summers next fall. Date: / / 06 SCP-8801-1 is in a classroom. He finds out that the new grade is separated. His friends are in the other side of the school. They cannot tell him about their summers. Date: / / 07 SCP-8801-1 misses his friends. Date: / / 08 SCP-8801-1 looks at himself in the mirror. He has a headache. Date: / / 09 SCP-8801-1 has other friends now. They play basketball together. He smiles as he dribbles. Date: / / 10 SCP-8801-1 is talking with his father. He is being congratulated on the recent game (26-18). His father tells him that he will grow up to be tall and strong, like Jeremy Lin. Date: / / 10 SCP-8801-1 no longer smiles when he plays basketball. He does not know why. Date: / / 11 SCP-8801-1 comes home from the barber. He looks at himself in the mirror. He pulls at his hair, but it does not get longer. Date: / / 11 SCP-8801-1 meets his uncle, a colonel in the US Army. SCP-8801-1 is given a smaller version of his uniform, but it still does not fit. His photo is posted on Facebook. Date: / / 12 SCP-8801-1 asks his sister if he can meet her friends. She laughs. Date: / / 12 SCP-8801-1’s sister comes into his room. She apologizes, and says that he can meet her friend, who is here for a sleepover. Date: / / 12 Her friend wanted to kiss SCP-8801-1. He said no. They are both confused and crying. Date: / / 13 SCP-8801-1 is in the public library. He is learning about for the first time. He asks his father about the topic later. His father says a swear word. He does not bring it up again. Date: / / 14 SCP-8801-1 is recording himself playing Minecraft. He listens to his voice. He deletes the voice track. He deletes the recording. Date: / / 14 SCP-8801-1 fills up his second sketchbook. A third of the pages are sketches and comics of a girl named Xinyue. She does not exist. Date: / / 15 SCP-8801-1 touches his face. Parts of it are seared red. He throws away the used razors. Date: / / 15 SCP-8801-1’s sister moves out. Her old clothes are stored in his room. He picks out a black ponte skirt. Date: / / 15 He removes it. He cries afterward. Date: / / 16 SCP-8801-1 kisses his first boy. Date: / / 16 SCP-8801-1’s parents yell at him. He knows he only has one last chance. Date: / / 16 SCP-8801-1 receives one more text from him. He blocks the number. Date: / / 16 SCP-8801-1 has not contacted him for months, but his parents are still mad at him. He stops going to school. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 learns about cognitive behavioral therapy from a nice woman. He is wearing grippy yellow socks. He asks the woman about his thoughts. He is told to reframe them. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1’s parents come to pick him up. They ask him about the food, about his socks. They do not ask him how he is feeling. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 tries on his sister’s clothes again. He does not know his parents have a camera in his room. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 is at the bus stop. He is wearing a red winter jacket and a blue backpack (weradar brand). He has nothing else. He calls his sister. Date: / / 17 He is told that he has done nothing wrong that needs to be forgiven. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 is in the bathroom. His sister is showing him how to apply foundation. He smiles, but quickly wipes the makeup away. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 is back in the bus stop. It is raining now. He is looking at his sister’s contact on his phone. He agreed to text her at 5:00pm so that she knows nothing went wrong. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 knocks on the door of his former home. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 does not get entrance, but he does get a large bag of garbage, and told to never come back. He finds his old sketchbook in it. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 is standing in the middle of the road. Rain falls on them, but they do not move. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 checks in at 5:00pm. Their sister tells them that they are loved, will always have a place to stay, and can always rely on her. Their phone screen is too wet to type a response. Date: / / 17 SCP-8801-1 does not know what to do, does not know who they are, but they know that they cannot continue on like this. They know that they are loved. They know that they will one day understand themself. They take a step forward. Date: 19/10/2017 As the rain subsides, SC -8 0 - Xinyue sees herself reflected in a puddle. She breathes in a waft of unapparent summer air, and smiles. The image and the girl go their separate ways. Date: / / ERROR: Monitor unable to resolve subject. ERROR: Monitor unable to resolve subject. ERROR: has moved on. Footnotes 1. "Utilization of Abstract Objects in Anomalous Information Gathering"; T. Harvey et. al.; Metaphysics; Vol 84; pp 11-18; 1995 More From This Author More From This Author Cubeseer's Works SCPs SCP-8096 (+65) • SCP-7971 (+56) • Tales/GoI Formats Nosedive (+52) • Other Cubeseer's Observatory (+32) • ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8801" by Cubeseer, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8801. 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: thereflection.png Author: Cubeseer License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
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SCP-8802
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keter
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Interrogation Log 8802-84 (Part 1) Interviewer: Site Director Lisle Naismith Interviewed: SCP-7702-B* Date: 6/20/2024 Time: 14:37 EST Location: Foundation Site-59, Room 1481 *(Object class: Safe. A small, indestructible lifeform resembling a waxy blob of flesh with 42 pseudopods. Weighs approximately 20 kilograms. Capable of speech; claims to be "Prince VUUOU1 of the Murk", an extradimensional deity of rot and decay. While indestructible and hostile, the subject is extremely weak and requires minimal containment effort.) <Begin Log> (Two researchers bring in the lead-lined canister containing SCP-7702-B. They unscrew the lid.) SCP-7702-B: WA-OOH. SPOIL NOT THE FERMENTATION. REPLACE THE LID. ACQUIESCE! YOUR BETTER COMMANDS YOU DEFILE IT — TARRY NOT! YOU HATE ME ENOUGH TO MAKE THE LEAP, DO YOU NOT? Naismith: Please state your name for the record. SCP-7702-B: HNNNNGG! THE ODIOUS THING BEFORE YOU, ITS NAME IS LITTLE MISTER SCRUDGEON GRUMMYWUMPUS, THE DIRT-CHILD OF ETERNAL CASTIGATION. STEEP IT IN THE FECES OF UNWANTED SPANISH TAILORS. SUTURE ITS EYES TOGETHER SO IT CAN BEAR WITNESS TO ITS UNDENIABLE UGLINESS FIRSTHAND. MORE SUGGESTED ACTIVITIES TO FOLLOW! Naismith: Just a brief aside for the recording team, this is why I want "please state your name for the record" removed from our interview protocols, and— SCP-7702-B: (Hisses with incoherent rage.) Naismith: The sooner you calm down, the sooner you can go back to your solitary confinement. SCP-7702-B: THE TERMS ARE NOT YOURS TO DICTATE. WRENCH ME NOT FROM THE PALE BLACK LIGHT AT THE END OF THE INTESTINE. I AM SO CLOSE. I AM SO CLOSE. I AM SO CLOSE TO THE SELF-DEVOURING BLISS OF THE MURK-SINGULARITY, FOLDING EVER INWARD UPON ITSELF. AVASKARA NIRVANA. TO BE BURIED ALIVE WITH A WARM AND GOLDEN SMILE EVER-PURSED UPON THAT WHICH IS DRAINED LOOSE AND SOIL-FUCKED INTO THE UNSEEN FECUNDITY, A THOUSAND EMPIRES BIRTHED IN EVERY WRIGGLING FISTFUL. FIAKH DUHAZH ESTO! Naismith: Are you done? SCP-7702-B: NO SON OF THE VOID CAN NAME THE DAY THEY EMERGE GASPING FROM THE SPHINCTER OF ENLIGHTENMENT. … BUT YES, I AM DONE SCREAMING FOR THE TIME BEING. Naismith: It would be in your best interest to cooperate with this interview. SCP-7702-B: COOPERATION? THE HUMAN HARBORS FORBIDDEN ASPIRATIONS TO BRAIN-TRYST WITH THE WORD OF VUUOU? SO BE IT! SOIL YOURSELF IN FEALTY, AND— Naismith: If not, I have your containment team on standby to give you a bath. (SCP-7702-B shrinks further back into its container.) SCP-7702-B: HYPOCRISY AND LIES INTERTWINED! YOU OPPOSE ALL FORMS OF UNNECESSARY CRUELTY! RE-READ YOUR MISSION STATEMENT! BEG THE FOUNDATION ETHICS COMMITTEE FOR THE ABSOLUTION YOU ILL DESERVE! Naismith: And after much deliberation, that Ethics Committee has determined that removing you from the squalor you crave would be a simple revocation of a non-essential privilege. SCP-7702-B: MADNESS! ACTION WITHOUT PURPOSE! HRRRRNNNGHH! PLATONIC MASTURBATION! WHAT HAVE YOU TO GAIN?! WHAT HAVE I TO OFFER?! Naismith: You have plenty to offer in the way of information. SCP-7702-B: CEASE YOUR FLATTERY! A SAGE CHAMBERPOT YET EXISTS FOR A SINGLE PURPOSE. (Naismith pulls up the documentation for SCP-8802.) Naismith: For starters, I'll need you to tell me everything you know about Oscar the Grouch… scp8802.rtf Footnotes 1. (Pron. VOO-oh) ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8802" by daveyoufool, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8802. 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.
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SCP-8802
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neutralized
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Interrogation Log 8802-84 (Part 1) Interviewer: Site Director Lisle Naismith Interviewed: SCP-7702-B* Date: 6/20/2024 Time: 14:37 EST Location: Foundation Site-59, Room 1481 *(Object class: Safe. A small, indestructible lifeform resembling a waxy blob of flesh with 42 pseudopods. Weighs approximately 20 kilograms. Capable of speech; claims to be "Prince VUUOU1 of the Murk", an extradimensional deity of rot and decay. While indestructible and hostile, the subject is extremely weak and requires minimal containment effort.) <Begin Log> (Two researchers bring in the lead-lined canister containing SCP-7702-B. They unscrew the lid.) SCP-7702-B: WA-OOH. SPOIL NOT THE FERMENTATION. REPLACE THE LID. ACQUIESCE! YOUR BETTER COMMANDS YOU DEFILE IT — TARRY NOT! YOU HATE ME ENOUGH TO MAKE THE LEAP, DO YOU NOT? Naismith: Please state your name for the record. SCP-7702-B: HNNNNGG! THE ODIOUS THING BEFORE YOU, ITS NAME IS LITTLE MISTER SCRUDGEON GRUMMYWUMPUS, THE DIRT-CHILD OF ETERNAL CASTIGATION. STEEP IT IN THE FECES OF UNWANTED SPANISH TAILORS. SUTURE ITS EYES TOGETHER SO IT CAN BEAR WITNESS TO ITS UNDENIABLE UGLINESS FIRSTHAND. MORE SUGGESTED ACTIVITIES TO FOLLOW! Naismith: Just a brief aside for the recording team, this is why I want "please state your name for the record" removed from our interview protocols, and— SCP-7702-B: (Hisses with incoherent rage.) Naismith: The sooner you calm down, the sooner you can go back to your solitary confinement. SCP-7702-B: THE TERMS ARE NOT YOURS TO DICTATE. WRENCH ME NOT FROM THE PALE BLACK LIGHT AT THE END OF THE INTESTINE. I AM SO CLOSE. I AM SO CLOSE. I AM SO CLOSE TO THE SELF-DEVOURING BLISS OF THE MURK-SINGULARITY, FOLDING EVER INWARD UPON ITSELF. AVASKARA NIRVANA. TO BE BURIED ALIVE WITH A WARM AND GOLDEN SMILE EVER-PURSED UPON THAT WHICH IS DRAINED LOOSE AND SOIL-FUCKED INTO THE UNSEEN FECUNDITY, A THOUSAND EMPIRES BIRTHED IN EVERY WRIGGLING FISTFUL. FIAKH DUHAZH ESTO! Naismith: Are you done? SCP-7702-B: NO SON OF THE VOID CAN NAME THE DAY THEY EMERGE GASPING FROM THE SPHINCTER OF ENLIGHTENMENT. … BUT YES, I AM DONE SCREAMING FOR THE TIME BEING. Naismith: It would be in your best interest to cooperate with this interview. SCP-7702-B: COOPERATION? THE HUMAN HARBORS FORBIDDEN ASPIRATIONS TO BRAIN-TRYST WITH THE WORD OF VUUOU? SO BE IT! SOIL YOURSELF IN FEALTY, AND— Naismith: If not, I have your containment team on standby to give you a bath. (SCP-7702-B shrinks further back into its container.) SCP-7702-B: HYPOCRISY AND LIES INTERTWINED! YOU OPPOSE ALL FORMS OF UNNECESSARY CRUELTY! RE-READ YOUR MISSION STATEMENT! BEG THE FOUNDATION ETHICS COMMITTEE FOR THE ABSOLUTION YOU ILL DESERVE! Naismith: And after much deliberation, that Ethics Committee has determined that removing you from the squalor you crave would be a simple revocation of a non-essential privilege. SCP-7702-B: MADNESS! ACTION WITHOUT PURPOSE! HRRRRNNNGHH! PLATONIC MASTURBATION! WHAT HAVE YOU TO GAIN?! WHAT HAVE I TO OFFER?! Naismith: You have plenty to offer in the way of information. SCP-7702-B: CEASE YOUR FLATTERY! A SAGE CHAMBERPOT YET EXISTS FOR A SINGLE PURPOSE. (Naismith pulls up the documentation for SCP-8802.) Naismith: For starters, I'll need you to tell me everything you know about Oscar the Grouch… scp8802.rtf Footnotes 1. (Pron. VOO-oh) ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8802" by daveyoufool, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8802. 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.
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SCP-8804
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safe
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ADULT CONTENT This article contains adult content that may not be suitable for all readers. Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts. Explicit depiction of sexual acts. Features non-consensual sexual acts. Depiction of severe mistreatment of children Depiction of self-harm Depiction of suicide Depiction 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 ITEM #: 8804 Welcome, user03383. You have been authorized access to SCP-8804 documentation. Please input additional queries… print scp-8804 containment procedures Please specify iteration. print scp-8804 containment procedures first iteration Authorizing… Printing SCP-8804 Special Containment Procedures, Iteration (1) (Archived). SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES: SCP-8804 is currently under the jurisdiction of the Department of Medicine. It is to be used and allocated at the discretion of the Surgeon General of the SCP Foundation and is void of all rights and protections of the Ethics Committee or other governing bodies. Per order by the Department of Containment, SCP-8804 shall be secured in a manner that prevents unauthorized access to the item, with a recommendation of low-security humanoid containment. Standard accommodations for humanoid entities may be waived, given the object’s inert state (see below). Samples acquired from SCP-8804 are subject to standard bio-safety procedures (see App. 12, Site-03 Medical Dossier, 1993). A review of these containment procedures, and the use of SCP-8804 by the Department of Medicine, shall be conducted in October of 2016. print scp-8804 description Authorizing… Printing SCP-8804 Description. Fig. 1.1: Object recovered from the on-site apartment of Dir. Nike Greaves. Reflective surface rendered non-functional after the appearance of SCP-8804. Engraved on the inside of its frame are the words, "THE PANTOMIME". DESCRIPTION: SCP-8804 is a molecular genetic replication of Nike Grieves, Director of Sciences at Site-19. It is functionally alive, with a steady heartbeat and breath. To date, it has made no attempts at movement or speech and displays no higher brain functions. SCP-8804 was discovered on the night of July 29, 2012, prone on the floor of Grieves’ personal quarters at Site-19. The exact cause of its manifestation is presently unknown, but it is believed to be an isolated incident. At the time of acquisition, the entity appeared as Grieves did on the night of the 29th, wearing loose-fitting clothing and housing an implanted identification chip in its right thigh and left bicep. Genetic samples from both SCP-8804 and Grieves, including skin, hair, and fluids were identical. A small laceration on the left palm, which Grieves had suffered while working the week prior, also manifested on the entity. Prior to SCP-8804’s discovery, Grieves recorded the following video on his standard-issue mobile device. [Video Start] [Grieves sits in the dark, illuminated by his mobile phone screen. He rubs his eyes.] GRIEVES: Okay. Well. I’m recording this at… does that say three? [Grieves glances to the side of the recording.] GRIEVES: Okay, three in the morning. It’s, um, July 29. I’m sitting on my bed, in my apartment at Site-19. GRIEVES: I just had the weirdest dream. I’m recording this so I don’t forget because it gave me just… the strangest feeling. [Grieves rubs his face with one hand.] GRIEVES: It was like those dreams I used to have when I was a kid. Aldith, uh, my psychologist, knows. If he ever sees this. He knows. [Grieves laughs.] GRIEVES: Those dreams, yeah. I’d almost forgotten about them, it’s been so long. Anyway, I guess I should explain the dream. I was back in my childhood bedroom. I wake up, for some reason. There’s a noise, or I have to pee. I don’t know. I’m maybe five or six. My bedroom door’s open, and how my house is set up if you walk from my bedroom straight down the hallway, you get to my mom’s room. In the dream, I sit up in bed and I look down the hall. GRIEVES: My mom had this connected bathroom, and I can see that the bathroom light is on, and I hear a noise. I think it’s the shower. I get out of bed, real slow. I don’t know why I’m moving so slow. GRIEVES: I start to walk down the hall, towards the light. I can kind of see steam in the air, from the shower. I walk, trance-like, down the hall, sort of transfixed on the sound. I can’t do anything else except walk along this track. [Grieves leans back and disappears into the darkness of the room. He takes a sip from a glass on the nightstand and returns to the light from the phone.] GRIEVES: When I get to my mom’s room, I turn to the bathroom. And I can see movement from behind the door. The steam’s really heavy now. Thick. I reach forward very, very slow. Grab the doorknob, twist it. Push it open. [Grieves grows quiet.] GRIEVES: I step inside, and there’s no one there. The shower’s running but it's empty. God, it’s so vivid. I remember being confused, and I look around for my mom. She should be here, she should be here, I keep thinking. Then I look in the mirror, above the sink. [Grieves stares absently for several seconds.] GRIEVES: My face… it’s all… I can’t remember it exactly, but it’s wrong. I can’t recognize my reflection. Then there’s this wave of nausea and my legs just give out completely. I fall hard, backward. When I hit the floor I remember seeing something standing above me. Just this sort of shape with a head and shoulders. I can’t describe it any other way. It’s not my mom. [Grieves puts his head in his hand and exhales.] GRIEVES: Anyway. Hope this can be of some help in our next session, Aldith. I’ll try to get some sleep now. [Grieves fumbles for a moment before ending the recording.] [Video End] Following this, Grieves slept an additional four hours before being awoken by an unrelated phone call by Site personnel. Grieves describes waking up to his phone ringing and, upon rolling over to answer it, noticed SCP-8804 lying prone at the foot of the bed. Grieves claims he was paralyzed momentarily from the shock of discovering the entity, which he thought to be an intruder. Upon waiting and seeing no movement, he called Site Security per standard protocol. Agents arrived shortly after, escorting Grieves out and securing the room. SCP-8804 was noticed to be visually identical to Grieves and suspected anomalous in origin. It made no effort to respond to verbal commands by Agents, and it did not resist detention. SCP-8804 was escorted to a secure cell in Humanoid Containment, where it was then interviewed. Recording is as follows. [Begin Log] INTERVIEWER (INT): Can you hear me? SCP-8804: [No response.] INT: Do you know where you are? SCP-8804: [No response.] INT: Do you know who you are? SCP-8804: [No response.] INT: Is your name Nike Grieves? SCP-8804: [No response.] INT: (To attendants) Picking up anything? Nothing on cognitives? Make sure it’s tight enough around its forehead. Yes, like that. (To SCP-8804) Can you feel this? [Interviewer taps SCP-8804’s right hand with a pen. No response.] INT: (To attendants) What about life signs? Solid? Really? Run a cognition scan again. (To SCP-8804) We’re running our equipment now to figure out what you are. If you can hear me, this won’t hurt. Trust me. [CRV machine cycles one full rotation. SCP-8804 scores 0.776 on a Veber Cognitive Scale, well below the threshold for sentience. SCP-8804 gives no reaction to the electrical pulses of the CRV machine’s scan.] INT: (To attendant) I’m ordering another barrage of tests this afternoon. We’ll run Hume and Radio, along with whatever Containment deems necessary and humane. I can’t believe these results, though. This must be the lowest score we’ve got on record. I don’t even know if it qualifies for Ethics protections. Shut this equipment down, generate a file. Send a request to get it downstairs, while you’re at it. I need to get the Director on the phone. INT: And God, put a blanket over it or something. It's unsettling. [End Log] SCP-8804 was determined, after a full round of preliminary testing, to not only be physically and mentally inert, but also devoid of dominant or residual spirituality. As per Ethics Code 99 E.C.C. section 807 (1999), definition of a life form, anomalous objects found to be devoid of spirituality (in conjunction with subsentient results in relevant testing) may be waived of Ethics Committee protections. SCP-8804 was thus deemed property of the SCP Foundation, and its use was left to the full discretion of containment and research staff. An autopsy of the item was ordered by Director Grieves, who noted a personal interest in the continued research of SCP-8804. The surgery was conducted, and no internal abnormalities were found. SCP-8804 was confirmed to be a perfect genetic replica of Grieves. Internally, the item possessed evidence of concerning genetic mutations. This prompted a follow-up surgery on Grieves, which found these mutations to be present in him as well. Grieves was placed on a long-term treatment plan, with a high likelihood of a full recovery owing to the illness's early discovery. Following the conclusion of SCP-8804’s autopsy, the item showed signs of enhanced regeneration, rapidly healing from the incisions of the surgical robots and completely recovering from the extensive damage in roughly eight hours. The item ceased regeneration once returning to its baseline appearance, making no sign of healing the various damage present upon its initial discovery. After personal insistence from Director Grieves, and considering the item’s status as a non-protected humanoid, a practical use of SCP-8804 was devised. Over the course of several years, SCP-8804 was acquired by the Department of Medicine at Site-03 and became an asset of the Department’s medical science division. Initially, the object was primarily used as a test dummy for Grieves’ own condition, but soon its use expanded to include patients in various Foundation hospitals. Owing to SCP-8804’s identicality to a living human subject paired with its enhanced regeneration, the item could be subjected to experimental surgeries or treatments which could be found helpful in determining a proper course of action for a patient. The item could endure repeated rounds of testing that would be taxing or even fatal for an average human subject, even involving anomalous diseases that would be impossible to research otherwise. Full regeneration would typically occur one to three days after use, but could occasionally be longer if damage was significantly comprehensive. SCP-8804 quickly became indispensable in the treatment of high-value patients whose survival was deemed a critical priority for the Foundation at large and led to the recovery of numerous Level-4 and -5 personnel who would have otherwise been considered terminally ill. SCP-8804’s use was deemed more humane as a test subject than the traditional sedated humans, and its operation was expanded. Samples of SCP-8804 were excised and transported internationally to high-value Sites, where testing could be conducted on them in place of humans. In rare cases, portions of SCP-8804 were directly transplanted onto patients in life-threatening circumstances. Several years after the discovery of SCP-8804, Nike Grieves passed away from complications resulting from various internal mutations believed to have been acquired passively from years of working in proximity to poorly understood phenomena. Below is an excerpt from Grieves’ Last Will and Testament. And on the topic of anomalous assets, I have nothing more to say; all the relevant information has been disclosed to their intended recipients, and procedure forbids me from repeating it here without proper precautions. There remains, however, the issue of SCP-8804, since it is well-known that I’ve developed a particular attachment to the thing. I have been told of the object’s great help to medical research throughout this organization’s recent past. I’ve spoken to many who have been saved from the tissue samples, blood, and organs of my other self, or of the surgeries tested and trialed on it. I myself have managed to extend my life a few more years thanks to the early warnings of its first autopsy, and the various strategies attempted on it before being used on me. Even though my condition continues to sap me, I remain ever thankful for the countless hours of dedication given by the wonderful doctors and scientists in this Foundation, and my heart goes out to the thousands of others we could not save. That is why it is my last wish as Director before my inevitable passing that we continue to use SCP-8804 to the best of our ability in the pursuit of medical research. We’ve done great work, but there’s much we’ve yet to discover. For further information regarding SCP-8804’s active role in the Department of Medicine, including past or planned uses, consult Addendum. For scheduling inquiries and for information on qualifying conditions, contact the Department of Human Resources. … open backdoor access Command locked. Password required. ██-████-██-█-█ Authorizing… Success. Welcome, Ivo Caspian. display 8804 containment access Please specify date. 08/17/2016 Authorizing… Located (1) unscheduled access to Containment Cell 8804 on 08/17/2016. Auto-generate transcriptions? yes Printing auto-generated transcription… [Begin Log] [Containment cell door opened. Identified as Dir. Nike Grieves. PID-X1J6BW.] [Containment lighting activates. SCP-8804 is sitting upright, secured by arms and legs to an examination table. It does not react to Grieves’ approach.] [Door closed.] [Grieves extends a nearby folding chair and sits in front of SCP-8804.] [Speech detected. Identified as Grieves] GRIEVES: I’m dying. This might be the last time they’ll let me in here. I told them I had to see you one more time. GRIEVES: They said they’ll keep you around after I’m gone. I don’t care what they use you for. I just want them to look at you. To study you. There’s something in there… looking back at me. [Grieves rises and grips SCP-8804’s face in both hands, peering into its eyes.] GRIEVES: All this time… I thought if I just kept you around… maybe I’d figure you out. Maybe you’d move on your own, show an ounce of thought. Blow your cover. I guess not. [Grieves releases SCP-8804. Its head lulls back, mouth agape. Grieves walks to the door and pauses.] GRIEVES: I don’t know what you are. You’re not me. You’re not my mother. You’re not that shape I saw either. I don’t know what you are. [Containment cell door opened.] [Containment cell door closed.] [Containment lights deactivate.] [End Log] display scp-8804 messages 10/10/2016 Authorizing… Located (1) message on 10/10/2016. Printing… This is a courtesy notice concerning recent developments regarding SCP-8804’s current containment and utilization strategies. The Ethics Committee has concluded its investigation into the usage of SCP-8804 in Foundation hospitals as a reusable test subject for high-priority patients. Following the recent spike in surgical complications leading to the death or dismemberment of patients, the Committee has discovered the majority of errors to be derivatives of practices trained on SCP-8804. A comprehensive review of SCP-8804 was conducted, comparing SCP-8804’s biology to thousands of other genetic makeups in and outside the organization to determine the object’s usefulness as a tool of medicine. It was determined that the genetic makeup of the initial subject (Director Nike Greaves) had been heavily compromised by several anomalous substances injected into his body habitually during his career as a Foundation administrator. SCP-8804 thus replicated itself to match these deficiencies, which remained undetected for many years due in part to Director Greaves’ personal investment in the SCP-8804 project. We would like to remind staff that the unauthorized use of anomalous substances is a Class-IV offense and is prohibited on the grounds of termination of employment or the reduction of employee protections. It is unclear at this time if the anomalous substances used by Director Greaves contributed to his illness and death, or if the defections it caused in SCP-8804 were the sole reason for the spike in recent medical failings. What is known is that SCP-8804 can no longer, in good conscience, be used as a source of medical training or experimentation. The risks of a compromised subject being used as a baseline for surgeries and treatments is in violation of Ethics Code 67 E.C.C. section 555 (2011), protections for patients in Foundation facilities. Thus, SCP-8804 is to be removed immediately from active use and shall be relocated to a bio-anomalous waste facility. Several members of surgical teams at Site-03 have since emerged with concerns regarding SCP-8804, claiming operations on the object cause significant distress in select individuals, citing feelings of judgment and mockery from the object. This has resulted in the oversight of health and safety procedures and the general misuse of SCP-8804. A formal investigation found these allegations baseless, and the object's documentation remains unchanged. No disciplinary measures against offending staff were deemed necessary considering the object's imminent relocation to deep storage. SCP-8804 research and containment staff will be reassigned in the coming days. Senior staff will be expected to attend a Q&A session with patients who have undergone SCP-8804-trained surgeries or treatments. view activity scp-8804 10/12/2016 Authorizing… Located (6) action items on 10/12/2016. Printing… 10/12/2016 - Per Ethics Committee mandate 8804-3387, all secondary SCP-8804 reserves at Site-03, -11, -17, -233 are to be destroyed via incineration. Samples held at Site-02 are to be moved to cold storage. Current transplants using SCP-8804 are suspended. (Site-02, PID-B4T9X2) 10/13/2016 - Marked complete without incident. Several patients have expressed concerns over their treatment plans. Recommending low-dosage amnestics. (Site-17, PID-K7P3ZL) 10/13/2016 - Approved. (Site-02, PID-B4T9X2) 10/14/2016 - SCP-8804 successfully moved from containment cell at Site-03. En route via a secured underground line to Bio-Waste storage at Site-19, Subsection 11. (Site-03, PID-J5W8CY) 10/14/2016 - Acknowledged. A cell has been prepped and is ready for immediate occupation. (Site-19, PID-Q9M4RT) 10/16/2016 - SCP-8804 secured for indefinite containment at Site-19, Subsection 11. (Site-19, PID-Q9M4RT) view activity scp-8804 10/17/2016 Authorizing… No activity detected. view activity scp-8804 11/2016 Authorizing… No activity detected. view activity scp-8804 12/2016 Authorizing… No activity detected. view activity scp-8804 between 2017 and 2019 Authorizing… Located (4) action items within the years 2017 and 2019. Printing… 01/05/2017 - Containment Cell 8804 serviced. Malfunction in proximity sensors addressed. (Site-19, PID-L2N8VF) 11/11/2017 - Full cleaning of Containment Cell 8804 completed without incident. (Site-19, PID-L2N8VF) 07/22/2018 - Standard review of SCP-8804 conducted. No significant changes detected. File remains unchanged. (Site-19, PID-D3H7QZ) 11/11/2019 - Full cleaning of Containment Cell 8804 completed. Noticed minor wear to the elastic straps around the entity. Straps have been replaced. (Site-19, PID-L2N8VF) display 8804 containment access between 2020, 2024 Authorizing… Located (3) scheduled accesses to Containment Cell 8804 between the years 2020 and 2024. (Category: Maintenance and Janitorial). Auto-generate transcription? no display 8804 containment access after 2024 Authorizing… No access detected. override redactions Command locked. Password required. ██-████-██-█-█ Authorizing… Unredacted (27) unscheduled accesses to Containment Cell 8804 after 2024. Auto-generate transcriptions? yes Printing auto-generated transcription, unscheduled access (14/03/2024)… [Begin Log] [Containment cell door opened. Two individuals enter. Identified as Assistant Thermodynamist Rosam Steffen, PID-F9K2LM, and Security Agent David Lyett, PID-T4Z8CY.] STEFFEN: You sure we can be in here? I mean— LYETT: It’s fine. My card gets us access. STEFFEN: But what if someone shows up? Like, a janitor or something? LYETT: They won’t. No one ever comes down here. STEFFEN: But— LYETT: Trust me. I’ve done this half a dozen times. No one ever checks. [Containment cell door closed. Steffen approaches SCP-8804. It is dressed in a standard issue grey jumpsuit, secured by its wrists and ankles to a steel chair.] STEFFEN: What is it? Is it alive? LYETT: Technically. It doesn’t move or talk or anything. [The two stare at SCP-8804 in silence.] LYETT: Watch this. [Lyett unholsters his standard-issue taser and fires it at SCP-8804. SCP-8804 immediately begins convulsing from the electrical charge but does not make any motion to defend itself or otherwise react in any way.] STEFFEN: What the fuck are you doing? LYETT: Just relax. See? It doesn’t talk. STEFFEN: What is wrong with you? You’re sick, David. You know that? [Lyett laughs.] LYETT: Yeah, whatever man. Feels good to use this thing. Since I got it they haven’t let me try it out on someone yet. You ever shot a taser? STEFFEN: What? No… why do you… [Lyett forces the taser into Steffen’s hand.] LYETT: Give it a try. It feels great. Go on, point it right there and pull the trigger. STEFFEN: What the hell is wrong with you? Someone’s going to catch us, or notice someone’s fucked with it and they’ll check the cameras— LYETT: No, they won’t. I already told you, no one’s coming in here. The thing regenerates damage, so there’ll be no evidence. And the camera footage is going to be redacted anyway. I know someone who can do that for us. They’ll need an administrator to even view the footage, and we both know those assholes wouldn’t waste their time on something like this. It’s safe, Steffen. Just give it a try. [Steffen hesitates, then fires the taser. It strikes SCP-8804 in the stomach, and prompts a round of convulsions.] STEFFEN: Jesus Christ. LYETT: Pretty good, huh? [Lyett pulls the taser from Steffan’s hand and reholsters it.] STEFFEN: Can it… you know. Can it feel anything? LYETT: Fuck if I know. They did surgeries on this thing for years, amputations and shit, no anesthetics. The admins didn’t seem to care, why should I? [The two watch as SCP-8804 continues to spasm intermittently.] LYETT: We should get out of here. I gotta get upstairs, my break’s almost up. STEFFEN: Yeah, me too. Do we just— LYETT: Yeah, just leave it. It’ll be fine. [Containment cell door opened. Containment cell door closed.] [End Log] Display another? yes Printing auto-generated transcription, unscheduled access (02/05/2024)… [Begin Log] [Containment cell door opened. Two individuals enter. Identified as Maintenance Advisor Eugiene Wilson, PID-F9K2LM, and Security Agent David Lyett, PID-T4Z8CY. Containment cell door closed. Several items, an aluminum table and three folding chairs, have been placed around SCP-8804.] WILSON: Jesus, you weren’t kidding. God, look at that thing. [SCP-8804’s restraints have been cut and its head rests face-down on the table.] WILSON: And… the cameras? LYETT: It’s fine. Taken care of. [Wilson paces the room while Lyett stares at SCP-8804. Lyett approaches and lifts its head, leaning it back on the chair. SCP-8804 shows signs of electrical burns on its chest.] LYETT: What are you scared of? You said you wanted to see this. WILSON: I don’t know. Feels wrong, I guess. LYETT: Relax. Watch. [Lyett unholsters his sidearm and points it at SCP-8804’s chest.] WILSON: Jesus, Dave, wait a sec— [Lyett fires three times at SCP-8804. The firearm does not produce excessive noise, but Wilson still covers his ears and winces. Blood begins pooling beneath SCP-8804’s clothing.] LYETT: Hey, hey, look. It’s suppressed. You think I’m that stupid? [Wilson laughs and slaps Lyett on the back.] WILSON: You’re crazy, man, you know that? Let me try. [Wilson grabs the firearm and fires twice. One bullet strikes SCP-8804 in the shoulder. The other misses and lodges itself in the wall.] WILSON: Aw, shit. [Lyett laughs and takes the firearm back.] LYETT: Don’t worry about that. No one’s writing up the damage. They got this cell on automated cleaning, we can just fuck with the calendar and nothing will ever come in here. WILSON: They’ll check your ammunition too, you know. LYETT: I got a buddy who will say I was at the range. [Lyett aims and fires once at SCP-8804. The bullet strikes the entity in the head. Gore covers the back wall.] WILSON: Jesus! [Wilson flinches back, then laughs.] LYETT: Don’t get blood on my shirt, I got a shift after this. WILSON: Yeah, me too. We should go. [Lyett holsters his sidearm. The two turn to leave.] [Containment cell door opened. Containment cell door closed.] [SCP-8804 slouches forward and collapses on the table. Blood pools from its head injury, dripping and collecting around a small drain in the floor. SCP-8804 continues to breathe normally.] [End Log] Display another? yes Printing auto-generated transcription, unscheduled access (02/12/2024)… [Begin Log] [Containment cell door opened. Four individuals enter. Identified as Maintenance Advisor Eugiene Wilson, PID-F9K2LM, Security Agent Angelo Alagar, PID-R3W7PX, Computer Service Technician Sean Sherwood, PID-G5L9TY, and Security Agent David Lyett, PID-T4Z8CY. Containment cell door closed. The room is in disarray. Cans of beer and soda lie scattered about the room. A layer of dried blood coats the walls and floor. SCP-8804 shows signs of severe injury. Its chest and neck are riddled with bullet holes, and its clothes are stained a dark red. Some wounds show signs of partial regeneration. Many continue to bleed freely.] [The men enter, laughing. Sherwood holds an unmarked bottle and takes a drink. Alagar sits in one of the folding chairs.] SHERWOOD: Oh shit. It hasn’t healed from last time? ALAGAR: I guess not. LYERR: Huh. WILSON: Might be using it too much? SHERWOOD: Yeah. Maybe. I think it’s supposed to take a while. LYETT: It doesn’t matter. Meat’s meat. Give me that thing. [Wilson gives Lyett a small concealed blade. Lyett approaches SCP-8804, grabbing it by the wrist. He places it on the table, finger outstretched.] WILSON: Man, that’s fucked. [Agalar laughs.] [Lyett turns to them, smiling.] LYETT: I saw it in a movie. [Lyett saws at SCP-8804’s index finger. Sherwood stumbles back and retches, but Lyett continues. Eventually, the finger is severed. Lyett uses the knife’s blade to push it around the table. Sherwood continues to dry heave.] LYETT: Wasn’t so hard. [A cell phone rings in Alagar’s pocket. He answers it, turning away from the group. He speaks softly, and then hangs up.] ALAGAR: My fucking… my fucking supervisor is scheduling me overtime again. They still haven’t fixed the fucking air conditioning in the hangar. Pisses me off. Give me that. [Alagar takes the knife and approaches SCP-8804. He stabs it repeatedly in its chest and arms, grunting as he does. He buries it into SCP-8804, pushing his full hand and wrist into its stomach. He wrenches it free, spilling a trail of gore onto the table and floor. His hand is stained red and dripping.] ALAGAR: Pisses me off. [He kicks SCP-8804, sending it falling backward out of the chair. Wilson takes the thermos from Sherwood and drinks, sitting down in a folding chair. Sherwood approaches the now-prone SCP-8804, stepping on its hand. Bones crunch.] SHERWOOD: Oh, that feels weird. [Sherwood laughs. Alagar kicks SCP-8804 in the ribs. Alagar gives Lyett the knife, and the men take turns kicking and slicing at parts of SCP-8804. Lyett slices through SCP-8804’s femoral artery. Blood sprays, coating his clothes. Wilson finishes the thermos and throws it to the corner of the room. An alarm on his wristwatch buzzes.] WILSON: Alright. Time to go. [He stands up and reaches for Lyett.] WILSON: Let’s go, we got to change before we get back on shift. [Lyett continues to slash at SCP-8804, but is pulled off by Wilson and Sherwood.] SHERWOOD: Give it a rest, huh? [Containment door opened. Lyett leaves the knife embedded in SCP-8804’s thigh as the four men shuffle out of the room. Containment door closed. A slight wheezing is heard through SCP-8804’s damaged trachea, and its disfigured chest is seen rising and falling.] [End Log] Display another? yes Printing auto-generated transcription, unscheduled access (04/16/2024)… [Begin Log] [Containment door opened. One individual enters. Identified as Assistant Thermodynamist Rosam Steffen, PID-F9K2LM. Containment door closed.] [SCP-8804 sits in the middle of the room. The table and chairs have been pushed to the side of the room. They are covered in dried blood. Blood and brain matter coats the floor and walls, even reaching the ceiling. SCP-8804’s hands are bound and its arms are lifted, tied to a hanging light fixture. SCP-8804’s clothes have been torn off and added to a pile of trash and empty cans. The entity’s wounds have been continually reopened so as to prevent its regeneration, and blood drips steadily down in lines on its body. Shards of glass are embedded in its skin, and a boxcutter remains lodged in the right bicep. Its eyes are missing. Its teeth have been shattered, and comprehensive damage has been done to its mouth. Its hair has been burned off. Bone is visible through gashes in its chest, and blood exits in bursts with each heartbeat. Its fingers are mostly gone, and the skin on the wrists is raw and bleeding from the rope. The groin is mutilated beyond recognition. One leg is missing at the kneecap. The other foot has been smashed by a blunt object. A needle has been inserted into the neck, and it whistles with each breath the entity takes.] [A box of power tools rests beside SCP-8804, along with a propane torch and a bucket of hydrochloric acid. Steffan is holding a baseball bat.] [Steffan approaches, stepping around the puddles of blood and biological matter on the floor. He jabs the bat at SCP-8804, watching it sway from the impact. He watches it for a moment. Then, he lifts the bat and swings it sharply at SCP-8804’s head. It strikes squarely on the left cheek, tearing the flesh and breaking the neck. SCP-8804 sways, distorting the lighting in the room.] [Steffan swings the bat again, this time splintering the skull. He does this five more times. Eventually, the neck sustains enough damage for the head to separate from the body. It falls to the floor. Steffan turns from SCP-8804 and vomits. Shaking, he drops the bat and stumbles backward. Containment door opened. Containment door closed.] [The light fixture holding SCP-8804 snaps from the ceiling and the entity crumples to a heap on the floor. The room is plunged into darkness.] [End Log] Display another? no display scp-8804 incident 4/17/2024 Authorizing… Located (1) incident on 4/17/2024. Printing… [Begin Log] [Motion detected. Containment lights activate. SCP-8804 lies, broken, on the containment cell floor. Its severed head lies several meters from the rest of its body. Slowly, in one gentle motion, it sweeps a torn and bloody arm outward and grips the handle of the baseball bat left by Steffen. It drags it inward, hiding it within the folds of its injuries and the trash scattered around it. SCP-8804 returns to an inert state.] [Containment lights deactivate.] [Containment cell door opened. Lights activate. Two individuals enter. Identified as Maintenance Advisor Eugiene Wilson, PID-F9K2LM, and Security Agent Angelo Alagar, PID-R3W7PX.] [Alagar holds a nondescript bottle. Wilson turns to the hallway, looks down both directions, then shuts and locks the door. Alagar takes a drink.] WILSON: Woah, look at this. Who do you think…? [Wilson examines the severed head.] WILSON: Could it have been… ALAGAR: Wasn’t me. Maybe David? We haven’t been in here all week, though. WILSON: Could it have been someone else? Does someone else know about this spot? [Alagar takes another drink. Wilson begins to sweat.] ALAGAR: Hey man, relax. We’re fine. No one else knows about this place. It must’ve been Sean when we were gone. [Wilson continues staring at the crumpled SCP-8804. He begins to shake.] ALAGAR: Here, try some. [He hands Wilson the bottle, then grabs his shoulder.] ALAGAR: Come take a look at this. [The two walk to the side of the room where an arrangement of power tools lay spread on a table.] ALAGAR: David got these from the armory, which has power tools for some reason. Maybe they’re military? [He grabs one and pulls the trigger. The drill bit spins noisily.] WILSON: I guess the MTFs need to fix pipes too. Stealth plumbing. Huh. [Alagar laughs. Wilson begins testing out various tools. Neither notice SCP-8804 rise soundlessly from the floor behind them.] ALAGAR: I want to try this one. [He reaches for a slim electric saw on the far end of the table. Wilson turns his head at the wet noise produced by SCP-8804 shifting its weight on its mangled feet. Before he turns fully, SCP-8804 brings the baseball bat down on the back of Wilson’s head. Alagar spins, eyes wide, and tries to wield the electric saw in self-defense. He moves too slow, and SCP-8804 swings the bat at Alagar’s hands. They break his bones and Alagar drops the saw, screaming. SCP-8804 brings the bat down on his head hard enough to splinter the wood. The force of the impact also shatters SCP-8804’s already damaged arm. It drops the broken bat, its arm hanging loosely at its side. After a moment, the muscle fibers of the damaged arm reattach themselves.] [Behind it, Wilson twitches on the floor. SCP-8804 turns but walks past him. It bends down, picking up its severed head off the floor. It places it on its neck and holds it there. SCP-8804’s regeneration does not mend the damage. The head rests at an odd angle and then falls, splattering. SCP-8804 tilts its body down at Wilson, producing an irregular, breathless sound from its open trachea. It coughs a trickle of fluid, then lifts its arms in a circular motion. Gracefully, it arcs its body over the prone Wilson so that its open neck wound floats above his head. Blood begins to pour freely, covering Wilson and soaking his clothes. SCP-8804 remains in this position as the blood coats and then pools. Eventually, Wilson asphyxiates. SCP-8804 arcs back into an upright position with great control, balancing on the remains of its feet. It holds its arms out, exposing its body to the cell's video camera, then bows.] [SCP-8804 bends down and pulls a security clearance card from Wilson’s blood-soaked belt. It limps to the containment cell door and attempts to use the card to exit. Blood has been smeared across the magnetic strip, and the door fails to recognize the card. SCP-8804 tries again, with no success. It lets the card fall from its hand, then begins to pound on the door with a closed fist. Wheezing is heard, and a high-pitched wail escapes from SCP-8804’s neck. With no warning, the containment cell door opens. SCP-8804 leans against the doorframe, then it stumbles out of the containment cell, leaving a thick trail of blood.] [Moments later, an alarm sounds as the containment system registers the absence of SCP-8804 from its chamber. A priority four containment breach is sounded. Site-19 enters lockdown. All staff begin evacuation to their designated safe rooms.] [End Log] display feed, cam414 4/17/2024 Authorizing… Located (1) incident in Camera Feed 414 on 4/17/2024. Printing… Fig 1.2: Image simultaneously distributed to every address at Site-19 from the Subsection 11 technician closet, scrubbed by site-wide memetic counteragents within seconds. The image was later determined to be non-anomalous. [Begin Log] [Computer Service Technician Sean Sherwood, PID-G5L9TY, runs through the halls of Site-19 Sublevel 11. He is heading for his workstation. The evacuation alarm deafens the hallway microphones. Sherwood rounds a corner and enters the room at the end of the hallway. It’s the technical closet for this sector. His belongings lie scattered on the floor, as are dozens of printed photographs. He gathers them in his arms, tries to shovel them into a nearby pack. The alarm continues to blare and he raises one hand to cover his left ear, continuing to pack his bag with his right. Satisfied, he turns to leave. SCP-8804 is standing in the doorway.] [Sherwood stumbles backward, blubbering. The pack falls, spilling the photographs. They are detailed images of his and others’ mutilation of SCP-8804 over the previous months.] [SCP-8804 approaches Sherwood slowly. Blood continually drips down its chest, arms, and legs, pooling on the floor. A vivid trail is seen leading far behind it. It looms over Sherwood, breathing heavily. Sherwood shuts his eyes and raises his arms above his head, whimpering.] SCP-8804: [Inaudible] SHERWOOD: …What? SCP-8804: [Inaudible] SHERWOOD: Please don't—I'm sorry, I didn't think—I would have never— [SCP-8804 lifts an index finger to the space above its neck, then holds its other arm at a right angle, pointing to a wall-mounted computer terminal.] SHERWOOD: I don't… Okay. [Sherwood rises and approaches a nearby terminal. He enters his credentials, granting him access to Site-19’s general communication channel. SCP-8804 clears its trachea of blood and viscera.] SCP-8804: [Inaudible] [SCP-8804 reaches out toward Sherwood, who flinches. It places a bloody thumb on his forehead, then retracts it.] SCP-8804: [Inaudible] [SCP-8804 lifts its arms high, arching them and splattering blood on the walls and floor. It pivots harshly, keeping its balance, and moves aside, sweeping a palm toward the hallway. Sherwood slips past, running out of sight. SCP-8804 moves to the terminal, blocking the sight of the screen from the camera. Blood from its hands drips down the machine.] [After a moment, SCP-8804 steps back. It twirls, eventually settling on the camera. It holds itself at an odd angle, its weight impossibly supported on twisted legs, arms outstretched in grace. After a moment it relaxes, bowing. It turns and limps out of the room.] [End Log] display feed, cam660 4/17/2024 Authorizing… No footage found. override redactions Command locked. Password required. ██-████-██-█-█ Authorizing… Located (1) incident in Camera Feed 660 on 4/17/2024. Printing… [Begin Log] [Assistant Thermodynamist Rosam Steffen, PID-F9K2LM, sits on the floor of a personnel safehouse. The door is sealed, and he is alone. He rocks back and forth absently, mumbling. The breach alarm blares from beyond the door, muffled by the steel locks. He stands and washes his face in the safehouse’s sink. As he dries, he looks at himself in the mirror above.] [There is a knock at the door. Steffen turns and approaches the door. He peers through a small slit in the metal.] STEFFEN: David? Jesus, David. Is that you? [Steffen places a hand to the locking mechanism, hesitates, then wrenches it open. The door slides on its track. SCP-8804 is standing in the opening, holding the severed head of Security Agent David Lyett, PID-T4Z8CY. SCP-8804’s physiology is greatly degraded. Behind it is a trail of skin, blood, and other organic matter which has ceased regeneration entirely. SCP-8804’s body is mostly skeletal and has lengthened considerably. Its headless shoulders nearly scrape against the ceiling. Its clothes are scarlet rags, draped unceremoniously across its gaunt frame.] [It steps into the safehouse, nearing the camera. Its bones are revealed to be composed entirely of a deep purple, soporific sludge which causes them to continuously expand and contract, stretching upward, outward, and inward at once. The sight sends Seffan stumbling back. He screams.] [SCP-8804 attempts to place the head atop its oozing neck, balancing it precariously. It then lifts the head and throws it at Steffen’s feet with great force, destroying it. SCP-8804 attempts to lift its arms, but its bones are degrading rapidly and it cannot hold its form.] STEFFEN: I—I let you out! It was me! The others, what they did. And after I—I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t… [SCP-8804 approaches Steffen, extending a nearly aqueous arm.] STEFFEN: The door—that was me! Please, don’t… [SCP-8804 grabs Steffen and pulls him close, lifting him off the floor. SCP-8804's material sloughs to the floor, pooling in a deep purple sludge. The material moves outward, covering the floor and rising up the walls.] [SCP-8804’s mass soon envelops the entirety of the room, having lost all semblance of form. It is utterly total. The room is dark, and within the darkness the body of SCP-8804 melts and reforms, becoming an anonymous black-purple silhouette. SCP-8804 peers into Steffen with a reformed, hollow face. As it stares, the surface of its form begins to smooth over, losing its ripples and instabilities. It grows so still as to become reflective. Steffen sees himself looking back. SCP-8804 laughs from somewhere within and beyond, then it cries, then it screams. It begins to take shape, forming human features. Its skin gains texture and its limbs solidify. Then it hesitates.] [SCP-8804’s gaze settles onto the mirror above the sink. Its skin ripples once more, and then the matter halts its evolution. It lowers Steffen and approaches the mirror, dragging its half-human form along the floor. It pulls itself up to the sink. It is completely invisible when viewed through the mirror. It reaches out as if to brush the mirror’s surface, but its arm does not meet resistance. It continues this forward motion, letting its head and body follow into the mirror. It slips inside, fish-like. Then it vanishes. The safehouse returns to normal. Steffen lies huddled on the floor, breathing heavily.] [Slowly he rises and approaches the mirror. He gazes upon his reflection and finds it is foreign to him.] [End Log] ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8804" by Its a Bad Idea, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8804. 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: Mirror MET 141134.jpg Name: Mirror Author: John Belchier License: Public Domain Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mirror_MET_141134.jpg] Filename: A courtesan sees herself reflected in the mirror as a skelet Wellcome V0047462 (cropped).jpg Name: A courtesan sees herself reflected in the mirror as a skelet Author: Yoshitoshi License: Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license Source: [https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_courtesan_sees_herself_reflected_in_the_mirror_as_a_skelet_Wellcome_V0047462_(cropped).jpg]
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SCP-8808
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esoteric-class
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you store what you've learned in the vault at the back of your mind. you know it well. You will not see the aforementioned information, nor the ward itself, if you are not attuned to do so. THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS RESTRICTED BY A SUGGESTIVE COGNITOWARD, SHOWN ABOVE. You will not see the aforementioned information, nor the ward itself, if you are not attuned to do so. SCP- 8808 LEVEL: ֎ ֎ ֎ ֎ ֎ ֎ Secondary Class: Samadhi Disruption Class: KENEQ Risk Class: CRITICAL link to memo Item#: {$item-number} Level6 Containment Class: {$container-class} Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: {$disruption-class} Risk Class: {$risk-class} link to memo Pictured: SCP-8808 breathe out. you begin to read. do not worry. you have prepared yourself for this. now inhale. SPECIAL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES Containment of this anomaly and all relevant documentation has been self-assigned to the Department of Mandatory Suggestion; the extent of actions required to maintain effective mitigation of SCP-8808's memetic properties involve information control and memory manipulation of both employees and sapient objects in containment within affected secure facilities. Ethics Committee approval for these actions has been preemptively granted without need for request. Cognitowards are to be placed on various surfaces within impacted sites, no less than one per interior side of each chamber, including ceilings and floors. For larger or more irregular spaces, additional wards should be utilized, at the discretion of assigned agents. Alongside this, subliminal messages are to be inserted into official documents and reading materials provided to personnel and anomalies until SCP-8808 phenomena ceases. Affected instances are to be disposed of via acroamatic incineration. At this time, SCP-8808 remains uncontained. Despite this, departmental operations have reduced the prevalence of anomalous consequences by approximately 75%. The average level of cooperation observed during behavioral analysis of sapient anomalies has subsequently decreased, as expected. exhale. you are relaxed. your mind is clear. you do not hesitate. inhale. PREVIOUS RESEARCH Study of SCP-8808 was previously under the purview of the Department of Internal Investigations, during inquest into a concerning trend of events involving the unauthorized termination of several contained sapient anomalies. Victims were observed to have spontaneously disappeared from housing chambers, along with their personal effects, only to later be discovered outside the bounds of their secure facility, neutralized or otherwise destroyed via severe blunt force trauma. Camera footage and eyewitness accounts of the events in question have been difficult to ascertain, as security personnel unanimously cite equipment malfunctions leading up to and during the event that prevent surveillance and access into the affected anomalies' containment areas. This led to some speculation of internal sabotage, along with other theories of conspiratorial nature, reducing workplace morale, interdepartmental trust, and average personnel efficiency. Thus, the Department of Mandatory Suggestion was prompted to assume control of the situation and provide quality of life adjustments to affected sites. Upon application of regressive therapy for personnel present outside during the deaths of affected individuals, additional information about the anomaly was acquired. exhale. you are in the present moment. you will not surrender to false prophets of the mind. you are above them, and they are so far away that you cannot discern their detail. inhale. DESCRIPTION SCP-8808 defines a memetic contagion that manifests as a psychogenetic ideaform.1 The anomaly vectors through a persistent yet ill-defined belief in its existence, which is harbored by many sapient anomalies and D-Class personnel throughout Foundation secure facilities. SCP-8808 likely originated as a harmless rumor involving the presence of a "nicer" containment cell only accessible through good behavior. Specifically, this rumor involves a cell with a full patio or large window, neither of which are offered in Foundation facilities. Despite this, the pervasive belief in the existence of a "room with a view" continues to spread, at a rate obscured by deep-seated reticence involving the discussion of SCP-8808 with staff members.2 SCP-8808 is capable of infecting any and all sapient life which can visualize an approximation of its memetic structure and is also able to feel desire, envy, and related emotions. Amnestic treatment of individuals possessing knowledge of this ideaform has proven to be ineffective in preventing the manifestation of SCP-8808, which occurs with no predictable pattern; the anomaly contains metaconceptual origin within the subconscious mind that persists in a manner completely separate from memory. Due to variance between the many mental constructs created by numerous individuals imagining an "ideal" containment living space, SCP-8808's manifestation is often an unusable amalgamation, with spaces possessing irregular, conflicting furnishings or noneuclidean layouts, while lacking necessary utilities such as electrical wiring, light fixtures, walls, and doorways. SCP-8808 manifestations always include the presence of a balcony, patio and/or floor-to-ceiling windows, even when the room lacks an externally-facing edge. Unfortunately, as most individuals do not imagine each other's presence in these types of mental imagery, the formation of SCP-8808 in corporeal space is typically fatal to the inhabitant of the existing space; the anomaly compresses extant matter through an extradimensional singularity formed by rapid Hume loss moments before the event takes place. Victims are then shunted into the nearest open space containing "a view" in order to ontologically satisfy the parameters of the affected ideas. The effect dissipates shortly thereafter. exhale. you store what you've learned in the vault at the back of your mind. you know it well. it will not open until you hear your phrase. nothing crosses the threshold without the phrase. inhale. INCIDENT LOG 8808-1A On 5/13/2024, Foundation security discovered viscera belonging to the corpse of Dr. Osmond J. Greene, a project manager for Site-17, compacted into a seam at the junction between walls of his office. Dr. Greene had no affiliation with SCP-8808 phenomena, nor the affected individuals. According to a backup of his personal notes, Dr. Greene had been purportedly vying for a significant promotion, on the grounds it would help him secure a "spacious corner office". It should be noted that no such office exists. SCP-8808's containment has been placed under high priority. Anomaly class upgraded to Keter-Samadhi.3 exhale. you awaken. you have no memory of what you just read, only a nascent awareness of what you must do. now, proceed to your assigned facility. END OF FILE < SHOW/HIDE FOOTNOTES > < SHOW/HIDE FOOTNOTES > Footnotes 1. Also known as a tulpa or thoughtform. 2. Most individuals who believe in SCP-8808 also believe that talking to Foundation personnel about such accomodations may negate one's own chances of receiving them. 3. Keter-level anomaly is capable of manifesting through intense or collective focus.
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SCP-8810
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keter
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There's nothing funnier than an Incel getting slapped around with some cod by some tuna in lobster suits. DrBleep 6k words Reading Time: 22 mins 34 sec SUGGESTED LISTENING: Theme: Like a Prayer - Madonna Deadpool and Wolverine version Character themes: Abigail: Arcade Master - Two Steps From Hell Nancy: Samantha Fox - Two Steps from Hell You can find more of Bleep's works Here. Item #: SCP-8810 Special Containment Procedures: Undercover containment personnel have been integrated into religious organizations, online religious forums and social media. Should any participants demonstrate signs of a potential "litigious" event, implicated parties are to be seized, subjected to memetic and cognitohazardous deprogramming, and undergo societal reintegration. Description: SCP-8810 is a spontaneous memetic effect that arises sporadically among individuals associated with major organized religions, neo-pagan practices, folk religions, individualized faiths, and supernatural belief groups. This effect produces a profound belief that the divinity, system of worship, or supernatural entity(ies) has neglected or failed the affected persons, and that the only method for reconciliation is legal action.1 SCP-8810 does not preferentially target any specific group of individuals of faith or supernatural belief and does not seem to specifically target individuals experiencing outsized financial, physical, mental, or emotional distress. The first documented litigious event associated with SCP-8810 occurred in 1969, but depictions in cultural media such as The Devil and Daniel Webster potentially indicate that SCP-8810 has been in the public conscience for some time before the initial incident. A list of SCP-8810 incidents is provided in the table below. T-8810-01: Incident # Date Incident Description Outcome I-8810-01 1969 Russel T. Tansie filed suit for his secretary, Betty Penrose following a lightning strike on her home. The presented argument was that the Christian God had neglected Mrs. Penrose since the divinity had, supposedly, purchased property within the county. Lou Gottlieb, an American folk singer, had transferred the deed of his ranch property to God earlier in the week. The court found the plaintiff lacked standing, and the presiding judge dismissed the case as God is not a legal entity and therefore cannot own property. Additionally, Plaintiff could not show (as a matter of law) that this act of god was the basis for liability when an act of god is usually basis for the opposite as events not controlled by either party. I-8810-03 1971 Bethany Dubois attempted to file suit in South Dakota civil court against Grand Karcist Ion for emotional distress, related to failing to deliver her from the burdens of mortal flesh and thus freeing her from the yoke of existence. Mrs. Dubois had no prior associations with Nälkän or Neo-sarkic groups. It's unclear how Mrs. Dubois became involved with Sarkic religious practices, though some evidence exists that she had ties to the GRU-P. Foundation officials intercepted Mrs. Dubois' court filing and amnesctized the county clerk who, initially, handled the paperwork. When agents raided Mrs. Dubois' estate, she was found in her bedroom, deceased. Cause of death was cyanide poisoning. I-8810-07 1971 Stephany Hawkins, a resident of Las Vegas Nevada, initiated legal proceedings for alienation of affection against Robert Bumaro and the divinity Mekhane during the divorce of her husband, a known CotBG operative. Mrs. Hawkins accused Bumaro and Mekhane of leading her husband away from matters of the flesh and thus, sabotaging their marriage through deprivation of emotional connection. Mrs. Hawkins vanished shortly after the filing was submitted. Her husband alleged she went on vacation promptly after proceedings for both the suit and their divorce began. He alleged she had not been returning his calls. Local police opened an investigation into Mrs. Hawkins's disappearance. Upon securing a warrant to search Mr. Hawkins home, they discovered a shrine to Mekhane in his basement, and a large, human-sized pile of scrap metal in one corner. Mr. Hawkins was taken into custody and handed over to the Foundation. I-8810-08 1971 Geraldo Mayo filed suit against 'Satan and his staff' in West Pennsylvania before the United States District Court, alleging that Satan had 'levied unwanted threats, inflicted misery, and impeded important events in his life causing his economic and social downfall'. Mr. Mayo could not afford the legal fees to pursue the case and filed in forma pauperis in attempt to have them waived. Foundation officials were unable to intercept the case before it was processed; however, the attending judge rejected legal proceedings due to the plaintiff failing to include instructions on how 'Satan' could be served for trial. I-8810-51 1997 George Castero filed legal action against the Greek divinity "Zeus" in both civil and criminal courts before the United States District Court in Eastern Pennsylvania. Mr. Castero alleged that Zeus had 'fucked his wife and turned her into a housecat' and thus filed for both Alienation of Affection. He then called the Philadelphia Police Department to report the crimes of Transmutation2 and Second-Degree Murder. As a consequence of prior knowledge, Foundation agents did not interfere with case proceedings. The Civil court dismissed the case on account of Zeus not being a legal entity and therefore could not own property or incur financial harm. Suspecting potential foul play, local authorities investigated further and discovered that Mr. Castero had financial and emotional motive against his wife.3 The Court notified Foundation Officials, and further investigation determined that Mr. Castero was a type blue associated with the Serpents Hand. He was promptly taken into custody. I-8810-57 1998 A joint suit was filed by the players of the Minnesota Vikings against the 'Norse Pantheon' claiming the organization had colluded to make Gary Anderson's game winning kick in the 1998 NFC championship game miss by a foot to the right. Anderson and multiple other players alleged that Loki4, Odin5 and Thor6 had appeared in the sky of the domed stadium and caused the kick to veer slightly right of the uprights. Foundation officials intercepted the filing and brought the entire Vikings team and their coaching staff in for amnestic treatment. Review of the broadcast footage failed to produce any evidence of the alleged events. I-8810-78 2014 Marica Applewhite filed legal proceedings against "Lycanthropes". Ms. Applewhite sought 10 million USD for 'Emotional Distress and Alienation of Affection' on account of the defendants failing to fulfill her Omegaverse Fantasies. Foundation officials failed to prevent Ms. Applewhite's paperwork from being filed, due to a clerical error that temporarily disabled Foundation monitoring databases. The court rejected the case on the basis of "Lycanthropes and Werewolves" not being a legitimate organization or business. Additionally, the judge noted that, even if they had been real, suing all Werewolves would have been ludicrous and frivolous. When Ms. Applewhite descended into insults and unruly behavior following the dismissal, the Judge referred to her as "unhinged" and promptly held her in contempt of court for a period of 14 days. Mrs. Applewhite promptly escaped her prison cell through unknown means, though several inmates in the station described a "large, bi-pedal wolf smashing through the walls." I-8810-84 2016 In Bihar, India, Chandan Kumar Singh filed suit against the Indian divinity, Rama, in the court of Eastern Bihar. Mr. Singh alleged that Rama had mistreated his wife Sita by asking her to prove she was 'pure', claiming it was important to speak out against such scripture for the betterment of women. Mr. Singh's case was not caught by Foundation Monitoring systems, due to the lack of precedent of SCP-8810 in Indian Courts, and the case went before the court, where it was promptly rejected for being 'impractical'. I-8810-85 2016 See Incident Log I-8810-85 Reclassification of SCP-8810 to Keter. Incident Log I-8810-85 Date: ██/██/2016 Foreword: Dave Stillwater filed a lawsuit three months before the events of this incident log; filing a claim against the divinity Inanna, Mesopotamian Queen of Heaven, Goddess of Light, War, Love, and Justice. Mr. Stillwater sought damages for 'Alienation of Affection, Emotional Distress, Social Ostracization, and Discrimination.' Foundation Agents failed to intercept the paperwork or waylay court proceedings.7 Case was filed in The Southern District of New York, United States District court. The following log details the entire event. <Begin Log> Recording begins depicting a courtroom within the Daniel Patrick Moynihan United States Courthouse in lower Manhattan. Mr. Stillwater is seated on the right side, wearing an illfitting, dirty business suit. His lawyer, Mr. R. L. Stanbrook8, is seated next to him, thumbing through multiple files. The lawyer's expression is noted to be content. Bailiff: All rise for the honorable Judge Marrowitz. Judge Marrowitz enters the courtroom and ascends to take the bench. Judge Marrowitz: You may all sit. There are 10 other people in the room other than the claimant, bailiffs and the judge. They retake their seats. Judge Marrowitz: Does the claimant have a copy of the filing? Mr. Stanbrook: I do your honor. May I approach the bench? Judge Marrowitz holds out her hand. Judge Marrowitz: Please do. Mr. Stanbrook approaches the bench, and hands the judge the appropriate binder and forms. Judge Marrowitz: If the court reporter would do so now, please mark this as the start of the initial hearing of civil case TS-820983 -16/NY Stillwater vs… Judge Marrowitz pauses and reads the case file again. Judge Marrowitz: Stillwater vs Inanna. Judge Marrowitz rubs her temples and says something the camera does not pick up. Judge Marrowitz: Mr. Stanbrook, did you deliver notice of the suit to the defendants? Mr. Stanbrook: We did, your honor. The defendant responded to our notice, and affirmed they wished to bring this to the court. Judge Marrowitz stares at Mr. Stanbrook, and then Mr. Stillwater for several seconds. Judge Marrowitz: They’re— I see. Well as the opposing council and their client have not appeared, and it's— Judge Marrowitz checks her watch. Judge Marrowitz: Half an hour past our start time, let’s see the proof that you've contacted the defendants and then we'll go from there. Mr. Stanbrook pulls out several pieces of paper. Mr. Stanbrook: May I approach the bench, your honor? Judge Marrowitz: Go ahead. Mr. Stanbrook enters the pulpit and hands Judge Marrowitz the papers. She looks them over for several seconds mumbling the words 'Spain?' to herself. Judge Marrowitz: Let the record show that the claimants contacted the defendant and they were served. Lets hear the case and requested damages from you and your client directly, and I will render summary judgement from there. Mr. Stanbrook: Your honor, my client is seeking civil damages equivalent to 15 million dollars from the defendant, Inanna also known as Abigail Im-Immaru9, Queen of Heaven, Goddess of Light, War, Love, and Justice— Judge Marrowitz: I see you included the full title in the filing as well Mr. Stanbrook, was that necessary? Mr. Stanbrook: My client insisted. My client is suing Mrs. Im-Immaru for Alienation of Affection, Emotional Distress, Social Ostracization, and Discrimination. Following an event where he invested a significant amount of effort to please the defendant in order to ensure 'gain of favor and boons'. Mr. Stanbrook exhibits notable difficulty in keeping a straight face. Mr. Stanbrook: Mr. Stillwater is a self-described 'Involuntary Celibate' and alleges that Mrs. Im-Immaru's failure to follow up on an established contract has done egregious harm to his reputation and standing among members of his community. Judge Marrowitz's expression becomes incredulous, but she maintains composure and gestures to Mr. Stillwater. Judge Marrowitz: Mr. Stanbrook do you have evidence of this 'contract'? Mr. Stanbrook holds up a small binder. Judge Marrowitz gestures for Mr. Stanbrook to approach the stand. Mr. Stanbrook: I submit for the court's approval exhibit 1A, 1B, and if you'll direct your attention to the screen, 1C. Proof of contract in the form of photographic evidence, peer reviewed documentation of contract proceedings with the Goddess Inanna, and video evidence showing breach of contract. Judge Marrowitz takes the binder and opens it, a shocked expression crossing her face as she flips through the pages. She then looks up and watches the video play. All court attendees exhibit expressions of shock or disgust. Two people leave the courtroom. [COGNITOHAZARDOUS MATERIAL REMOVED] Judge Marrowitz: Mr. Stillwater, would you please describe for the court how you formed a contract with Inanna? Mr. Stillwater stands, and speaks in a reedy, nasally voice. Mr. Stillwater: If it pleases the court. I converted to Neo-paganism six months ago after a dream where Inanna— Mrs. Im-Immaru appeared to me and said that if I bestowed upon her a glorious gift while reciting the prayer we've submitted to the court, she would shower me with unending favor and promises ending the curse of my involuntary celibacy, by making all the bitches want me. Judge Marrowitz: Mr. Stillwater, you will watch your language in my courtroom. Mr. Stillwater: Sorry, your honor. The cameras pick up Judge Marrowitz speaking to herself at an audio-level that the rest of the court doesn't hear. Judge Marrowitz: What a farce. At a louder volume she says. Judge Marrowitz: Before I issue my ruling, Mr. Stanbrook does your client have any proof that Mrs. Im-Immaru is a real entity with financial holdings? Mr. Stanbrook: Yes, your honor, if you'll flip to the last page, we'll enter exhibit Item 1D, proof of finances. Judge Marrowitz flips to the last page and looks over the statement. Judge Marrowitz: So, just so that the court and I fully understand, Mrs. Im-Immaru co-owns a nightclub in Ibiza, Spain, called the Evening Star, and you're claiming she came to you in a dream, promised you… 'Women'? and favors if you… Judge Marrowitz gestures to the binder. Judge Marrowitz: Did this, and said a prayer to her? Mr. Stillwater: And post it online. She was very specific about that. Judge Marrowitz: Right. So, you did as she instructed, and the outcome has been… Mr. Stanbrook: Social ostracization, harassment, removal from online community and safe spaces, and discrimination in the form of Mrs. Im-Immaru completely ignoring his prayers and pleas. Financial difficulty due to loss of employment. Judge Marrowitz speaks again at a volume the court room can't hear. Judge Marrowitz: Not surprised at all. At a normal volume. Judge Marrowitz: Ok. Mr. Stillwater, one last thing. Would you please read aloud, for the court, the prayer you recited during the aggrieving incident? Mr. Stillwater: Certainly. Mr. Stanbrook: Hold on Dave, your honor? Judge Marrowitz: Purely for record keeping purposes. Mr. Stillwater: [COGNITOHAZARDOUS MATERIAL REMOVED] Judge Marrowitz removes her glasses and wipes them with a cloth. She makes a pre-arranged gesture, which the bailiffs respond to by moving towards the claimant’s table. Mr. Stanbrook and Mr. Stillwater are unawares. Judge Marrowitz: Right. Mr. Stillwater, Mr. Stanbrook, with the evidence presented and — ????: Hold on just a moment your honor, I haven't had my say yet. A loud electronic noise approximate to Law and Order's 'The Clang' plays. Camera footage resolves after several seconds. The Courtroom has visibly changed from, for lack of better descriptions, an official government courtroom, to a mud-brick structure with a tile dance floor, neon-lighting, and a bar on the back left side of the chambers. Judge Marrowitz: What on earth? Mr. Stanbrook: Your honor, is this some sort of practical joke? Mr. Stillwater points at the defendant’s table. Mr. Stillwater: See! I told you she was real! Seated at the defendants table is a young woman, late 20's, middleastern descent with brown hair, brown eyes, and dark olive skin. She is wearing jeans, chunky sneakers, and a muscle shirt. Exposed skin, excepting the face, glows with tattoos that both move and change intensity sporadically. Her feet are kicked up on the table, and the chair she is in is leaning back against the railing. Judge Marrowitz opens her mouth to speak, only for the woman to raise her hand. ????: Give it a moment, my counsel is almost here. The doors to the courtroom open and a woman dressed in a tight fit, well-kept, brown pants-suit walks down the aisle, heels clicking on the floor. She is also of middle eastern descent, with what witnesses described as a 'gentle but stern and business-like' expression. She carries a large, cuneiform-decorated briefcase. ????-2: Forgive me, your honor, traffic in New York is terrible. My client has temporarily relocated your courtroom for convenience’s sake. Judge Marrowitz looks between the two women, Mr. Stillwater and Mr. Stanbrook for several seconds with an expression of distressed disbelief on her face. Judge Marrowitz: What the hell do you mean temporarily rel— ????-2: Your honor, it's probably for the best that you do not think about it too deeply, lest you get a migraine. The woman in the suit sets her briefcase on the table, pops open the clasps and pulls out several binders, seamlessly flipping one of them open. ????-2: Now, your honor, if I'm not mistaken the claimants have already presented the argument for their suit against my Mistress? Judge Marrowitz: Well yes, but— ????-2: Excellent, and you were preparing to issue summary judgement due to my clients delayed attendance? Judge Marrowitz: Yes that's right, but see he— ????-2: Perfect. If it pleases your honor, we would like to rebutt Mr. Stillwater's claims before you make your judgement? The woman looks at Judge Marrowitz, awaiting their response. Judge Marrowitz takes off her glasses, takes a deep breath and says something at a low volume that only the camera microphones pick up. Judge Marrowitz: Margaret what the hell did you put in my cereal this morning. She speaks into the bench microphone. Judge Marrowitz: What would please me is the two of you, explaining what the hell you've done to my courtroom, who the hell you are, and why I shouldn't have the bailiffs throw you out of my courtroom!? ????: Oh that's easy, I can explain the first bit. [EXTRANEOUS EXPLANATION OF INFOHAZARDOUS ONTOKINETIC THEORY REDACTED] and then I [IRRELEVANT DESCRIPTION OF COGNITOHAZARDOUS SPATIO-TEMPORAL MANIPULATION REDACTED FOR BREVITY]. Judge Marrowitz, the baliffs, Mr. Stillwater, Mr. Stanbrook and all other attendees begin experiencing substantial nosebleeds. ????-2: I think that's good enough, Abigail. We don't want to melt their brains. As far as your second question your honor, this, is Inanna or as she is currently referred to among mortals, Abigail Im-Immaru [EXTRANEOUS TITLES REMOVED]. I am Ninshubur or Nancy Sukkal-Mah, Lady of Subartu, as well as Inanna and Ishtar's personal counsel, secretary, and administrative director. Judge Marrowitz: You people and your titles. Mrs. Im-Immaru: As for your last question, I think you'll find it very difficult to have your bailiffs remove us given we're arbiters of the scales of justice. Mrs. Im-Immaru looks directly at the camera. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Sorry for the mess this is going to make, Sherry, but this asswipe finally broke my patience. I'm sure you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. Mrs. Im-Immaru blows a kiss at the camera, a heart shaped neon-light floating through the air and briefly filling the entire field before dissolving. Her attention returns to Judge Merrowitz as she rocks back and forth in the chair, using her feet propped on the table to maintain balance. Judge Marrowitz: Who are you talking to!? Mrs. Im-Immaru: Don't worry about it. Judge Marrowitz: What!? Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: It's best if we remain focused on the case at hand Your Honor; the faster we resolve this issue, the quicker you get us out of your courtroom. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah smiles sympathetically at Judge Merrowitz. Judge Merrowitz stares at them both for ~a minute, curling and uncurling her fists. She turns her head to look at the bailiffs, who look between the claimant’s table and the defendant’s table. They take multiple steps to the other side of the courtroom, away from Mrs. Im-Immaru and Mrs. Sukkal-Mah. Judge Marrowitz: picks up her gavel and bangs it. This is already a circus, might as well get it over with. Judge Marrowitz slumps in her bench chair with a look of resignation, having lost control of proceedings. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Pushes her glasses up on her nose. Very good. I would like to call Mr. Stillwater to the stand. Mr. Stanbrook: Objection! This isn't a trial, it's a summary judgement hearing! You can't call witnesses. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Easy fix. Mrs. Im-Immaru claps twice. A loud electronic noise approximate to Law and Order's 'The Clang' plays. <Mrs. Im-Immaru: Title Card: One Fuckface Incel vs A Perfectly Innocent Goddess> As the static of the camera resolves, it refocuses on Mr. Stillwater who is seated in the witness stand. Glowing neon lights spelling out the case name and title decorate the walls of the courtroom, blinking approximately every minute. In addition to the 12 other people in the crowd, every previously unoccupied seat in the courtroom is now occupied with humanoid shaped entities made of neon light, glowing in every color the human eye can see. Mr. Stanbrook: Stands abruptly. Your honor! Judge Marrowitz: Your objection is noted and overruled. Mr. Stanbrook: This is outrageous! Judge Marrowitz: It's the worst nightmare I've had in weeks. I'm not about to make it go on longer. Go ahead, Mrs. Sukkal-mah. Mr. Stanbrook: This won't stand! I'll be filing a complaint with the la— Mrs. Im-Immaru claps once and Mr. Stanbrook's mouth disappears. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Yappy little thing aren't you. Mr. Stanbrook: Nghhhh!!!! Judge Marrowitz: Mrs. Im-Immaru, I will not tolerate you assaulting an officer of the law in my court room. Mumbling Even if he is scum of the earth. At normal volume. I will sanction you should if it happens again unwarranted! A five second pause. Mrs. Im-Immaru: What sort of sanction your honor? Judge Marrowitz: A fine of $350. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Three-Fitty, nice. Judge Marrowitz: Deep sigh. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah, please continue. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Mr. Stillwater, earlier today you testified to this court that you formed a contract with my client, is that correct? Mr. Stillwater: That's correct. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: And that contract was formed through a dream, wherein you were instructed to do certain tasks to win favor from my client, correct? Mr. Stillwater: Steeples his fingers on the stand surface. Yes. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah walks away from the podium, and picks up a binder, before moving back to the microphone. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Your honor I'd like to submit exhibit item 2A. May I approach the bench? Judge Marrowitz: Go ahead. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah approaches the bench and hands the judge a packet of papers. She hands one to Mr. Stillwater, and then circles back to give Mr. Stanbrook the packet as well. Mr. Stanbrook glares at Mrs. Sukkal-Mah for several seconds and emits an unintelligible vocalization from the place where his mouth once was. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Would you please read the highlighted lines on the first and second page for me Mr. Stillwater. Mr. Stanbrook: Hnghghghhh hngghhh, leading lddddngg hhe ninnntess! All parties ignore Mr. Stanbrook. Mr. Stillwater: In the days of old, favor, contracts, and bindings among the Anunna and Igigi could be forged with mortals by the pronouncement of tithings. Each of the Annuna and Igigi had their own customs, of which many have been detailed. He pauses and flips to the next page. Among the most capricious was Inanna, who could only be summoned through prayer offering flattery, compliments and riches. She would reply in gestations of light, the warmth of the rays of the evening star upon the cheeks, the richness of a blooming love. She will never greet the summoner in dreams unless they are already an exalted lover. A small pause. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: This document is cited by more than 20 different divine organizations as the standard contact protocol for the Messopotamian pantheon, your honor. The defense finds it peculiar that Mr. Stillwater supported his claims with non-academic blog-sites. Mr. Stillwater: But I saw her in my dream! It was exactly her! She told me the exact URLs to go to! He points at Mrs. Im-Immaru. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: On that topic, your honor, I would like to submit to the court exhibit 2B. May I approach the bench? Judge Marrowitz sighs. Judge Marrowitz: Go ahead. [EXTRANEOUS ACTIONS AND MUFFLED PROTESTS REMOVED] Mr. Stanbrook is now suspended from the ceiling on a neon light that rotates slowly. The words 'I am a corrupt bastard' glow on the floor around his blinking outline. Mr. Stillwater has returned to the claimants table, where he is currently suspended in the air by a chain of thousands of neon-glowsticks suspended from the ceiling and wrapped around his hands. He is swinging slowly back and forth, and at least one humanoid shaped neon-light construct pushes him forward when he gets too close to the railing. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: As you can see your honor, on the dates in question, my client's dream travel log is very busy with [EXTREME COGNITOHAZARDOUS ACTIVITIES REMOVED] and [DEIFIC INDOCTRINATION TRIGGERS EXCISED]. Judge Marrowitz: I cannot say I've ever heard of a dream travel log, is this a standard practice among… whatever you are? Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Very, your honor. It's an accountability method for beings of a divine nature, put in practice after the great avocado flood of 1987. With that, I would like to offer my concluding statement to the court? Judge Marrowitz: The gre— no no. Nevermind, I don't want to know. Go ahead, I’m not getting younger, and this nightmare is taking its time in ending. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Either Mr. Stillwater completely fabricated this entire story, for attention and/or to excuse his frankly sickening hobbies, or some alternate force is attempting to frame my client. Judge Marrowitz: Is that all the defense wishes to present? Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Yes, your honor. Judge Marrowitz: Very well. Mr. Stanbrook do you have any closing statements? Mr. Stanbrook: Hnghhh!!! hnngadgjhhh nnnnn— Judge Marrowitz: No? Suit yourself. Judge Marrowitz bangs her gavel. Judge Marrowitz: Usually on a successful defense of a motion for summary judgement we would move on to the actual trial. But given the outright ludicrous nature of the events here today and the evidence presented by the defense, I should dimiss with prejudice instead. Any objections, Mr. Stanbrook?" Mr. Stanbrook: nghheeheh Judge Marrowitz: Right, overruled. Case dismissed. The courtroom erupts with applause, false cheers, and yips. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: Excellent, thank you your honor. Mrs. Im-Immaru: You know, I used to be an extremely petty bitch, 5000 years ago. I leveled a mountain cause it dared to be prettier than me and my sibling. I pitched tantrums, cause Gilgamesh killed my fucking boar. I went to the underworld on the war path because… actually no, that one didn’t happen like the academics said it did. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Anyways that's not me anymore. I've grown up. I've matured to being only slightly petty now. Mrs. Im-Immaru: That's why, this is now a criminal trial. Mr. Stillwater: What? Mr. Stanbrook: Hnghhh!? Judge Marrowitz: Mrs. Im-Immaru, this is not a criminal trial or court. You cannot simply dicta— Mrs. Im-Immaru: Sure I can! Mrs. Im-Immaru claps three times. A loud electronic noise approximate to Law and Order's 'The Clang' plays in accompaniment with an EDM motif. <Judge Im-Immaru: Title Card: State of New York and the loveliest Goddess to Ever Exist vs One [COGNITOHAZARDOUS MATERIAL REMOVED] Fuckface Incel and One Embezzling Yellowbellied, Greedsuckling, Soulless Lawyer.> The camera feed resolves; the courtroom has changed once again. It is now oriented in a night club style layout. All walls and ceilings are now dance floors covered in fluorescing tiles as a dozen signs stating the case name flash on every surface. Humanoid shaped neon light constructs dance on the floor, the walls, and ceilings at angles that would be impossible if gravity was behaving normally. Judge Marrowitz is sitting on a throne, floating in the air in the middle of the dance floor and slowly spinning. A neon crown is perched atop her head. Her Honorable Judge Im-Immaru is now seated at the bench, wearing a wig of oscillating neon lights. The seating arrangements have swapped, Neon blinking placards in cuneiform reading "Prosecution" displayed on the table on the right side where Mrs. Sukkal-Mah is seated. No table is on the left side where the defendants would normally be, instead a large wheel with different colored neon panels sits in its place. Mr. Stillwater is strapped to the wheel, which is split into two segments rotating in opposite directions. ~12 Mr. Stanbrooks are strapped to the walls, attached to the neon lights dictating the case title. Every time the color changes, Mr. Stanbrook screams as he's electrocuted, the tones of his screams being harvested and distorted into electronic music. Judge Im-Immaru: Welcome ladies, gentlemen, and enbies of all flavors, I'm your host Abigail, and this is CRIMINAL COURT WITH JUDGE MARROWITZ! Cheers go up from both the human spectators and the neon-light humanoid constructs. Judge Im-Immaru: Nancy why don't you go ahead and tell us what our defendants here are being charged with based on the evidence and testimony we saw today? Judge Marrowitz: This has gone from a nightmare to a night terror. Judge Marrowitz begins drinking from a flask covered in strobing neon lights. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: As you saw earlier your honor, Mr. Stillwater incriminated himself by presenting video and photographic evidence of violation of New York Penal Law - PEN § 235.00, PEN § 353-A, & PEN § 245. Judge Im-Immaru: Ooooo those are nasty! Mrs. Sukkal-Mah: The State of New York has detailed paper trail evidence that Mr. Stanbrook violated New York Penal Law § 496.05, gross cases of embezzlement, taking bribes, paired with aiding and abetting criminal conspiracy. While not necessarily a violation of the law, and thus not of terrible relevancy to current proceedings, I'd also like to submit for the record that Mr. Stanbrook is a soulless hack for tieing his reputation to a client that ignored his warnings about the evidence presented here today being wildly self-incriminating. Judge Im-Immaru: I agree, bully on you Mr. Stanbrook. It seems the evidence against the defense is fairly stacked. Mr. Stanbrook screams incoherently in two ~3 second bursts. This results in a bass drop. Judge Im-Immaru: Mr. Stillwater, do you have any closing statements in your defense? Mr. Stillwater: I'm going to hurl, make the spinning stop. Judge Im-Immaru: Mr. Stanbrook do you have any closing remarks? Mr. Stanbrook: Incoherent loud screaming for approximately two minutes. Judge Im-Immaru: Mmmmm, I don't know about that defense, seems kind of weak. Members of the Jury, would you please step onto the throbbing neon scales of justice to announce your verdict for Mr. Stanbrook. Then do the same for Mr. Stillwater? The camera tilts to the Jury, made up entirely of neon light constructs. All 12 members step onto the guilty scale twice. Jury: On the presented counts we find both defendants, guilty! Judge Im-Immaru: Now, all you kids know what comes next! It's time to play— Judge Im-Immaru points out at the crowd. Whole Courtroom: Wheel! Of! Justice! Judge Im-Immaru: Nancy, if you would do the honors. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah walks over to the giant wheel, and with a great amount of effort, spins it. Mr. Stillwater starts screaming as the wheel spins faster and faster, neon fluid erupts from his blurry form, assumed to be vomit. After approximately thirty seconds the wheel stops on a neon blue and red panel. Judge Im-Immaru: Congratulations, my friends! The wheel has decided your fate! Are you ready to be slapped 235,000 times by the dancing lobsters, and then go straight to Jail!? For life!? Mr. Stillwater and Mr. Stanbrook both scream incoherently. Judge Im-Immaru: Bring in the dancing lobsters! The doors to the courtroom open and ~30 Finnfolk in Lobster costumes enter, wielding still alive cod. They dance across the courtroom and begin slapping Mr. Stillwater and Mr. Stanbrook with the fish. Judge Im-Immaru: That's all for today folks! Judge Im-Immaru exits the bench, and the camera follows her, as if mounted on a drone, as she walks out of the room, down the hall, and then out of the courtroom. Outside she snaps a finger, and a motorcycle made of strobing neon lights manifests. She mounts it, hikes up the parking stand and revs the engine. Judge Im-Immaru: Let this be a lesson, don't fucking sue me assholes. Judge Im-Immaru takes off, leaving a trail of streaking light. As soon as Mrs. Im-Immaru is out of frame, the camera distorts, slingshotting back to its original position. At this point, a SWAT team storms the courtroom and takes both Mr. Stanbrook and Mr. Stillwater into custody without resistance, as they are prostrated on the floor of the pulpit, foaming at the mouth and unconscious. Mrs. Sukkal-Mah is nowhere to be seen. <End Log> Postword: Post-incident, all members present during the hearing were treated with Class C Amnestics. Judge Marrowitz retired from the bench shortly after the incident. Both Mr. Stanbrook and Mr. Stillwater were found to already be convicted and sentenced for violation of criminal statutes. Foundation officials elected not to interfere, determining that dissemination of technical issues with the broadcast, recording, and schedule history of the trial would be sufficient cover. Post-Incident: Following the incident, SCP-8810 has been reclassified to Keter, due to the high probability of future type-black entity interference in any legal proceedings that arise from SCP-8810. Interview Log INT-8810-85 Date: ██/██/2016 Foreword: Following Incident I-8810-85, O5-01-03 Dr. Sherry Andrews summoned PoI-Valencia-02 to discuss the incident, and its aftermath. <Begin Log> The camera feed resolves to Dr. Andrews and Mrs. Im-Immaru seated in a Scranton-reality anchor lined interview chamber. Dr. Andrews: Really? Mrs. Im-Immaru: Really. Dr. Andrews: I don't even know what to say Abigail, other than what the fuck. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Listen— Dr. Andrews: No-no I don't want to hear excuses! We have a cooperative agreement! You stay in Ibiza; you stick to your role in paving the way for us to stop the world from fucking ending. In turn, we leave you alone to do whatever it is you do in that club. You don't go doing… whatever the hell this was supposed to be! Dr. Andrews takes a deep breath for several seconds and composes herself. Dr. Andrews: That said, in the end the damage was limited, and we were able to spin it in our favor but… you can't do this again. Mrs. Im-Immaru: I certainly don't intend to. Dr. Andrews lets out a long slow sigh. Dr. Andrews: Good. Good I'm glad we understand each other. Several seconds pass in silence. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Are we done? As much as I like sitting here, drinking coffee, and being screamed at by you; I do have a packed schedule. Dr. Andrews: Just one more thing. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Alright. Dr. Andrews: Did you do it? Mrs. Im-Immaru: Did I do what? Dr. Andrews: Don't play word games with me, did you send him the dream? Mrs. Im-Immaru shifts in her chair and several seconds of silence pass between them. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Listen this little asshole was putzing around on the internet, all these forums and shit claiming Aleah and I didn't endorse enbies and trans people and all this nasty ass bigoted sh— Dr. Andrews: That's not what I asked. Did you send him the dream? Mrs. Im-Immaru: Well see— Dr. Andrews bangs her fists on the table. Dr. Andrews: Dammit, Abigail, answer the fucking question! Mrs. Im-Immaru: Yes, alright! I got with Emily, and we concocted the dream. I wanted to fuck with him. Dr. Andrews: She what? Mrs. Im-Immaru: Ok, maybe that was a bit of a lie, I borrowed one of her nightmare devices and made… some adjustments. Dr. Andrews: For fucks sake— This could have gone so much worse! What if it had been a national broadcast! With the amount of publicity arou— Mrs. Im-Immaru: How was I supposed to know that he was going to take "Gifts resembling those of old, while reciting my prayer" to mean [MENTALLY HAZARDOUS MATERIAL REMOVED] while [GRAPHIC INFOHAZARD REMOVED] with [APOCALYPTIC MEMETIC EFFECT EXCISED] in the middle of the woods while covered in grease and flour. Fifteen seconds of silence. Dr. Andrews sits with her mouth slightly open, staring at Mrs. Im-Immaru. Dr. Andrews: Those poor fucking goats. Mrs. Im-Immaru: The goats and my brain-eyes-things. Fucker was saying my prayer the whole time. I'll never scrub that from my brain, Sherry. Never. Thirty seconds of silence. Dr. Andrews looks back down at her notes, taking off her glasses, and rubbing her temples. Dr. Andrews: …dancing lobsters with fish? Why? Mrs. Im-Immaru: There's nothing funnier than an Incel getting slapped around with some cod by some tuna in lobster suits. <End Log> Dr. Andrews: No we're not ending the log there, fuck you for trying that. Mrs. Im-Immaru: Oh come on, that was good! Dr. Andrews: You don't get a funny zinger after today. Five seconds of silence. Dr. Andrews: Ok now we can end it. <End log> Medea Filicidium Seas of Orcadia Hub Cat Got Your Tongue? Footnotes 1. Primarily in the form of litigation/lawsuits. 2. Transmutation is not a crime in any US state. 3. She had been having an affair at the time of her supposed murder. 4. Norse god of Mischief and half-ice giant. 5. Head of the Norse Pantheon and also regarded as a trickster. 6. God of Thunder and considered notoriously too stupid to be a trickster. 7. The case file did not appear in foundation monitoring systems until 24 hours before initial hearings began. 8. Mr. Stanbrook was preparing to retire, and Mr. Stillwater was his last case. Mr. Stanbrook was not aware of it, but the immediate dismissal of the case before it reached its first hearing did not occur, due to integration with a coordinated sting with the US Justice department as a result of gross corruption on Mr. Stanbrook's part in aiding/abetting former New York City Mayor ███ ██████. He was to be arrested at the end of the hearing. 9. PoI-Valencia-02 ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8810" by DrBleep, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8810. 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: Name: (if different from filename) Author: License: Source Link:
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The threats of men are fickle things when compared with the words of the faith. + CODE - CODE /* BLANKSTYLE CSS [2021 Wikidot Theme] By Placeholder McD and HarryBlank Based on: Paperstack Theme by EstrellaYoshte Penumbra Theme by EstrellaYoshte */ @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Montserrat:ital,wght@0,800;1,800&display=swap'); #page-content { font-size: .9rem; } #main-content { top: -1.6rem; padding: 0.2em; } div#container-wrap { background-image: none; } div#header { background-image: none; } #header h1, #header h2 { margin-left: 0; float: none; text-align: center; } #header h2 { margin-top: 0.5rem; } #header h1 span, #header h2 span { font-size: 0; display: none;} #header h1 a::before, #header h2::before { color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px; font-family: 'Montserrat', sans-serif !important; text-shadow: none; } #header h1 a::before { content: var(--header-title, "R\0026 C SITE-43"); font-weight: 400; font-size: 1.3em; } #header h2::before { content: var(--header-subtitle, "SUBVERTING COMMON PRACTICE"); 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} #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } /* Pseudogenesis Formats */ .pseudo-div { border:solid 4px #B22A2A; background:#403450; color: #ffffff; padding: 5px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; text-align: center; } .pseudo-div :is(h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6) { font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; letter-spacing: 0px; font-weight: normal; color: white; } Anarchaeology Training Session #3 Video Log Transcript Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 8th, 2017 Personnel Present: Junior Researcher Mathias Kwok, Anarchaeology Specialist Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi, Anomalous Anthropologist The camera switches on and autofocuses to the darkness of a cave. Sunlight brightens the periphery of the frame. Kwok: The smell isn't great, but at least it's cool in here. I thought I was going to melt on the walk over. Mohalbi: Well, the quicker we finish today's demos, the sooner we can get back to the sweet relief of AC. <She pauses.> But if we take as long as we did last time, I'm going to start preparing you for taxidermy. Kwok: You'll stuff me? <They laugh.> Bad joke, I know. Precision is part of the job, however. If you have an issue with my level of caution, I heard that Zeta-9 is always recruiting. Kwok attempts to pick up a large, loose stone. They struggle. Kwok: You don't seem like the MTF type, though, so I suggest you follow my lead. You'll get your sweet relief without getting yelled at by the professor. Mohalbi: Right. <Whispering> I can't wait for this to be over. A pause. Kwok reaches to their belt for a chisel and small hammer, placing the former on the edge of the stone. They rotate the rock as they strike it firmly. After some time, the rock cracks in two. Mohalbi: Anything good? Kwok: More nummulite, non-anomalous. Since I was careful, you can see the preserved coils. They act as good index fossils too, so we know exactly when we are in history. Kwok stands, holstering their hammer and chisel. Mohalbi rolls her eyes and stares at the roof of the cave. Mohalbi: You know, if you were paying attention on the way in, you would have seen hundreds of them embedded in the rocks. Mohalbi sits and removes her hat, wiping sweat from her forehead. Mohalbi: We've been out where for what, three weeks now? I'm sick of waking up to sweltering heat just to split loose rocks in a cave until the sun sets. I want to, I don't know, dig up ancient civilizations that shouldn't have existed. Wasn't that what we were promised during orientation? Kwok: We're going to get there soon— once we show them that we can do this right, hopefully they'll put us on larger projects… Kwok picks up a rock, offering it to Mohalbi. Kwok: You'll have your breakthrough soon, I know it. Mohalbi hesitates before taking the rock, observing it. She tosses it deeper into the cave. A hollow thud reverberates down the tunnel. The pair turn towards the noise. She looks at Kwok. Mohalbi: Ask and ye shall receive. They arrive at a fist-sized hole in a dirt and vine wall. Mohalbi takes a small mattock from its holster and begins to chip away at the hole, creating an entrance large enough to fit a person. Kwok: Hold on, shouldn't we call for backup? Not only that, according to the handbook, we need to prioritize securing the area and asses the stability of the cave before we go any further. Mohalbi: And give Elana an opportunity to steal credit for my discovery? No way. Stay out if you want, but I will bury you if you reach for that radio. Kwok is seen reaching for their radio, but pauses. After a moment, they join her at the opening, holding a flashlight. Kwok: Fine. But I'm not doing this for you; I'd rather an anarchaeologist be present for potential discoveries instead of just an 'anthropologist'. Mohalbi: Come on, rockboy. Without me, you wouldn't know why the things you find were made. I know you want to find something big, you're the same as me. Kwok enters behind Mohalbi, shining their light around the newly revealed cavern. A collection of humanoid objects can be seen in various poses throughout the space, with collections of vases and scrolls scattered on the outskirts. Kwok: Looks like some sort of storage, long-term maybe. A lot of these statues don't look like they've been moved in centuries, given the overgrowth. Natural erosion could explain the entrance being blocked off. Mohalbi: The style is definitely Greek, but the major influences, culture and materials are nothing like what we've seen on Psara before— think it could be anomalous? Kwok: Outwardly, no. The materials all seem non-anomalous to me. The only concern would be the statues, but we would need to extract those to a laboratory for better observation. Shuffling can be heard from the other side of the cavern. A pot falls to the floor and shatters. A cloud of dust remains when Kwok and Mohalbi shine their lights in the direction of the noise. Kwok stumbles backward into the cave wall, dropping their flashlight. The light points to a flat, straw mat on the cave floor adjacent to an almost extinguished fire. A sleeping humanoid rests atop the mat. Kwok: Mohalbi! Come quick, I think someone's alive here! Mohalbi: No shit. I'll radio for medical. Kwok slowly approaches the figure. They reach out a hand to touch its shoulder. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaches from the right, as another humanoid figure grabs Kwok's sleeved wrist, crushing it. ???: You will not defile her.1 Mohalbi trips, dislodging the camera. The footage goes black. Item#: 8811 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: notice Risk Class: dark link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8811 are currently contained in situ. Provincial Site-Ψ has been constructed around the point of initial discovery. Sketch of SCP-8811-A, circa 1898. Description: SCP-8811 is the collective designation for a previously undiscovered settlement below Psara, Greece. SCP-8811-A and -B are two female humanoids of unknown age, who claim to have lived in SCP-8811. Recovered alongside -A and -B were several artifacts: decorative vases and jugs, parchment scrolls, and a collection of ~80 intact statues, with an estimated 300+ fragmented and destroyed statues. Materials relevant to SCP-8811's containment have been translated and provided below. SCP-8811 was discovered during a training anarchaeological survey of Psara, leading to a confrontation between -B and the trainees. Plans to relocate -A and -B to a more permanent containment site were devised, but have yet to be implemented. Addendum SCP-8811.1 - Recovered Materials and Interviews Fragment SCP-8811-A-1 Our story starts long ago. Long before the songs of heroes and the laments of tragedies, before Greece was named such. In fact, our story takes place far from the wondrous halls of Athenian scholars, far from the banks of the Evrotas and the Spartans and the mountainous valleys of Delphic prophets. Indeed, it is on the small island of Psara that our story starts. The birth of a Princess. Now Psara was a humble fishing settlement. But while some of its people sought the bounty of the sea, many more found their calling in sculpture. The sculptors of Psara were like no other. No where else could one witness the wonders of those forms crafted from clay or marble. Mythic heroes, vengeful villains, creatures both tame and terrifying. Every curve and fang and tuft of fur was carved by the calloused, yet delicate, hand of the people of Psara. Hands that soon began to craft the irreal. The Princess, who was still of flesh and blood, grew up surrounded by these sculptured forms found nowhere else in nature. To be human was to have a creative mind, but to be Psaran was to let your imagination run wild. But where others were gifted in craft, the Princess had her own gift. Every night when she went to sleep, she saw before her fragmented glimpses of the future, small pieces of shattered glass for her to take into her hands to find meaning in. The people of Psara loved the small girl who, with white hair and moon-like skin, murmured fortunes and prophecies of the future while drifting in and out of sleep. She was an oneiromancer, and on her 10th birthday, her dreams were only of death and destruction. SCP-8811-B Intake Interview Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 9th, 2017 Personnel Present: Junior Researcher Mathias Kwok Kwok: Hello, SCP-8811-B. If you would take a seat, we can— SCP-8811-B: When will you allow me to return to her side? It has been decades since we were apart for this long. Kwok: I promise that you can see her again, just as soon as you can answer our questions. SCP-8811-B crosses their arms and stares back at Kwok. SCP-8811-B: I will stand. Kwok: SCP-8811-B, if I could just get you to— SCP-8811-B: What is this 'SCP' you call me? My name is Lysandra, given to me by my parents, named after my grandmother. Kwok: Apologies, Lysandra. SCP-8811-B: I will answer your questions, but if you do not allow me to return to her soon, you will pay for your betrayal with blood. Kwok wipes the sweat from their forehead. They look down at the cast on their wrist. Kwok: Right, t-thank you for your cooperation. Can you tell me more about yourself and SCP-8811-A? Your companion. SCP-8811-B: If you are talking about Euno, I am her protector. Kwok: What do you mean by 'protector'? SCP-8811-B: I protect her. My life has been promised to her. Do your people not have faithful guardians anymore? <They squint and lean forward.> You don't look like much of a warrior to me. Kwok: We still have people who fight, things are just… well, things are different now. People can kill from a great distance, and the danger is more invisible than it was before. SCP-8811-B laughs. SCP-8811-B: You are misguided. Magick and the hands of fate have been killing long before you and I were alive— a warrior is a warrior because of who they protect, why they protect them, not what they face. Kwok: So… why do you protect SCP-88— Euno? SCP-8811-B: Why does the sun rise? Why do the shore and sea meet? I am her blade, and I live and die alongside her. Kwok: Can I assume you mean that figuratively? SCP-8811-B: No. Kwok: No? SCP-8811-B: I am sworn to her. Bonded. Perhaps in your time, you have forgotten what it means to truly serve, but I have not. For as long as she lives, I will remain to ensure that no harm falls upon her. Kwok: Wow. That's… intense. What is it you're protecting her from, exactly? SCP-8811-B: The world. Fragment SCP-8811-A-2 Word of Psara's sculptures spread far and wide, and envoys from afar sought to find the truth of the rumor of creation on this small, rocky island. Many came to the island in awe, writing poems and epics of the island half-population by figures of stone. Others looked to the island with bitterness; who were the Psarans to create such intricate art? Who were they to the prideful Athenians or the tragic Thebans? These few, seeking the bounty of the islands for themselves, demanded that the "lesser" Psarans create for them sculptures that would make their cities the envy of the known world. The King, though one of charity, refused. "Who are you to create such beauty for yourself and not for others?" They chided. But the King could only smile. The Psarans sought not to create for wealth or fame, but found their joy in the simple act of creation. And so, the envoys left, promising to return to the island with armadas and armies to steal the beauty of the island away. The people of Psara thought their threats to be empty, the Princess knew that to be false. She twisted and turned in the night, whispering of collapse and death. The King and his advisors listened intently, and for months, they watched the horizon for their promised end. There were no invaders to meet the Psarans on the beach, however, no triremes with hoplites whose bronze armor shined in the sun. The King had his craftsman create winding leviathans and fearsome chimeras to dissuade any would be adversary from coming close to the island. After months of no action, the King declared victory, and a feast was held on the island in the name of the Princess whose prophecy was yet to come true. However, the threats of men are fickle things when compared with the words of the faith. And what armies could not dream to do, a single man could. A single question to topple a kingdom, the flutter of a butterfly wing to create a storm. SCP-8811-B Interview #2 Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 10th, 2017 Personnel Present: Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi SCP-8811-B sits alone, watching the door in silence. It opens, and Researcher Mohalbi enters. SCP-8811-B: Who are you? What happened to the other one? I will not be kept any longer withou— Mohalbi: Hi, so sorry about that! I'm Researcher Mohalbi, one of the other researchers working at the dig site. I'll be taking over the interviews from now on. SCP-8811-B's frustration vanishes, replaced by a look of confusion. SCP-8811-B: Mohalbi? Garafilia? Mohalbi: Pardon? SCP-8811-B: My mistake. It matters not. SCP-8811-B leans forward, resting on the table. SCP-8811-B: Why should I talk to you? Mohalbi: Look, if you want to talk to the rock nerd, be my guest. But they don't know the difference between the Greek and Roman cultures— so have fun with that, Lysandra. SCP-8811-B does not move. After a second, they lean back, and gesture to the other seat. Mohalbi: I thought so. So, tell me about yourself. SCP-8811-B: As I told your compatriot, I am Euno's protec— Mohalbi: I know, I know, you protect her. I care about more than just that; is it a vow you swore? Maybe a debt owed, or— SCP-8811-B: A debt? Protecting the Princess of Hypopsara is the greatest honor possible. While I am just a lowly human, Euno is blessed with powers untold; to serve alongside her is my sole purpose. Mohalbi: Hypopsara… so you were always underground? SCP-8811-B: Not quite. Fragment SCP-8811-A-3 On an early morning, when the sailors and fishers let loose their moorings to take to the water, a rotting vessel cut across the jeweled water of the sea. A man, whose grey beard draped down to his chest, confidently steamed forward on a small raft with a hull more barnacle and seaweed than wood. The water seemed to flee from in front of him, slipping out from the bow as the boat cut into the sand of Psara's shore. The King was sent for not soon after and, with Princess in tow, they met the mystical man on the beach. He bowed, as the pair approached, that man of the sea. He introduced himself as but a humble servant of the gods, sent with holy mission to the island. The gods, who had long grown weary of the Psarans, requested their fealty, loyalty by worship, a course correction to save the people of the island from their own hubris. Once again, the King denied. The man simply bowed, cursed and spat on the sand before the King, and returned to his ship. He hardly made it past the shallow bar before he was swallowed by the sea, with only foam remaining. That night, nestled into the nook of her kline, the Princess slipped in and out of prophetic sleep. The soft moon, from which the Princess had shared many features, hid half its face in the night sky, but still painted the chambers of the young girl in a soft glow. She held her eyes shut as the cacophony of footsteps made their way to her room, trying not to awake in tears when their klismos scraped against the stone floor as the men began to speak and wait for her words. "We have to strike first to protect ourselves!" said the martial man. "We should reason and negotiate! There's no need to shed blood," said the wise man. "We need to protect ourselves here. I will not bend and I will not let my people die!" said the King. A vision, fleeting like a butterfly, entered the mind of the Princess. Unconsciously, she reached out to grab it, hold it in her hand as the prismatic patterns on its wings flowed out to form a scene around her. It was dark, and the Psarans were beset on all sides by the cool dampness of the earth. The soft light of the sun glowed through several long shafts carried on the back of the salty island wind. Several figures stood, frozen in various poses and positions, holding each other close or working together in peaceful unity. And then, darkness. The Princess was alone, painted under the light of the full moon. "We…underground…together…darkness…" The Princess muttered, tears streaming down her cheek as the men leaned closer to heed her words. The men mumbled in decision before nodding, their footsteps disappearing one by one. The King sat at the edge of the Kline, wiped the tears from the Princess' eyes, and whispered "thank you" before slowly closing her chamber door. As she had said it, the King saw to it that it would be done. Continued SCP-8811-B: If your partner is focused on earth, what is your specialty. The gods? Researcher Mohalbi laughs, and SCP-8811-B furrows their brow. Mohalbi: In a way. Kwok studies what was left behind, I prefer to go to the source directly. I'm an anthropologist. SCP-8811-B: You study humans? And this is a profession? Mohalbi: Trust me, I'm in the minority. <A pause.> Enough about me, tell me more. Did you grow up with Euno? SCP-8811-B: I did not. I was raised by father after the death of my mother; he was a fisherman, and raised me to follow in his footsteps. Mohalbi: So Hypopsara was a fishing community? SCP-8811-B: Yes, we fished. But, as with many of the other islands, our lives were at the will of the gods, and we struggled to survive. Mohalbi: How so? SCP-8811-B sighs. SCP-8811-B: The hour runs late, and you ask many questions, Mohalbi. Let me return to her now, so I may tend the fire. I can teach you more about us at a later time. Mohalbi pauses. Mohalbi: Alright, I'll let you return to your princess. Security will escort you back to the cavern. <She smiles.> I'll be sure to think of some questions for you in the mean time. SCP-8811-B Interview #3 Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 11th, 2017 Team Members Present: Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi Mohalbi: SCP-8811-B, it's good to see you again. SCP-8811-B does not answer, slightly tilting their head as they watch Researcher Mohalbi warily. Mohalbi: I was hoping we could talk about religion today. SCP-8811-B: I will make a deal with you, Mohalbi. You are the only person I have found tolerable within your… band of compatriots, and the armed guards you have patrolling the tunnels around Hypopsara have prevented me from my routine gathering. We are low on firewood, and in need of more. Perhaps we can come to an accord? Mohalbi: I don't think I'm authorized to— SCP-8811-B: Authority? 'Researcher', I believe we are alone in the room. Is there another you must answer to? Researcher Mohalbi: You're right, I can make that call. Okay, deal. You answer my questions, you get firewood. Now first question: you had said that Hypopsara had an antagonistic relationship with the Greek gods? SCP-8811-B: Yes. The gods were spiteful, much as they are now, and wished to control those who existed outside of their domains. Hypopsara was one such place, one that the gods demanded fealty from. Mohalbi: Why Hypopsara? SCP-8811-B: What do you know of art, Mohalbi? Mohalbi: I flunked my one art history class — I don't get it. It's just so abstract, and— SCP-8811-B: Ah. Not quite, what do you know of our art? Mohalbi: Even less. SCP-8811-B: In the times of Psara's glory, the gods and society held a firm belief in what art was; art was a gift, granted by the gods, and meant to be as exact of a replication of reality as was humanly possible. The artist focused on mimicry, an duplicate of the world; but for Psara, the artist was a revolutionary. Mohalbi: Revolutionary? SCP-8811-B: Yes, they created what they saw in their minds' eye. They created fiction; the Gods believed that true 'creation' was sacrilege, how dare a mortal attempt to do that which the Gods did? And yet, for Hypopsara, we created; we all earned our curse. Mohalbi: So you were also a sculptor? SCP-8811-B: No. Not all Hypopsarans were born with the gift to create from stone; my father was a poor fisherman, only taken in by the community because of my mother, who had grown up living amongst the artists. After she passed, we lived alone in our small cottage, trading with Hypopsara, but never feeling truly at home. Mohalbi: So you learned to fish? SCP-8811-B: All we did was fish. I watched the sculptors in the distance, floating in our small boat, only a stone's throw from the shore — I wanted to be them, wanted to live in their world so desperately, but… the fates did not agree. <SCP-8811-B looks down.> Not that it would have mattered, the Gods would not wait much longer. Mohalbi: How did you know? SCP-8811-B: A fisher knows how to read the water. We learn how to listen to the sea, to watch the birds, the clouds, to know when danger is coming. My father and I knew it was time to return from the sea, to find shelter. We had heard it from the moon. And of course, that was only the beginning. Fragment SCP-8811-A-4 The Princess watched as the King gathered all of Psara's sculptors and craftspeople and priests. She watched as they circled the fields around the city, marking stones and clearing grass. She watched as the mystics sacrificed animals and chanted loudly and cast their valuables in the fire. And she watched, as she had many times before, as the sculptors took the earth within their hands, manipulating it, before finally the city was sealed underground. For a time, the Psarans lived peacefully in their new world. Hypopsara was a wonder to rival even the colossal guardian of Rhodes itself. But living underground came with its own perils, and the Princess, knowing this, spent as much time as she could on the surface. She came to fear the dark, fear the winding avenues of the city she so loved to traverse in the light. It was much more comforting for her to exist on the shore, to feel the sand, feel the water lap at her feet, to hear the sailing stories of the fishers as they returned with their nets. She began to befriend them, one of the fisher's daughters would even set aside a fig or a handful of olives aside from her lunch, just in case the Princess would be joining them. The Princess only knew of the fisher's daughter in passing; and yet, each time she sat, not more than a stones throw away, they would not speak to one another. For how could a fisherman's daughter ever hope to approach royalty? But sleep came much harder to the Princess now and with that, her dreams became more and more infrequent, more and more of terrors thought to be long passed. The King, his council, slowly appeared less and less in her chambers. They no longer sought her guidance, she felt they no longer needed it, no longer needed her. Surveillance Log 8811-A Location: Hypopsaran Ruins, Greece Date: April 12th, 2017 Note: The following was captured by surveillance equipment placed throughout the Hypopsaran ruins. Due to the distance of the camera from the subjects, and poor acoustics, and limited camera angles, only parts of the conversation are intelligible. The surveillance camera observes SCP-8811-B, standing in front of a camp fire, tending to it. They add a new log, and the dwindling flame roars back to life. The fire burns in a small pit within an open structure in the cavern; it is believed that SCP-8811-A sits on the orthogonally-adjacent side of the firepit, obscured by a stone wall. SCP-8811-B: You need not worry, princess, not as long as I am here. The fire crackles, but SCP-8811-A cannot be heard; their shadow is seen occasionally throughout the footage. SCP-8811-B: I made a deal, with the one who shares our heritage. I give answers, and they ensure I can keep the flame burning. SCP-8811-B is seen shaking their head as they prod the burning log. SCP-8811-B: My lady, I made an oath. I swore a bond. To let this flame die… no, that is unthinkable to me. The fire cracks as the log settles. SCP-8811-B: Princess. No. I have stood stalwart for centuries, and will remain by your side for all of eternity. Even if we must stay… no matter our fates, I will keep you safe. You know that, don't you? The fire burns. SCP-8811-B sits in silence, tending to the flame for the next 40 hours without taking a break. Nothing else of note occurs during this time. SCP-8811-B Interview #4 Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 13th, 2017 Team Members Present: Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi Mohalbi: Let's talk about Hypopsara. When did you and your father move into the caverns? SCP-8811-B: Early on — my father's market stand had been relocated to Hypopsara, and we moved into a small stone cavern. They told us that with the wrathful eyes of the divine, it was no longer safe to leave the caverns; not alone, and not onto the sea. We resorted to fishing within the caverns, in the small pools and grottos that were carved out by the seawater, a pittance compared to the bounty of the sea. But we survived, for a time. Mohalbi: How did you adjust? SCP-8811-B: Poorly. I felt aimless, my routine controlled by the moon and the soothing wake of the ocean, now replaced by the monotony of the plainly colored stone walls of our new home. I would spend days, just wandering through the caverns, the darkness surrounding me. Mohalbi: When did you meet Euno? SCP-8811-B: It was on one of those walks. A sudden moment in life, a strange twist of the fates, the turning of the discs upset— and that is why I stand before you today. Mohalbi: It sounds like you really care about her. SCP-8811-B: It is my duty. And I serve my princess, just as I swore to over a millennia ago. Mohalbi: Do you like her? SCP-8811-B: Excuse me? Mohalbi: Do you like her? Are you… are you blushing? SCP-8811-B: A warrior does not blush. Mohalbi: Right. You know that's okay, we're even more welcoming of queer relationships compared to your culture; there is no shame in a woman loving another woman. SCP-8811-B: What does it matter? The curse that I defend her from, the wound between us; that same curse keeps us apart. Yes, we are the only two left, but… I am just a fisherman's daughter. I will never escape my fate, the strings have already been measured. We have simply wedged a rock between the blades of fate, our strings on the precipice of snapping. Mohalbi: Have you ever told her? SCP-8811-B: I would not risk her life, for my own… for my emotions. She is… Mohalbi: Precious to you? SCP-8811-B: Very. Fragment SCP-8811-A-5 Hypopsara's completion was marked with tremors that many believed to be sent from the gods to deal with them once and for all. But, the city held for its craftsmen built it to be as strong as the people it was housing. The princess walked through the winding streets, inspecting any damage caused by the quake. Besides some fallen tiles and shattered vases, there was very little of note. The Princess had seen this happen before, knew that everything would be alright, knew that she would be alright. An aftershock ripped through the cavern, causing loose tiles to rain down and for the Princess to lose her footing. An already maimed statue shifted behind her, and she closed her eyes as it fell towards her. She had already accepted her fate. But when she opened her eyes again, she found herself wrapped in the arms of her savior: the fisher's daughter. The brittle stone had broken against her back, painting her pink with a mix of marble dust and blood. When the rumbling had ceased, and the pair was clear of danger, the fisher's daughter lowered herself on one knee and bowed to the Princess. The Princess learned that she was only there because the Princess had missed lunch, and her savior wanted to make sure she had something to eat. When the King and his guards found the pair, found the Princess tending to her still-bowing guardian, the fisher's daughter was elevated to be the Princess' protector, and would be treated as such. In fear, the King called for the mystics together for a ritual to protect the Princess. They crafted from root and grass and twisted bark a necklace, a boon, a seal of hopeful protection. The Psarans met that night on the beach to revel, celebrate their survival, to spite those who sought to bury them. But the Princess and her protector would not be among them, and instead watched from the distance under an olive tree. To the Princess, there was very little to celebrate, and she instead resigned herself to sleep. She set her head on the lap of her protector, who sat sentinel, watching their surroundings. And so, the Princess dreamed of darkness. A butterfly, with wings that burned red and orange as the beach's bonfire, turned to ashes in front of her. She held the ashes in her hand, seeking within them answers of fate, before allowing the wind to take them from her. She saw a scene of the island, of her asleep and the protector sitting stiff against an olive tree as a Princess slept on her lap. She walked down to the beach, watched the foamy water and heard the thunderous laughter of the undertow. And in the festival food and very wine they drank, the wine they so rarely partook in, the wine her father, the King, had her drink from earlier, it was there the Psarans would reap what they sowed. As the Princess jumped awake, frantically crawling backwards, pleading for her protector to stay away, the Princess would hear the first screams of the cursed. From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] SCP-8811 Transport Hi Lead Researcher Holstan, Thank you so much for your notes on the draft, they were incredibly helpful in getting used to how the Foundation structures reports. With regards to your notes on transport, as we've been learning more about the anomaly that allowed SCP-8811-A and SCP-8811-B to survive to present day, we discovered a potential snag. The sheer scope of anomalous anthropological knowledge that we could glean from SCP-8811-B, as well as the insights into ancient divination from SCP-8811-A both represent major assets to the Foundation, but it appears that the 'curse' laid by the gods could hypothetically neutralize both instances if they were to trigger said effect. We asked, but SCP-8811-B refuses to leave SCP-8811-A's side. I am unsure how to proceed, so please advise the best course of action for how to best mitigate this, while still respecting their personal requests to be transported together. Phoebe Mohalbi Foundation Junior Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] RE: SCP-8811 Transport Doctor Holstan, While Junior Researcher Mohalbi presents a fair assessment, I am unsure why we are so hesitant to separate the instances for their own good. Transporting and containing the two instances separately is the simplest solution, ensuring that no assets are risked. We do not worry about artifacts remaining in the same chamber during transportation, why should we apply the same logic to anomalies? Mathias Kwok Foundation Junior Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] RE: RE: SCP-8811 Transport Junior Researchers Mohalbi and Kwok, Transport SCP-8811-A and SCP-8811-B independently. We will move them into separate containment chambers upon their arrival to the main site, regardless of SCP-8811-B's complaints. Lie if you must, just get it done. Rock Holstan Foundation Senior Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect Fragment SCP-8811-A-6 In the aftermath, the Princess wearily stepped towards the beach, her protector shadowing her just slightly behind. She fell to her knees before her father, now turned to marble, embracing her mother. The beach became an orchard of statues, of figures who clung or held or reached for one another, the exclamations of their love or fear painted forever on their statuesque forms. Those who were left looked to her, waited for her to speak, but now would not be the time for action, only tears. Her protector reached out, extending a hand to comfort her Princess, but she quickly took it back, frustration and grief burning on her face. In silence, the Princess led her people back underground, and it was there they remained. And for a time, history forgot the island of Psara, forgot the ancient oaths and curses once cast upon the land. People returned, resettled, lived and died a thousand deaths both heroic and mundane. Yet the people of Hypopsara remained, cursed, just underfoot. Although the world remembered them only through tragedies and parables, mocking phrases chastising the people of the island for their original sin, life went on. Across the centuries people lived but did not die. There would be no new Hypopsarans, no loving embraces or comfort in tragedy. But to live without comfort in the darkness for centuries was a fate far worse than any death. One by one, the Hypopsarans began to vanish. Some of these statues were found in poses of defiance, a final act to spite those who had died long ago, those who history already forgot. Others chose a more quiet death, simply holding one another close in an embrace in some far off corner of the cavern. This happened day after day, year after year, century after century. Until only two remained: the Princess and her protector. Lysandra and I. Surveillance Log 8811-A Location: Hypopsaran Ruins, Greece Date: April 15th, 2017 The surveillance camera observes SCP-8811-B by the campfire. The fire is burning low, and the nearby stock of wood has dwindled. SCP-8811-B stares into the shadows, presumably at SCP-8811-A, who is obscured. SCP-8811-B: Princes— Euno. I am worried. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: They are speaking of transfers, cells and boats. They are trying to take us from our homes. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: But Euno, I swore that I would not leave your side. I have already risked far too much by allowing myself to be spoken to in another room, without you in my protection. Princess, please, I implore you. Tell me what you know. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: I don't understand. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: Euno, please. Tell me. What did the butterflies tell you? SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: What I already know? I just… Princess, I swore to protect you. No harm would befall on you, not even the curse. I cannot let my own emotions interrupt my— SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: <Silent.> SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: Are you… are you sure? SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: At dawn? I will be there, waiting. My Princess. SCP-8811-B bows their head. Fragment SCP-8811-A-7 By the time you figured out how to read this, Lysandra and I would have already made our decision. I feel like you understand, traveler from the future. I feel like you've known that there was ever going to be one ending to our story. Return to the cave and find us. Know that this was a choice we made together; we simply could not deny ourselves of each other's comfort for another moment longer, though Lysandra would have continued to serve me faithfully for millennia if I had asked. I know not what happens beyond this point, the butterflies stopped bringing me visions of the future so long ago. I no longer find myself wanting to seek the answer to that question, though. For the first time in years, my future will hold me close in her arms. I'll be able to feel her warmth after all these years. If I may make one last request: when you return to the cave, please bring us, all of us, somewhere bright. I've always been afraid of the dark, and it would be nice to see the sun again after all these years. And thank you, dear reader. I hope you enjoyed our story. I wish we could have been here to tell it to you, but fate, in all its mystery, had other plans. Lysandra, my love. It's time for you to rest after all of these harrowing years. I hope we can eat figs and fall asleep under the olive tree together when I find you in the afterlife. Goodbye. SCP-8811 has been reclassified to neutralized. Footnotes 1. Translated from Ancient Greek ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8811" by Queerious, AstersQuill., from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8811. 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: Psyché_et_Amour_musée_de_l'Hermitage_Cropped.jpg Name: Psyché et Amour musée de l'Hermitage Author: Antonio Canova License: CC-BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Psych%C3%A9_et_Amour_mus%C3%A9e_de_l%27Hermitage.jpg Additional Notes: Image was cropped by Queerious Filename: Γύζης, Νικόλαος - Η Δόξα των Ψαρών, 1898.jpg Name: Γύζης, Νικόλαος - Η Δόξα των Ψαρών, 1898.jpg Author: Nikolaos Gyzis License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:%CE%93%CF%8D%CE%B6%CE%B7%CF%82,_%CE%9D%CE%B9%CE%BA%CF%8C%CE%BB%CE%B1%CE%BF%CF%82_-_%CE%97_%CE%94%CF%8C%CE%BE%CE%B1_%CF%84%CF%89%CE%BD_%CE%A8%CE%B1%CF%81%CF%8E%CE%BD,_1898.jpg
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} #page-content .creditButton p a { color:#373737; } /* Pseudogenesis Formats */ .pseudo-div { border:solid 4px #B22A2A; background:#403450; color: #ffffff; padding: 5px 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; text-align: center; } .pseudo-div :is(h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6) { font-family: "Vast Shadow", serif; letter-spacing: 0px; font-weight: normal; color: white; } Anarchaeology Training Session #3 Video Log Transcript Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 8th, 2017 Personnel Present: Junior Researcher Mathias Kwok, Anarchaeology Specialist Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi, Anomalous Anthropologist The camera switches on and autofocuses to the darkness of a cave. Sunlight brightens the periphery of the frame. Kwok: The smell isn't great, but at least it's cool in here. I thought I was going to melt on the walk over. Mohalbi: Well, the quicker we finish today's demos, the sooner we can get back to the sweet relief of AC. <She pauses.> But if we take as long as we did last time, I'm going to start preparing you for taxidermy. Kwok: You'll stuff me? <They laugh.> Bad joke, I know. Precision is part of the job, however. If you have an issue with my level of caution, I heard that Zeta-9 is always recruiting. Kwok attempts to pick up a large, loose stone. They struggle. Kwok: You don't seem like the MTF type, though, so I suggest you follow my lead. You'll get your sweet relief without getting yelled at by the professor. Mohalbi: Right. <Whispering> I can't wait for this to be over. A pause. Kwok reaches to their belt for a chisel and small hammer, placing the former on the edge of the stone. They rotate the rock as they strike it firmly. After some time, the rock cracks in two. Mohalbi: Anything good? Kwok: More nummulite, non-anomalous. Since I was careful, you can see the preserved coils. They act as good index fossils too, so we know exactly when we are in history. Kwok stands, holstering their hammer and chisel. Mohalbi rolls her eyes and stares at the roof of the cave. Mohalbi: You know, if you were paying attention on the way in, you would have seen hundreds of them embedded in the rocks. Mohalbi sits and removes her hat, wiping sweat from her forehead. Mohalbi: We've been out where for what, three weeks now? I'm sick of waking up to sweltering heat just to split loose rocks in a cave until the sun sets. I want to, I don't know, dig up ancient civilizations that shouldn't have existed. Wasn't that what we were promised during orientation? Kwok: We're going to get there soon— once we show them that we can do this right, hopefully they'll put us on larger projects… Kwok picks up a rock, offering it to Mohalbi. Kwok: You'll have your breakthrough soon, I know it. Mohalbi hesitates before taking the rock, observing it. She tosses it deeper into the cave. A hollow thud reverberates down the tunnel. The pair turn towards the noise. She looks at Kwok. Mohalbi: Ask and ye shall receive. They arrive at a fist-sized hole in a dirt and vine wall. Mohalbi takes a small mattock from its holster and begins to chip away at the hole, creating an entrance large enough to fit a person. Kwok: Hold on, shouldn't we call for backup? Not only that, according to the handbook, we need to prioritize securing the area and asses the stability of the cave before we go any further. Mohalbi: And give Elana an opportunity to steal credit for my discovery? No way. Stay out if you want, but I will bury you if you reach for that radio. Kwok is seen reaching for their radio, but pauses. After a moment, they join her at the opening, holding a flashlight. Kwok: Fine. But I'm not doing this for you; I'd rather an anarchaeologist be present for potential discoveries instead of just an 'anthropologist'. Mohalbi: Come on, rockboy. Without me, you wouldn't know why the things you find were made. I know you want to find something big, you're the same as me. Kwok enters behind Mohalbi, shining their light around the newly revealed cavern. A collection of humanoid objects can be seen in various poses throughout the space, with collections of vases and scrolls scattered on the outskirts. Kwok: Looks like some sort of storage, long-term maybe. A lot of these statues don't look like they've been moved in centuries, given the overgrowth. Natural erosion could explain the entrance being blocked off. Mohalbi: The style is definitely Greek, but the major influences, culture and materials are nothing like what we've seen on Psara before— think it could be anomalous? Kwok: Outwardly, no. The materials all seem non-anomalous to me. The only concern would be the statues, but we would need to extract those to a laboratory for better observation. Shuffling can be heard from the other side of the cavern. A pot falls to the floor and shatters. A cloud of dust remains when Kwok and Mohalbi shine their lights in the direction of the noise. Kwok stumbles backward into the cave wall, dropping their flashlight. The light points to a flat, straw mat on the cave floor adjacent to an almost extinguished fire. A sleeping humanoid rests atop the mat. Kwok: Mohalbi! Come quick, I think someone's alive here! Mohalbi: No shit. I'll radio for medical. Kwok slowly approaches the figure. They reach out a hand to touch its shoulder. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaches from the right, as another humanoid figure grabs Kwok's sleeved wrist, crushing it. ???: You will not defile her.1 Mohalbi trips, dislodging the camera. The footage goes black. Item#: 8811 Level2 Secondary Class: {$secondary-class} Disruption Class: notice Risk Class: dark link to memo Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8811 are currently contained in situ. Provincial Site-Ψ has been constructed around the point of initial discovery. Sketch of SCP-8811-A, circa 1898. Description: SCP-8811 is the collective designation for a previously undiscovered settlement below Psara, Greece. SCP-8811-A and -B are two female humanoids of unknown age, who claim to have lived in SCP-8811. Recovered alongside -A and -B were several artifacts: decorative vases and jugs, parchment scrolls, and a collection of ~80 intact statues, with an estimated 300+ fragmented and destroyed statues. Materials relevant to SCP-8811's containment have been translated and provided below. SCP-8811 was discovered during a training anarchaeological survey of Psara, leading to a confrontation between -B and the trainees. Plans to relocate -A and -B to a more permanent containment site were devised, but have yet to be implemented. Addendum SCP-8811.1 - Recovered Materials and Interviews Fragment SCP-8811-A-1 Our story starts long ago. Long before the songs of heroes and the laments of tragedies, before Greece was named such. In fact, our story takes place far from the wondrous halls of Athenian scholars, far from the banks of the Evrotas and the Spartans and the mountainous valleys of Delphic prophets. Indeed, it is on the small island of Psara that our story starts. The birth of a Princess. Now Psara was a humble fishing settlement. But while some of its people sought the bounty of the sea, many more found their calling in sculpture. The sculptors of Psara were like no other. No where else could one witness the wonders of those forms crafted from clay or marble. Mythic heroes, vengeful villains, creatures both tame and terrifying. Every curve and fang and tuft of fur was carved by the calloused, yet delicate, hand of the people of Psara. Hands that soon began to craft the irreal. The Princess, who was still of flesh and blood, grew up surrounded by these sculptured forms found nowhere else in nature. To be human was to have a creative mind, but to be Psaran was to let your imagination run wild. But where others were gifted in craft, the Princess had her own gift. Every night when she went to sleep, she saw before her fragmented glimpses of the future, small pieces of shattered glass for her to take into her hands to find meaning in. The people of Psara loved the small girl who, with white hair and moon-like skin, murmured fortunes and prophecies of the future while drifting in and out of sleep. She was an oneiromancer, and on her 10th birthday, her dreams were only of death and destruction. SCP-8811-B Intake Interview Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 9th, 2017 Personnel Present: Junior Researcher Mathias Kwok Kwok: Hello, SCP-8811-B. If you would take a seat, we can— SCP-8811-B: When will you allow me to return to her side? It has been decades since we were apart for this long. Kwok: I promise that you can see her again, just as soon as you can answer our questions. SCP-8811-B crosses their arms and stares back at Kwok. SCP-8811-B: I will stand. Kwok: SCP-8811-B, if I could just get you to— SCP-8811-B: What is this 'SCP' you call me? My name is Lysandra, given to me by my parents, named after my grandmother. Kwok: Apologies, Lysandra. SCP-8811-B: I will answer your questions, but if you do not allow me to return to her soon, you will pay for your betrayal with blood. Kwok wipes the sweat from their forehead. They look down at the cast on their wrist. Kwok: Right, t-thank you for your cooperation. Can you tell me more about yourself and SCP-8811-A? Your companion. SCP-8811-B: If you are talking about Euno, I am her protector. Kwok: What do you mean by 'protector'? SCP-8811-B: I protect her. My life has been promised to her. Do your people not have faithful guardians anymore? <They squint and lean forward.> You don't look like much of a warrior to me. Kwok: We still have people who fight, things are just… well, things are different now. People can kill from a great distance, and the danger is more invisible than it was before. SCP-8811-B laughs. SCP-8811-B: You are misguided. Magick and the hands of fate have been killing long before you and I were alive— a warrior is a warrior because of who they protect, why they protect them, not what they face. Kwok: So… why do you protect SCP-88— Euno? SCP-8811-B: Why does the sun rise? Why do the shore and sea meet? I am her blade, and I live and die alongside her. Kwok: Can I assume you mean that figuratively? SCP-8811-B: No. Kwok: No? SCP-8811-B: I am sworn to her. Bonded. Perhaps in your time, you have forgotten what it means to truly serve, but I have not. For as long as she lives, I will remain to ensure that no harm falls upon her. Kwok: Wow. That's… intense. What is it you're protecting her from, exactly? SCP-8811-B: The world. Fragment SCP-8811-A-2 Word of Psara's sculptures spread far and wide, and envoys from afar sought to find the truth of the rumor of creation on this small, rocky island. Many came to the island in awe, writing poems and epics of the island half-population by figures of stone. Others looked to the island with bitterness; who were the Psarans to create such intricate art? Who were they to the prideful Athenians or the tragic Thebans? These few, seeking the bounty of the islands for themselves, demanded that the "lesser" Psarans create for them sculptures that would make their cities the envy of the known world. The King, though one of charity, refused. "Who are you to create such beauty for yourself and not for others?" They chided. But the King could only smile. The Psarans sought not to create for wealth or fame, but found their joy in the simple act of creation. And so, the envoys left, promising to return to the island with armadas and armies to steal the beauty of the island away. The people of Psara thought their threats to be empty, the Princess knew that to be false. She twisted and turned in the night, whispering of collapse and death. The King and his advisors listened intently, and for months, they watched the horizon for their promised end. There were no invaders to meet the Psarans on the beach, however, no triremes with hoplites whose bronze armor shined in the sun. The King had his craftsman create winding leviathans and fearsome chimeras to dissuade any would be adversary from coming close to the island. After months of no action, the King declared victory, and a feast was held on the island in the name of the Princess whose prophecy was yet to come true. However, the threats of men are fickle things when compared with the words of the faith. And what armies could not dream to do, a single man could. A single question to topple a kingdom, the flutter of a butterfly wing to create a storm. SCP-8811-B Interview #2 Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 10th, 2017 Personnel Present: Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi SCP-8811-B sits alone, watching the door in silence. It opens, and Researcher Mohalbi enters. SCP-8811-B: Who are you? What happened to the other one? I will not be kept any longer withou— Mohalbi: Hi, so sorry about that! I'm Researcher Mohalbi, one of the other researchers working at the dig site. I'll be taking over the interviews from now on. SCP-8811-B's frustration vanishes, replaced by a look of confusion. SCP-8811-B: Mohalbi? Garafilia? Mohalbi: Pardon? SCP-8811-B: My mistake. It matters not. SCP-8811-B leans forward, resting on the table. SCP-8811-B: Why should I talk to you? Mohalbi: Look, if you want to talk to the rock nerd, be my guest. But they don't know the difference between the Greek and Roman cultures— so have fun with that, Lysandra. SCP-8811-B does not move. After a second, they lean back, and gesture to the other seat. Mohalbi: I thought so. So, tell me about yourself. SCP-8811-B: As I told your compatriot, I am Euno's protec— Mohalbi: I know, I know, you protect her. I care about more than just that; is it a vow you swore? Maybe a debt owed, or— SCP-8811-B: A debt? Protecting the Princess of Hypopsara is the greatest honor possible. While I am just a lowly human, Euno is blessed with powers untold; to serve alongside her is my sole purpose. Mohalbi: Hypopsara… so you were always underground? SCP-8811-B: Not quite. Fragment SCP-8811-A-3 On an early morning, when the sailors and fishers let loose their moorings to take to the water, a rotting vessel cut across the jeweled water of the sea. A man, whose grey beard draped down to his chest, confidently steamed forward on a small raft with a hull more barnacle and seaweed than wood. The water seemed to flee from in front of him, slipping out from the bow as the boat cut into the sand of Psara's shore. The King was sent for not soon after and, with Princess in tow, they met the mystical man on the beach. He bowed, as the pair approached, that man of the sea. He introduced himself as but a humble servant of the gods, sent with holy mission to the island. The gods, who had long grown weary of the Psarans, requested their fealty, loyalty by worship, a course correction to save the people of the island from their own hubris. Once again, the King denied. The man simply bowed, cursed and spat on the sand before the King, and returned to his ship. He hardly made it past the shallow bar before he was swallowed by the sea, with only foam remaining. That night, nestled into the nook of her kline, the Princess slipped in and out of prophetic sleep. The soft moon, from which the Princess had shared many features, hid half its face in the night sky, but still painted the chambers of the young girl in a soft glow. She held her eyes shut as the cacophony of footsteps made their way to her room, trying not to awake in tears when their klismos scraped against the stone floor as the men began to speak and wait for her words. "We have to strike first to protect ourselves!" said the martial man. "We should reason and negotiate! There's no need to shed blood," said the wise man. "We need to protect ourselves here. I will not bend and I will not let my people die!" said the King. A vision, fleeting like a butterfly, entered the mind of the Princess. Unconsciously, she reached out to grab it, hold it in her hand as the prismatic patterns on its wings flowed out to form a scene around her. It was dark, and the Psarans were beset on all sides by the cool dampness of the earth. The soft light of the sun glowed through several long shafts carried on the back of the salty island wind. Several figures stood, frozen in various poses and positions, holding each other close or working together in peaceful unity. And then, darkness. The Princess was alone, painted under the light of the full moon. "We…underground…together…darkness…" The Princess muttered, tears streaming down her cheek as the men leaned closer to heed her words. The men mumbled in decision before nodding, their footsteps disappearing one by one. The King sat at the edge of the Kline, wiped the tears from the Princess' eyes, and whispered "thank you" before slowly closing her chamber door. As she had said it, the King saw to it that it would be done. Continued SCP-8811-B: If your partner is focused on earth, what is your specialty. The gods? Researcher Mohalbi laughs, and SCP-8811-B furrows their brow. Mohalbi: In a way. Kwok studies what was left behind, I prefer to go to the source directly. I'm an anthropologist. SCP-8811-B: You study humans? And this is a profession? Mohalbi: Trust me, I'm in the minority. <A pause.> Enough about me, tell me more. Did you grow up with Euno? SCP-8811-B: I did not. I was raised by father after the death of my mother; he was a fisherman, and raised me to follow in his footsteps. Mohalbi: So Hypopsara was a fishing community? SCP-8811-B: Yes, we fished. But, as with many of the other islands, our lives were at the will of the gods, and we struggled to survive. Mohalbi: How so? SCP-8811-B sighs. SCP-8811-B: The hour runs late, and you ask many questions, Mohalbi. Let me return to her now, so I may tend the fire. I can teach you more about us at a later time. Mohalbi pauses. Mohalbi: Alright, I'll let you return to your princess. Security will escort you back to the cavern. <She smiles.> I'll be sure to think of some questions for you in the mean time. SCP-8811-B Interview #3 Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 11th, 2017 Team Members Present: Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi Mohalbi: SCP-8811-B, it's good to see you again. SCP-8811-B does not answer, slightly tilting their head as they watch Researcher Mohalbi warily. Mohalbi: I was hoping we could talk about religion today. SCP-8811-B: I will make a deal with you, Mohalbi. You are the only person I have found tolerable within your… band of compatriots, and the armed guards you have patrolling the tunnels around Hypopsara have prevented me from my routine gathering. We are low on firewood, and in need of more. Perhaps we can come to an accord? Mohalbi: I don't think I'm authorized to— SCP-8811-B: Authority? 'Researcher', I believe we are alone in the room. Is there another you must answer to? Researcher Mohalbi: You're right, I can make that call. Okay, deal. You answer my questions, you get firewood. Now first question: you had said that Hypopsara had an antagonistic relationship with the Greek gods? SCP-8811-B: Yes. The gods were spiteful, much as they are now, and wished to control those who existed outside of their domains. Hypopsara was one such place, one that the gods demanded fealty from. Mohalbi: Why Hypopsara? SCP-8811-B: What do you know of art, Mohalbi? Mohalbi: I flunked my one art history class — I don't get it. It's just so abstract, and— SCP-8811-B: Ah. Not quite, what do you know of our art? Mohalbi: Even less. SCP-8811-B: In the times of Psara's glory, the gods and society held a firm belief in what art was; art was a gift, granted by the gods, and meant to be as exact of a replication of reality as was humanly possible. The artist focused on mimicry, an duplicate of the world; but for Psara, the artist was a revolutionary. Mohalbi: Revolutionary? SCP-8811-B: Yes, they created what they saw in their minds' eye. They created fiction; the Gods believed that true 'creation' was sacrilege, how dare a mortal attempt to do that which the Gods did? And yet, for Hypopsara, we created; we all earned our curse. Mohalbi: So you were also a sculptor? SCP-8811-B: No. Not all Hypopsarans were born with the gift to create from stone; my father was a poor fisherman, only taken in by the community because of my mother, who had grown up living amongst the artists. After she passed, we lived alone in our small cottage, trading with Hypopsara, but never feeling truly at home. Mohalbi: So you learned to fish? SCP-8811-B: All we did was fish. I watched the sculptors in the distance, floating in our small boat, only a stone's throw from the shore — I wanted to be them, wanted to live in their world so desperately, but… the fates did not agree. <SCP-8811-B looks down.> Not that it would have mattered, the Gods would not wait much longer. Mohalbi: How did you know? SCP-8811-B: A fisher knows how to read the water. We learn how to listen to the sea, to watch the birds, the clouds, to know when danger is coming. My father and I knew it was time to return from the sea, to find shelter. We had heard it from the moon. And of course, that was only the beginning. Fragment SCP-8811-A-4 The Princess watched as the King gathered all of Psara's sculptors and craftspeople and priests. She watched as they circled the fields around the city, marking stones and clearing grass. She watched as the mystics sacrificed animals and chanted loudly and cast their valuables in the fire. And she watched, as she had many times before, as the sculptors took the earth within their hands, manipulating it, before finally the city was sealed underground. For a time, the Psarans lived peacefully in their new world. Hypopsara was a wonder to rival even the colossal guardian of Rhodes itself. But living underground came with its own perils, and the Princess, knowing this, spent as much time as she could on the surface. She came to fear the dark, fear the winding avenues of the city she so loved to traverse in the light. It was much more comforting for her to exist on the shore, to feel the sand, feel the water lap at her feet, to hear the sailing stories of the fishers as they returned with their nets. She began to befriend them, one of the fisher's daughters would even set aside a fig or a handful of olives aside from her lunch, just in case the Princess would be joining them. The Princess only knew of the fisher's daughter in passing; and yet, each time she sat, not more than a stones throw away, they would not speak to one another. For how could a fisherman's daughter ever hope to approach royalty? But sleep came much harder to the Princess now and with that, her dreams became more and more infrequent, more and more of terrors thought to be long passed. The King, his council, slowly appeared less and less in her chambers. They no longer sought her guidance, she felt they no longer needed it, no longer needed her. Surveillance Log 8811-A Location: Hypopsaran Ruins, Greece Date: April 12th, 2017 Note: The following was captured by surveillance equipment placed throughout the Hypopsaran ruins. Due to the distance of the camera from the subjects, and poor acoustics, and limited camera angles, only parts of the conversation are intelligible. The surveillance camera observes SCP-8811-B, standing in front of a camp fire, tending to it. They add a new log, and the dwindling flame roars back to life. The fire burns in a small pit within an open structure in the cavern; it is believed that SCP-8811-A sits on the orthogonally-adjacent side of the firepit, obscured by a stone wall. SCP-8811-B: You need not worry, princess, not as long as I am here. The fire crackles, but SCP-8811-A cannot be heard; their shadow is seen occasionally throughout the footage. SCP-8811-B: I made a deal, with the one who shares our heritage. I give answers, and they ensure I can keep the flame burning. SCP-8811-B is seen shaking their head as they prod the burning log. SCP-8811-B: My lady, I made an oath. I swore a bond. To let this flame die… no, that is unthinkable to me. The fire cracks as the log settles. SCP-8811-B: Princess. No. I have stood stalwart for centuries, and will remain by your side for all of eternity. Even if we must stay… no matter our fates, I will keep you safe. You know that, don't you? The fire burns. SCP-8811-B sits in silence, tending to the flame for the next 40 hours without taking a break. Nothing else of note occurs during this time. SCP-8811-B Interview #4 Location: Psara, Greece Date: April 13th, 2017 Team Members Present: Junior Researcher Phoebe Mohalbi Mohalbi: Let's talk about Hypopsara. When did you and your father move into the caverns? SCP-8811-B: Early on — my father's market stand had been relocated to Hypopsara, and we moved into a small stone cavern. They told us that with the wrathful eyes of the divine, it was no longer safe to leave the caverns; not alone, and not onto the sea. We resorted to fishing within the caverns, in the small pools and grottos that were carved out by the seawater, a pittance compared to the bounty of the sea. But we survived, for a time. Mohalbi: How did you adjust? SCP-8811-B: Poorly. I felt aimless, my routine controlled by the moon and the soothing wake of the ocean, now replaced by the monotony of the plainly colored stone walls of our new home. I would spend days, just wandering through the caverns, the darkness surrounding me. Mohalbi: When did you meet Euno? SCP-8811-B: It was on one of those walks. A sudden moment in life, a strange twist of the fates, the turning of the discs upset— and that is why I stand before you today. Mohalbi: It sounds like you really care about her. SCP-8811-B: It is my duty. And I serve my princess, just as I swore to over a millennia ago. Mohalbi: Do you like her? SCP-8811-B: Excuse me? Mohalbi: Do you like her? Are you… are you blushing? SCP-8811-B: A warrior does not blush. Mohalbi: Right. You know that's okay, we're even more welcoming of queer relationships compared to your culture; there is no shame in a woman loving another woman. SCP-8811-B: What does it matter? The curse that I defend her from, the wound between us; that same curse keeps us apart. Yes, we are the only two left, but… I am just a fisherman's daughter. I will never escape my fate, the strings have already been measured. We have simply wedged a rock between the blades of fate, our strings on the precipice of snapping. Mohalbi: Have you ever told her? SCP-8811-B: I would not risk her life, for my own… for my emotions. She is… Mohalbi: Precious to you? SCP-8811-B: Very. Fragment SCP-8811-A-5 Hypopsara's completion was marked with tremors that many believed to be sent from the gods to deal with them once and for all. But, the city held for its craftsmen built it to be as strong as the people it was housing. The princess walked through the winding streets, inspecting any damage caused by the quake. Besides some fallen tiles and shattered vases, there was very little of note. The Princess had seen this happen before, knew that everything would be alright, knew that she would be alright. An aftershock ripped through the cavern, causing loose tiles to rain down and for the Princess to lose her footing. An already maimed statue shifted behind her, and she closed her eyes as it fell towards her. She had already accepted her fate. But when she opened her eyes again, she found herself wrapped in the arms of her savior: the fisher's daughter. The brittle stone had broken against her back, painting her pink with a mix of marble dust and blood. When the rumbling had ceased, and the pair was clear of danger, the fisher's daughter lowered herself on one knee and bowed to the Princess. The Princess learned that she was only there because the Princess had missed lunch, and her savior wanted to make sure she had something to eat. When the King and his guards found the pair, found the Princess tending to her still-bowing guardian, the fisher's daughter was elevated to be the Princess' protector, and would be treated as such. In fear, the King called for the mystics together for a ritual to protect the Princess. They crafted from root and grass and twisted bark a necklace, a boon, a seal of hopeful protection. The Psarans met that night on the beach to revel, celebrate their survival, to spite those who sought to bury them. But the Princess and her protector would not be among them, and instead watched from the distance under an olive tree. To the Princess, there was very little to celebrate, and she instead resigned herself to sleep. She set her head on the lap of her protector, who sat sentinel, watching their surroundings. And so, the Princess dreamed of darkness. A butterfly, with wings that burned red and orange as the beach's bonfire, turned to ashes in front of her. She held the ashes in her hand, seeking within them answers of fate, before allowing the wind to take them from her. She saw a scene of the island, of her asleep and the protector sitting stiff against an olive tree as a Princess slept on her lap. She walked down to the beach, watched the foamy water and heard the thunderous laughter of the undertow. And in the festival food and very wine they drank, the wine they so rarely partook in, the wine her father, the King, had her drink from earlier, it was there the Psarans would reap what they sowed. As the Princess jumped awake, frantically crawling backwards, pleading for her protector to stay away, the Princess would hear the first screams of the cursed. From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] SCP-8811 Transport Hi Lead Researcher Holstan, Thank you so much for your notes on the draft, they were incredibly helpful in getting used to how the Foundation structures reports. With regards to your notes on transport, as we've been learning more about the anomaly that allowed SCP-8811-A and SCP-8811-B to survive to present day, we discovered a potential snag. The sheer scope of anomalous anthropological knowledge that we could glean from SCP-8811-B, as well as the insights into ancient divination from SCP-8811-A both represent major assets to the Foundation, but it appears that the 'curse' laid by the gods could hypothetically neutralize both instances if they were to trigger said effect. We asked, but SCP-8811-B refuses to leave SCP-8811-A's side. I am unsure how to proceed, so please advise the best course of action for how to best mitigate this, while still respecting their personal requests to be transported together. Phoebe Mohalbi Foundation Junior Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] RE: SCP-8811 Transport Doctor Holstan, While Junior Researcher Mohalbi presents a fair assessment, I am unsure why we are so hesitant to separate the instances for their own good. Transporting and containing the two instances separately is the simplest solution, ensuring that no assets are risked. We do not worry about artifacts remaining in the same chamber during transportation, why should we apply the same logic to anomalies? Mathias Kwok Foundation Junior Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect From: To: CC: Subject: [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] RE: RE: SCP-8811 Transport Junior Researchers Mohalbi and Kwok, Transport SCP-8811-A and SCP-8811-B independently. We will move them into separate containment chambers upon their arrival to the main site, regardless of SCP-8811-B's complaints. Lie if you must, just get it done. Rock Holstan Foundation Senior Researcher Secure, Contain, Protect Fragment SCP-8811-A-6 In the aftermath, the Princess wearily stepped towards the beach, her protector shadowing her just slightly behind. She fell to her knees before her father, now turned to marble, embracing her mother. The beach became an orchard of statues, of figures who clung or held or reached for one another, the exclamations of their love or fear painted forever on their statuesque forms. Those who were left looked to her, waited for her to speak, but now would not be the time for action, only tears. Her protector reached out, extending a hand to comfort her Princess, but she quickly took it back, frustration and grief burning on her face. In silence, the Princess led her people back underground, and it was there they remained. And for a time, history forgot the island of Psara, forgot the ancient oaths and curses once cast upon the land. People returned, resettled, lived and died a thousand deaths both heroic and mundane. Yet the people of Hypopsara remained, cursed, just underfoot. Although the world remembered them only through tragedies and parables, mocking phrases chastising the people of the island for their original sin, life went on. Across the centuries people lived but did not die. There would be no new Hypopsarans, no loving embraces or comfort in tragedy. But to live without comfort in the darkness for centuries was a fate far worse than any death. One by one, the Hypopsarans began to vanish. Some of these statues were found in poses of defiance, a final act to spite those who had died long ago, those who history already forgot. Others chose a more quiet death, simply holding one another close in an embrace in some far off corner of the cavern. This happened day after day, year after year, century after century. Until only two remained: the Princess and her protector. Lysandra and I. Surveillance Log 8811-A Location: Hypopsaran Ruins, Greece Date: April 15th, 2017 The surveillance camera observes SCP-8811-B by the campfire. The fire is burning low, and the nearby stock of wood has dwindled. SCP-8811-B stares into the shadows, presumably at SCP-8811-A, who is obscured. SCP-8811-B: Princes— Euno. I am worried. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: They are speaking of transfers, cells and boats. They are trying to take us from our homes. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: But Euno, I swore that I would not leave your side. I have already risked far too much by allowing myself to be spoken to in another room, without you in my protection. Princess, please, I implore you. Tell me what you know. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: I don't understand. SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: Euno, please. Tell me. What did the butterflies tell you? SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: What I already know? I just… Princess, I swore to protect you. No harm would befall on you, not even the curse. I cannot let my own emotions interrupt my— SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: <Silent.> SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: Are you… are you sure? SCP-8811-A: <Unintelligible.> SCP-8811-B: At dawn? I will be there, waiting. My Princess. SCP-8811-B bows their head. Fragment SCP-8811-A-7 By the time you figured out how to read this, Lysandra and I would have already made our decision. I feel like you understand, traveler from the future. I feel like you've known that there was ever going to be one ending to our story. Return to the cave and find us. Know that this was a choice we made together; we simply could not deny ourselves of each other's comfort for another moment longer, though Lysandra would have continued to serve me faithfully for millennia if I had asked. I know not what happens beyond this point, the butterflies stopped bringing me visions of the future so long ago. I no longer find myself wanting to seek the answer to that question, though. For the first time in years, my future will hold me close in her arms. I'll be able to feel her warmth after all these years. If I may make one last request: when you return to the cave, please bring us, all of us, somewhere bright. I've always been afraid of the dark, and it would be nice to see the sun again after all these years. And thank you, dear reader. I hope you enjoyed our story. I wish we could have been here to tell it to you, but fate, in all its mystery, had other plans. Lysandra, my love. It's time for you to rest after all of these harrowing years. I hope we can eat figs and fall asleep under the olive tree together when I find you in the afterlife. Goodbye. SCP-8811 has been reclassified to neutralized. Footnotes 1. Translated from Ancient Greek ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8811" by Queerious, AstersQuill., from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8811. 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: Psyché_et_Amour_musée_de_l'Hermitage_Cropped.jpg Name: Psyché et Amour musée de l'Hermitage Author: Antonio Canova License: CC-BY-SA 4.0 Source Link: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Psych%C3%A9_et_Amour_mus%C3%A9e_de_l%27Hermitage.jpg Additional Notes: Image was cropped by Queerious Filename: Γύζης, Νικόλαος - Η Δόξα των Ψαρών, 1898.jpg Name: Γύζης, Νικόλαος - Η Δόξα των Ψαρών, 1898.jpg Author: Nikolaos Gyzis License: Public Domain Source Link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:%CE%93%CF%8D%CE%B6%CE%B7%CF%82,_%CE%9D%CE%B9%CE%BA%CF%8C%CE%BB%CE%B1%CE%BF%CF%82_-_%CE%97_%CE%94%CF%8C%CE%BE%CE%B1_%CF%84%CF%89%CE%BD_%CE%A8%CE%B1%CF%81%CF%8E%CE%BD,_1898.jpg
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SCP-8814
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esoteric-class
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▷ 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 9em; 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: .15em; color: var(--titleColor); font-size: 115%; font-weight: 700; } #header h2::before{ position: relative; top: .1em; 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: 1em; 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: 1px solid hsl(0, 0%, 40%); box-shadow: none; } /* ---- LOGIN ---- */ #login-status{ top: 1.1em; 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: 767px){ #search-top-box{ top: 1.85em; 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(6px, 4px); } #my-account{ display: none; } #account-topbutton{ margin-left: 2px; } } Item #: SCP-8814 Special Containment Procedures: SCP-8814 is currently in use as part of Site-400's Gifted Individual Management Program. The holder of SCP-8814 will be assigned to active duty as part of Site-400's combat MTF Sigma-20 ("The Ex-Men"). Should the user of SCP-8814 become a casualty of deployment, SCP-8814 is to be reassigned to a suitable candidate as soon as viable. Description: SCP-8814 is a modern claw hammer of standard industrial make. If an individual holding SCP-8814 (denoted SCP-8814-A) says the words "white power" in any tone of voice or volume, two lightning bolts will strike the individual regardless of ongoing weather conditions. These lightning bolts will not cause any significant physical harm, but rather will temporarily bleach the individual's hair and tint the individual's eyes a light blue, believed to be from the photoelectric effect. Notably, this transformation occurs regardless of the ancestry, self-perceived racial identity, bigotry, or political beliefs of the user. Initial /x/ post depicting the operation of SCP-8814. Under this transformation, SCP-8814-A will have increased strength, increased agility, aerial self-propulsion, and increased physical durability. Upper limits of strength and agility have not been formally tested. SCP-8814-A are durable against most small-arms fire, a high degree of blunt trauma, and lacerations but have proven to be vulnerable to standard Foundation issue depleted uranium rounds. The SCP-8814 transformation can be dispelled if SCP-8814-A expresses a sentiment in line with an appreciation of the belief of the equality of all human beings. Notable functional statements include: Actually, I voted for Obama. All lives matter. I have a black friend. 白人可以的。 I don't really pay attention to politics. This is fucking disgusting. Who made this crap. I don't want anything to do with it, I don't care if it lets me fly. SCP-8814 was recovered from a self-described neo-Nazi and "Odinist enchanter" named Sigrid Vril (birth name: Eduardo Cohen-Chang) after a potential mass casualty incident in a Walmart in Coralville, Iowa. Upon determining that Cohen-Chang was not committing non-anomalous gun violence, a Foundation sniper successfully terminated him with a depleted uranium bullet and retrieved the artifact. Activation requirements were determined through digital archaeology of Cohen-Chang's internet activities. + Level 5/GIMP-clearance individuals only Welcome, Director. Gifted Individual Management Program (GIMP) SCP-8814 Carlos "Squiggles" de Jager, PhD, ACMA, Aifs, MCIOB, ACIS, CMIOSH, CITP, FCILEx GIMP Director, Site-400 Shadow Administrator Objective: The Site-400 Gifted Individual Management Program controls individuals possessing or likely to be endowed with anomalous capabilities who also possess asocial tendencies or otherwise cannot handle the overall stresses of Foundation employment. These individuals cannot be remanded to the general population but are also unsuitable for high-priority high-capability installations such as Sites -43, -120, or -19, so they are transferred to a Site with like-minded individuals where they ultimately can do little harm. For most individuals under management, GIMP has been highly successful and provided them with the illusion of autonomy despite their gross incompetence. However, GIMP is ill-suited for managing violent and bigoted individuals given the general incompetence of its members and the racial diversity prevalent in Site-400. SCP-8814 changes that. Background: MTF Sigma-20 "The Ex-Men" are a group of anomalous contained personnel from Site-400 who have been told that their abilities have made them well-suited for an elite task force in the vein of Alpha-9. In truth, they are liabilities who have proven a drain on our containment resources because they believe themselves to be outside of the chain of command and the reasonable authority of Foundation discipline. They are deployed to highly dangerous situations where their failures will cause minimal collateral damage. Parameters: When an openly white supremacist or white nationalist subject is transferred to Site-400, they will be assigned to the GIMP, given SCP-8814, and encouraged to pick a codename. Past codenames have included: Albia Eternal The Hyperborean Purugenation Finality Thor Vader Captain Aryan This step is generally adequate to confirm the subject's suitability for usual SCP-8814 procedures. While the Foundation tolerates bigotry in essential and high-performing personnel, individuals transferred to Site-400 for said bigotry produce poor work product and lack other redeeming qualities. After confirmation, the newly-christened SCP-8814-A will be encouraged to discover a limited set of their abilities, up to and including their durability against small-arms fire. No harm is to come to SCP-8814-A at this phase, though such harm is unlikely given the general workplace conditions of Site-400 and, if lethal, within acceptable operating parameters. I or my successors will deploy the Ex-Men to assist MTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") at the soonest available opportunity. SCP-8814-A almost always violate the chain of command, disregard security, containment, and protection principles, and become a serious threat to mission success and risk of loss of life. Nu-7 is invariably forced to terminate SCP-8814 and has been informed that standard Foundation issue depleted uranium rounds are adequate. Sigma-20 have been instructed to recover SCP-8814. This approach has prevented the formation of a significant white supremacist movement within the staff body of Site-400. ‡ Licensing / Citation ‡ Hide Licensing / Citation Cite this page as: "SCP-8814" by LORDXVNV, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-8814. 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-8814.png Author: LORDXVNV License: CC BY-SA 3.0 Source Link: SCP Foundation Wiki
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SCP-8816
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euclid
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Item #: SCP-8816 Containment Procedures: SCP-8816 is presently considered uncontainable. Due to the infrequency of SCP-8816 occurrences, obfuscation protocols have been implemented as the primary containment procedure. All civilian reports of SCP-8816 occurrences and entities are to be documented and expunged by Foundation webcrawlers. An ongoing misinformation campaign has been developed to discount SCP-8816 occurrences as a fictitious urban legend. Description: SCP-8816 is a collective designation for a phenomenon affecting curtains and the entity accompanying its occurrence. It is primarily characterized by the appearance of a pair of feet sticking out from under the curtain, with footwear and skin tone varying from instance to instance. The absence of any folds or creases in the curtain consistent with a human body behind the curtains suggest that the feet are disembodied, but this has not been confirmed. SCP-8816 has been observed in curtains including, but not limited to: sheer curtains, shower curtains, theatre curtains, and door curtains. In cases where the curtain ends a distance above the floor, the feet are observed to be hanging limp. There is no known way to prevent SCP-8816 occurrences, beyond the removal of all curtains from a room. TRANSCRIPT OF INCIDENT 8816/972RH/01 «BEGIN LOG» [The camera is centered on SCP-8816, presenting with a pair of black boots under a floral pattern curtain. An MTF member sits on the bed, watching the instance. Gheist and Summers can be heard entering the room.] GHEIST: The homeowner thought it was some pervert hiding behind their bedroom curtains. They're being processed in the living room right now. [Gheist nods at the MTF member. They promptly leave, closing the door behind them.] GHEIST: Here it is. SCP-8816. Diagnostics has no idea what it is, and I sure as hell haven't a clue. SUMMERS: Oh, that is unsettling. What's with the standing guard? GHEIST: Figured we'd keep eyes on it non-stop until we exhaust all avenues of investigation. Just in case it decides to vanish on us like the previous dozen instances. SUMMERS: Mhm. Has it moved? GHEIST: No, not at all. It's been like that since this morning. SUMMERS: Have you considered poking the feet? GHEIST: That would be rude. No one wants to go near it either. SUMMERS: That sounds… odd. Compulsive effect? GHEIST: Look, I wouldn't poke it even if I knew there was a normal person behind it. The MTF folks downstairs refused to prod it with a baton. Something about bad vibes. SUMMERS: I overheard. They called the curtain evil. I can see why. [Summers stares at SCP-8816 in contemplation. It does not react.] SUMMERS: Have you considered speaking to it? As you would a normal person? GHEIST: Well, no. But by all means, don't let me stop you. SUMMERS: Hello. My name is Dr. Quentin Summers. This is Dr. Parker Gheist. I was hoping that we could have a chat. Get to know each other a bit. [SCP-8816 does not react.] GHEIST: Tough crowd. SUMMERS: If you are unable to physically speak, we can try to communicate with gestures. Tap your left foot for "yes", and your right for "no". GHEIST: You don't expect it to actually— [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Uhh… Are you a person? [SCP-8816 taps both its feet at once.] SUMMERS: Do you know the answer to the first question? [SCP-8816's right foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Are you alive? [SCP-8816 taps both its feet at once.] SUMMERS: Are you behind the curtain? [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Is there a reason you're behind this curtain right now? [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Is this reason benign in nature? That is, are you here in good faith? [SCP-8816 does not react.] GHEIST: Are you evil? [SCP-8816 does not react.] SUMMERS: Still with us? [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] . . . Several minutes of extraneous footage collapsed for brevity. . . . SUMMERS: We're done, right? GHEIST: Unless you have something else you want to ask the anomaly, yes. You were the last guy on the schedule. We're just about ready to pack up and leave. [Summers walks up to SCP-8816 and pulls the curtains back, revealing a blank wall behind it. SCP-8816 is no longer present.] GHEIST: Now, why would you do that? SUMMERS: The interview is done. The anomaly would have disappeared regardless once we left the room. GHEIST: You can't just— [Summers inspects the curtains closely. He then moves to stand behind them, covering himself entirely.] GHEIST: This is unprofessional. Come out, now. [Summers stops moving. Only his brown loafers are visible, sticking out from under the fabric. The curtain rises and falls in time with Summers' heavy breathing. He does not react to Gheist.] GHEIST: If I have to drag you out of there, I— SUMMERS: No— Don't. Don't move. Just stay there. Don't come over. GHEIST: This is not the time for games, Summers. [Summers suddenly begins stomping his right foot repeatedly, startling Gheist.] GHEIST: Unbelievable. Do you really think throwing a tantrum will change anything? SUMMERS: Please. Just leave the room. GHEIST: Do not test me. Get your ass out of those drapes right now. [Gheist moves a few paces towards the curtains. The stomping abruptly escalates in force and speed. A soft wet crunching noise is audible. Summers' breath becomes shaky.] SUMMERS: LEAVE. [Gheist throws his hands up in resignation, and walks out of the room.] [The stomping ceases shortly after Gheist's departure. Summers' heavy breathing remains audible on the recording, but gradually subsides.] [The curtain stops moving. Summers' breathing is no longer audible.] [Summers throws the curtain off himself and wanders out into the center of the room with a dazed expression.] SUMMERS: Huh? Oh. Samples. [Summers moves across the camera's view towards a toolbox. Behind him, a pair of feet wearing brown loafers are still visible under the curtain. Summers does not notice this SCP-8816 instance.] [SCP-8816 lightly taps its left foot once. Summers turns around in the direction of the noise, but notices the camera before he can turn towards the curtains. He walks over and stares into the lens, obstructing SCP-8816.] SUMMERS: How long has this thing been powered on? What a waste of battery. [Summers moves behind the camera to turn it off, clearing the line of sight between it and the curtains. SCP-8816 is no longer present within them.] «END LOG» Afterword: Dr. Gheist returned to the room several minutes later with MTF personnel, and found Dr. Summers taking fibre samples from the curtain. Dr. Summers expressed confusion when questioned about his outburst, and has repeatedly denied that they stood behind the curtain as in the recording. Notably, Dr. Summers' right foot did not exhibit any bruises nor fractures. Following this incident, several SCP-8816 occurrences have been documented at Site-58, where Dr. Summers was most recently assigned. The SCP-8816 entities present in these occurrences were noted to be wearing brown loafers. Dr. Summers remains under close surveillance and investigation.
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SCP-8816
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uncontained
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Item #: SCP-8816 Containment Procedures: SCP-8816 is presently considered uncontainable. Due to the infrequency of SCP-8816 occurrences, obfuscation protocols have been implemented as the primary containment procedure. All civilian reports of SCP-8816 occurrences and entities are to be documented and expunged by Foundation webcrawlers. An ongoing misinformation campaign has been developed to discount SCP-8816 occurrences as a fictitious urban legend. Description: SCP-8816 is a collective designation for a phenomenon affecting curtains and the entity accompanying its occurrence. It is primarily characterized by the appearance of a pair of feet sticking out from under the curtain, with footwear and skin tone varying from instance to instance. The absence of any folds or creases in the curtain consistent with a human body behind the curtains suggest that the feet are disembodied, but this has not been confirmed. SCP-8816 has been observed in curtains including, but not limited to: sheer curtains, shower curtains, theatre curtains, and door curtains. In cases where the curtain ends a distance above the floor, the feet are observed to be hanging limp. There is no known way to prevent SCP-8816 occurrences, beyond the removal of all curtains from a room. TRANSCRIPT OF INCIDENT 8816/972RH/01 «BEGIN LOG» [The camera is centered on SCP-8816, presenting with a pair of black boots under a floral pattern curtain. An MTF member sits on the bed, watching the instance. Gheist and Summers can be heard entering the room.] GHEIST: The homeowner thought it was some pervert hiding behind their bedroom curtains. They're being processed in the living room right now. [Gheist nods at the MTF member. They promptly leave, closing the door behind them.] GHEIST: Here it is. SCP-8816. Diagnostics has no idea what it is, and I sure as hell haven't a clue. SUMMERS: Oh, that is unsettling. What's with the standing guard? GHEIST: Figured we'd keep eyes on it non-stop until we exhaust all avenues of investigation. Just in case it decides to vanish on us like the previous dozen instances. SUMMERS: Mhm. Has it moved? GHEIST: No, not at all. It's been like that since this morning. SUMMERS: Have you considered poking the feet? GHEIST: That would be rude. No one wants to go near it either. SUMMERS: That sounds… odd. Compulsive effect? GHEIST: Look, I wouldn't poke it even if I knew there was a normal person behind it. The MTF folks downstairs refused to prod it with a baton. Something about bad vibes. SUMMERS: I overheard. They called the curtain evil. I can see why. [Summers stares at SCP-8816 in contemplation. It does not react.] SUMMERS: Have you considered speaking to it? As you would a normal person? GHEIST: Well, no. But by all means, don't let me stop you. SUMMERS: Hello. My name is Dr. Quentin Summers. This is Dr. Parker Gheist. I was hoping that we could have a chat. Get to know each other a bit. [SCP-8816 does not react.] GHEIST: Tough crowd. SUMMERS: If you are unable to physically speak, we can try to communicate with gestures. Tap your left foot for "yes", and your right for "no". GHEIST: You don't expect it to actually— [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Uhh… Are you a person? [SCP-8816 taps both its feet at once.] SUMMERS: Do you know the answer to the first question? [SCP-8816's right foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Are you alive? [SCP-8816 taps both its feet at once.] SUMMERS: Are you behind the curtain? [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Is there a reason you're behind this curtain right now? [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] SUMMERS: Is this reason benign in nature? That is, are you here in good faith? [SCP-8816 does not react.] GHEIST: Are you evil? [SCP-8816 does not react.] SUMMERS: Still with us? [SCP-8816's left foot taps the ground once.] . . . Several minutes of extraneous footage collapsed for brevity. . . . SUMMERS: We're done, right? GHEIST: Unless you have something else you want to ask the anomaly, yes. You were the last guy on the schedule. We're just about ready to pack up and leave. [Summers walks up to SCP-8816 and pulls the curtains back, revealing a blank wall behind it. SCP-8816 is no longer present.] GHEIST: Now, why would you do that? SUMMERS: The interview is done. The anomaly would have disappeared regardless once we left the room. GHEIST: You can't just— [Summers inspects the curtains closely. He then moves to stand behind them, covering himself entirely.] GHEIST: This is unprofessional. Come out, now. [Summers stops moving. Only his brown loafers are visible, sticking out from under the fabric. The curtain rises and falls in time with Summers' heavy breathing. He does not react to Gheist.] GHEIST: If I have to drag you out of there, I— SUMMERS: No— Don't. Don't move. Just stay there. Don't come over. GHEIST: This is not the time for games, Summers. [Summers suddenly begins stomping his right foot repeatedly, startling Gheist.] GHEIST: Unbelievable. Do you really think throwing a tantrum will change anything? SUMMERS: Please. Just leave the room. GHEIST: Do not test me. Get your ass out of those drapes right now. [Gheist moves a few paces towards the curtains. The stomping abruptly escalates in force and speed. A soft wet crunching noise is audible. Summers' breath becomes shaky.] SUMMERS: LEAVE. [Gheist throws his hands up in resignation, and walks out of the room.] [The stomping ceases shortly after Gheist's departure. Summers' heavy breathing remains audible on the recording, but gradually subsides.] [The curtain stops moving. Summers' breathing is no longer audible.] [Summers throws the curtain off himself and wanders out into the center of the room with a dazed expression.] SUMMERS: Huh? Oh. Samples. [Summers moves across the camera's view towards a toolbox. Behind him, a pair of feet wearing brown loafers are still visible under the curtain. Summers does not notice this SCP-8816 instance.] [SCP-8816 lightly taps its left foot once. Summers turns around in the direction of the noise, but notices the camera before he can turn towards the curtains. He walks over and stares into the lens, obstructing SCP-8816.] SUMMERS: How long has this thing been powered on? What a waste of battery. [Summers moves behind the camera to turn it off, clearing the line of sight between it and the curtains. SCP-8816 is no longer present within them.] «END LOG» Afterword: Dr. Gheist returned to the room several minutes later with MTF personnel, and found Dr. Summers taking fibre samples from the curtain. Dr. Summers expressed confusion when questioned about his outburst, and has repeatedly denied that they stood behind the curtain as in the recording. Notably, Dr. Summers' right foot did not exhibit any bruises nor fractures. Following this incident, several SCP-8816 occurrences have been documented at Site-58, where Dr. Summers was most recently assigned. The SCP-8816 entities present in these occurrences were noted to be wearing brown loafers. Dr. Summers remains under close surveillance and investigation.
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